#the last ones a poster that came with the book | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sayoneee · 2 months

Text

☆ BACK TO THE OLD HOUSE

percy jackson is a nuisance. a nuisance you have always been fond of, some way, somehow. (5.6k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite! reader. post tlo (spoilers). kind of melancholy but it gets better (kind of). book percy.

kashaf’s note: guess whos alive!

TO QUESTION, to ponder, to seek out the gods is sacrilegious. the gods preferred their divinity to be kept strictly within the confines of worship — whether by completing their ‘menial’ tasks or by committing sacrifices, they, in their infinite wisdom, are not allowed to be objected to.

“so, my mom’s a god? of love?”

you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, and mentally counted to three. opening your eyes, you make eye contact with the newest addition to camp, and your newest responsibility. bruised and scuffed, the poor kid blinks back at you confusedly as you mull your options. “yes, and no,” you decide.

“our mom’s a goddess, and love is just the most common of her jurisdictions.”

the new camper looks around the cabin, taking it in, you follow their gaze, lingering on the painted swans on the wall behind you, and bouncing to the pearls adorning the vanity, littered with various seashell trays holding gold jewelry (the first time you had entered these very walls, your throat had tightened at the pure ostentatiousness of it all).

they glance back at you, confused. you sighed again, “yes, our mom is the goddess of love.”

“oh.”

the candles residing in conches flicker as if waiting to pass judgment, and silence blankets you and the new camper once more (this is potentially your fiftieth time attempting to explain the same concept, yet you’re no better at it than when you first started — shaking and solemn).

needless to say, it’s more than just difficult to explain this tacit rule to new campers — after whatever tragic event transpired for them to realize that the greek gods of myth and legend indeed exist, they simply don’t have the mental capacity to learn the unspoken rules of the whole being a demigod thing.

you could be warmer, somehow, you suppose, with your mother being the goddess of love and all — in all honesty, you’re still not sure how you became the aphrodite cabin counselor, over selina (the entirety of camp half-blood’s favorite daughter of aphrodite) but the counselorship would have ended up in your hands anyway, after everything (the sight of her once-beautiful face as she coughed up blood in clarisse’s lap swims across your memories).

you pinched the bridge of your nose again, sighing as the candles snuffed out all at once of their own accord (judgment has been passed), “take the empty bed in the corner, we get up at like the ass crack of dawn so you might wanna catch up on your sleep.”

you watched the kid sit on the bed (looking every bit out of place as you did when you first arrived amidst the sheer indulgence the cabin is), and you can’t help but feel a pang in your chest as the child (the entire camp is full of children, but the vast majority of you have never gotten the chance to be the children that you are) stared wide-eyed at posters of movie stars, like tristan mclean, adorning the walls.

with one last glance and forlorn smile at the kid, you walked out of your cabin, your expression hardening at the sight of other campers. the walk to the arena is a short yet bleak one, in the silence you can hear drew’s screaming ringing in your ear (drew is preferable to hearing your other half-siblings, ethan, or even luke; drew is alive).

in the middle of the sword-fighting lesson being taught, you slipped into the arena, undetected for the most part except for the pair of sea-green eyes trained on your figure as you came and stood next to him, clearly hanging back.

“this is usually your shit, jackson,” you say, ignoring how pitiful your racing heart is, and watching clarisse at the helm, steam blowing out of her ears as new campers fell over themselves trying to parry and block with wooden swords.

percy turns to look at you, and from the corner of your eye, you can sense the storm brewing across his face. “maybe i’m not the attention whore you think i am,” he snorts, and there is a small trace of bile in his voice, but you don’t focus on that.

instead, your face burns at the memory of your last argument after you dove in front of ethan’s knife (you still wince when you remember the way his visible eye widened when he realized it was you who caught the blow), and percy’s bitterness as will patched you up, what the fuck is wrong with you, you could’ve gotten yourself killed.

and your weak but indignant reply, i literally saved your life, asshole. are you that much of an attention-whore that you need to be the one on their deathbed right now?

“i’d say you kind of are,” you say, turning to meet his gaze (for a brief, stupid, second you wonder if somehow he was a son of zeus because of how the air suddenly became charged with electricity), arms folding across your chest. “the whole making the gods pay child support is a bit attention-whore-esque.”

percy laughed, a sound you and the other campers haven’t heard in a while (it’s different from before but it is still a sound that in your weaker moments, you admit to craving to hear). “someone had to do it,” he says, sobering up immediately.

“luke tried,” you whispered (the name is still taboo around camp), shivering as you felt percy stiffen beside you. a beat passes and the resulting silence is suffocating.

percy offers you a sad, tight smile before walking out of the arena. you watch him go with a strange pain in your chest and a longing for the before, the laughter leaping across the sun-drenched strawberry fields, the joking i told you so’s during meals, and the softness of the campfire sing-a-longs.

it’s hard not to blame the gods, for that is blasphemy, but on most nights, you find yourself uttering your mother’s name with a tangible acidity, and you find that you’re not alone in this sentiment. the once-reverent echoes of aphrodite, promise me true love, promise me victory, promise me beauty, have now faded to lifeless whispers — formalities instead of prayers.

even your own prayers are different now, you pray for the sea — if your mother is allowed to be ambiguous with her gifts (curses) then she must expect the same ambiguity in your prayers in return. when you’re done half-heartedly muttering your prayers and sacrificing your food, your gaze meets a familiar pair of sea-green eyes across the campfire, glowing like a beacon in the dark.

standing up, you find drew, looking every bit as perfect as ever. you lean down to whisper, “lights out at eleven, i’ll be back.”

drew nods, squeezing your hand before she begins herding the rest of your half-siblings back to your cabin, solemn and toneless (an empty shell compared to the once vibrant and snarky drew from before).

the walk to the beach is silent, although you know that you’re being followed — you didn’t survive the war being complacent. when you finally do arrive, the mysterious figure reveals himself in the moonlight (again, you’d be a fool to not recognize the son of poseidon’s careful footsteps).

percy looks every bit of a character straight out of a tragic romance novel that your mother probably inspired, and again your heart squeezes painfully at the sight of him — under the scars and the jaded attitude, he is still the same percy jackson with stars in his eyes when he first introduced you to his mother.

“why do the naiads call you that?” percy asks abruptly, tilting his head to the side as if studying you as he approaches.

barely audible accusations of apatu’ria bubble at the surface of the lake like seafoam; the whispers have followed you since you arrived at camp, and you have never known why.

“call me what?” you ask, feigning ignorance as iterations of deceitful replay across your mind.

percy blinks, confused, “isn’t your mother related to the sea somehow? don’t you know they call you apatu’ria?”

you fiddle with the gold bracelet on your wrist (a gift from selina), percy’s gaze follows the movement as you hesitate. “well, yeah, like i know what it means but i don’t know why they call me that.”

percy shrugged, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “they call me ‘prosklystios’ a lot,” he said (in the way that he knows you, better than you know yourself).

“so what, we’re just reduced to epithets of our parents? what an honor,” you mumbled sarcastically, staring out at the lake, watching its surface ripple as the accusations grew more fervent. you paid it no mind however, the burden of being a daughter of aphrodite had already claimed its weight on your shoulders.

“careful,” percy sighed, his gaze focusing on you instead of the water, “might’ve just won a war but that won’t stop either of us from being smited if big guy in the sky thinks we’re being impertinent.”

distant thunder rumbled overhead as if proving his point.

“speak for yourself, pretty boy,” you say, eyes looking toward the firmament littered with stars, incognizant of your admission, “if i got the gods to basically pay child support without being sent to tartarus, i would do whatever the fuck i wanted.”

percy being percy, of course, did not register that last bit of your sentence, a shit-eating grin forming across his face, a slight red hue tinging his cheeks, “you think i’m pretty.”

you turn to look at him, ignoring how your heart hammers at the way he’s smiling down at you, you roll your eyes. “percy,” you say slowly. “my mom is the goddess of love, everyone’s gorgeous in her eyes.”

“yeah, but not everyone’s gorgeous in your eyes.”

gods, he was so aggravating but the way his eyes twinkled and the genuine elation on his face almost made you admit defeat.

you crossed your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at him, “this is why i never compliment you, you always let it go to your head.”

“aw, c’mon, you love me for it though,” percy says, still grinning widely, his unruly black hair falling into place perfectly.

“you’re an actual attention-whore,” you say, spinning around on your heels and trekking across the sand, leaving percy alone to stare out at the water. you walk back to camp, ignoring percy’s calls of wait punctuated by his laughter as he jogs up behind you.

“i hope mr. d catches you out past curfew and the harpies eat you,” you say deadpan, once percy has caught up to you.

“you’d miss me too much and would come to be my hero, again,” percy smirks at you, following along as you head toward aphrodite cabin (you’re secretly very glad for his presence, you hate walking around camp when it’s this deserted — the memories that you tried so desperately to bury try to claw their way to the surface).

“just because i caught a knife for you, once, does not mean that i’ll ever do it again,” you say, folding your arms across your chest as you stand outside the door of your cabin. “getting stabbed is not a ten out of ten experience.”

percy softens, his impish grin still there, but the intensity of his gaze is enough to make you melt, “good, can’t have you dying on me.”

you snorted, “even if i did die, i’d tell nico to raise my ghost so i could haunt you forever.”

percy’s still smiling, his eyes are still soft, and he’s so close to you right now. “go out with me,” he says, suddenly, earnestly.

blood rushes to your ears. “what?” you blinked, staring at him as if he’d grown another head.

percy shrugged, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. you barely registered the action in your mind, trying to regain your ability to form coherent sentences as you watched him. percy looked away from your questioning gaze. “better go before the harpies eat me,” he said before jogging in the direction of his cabin.

he leaves you standing in front of your cabin door, frozen in shock for another five minutes, before you shake it off, and head inside, convincing yourself that you had imagined the entire encounter. the familiar scent of jasmine envelops you as you linger in the doorway. drew is still awake on her bed, her back pressed against the wall and her head in her arms. she doesn’t bother to look up at your entry until you’re sat next to her, curling an arm around her bony shoulders and pulling her into an embrace.

the two of you sit in silence as drew attempts to calm her heartbeats to sync with yours, her head resting on your shoulder as you rub soothing circles into the planes of her shoulder. you fall asleep in a tangled mess of limbs, a desperate attempt to close the gaping hole selina left in her wake. this is sisterhood, you think when you wake up and drew’s head weighs like lead on your shoulder.

the bright morning does little to assuage your burdens — you know it’s going to be a long day as soon as you hear campers giggling. rule number one of being a camp counselor: no matter how benign, giggling is the number one sign of trouble.

you took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before turning to the younger half of your half-siblings currently in the process of attempting arts and crafts. “what the fuck do you guys keep giggling about?”

your half-siblings only giggle harder.

after what seemed like eons, the new camper finally comes up to you — a kid no older than eight, who motions for you to bend down before they begin stage-whispering in your ear, “is percy jackson your boyfriend?”

you immediately feel scandalized, jerking away like you’ve been burned, “no, who said that?”

(when you’re being lulled to sleep by the sound of drew’s imperceptible snoring in your ear, your subconscious spends its time lingering, dwelling on could’ve been’s, and should’ve been’s, the obsession as stubborn as when you refused to believe that percy had actually died on mount st helens.)

the kid continues to smile ‘innocently’, “everyone says that you guys hold hands at campfires.”

sudden flashes of percy’s unyielding grip on your hand and his broad smile, as he forced you into a sing-a-long with him, rise to the forefront of your mind, but that was before — when annabeth still had a steely look in her eyes, when travis and connor’s antics still garnered laughs from everyone (and a rare amused glance from mr. d). now (the after), there is no such jocularity, and percy is kept at arm’s length, reduced to offering you sad smiles across the campfire.

“we do not hold hands at campfires,” you say, struggling to keep the disdain out of your voice.

“but there’s a ‘we’,” the kid says, scrutinizing you up and down.

you have to mentally count to three so that you don’t end up arguing with a literal child (it’s not a great way to prove that your sanctity is still intact). “there’s no we.”

the kid shrugs in an if you say so gesture, giving you one last weirdly knowing look before turning back to their arts and crafts. a weighty silence settles, punctuated only by the sounds of scissors and rustling papers.

stares and loud whispers follow you around camp, more so than usual for an aphrodite kid — clarisse finds you in the midst of it all, lost in thought when her cabin is supposed to be pulverizing apollo cabin at volleyball, a sharp glint in her eye.

“you’d tell if me you were dating prissy, right?” she says, her hand faintly closing around your elbow, pulling you out of your reverie.

“what are you talking about?” you say, eyebrows raising in shock. this wasn’t your first rodeo — just before the war this summer, camp gossip had credited you to be going out with connor stoll, but this was different. clarisse was the fifth person today who had asked you if you were dating percy.

“so you are dating him?” clarisse looks offended, or well, as offended as clarisse can be, “and you didn’t tell me.”

you can feel eyes on you, watching your every move as other campers subtly pause their activities to listen in.

“clarisse,” you say slowly, reaching out to hold her forearms and looking her in the eye, “i’m not dating percy.” when she opens her mouth to interrupt, you add, “and i would definitely tell you if i was.”

clarisse exhales, shooting you a disbelieving look, but mercifully leaving you alone with a quiet, “okay.”

you know what she’s thinking, so you offer her a taut smile, patting her on her shoulder as you brush past her. you headed toward the lake, with a feeling that you’d find the answers you were searching for.

the lake is empty except for one solitary figure on the sand, facing the horizon with his hands in his pockets. you hang back for a minute or two, taking in the sight of percy with his eyes closed, and the peaceful look on his face.

a grin settled across his face as he addressed you, his eyes still closed, “i know you think i’m pretty, you don’t have to stare to prove it.”

you ignored his words, and he opened his eyes to watch you angrily march across the sand to stand face to face with him.

“are you the reason why everyone thinks we’re seeing each other?”

“yeah, why?”

to say that you’re taken aback is an understatement — you had anticipated some more denial but this was unexpected. and sudden.

you jab a finger at his chest, “everyone’s getting the wrong idea, so you need to stop whatever it is you’re doing like right now.”

“but they could have the right idea,” percy says, looking amused.

your heart scrapes painfully against your chest, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“we could be dating, forreal,” percy says, excruciatingly slow, elongating each word.

the earth stops spinning on its axis for a minute, and time seems to freeze — for a split second you worry kronos has risen again before you calm your racing heartbeat and exhale slowly.

“i need you to be so forreal right now,” you say, your eyebrows furrowing.

“i’m being so deadass right now.”

“no, you’re not,” you say, turning and walking away. your heart squeezes pitifully in your chest, as you call out, “find me when you stop joking,” before leaving him alone on the shore.

when percy approaches you again, you think he’s finally come back to his senses, though a weaker, more primitive urge inside you hopes that he hasn’t (it’s for the better, you try and fail to convince yourself).

he interrupts your conversation with drew (though the two of you weren’t doing much talking), smiling charmingly at her before asking if he could steal you away for a minute during breakfast. drew shot you a concerned look, waiting for your reassuring smile before assenting.

“you’ve come to your senses?” you ask after percy leads you away from the mess hall.

“i’ve always had my senses, thank you very much,” percy grins.

you roll your eyes, trying not to smile, “oh yeah, i could totally tell when you played rock, paper, scissors with a hundred-handed one last summer.”

“hey,” percy says, throwing his hands up in the air defensively, “i won that one.”

“on a gamble,” you countered, smiling (you missed this, missed him, and the feeling that everything will be alright enduring).

“not the point.”

“then what is?”

“go out with me,” he repeats, sudden, and earnest.

your heart stuttered pitifully. “not this again,” you sighed.

“why not?”

“why?”

“you know why,” percy tries to make eye contact with you. still, you avoid his gaze, watching the other campers heading into the mess hall give the two of you weird looks.

“no, i don’t,” you say firmly, before walking away, ignoring his protests, leaving behind a group of onlookers that you could care less about, and percy, who was staring at the spot you had just been standing in.

you returned to your cabin, to the familiar jasmine scent and pearl adornments, and promptly collapsed on your bed. more than anything, you just wanted your mother. you wanted your mother to smooth out your hair as you cried, offer you advice, and get rid of the stupid curse.

the door opens quietly and you immediately sit up, dabbing at your face and hoping that your eyes haven’t turned red and swollen already. drew shut the door gently behind her, her expression softening the slightest fraction at the sight of you.

“do i look that bad?” you ask, trying not to sniffle (and failing miserably).

a whirlwind of emotions cross drew’s face and you manage a watery grin. “okay, y’know what, don’t tell me then.”

drew sits next to you on the bed, handing you a box of tissues, “wasn’t planning to.”

the two of you sit shoulder to shoulder as she lets you have a minute to clean up before going straight for the jugular. “i heard what happened.”

you laughed, a choking noise that dissolved into weak coughing. drew patted your back. “so, the entire camp knows now?”

“no,” she says, before changing her mind, “well, yeah.”

“great,” you groaned, “my life is so over.”

drew tensed, tearing her gaze from the posters of hot people on the wall, to look at you, her brown eyes ablaze with fury and her silver earrings (also a gift from silena) jangle, “shut up, you’re the senior counselor of aphrodite cabin, and they’re all losers unworthy of your time. your life so isn’t over.”

(this is the drew from before, the drew that comes and goes in flashes so sudden that you try to piece her together like a puzzle that never seems to connect.)

“the curse,” you say, your throat tight.

drew’s eyes widen imperceptibly, her blue eyeshadow sparkling in the candlelit cabin, before her expression settles into a scowl. “what about the gift?” her voice sharpens as she stresses the last word, sparing the smallest glance toward the roof of the cabin.

you can’t continue, and you don’t have to — she knows what it is that you’re thinking of (she always has, from the minute you met her, two cold and shaking children alone in the dark).

she shakes her head emphatically. “silena,” her voice chokes, before dropping to a whisper, “silena left us — you can’t leave us too.”

“i know,” you whisper back, your eyes filling with tears. “i know.”

“oh, honey,” drew says sympathetically, drawing you into her arms, and smoothing your hair away from your face as you let out a sob against her shoulder. “break his heart,” she says.

“i can’t,” you mumble.

“you have to. he’ll die if you don’t, and a broken heart is better than dying.”

“i can’t do that to him, he’s so unbelievably good, drew, he deserves everything and more.”

“ignoring how ridiculously sappy that sounded, look at what happened to beckendorf,” you pretend not to notice how drew stumbles through his name (he looked at silena as if she had personally hung the stars in the night sky), “maybe he wouldn’t have gotten over it, but he would’ve been alive.”

you remember how silena had proudly said she was going to put an end to the archaic rite of passage your cabin was infamous for around camp; beautiful, idealistic silena with stars in her eyes (who liked beckendorf to the point she’d blush profusely at the mention of his name), who had no idea that this would all come crashing down around her some short months later.

at your silence, drew continues, still stroking your hair, “look, not to make this harder, but even i’ll admit jackson’s one of those guys you meet once in a lifetime—”

“thanks, drew, that was really helpful,” you interrupt, chuckling dryly.

“oh, shut up, i had a point,” drew says, swatting your shoulder playfully.

you sigh, letting her continue.

“so, like i was saying before i was so rudely interrupted, because jackson’s one of those once-in-a-lifetime type of guys—” here, you coughed pointedly, making drew glare at you before continuing, “—you should be like more willing to see him happy and like living a long ass life because you’re so in love with him.”

“so what, either i reject him and ruin our friendship irreversibly or we date and i break his heart and ruin our friendship irreversibly, or we date and i don’t break his heart and he dies tragically and there’s a possibility that i die tragically too?”

drew shrugged, making a tiny braid in your hair, “pretty much.”

you turned your head in her lap to look her in the eye, “how are you so apathetic about this?”

“someone has to be because you’re not thinking this through rationally.”

you groaned, “aphrodite has to hate us.” (you haven’t called her ‘mom’ genuinely except to her face during the winter solstices.)

“no, she lives for this kind of thing,” drew rolled her eyes, braiding another piece of your hair, “she definitely thinks she’s doing us a favor.”

you groaned again, “what if i just avoid him until summer ends and he goes back to school and forgets this happened.”

“i didn’t think love made you this stupid,” drew says, amused.

“shut up, i can’t wait until you have the same dilemma, and you’re the one asking for advice.”

“doubt it,” drew says, wryly.

you rolled your eyes, “okay, but what if i tell him about the ‘gift’,” you make air-quotes, “and let him decide?”

“yeah, but what if that just makes it backfire and makes you die tragically either way.”

“well, at least he’ll know about the possibility? it’s better than just being like ‘oh i can’t date you even though i’ve liked you since i was twelve’ with like zero explanation whatsoever.”

you hear muffled footsteps coming from outside of the cabin, and the door swings open loudly to admit lacy, who looks flustered and out of breath. you and drew quickly sprang up off your bed at her arrival.

“your boyfriend’s asking for you,” she says, looking at you.

drew raises her eyebrows at you, an unspoken are you going to see him? behind it.

you furrowed your eyebrows back at her, conveying no, shut up.

drew shrugged at you as if saying if you say so.

lacy looks between the two of you, confusion apparent before cautiously interrupting, “he’s waiting outside, by the way.”

you panicked at the thought of possibly confronting percy, “lacy, whatever you do, don’t tell him i’m in here.” you paused, “wait, tell him i’m taking a nap or something, please.”

more shuffling noises can be heard from outside, and drew groans, smacking her forehead with her palm, “what is wrong with you?”

you ignored her, focusing on lacy, whose confusion intensified as she looked between the two of you. “tell him i’m sleeping and he should try coming back later.”

she nodded, before opening the door and stepping outside.

drew stared at you, “y’know, i thought people were exaggerating when they said love makes you stupid but after looking at you, they were so right.”

you scowled at drew. she raised her arms in surrender, “just calling it like i see it.”

lacy returned a second later, “um, he wasn’t outside when i went to tell him.”

that was decidedly odd, but you chalked it up to him being busy or something, and shrugged, “i’ll see him later, it’s fine.”

it was actually not fine, because you didn’t see him later. or the next day. or the day after. well, you saw him but you didn’t see him. percy had somehow uncovered a hidden talent for making himself appear everywhere and nowhere all at once. he was there at meals, laughing with tyson or grover, he was at sword fighting practices, leading the class or giving clarisse a partner, he was at campfires, sitting next to annabeth and connor. yet, the minute you tried to approach him, it was almost as if he’d vanish, like an immortal was running interference.

you’ve taken to wandering by the lake on most nights — your only company the voices of silena (go talk to him, her urging is as present as if she was really there, memories of the time the two of you hadn’t been talking for a week resurging) and luke (what’re you doing out this late, kid? a phantom hand reaching out to ruffle your hair, and the feeling of ice being poured down your back envelops you).

as the sun sets, the tall and lanky figure — a figure you could recognize on the darkest nights — stands overlooking the lake in true jay gatsby fashion, his hands dug deep into the pockets of his baggy jeans. you stop and stare for a second (maybe a minute, an hour, time has truly escaped you), and suddenly you’re small and shivering in the dark again.

percy doesn’t look at you when you approach, though he fidgets with his camp necklace.

“hi,” you say, unsure of where to begin.

percy sighs, “look, if you’re here to ask for space, i get it, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable the other day.” he doesn’t turn to look at you or even glance at you through the corner of his eye once.

“what?” you ask. “what are you talking about?”

“trust me, i get it, you don’t have to try to spare my feelings,” percy says. you want to will him to spare you just a glance. still, he avoids your gaze, focused on the horizon before you. “we’ve been friends for so long, i thought you could be honest with me.”

his words, though not said harshly (percy isn’t capable of being harsh, not to you at least) cut through you like a knife.

“you heard me when i was talking to lacy, then,” you say, with horror as the realization dawns on you slowly.

percy finally looks at you, and the sheer hurt in his iridescent eyes makes you inhale sharply. a lump forms in your throat.

“i did,” he confirms quietly. “why didn’t you say something earlier?”

fighting in a war hadn’t prepared you for man’s greatest folly, something that you, arguably, should’ve been good at. the lump in your throat is difficult to dislodge, yet percy is patient as you swallow uncomfortably.

“i never meant it like that.”

percy’s eyes flash, and you feel sick to your stomach. “have you ever wondered why so many of the other cabins hate us?”

his previously pained expression morphed into a look of confusion. you continued, “in aphrodite cabin, our rite of passage is to break your first love’s heart. silena—” your voice breaks. “—silena tried to put an end to it, and then both she and beckendorf—” you choke up again, and percy’s expression becomes solemn, “died tragically. we didn’t know the consequences of not doing it were real until then, and we realized it was a curse.”

you watch percy seemingly wrestle with his thoughts, taking a step toward you.

“why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” there is no judgment in his voice, yet you still feel embarrassment pooling in your stomach.

“can you honestly tell me that you’re okay with this? with the gods dictating another aspect of your life?” (somewhere in the back of your mind, you can hear luke’s voice repeating the same sentence.)

“you didn’t ask for this either.”

“it’s not our job to question them,” you say, trying not to let a tear slip.

“maybe we should,” percy says, still looking straight at you.

“careful,” you say, as thunder rumbled distantly overhead, “this is what luke was saying.”

“i don’t care,” percy says, “if you or i die a tragic death, we’ll just have to go through tartarus.”

he said it so simply, so matter-of-factly that your breath catches in your throat.

“so, you’re okay with this?” you ask, trying to suppress the tinge of hopefulness in your voice.

percy looked at you in disbelief, his face was so earnest, “why wouldn’t i be?”

you laughed, more out of shock than anything else. percy continued, “i think your mother would think we’d make a cute couple, so maybe she won’t curse us with a tragic end.”

you’re grinning now, tears forgotten, “more like she’ll give us a tragic end because she likes us.”

percy shrugged, “i think we’ll be fine as long as we’re together.”

he kissed you, finally, which was long over-due, and you felt like everything was finally falling into place.

“took you guys long enough.”

you turned around to find the source of the interruption, making eye-contact with clarisse, her arms folded and a smug expression on her face. beside her stands most of your friends, all adorning matching wicked expressions. your heart stops beating for a second before your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“how much of that did you guys hear?” percy asked, suddenly looking bashful.

“most of it,” drew replied with a smirk.

percy looked at you, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement on his face as your friends surrounded the both of you, hoisting you on their shoulders.

“maybe the two of you need to cool off,” annabeth said with a laugh.

connor grinned at her, before calling out, “dump them in the lake!”

you groaned, begging, “annabeth, please.”

“this is payback for all the pining i had to witness over the years,” she said with a laugh.

percy shrugged at you, a grin on his face as if saying accept your fate. you gave in, shaking your head as you laughed at their antics.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #woc friendly #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson one-shot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson series #percy jackson x fem! reader #percy jackson oneshots #kashaf ki likhai

718 notes · View notes

draconic-desire · 2 months

Text

A Dance With the Dragon I — The Tides Beckon

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I — You are here] [Part II] [Part III]

The last thing you expected was to have caught the eye of Fontaine’s Chief Justice. You have no choice but to be swept into the dragon’s dance.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, possessive behavior, forced imprisonment, unrequited relationship

It all started with your realization that Fontaine has some rather intriguing laws.

For as long as you could recall, you had aspired to become a marine biologist. Though you hailed from Mondstadt, you forged your curiosity in the tide pools and lakes around the edges of the region. You scoured over any novel you could find on marine ecology and animal behavior, spending endless hours lost in the Knights of Favonius library. On your thirteenth birthday, your parents bought you a Kamera, which launched your career in wildlife photography and research. You even went on to publish a book cataloguing pictures of your nation’s aquatic life. It came to no one’s surprise, then, when you were gifted with a hydro vision.

Although you loved your life in Mondstadt, the vast waters that surrounded the Land of Hydro beckoned you like the pull of a tide. So, on your twenty-fifth birthday, you parted with your family and homeland, traversing across Teyvat and experiencing its many wonders. You relished in the culture and cuisine in Liyue and marveled at the natural architecture of Sumeru’s forests. Yet nothing would ever be as breathtaking as your first glimpse at Fontaine, at the granite peaks rising above the crystalline waters teeming with life of all forms.

You had secured employment with a group researching the sudden uptick in seal strandings across the nation, taking you across Fontaine’s many beaches. Your main base was located near Romaritime Harbor, which prompted you to spend your lunch breaks exploring the Court of Fontaine.

You made quick friends with the Melusines, some of whom were still a bit nervous being around humans; however, you found their stories of the ocean fascinating and often invited them to join you for lunches or strolls through the city.

One in particular, Carole, had become your close friend after you encountered her being pelted with rocks by a mob of Fontainians. You didn’t hesitate to use your vision to immobilize the rocks and create a barrier around Carole, quickly ushering her to safety. You couldn’t comprehend the prejudices directed towards her and the other Melusines, but after that incident, you made sure to keep an eye out for all of your little friends.

One day, on one of your walks, you ran into said Melusine. She seemed despondent that only a handful of citizens were interested in her hand painted posters, so you decided to treat her to lunch and pastries to cheer her up. That’s when you first caught wind of the Hydro Dragon.

“Well, if you’re worried about the seals, you might call upon the Hydro Sovereign himself!” Carole chirped.

You tipped your head curiously, lowering the cup in your hands onto the cafe table. “Don’t you mean herself? Although I’ve never met the Hydro Archon, I’ve heard others refer to her as ‘Lady’ Furina.”

Carole shook her hands back and forth in front of her. “Oh, no, I mean the Hydro Dragon! He is responsible for keeping watch over Fontaine, which includes all of its resources and residents. I’ve heard that with every sea creature that passes, the heavens open and the dragon sheds his tears in mourning.” She took a bite of her croissant. “I have a feeling he’d be willing to help.”

You tapped your chin in thought. “You don’t say. Well, we are in a bit of a drought, which could be contributing to the beachings… Perhaps I’ll ask this Hydro Sovereign for his favor.”

On the days you were dispatched to Fontaine’s eastern beaches, you opted to sit by the Fountain of Lucine to wish for the Hydro Dragon’s help. It had become a tradition for you to do so ever since your conversation with Carole, for you swore that every time you prayed to his name, rain would grace the shores the next day.

During those research trips, your coworkers would invite you to attend trials at the Opera Epiclese, though you politely declined each time. You had no particular interest in the Opera and were much more inclined to spending your time outside and uninvolved with the court’s theatrics. Besides, you considered yourself to be a model citizen, so the proceedings of the court were beyond your worries.

Or so you thought.

~*~

The incident that led to your arrest was the violation of the order “no domestic pets shall be named after Furina”. Apparently the otter that paddled around the Harbor each morning was undignified of the title of “Focalotter”. You had thought the name quite clever and humorous—that is, until a horde of Gardes surrounded you during your shift one afternoon.

You were detained and led into the Opera immediately, which was where you currently found yourself. You frowned at the relatively large crowd—which, much to your dismay, included most of your coworkers—dispersed throughout the hall. Had they all come just to spectate your trial? Standing alone on the isolated balcony, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass, an insignificant pest to be probed at for entertainment.

“And how do you plead?”

The deep, commanding voice above you wrenched you from your thoughts. Turning your eyes up, your (e/c) orbs were met with a penetrating gaze.

Pinning you with his lavender and silver eyes from atop his chair at the center of the court was none other than the Chief Justice of Fontaine, the Iudex himself, the face of the law in the Court. Monsieur Neuvillette.

This wasn’t your first interaction with the man.

Shortly your move to Fontaine, you had stumbled across his path. At first, it was just sightings from afar; he would be leaving the Opera, or purchasing a drink (Wait, is he paying for water?) from your favorite cafe. Your favorite flowers also began to appear at your doorstep, each time with a brief, cryptic note, usually something along the lines of To my little pearl —Sincerely, your guardian dragon. You didn’t think anything of it; if anything, it confirmed that your prayers to the Hydro Sovereign had been heard.

Then, however, Neuvillette began to periodically show up around your research stations, claiming to be investigating a court case. Even though the Iudex’s public appearances were supposedly rare, none of your coworkers, yourself included, thought to question his authority, answering his inquiries regarding the base’s activities to the best of your abilities.

You noticed that he tended to speak to you the most, even asking personal inquiries like your favorite drinks, foods, books, and hobbies, and about your marine photography especially. It must be part of the investigation, you rationalized. He was nothing but gentlemanly and always kept conversations curt and to the point, offering you a gentle smile as he departed.

If only you knew the true extent of his desires.

~*~

Naturally, he first caught wind of you from the Melusines. As his closest advisor, Carole regularly joined him for afternoon tea, and though he was not one for idle talk, the manner in which his friend spoke of you sparked his intrigue.

“And when those meanies were throwing rocks at me, (Y/n) was the only one who intervened! If it weren’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened…” Carole rubbed her head, as if remembering the sharp pain.

Neuvillette placed a hand over his heart. “I am eternally grateful for her presence. I cannot stand the thought of any harm befalling you.” The hydro dragon looked out the window of his study to the ocean, deep in thought. “Perhaps you could introduce me. It appears I have much to thank her for.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Carole raised a finger. “She mentioned lots of seal beachings recently, so I suggested that requesting rain from a certain dragon could assist her work!”

Neuvillette nodded, a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Ah, so that is why I’ve been hearing Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon echoing throughout my mind the past few weeks. You have quite the imagination, my friend.”

Carole shrugged playfully. “Hasn’t it been raining more often lately? Seems like her prayers worked!”

That they had, as Neuvillette could attest to.

The first time he heard your soft voice calling to him, he had sent rain the following morning—not for you, but for the seals. His position barred him from forming close relationships with humans, so the notion of attending to your inquiry face-to-face was eliminated immediately.

But when you returned again and again to implore for rain, he couldn’t deny his interest. The day after Carole informed him that his little supplicant and Carole’s hero were one in the same, he knew he had to meet you. He had actually left the Opera to see you for himself; whether he would actually converse with you was still uncertain, but your voice tickled an itch that he needed to scratched.

Neuvillette was an experienced and composed man, but setting his sights on you for the first time stole his breath. This, he thought, must be what it feels like to drown.

Your smile shone brighter than a Beryl conch, and your scent floated around him, sweeter than any marcotte. The light shimmering from the hydro vision on your hip reflected back in your eyes, giving them the appearance of twin pools of blue. You were sitting on a bench by the Fountain, a Kamera in hand as you gestured excitedly towards the screen. To your right was a Melusine he knew well, Kiara, who was clearly enraptured with the technology.

Though he knew of your kindness towards the Melusines—jumping in to save Carole alone was grounds for a medal of peace—seeing it before him sent the waters around his heart roiling. The Iudex was moved by the fact that, despite being a foreigner to Fontaine’s customs, you treated them with the utmost respect, going out of your way to befriend and include them in your daily life. Many citizens of Fontaine still harbored prejudice against the Melusines, but you… You even used she/her pronouns when referring to them, implementing the very law that he set forth.

“I use this for my research on seal behavior and conservation,” you explained to Kiara. “Having pictures of each individual helps us identify them in the future. We even give them silly names sometimes. See this one here? We call him Mr. Sealie, and this otter I like to call…”

When the pink Melusine started giggling over the nickname of your otter, a plan formed in his mind.

Whether attributable to his sense of justice or his draconic instincts, he knew one thing for certain. Like a shining pearl, you must be cherished and protected—and who better to serve than the Hydro Sovereign?

~*~

Those eyes will be my downfall.

Purple and silver locked with (e/c). Despite being newly appointed to the court, Neuvillette was the embodiment of both poise and intimidation. The very air around him seemed to shimmer with power and unyielding authority. His breathtaking eyes swirled with emotions—was that desire or disinterest?—you could not even begin to decipher in your current position.

Archons, help me.

You cleared your throat, hoping you didn’t appear too nervous in front of the judge. “Although I admit to using a version of the Hydro Archon’s name when referring to that otter, I was unaware of such a law against doing so. I’m not originally from Fontaine, so some of its, uh…lesser discussed laws are new to me.”

Neuvillette gazed around the courtroom as the crowd devoured the trial before them. It was baffling how naive humans could be sometimes; of course there was no rule against applying a silly nickname to a pet.

That is, until this morning when he had signed it into law.

Seeing you frightened and alone in the defendant’s box, however, was torture. It took all of his willpower to not to engulf you in his strong arms like waves around sand. But he had to maintain the facade of immovable judicator for a bit longer in order to mold you to his tide. Retaining his mask of composure, Neuvillette continued, “You do realize that previous defendants have been jailed for far less, correct?”

Frustration and fear flared within you. “But I—”

“Desecration of Lady Furina’s name is of the highest offense. Your behavior will not be excused, neither by myself nor the Oratrice.” Neuvillette raised the paper with your verdict, barely glancing over the words before he spoke. “The verdict stands: you, (Y/n) (L/n), are guilty.”

You clenched your fists heatedly. There was no arguing with the Iudex. Clearly, the polite and considerate version of Neuvillette that you had encountered earlier was an anomaly, for the figure looming above you was the complete opposite. Cold, calculating. Distant. A whirlpool cresting a bottomless sea.

Had this been his plan all along? Had you been the subject of his investigation? But why?

“However, because you are not from Fontaine, I will offer you a choice.”

You blinked up at the Justice, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. A choice? What choice did you truly have here? You pursed your lips warily but nodded for him to continue.

Neuvillete raised a gloved finger. “The first: you will serve a life sentence in the Fortress of Meropide.”

A wave of despair seared your insides like a brand. That was your fate? To be trapped beneath the region where you had always longed to live, never to feel the salty wind on your face or hear the calls of seals and gulls again? Surely, the second option was less cruel?

“Or, alternatively: you will dedicate your life to the court. You will abide by its laws without question and with unwavering commitment. You will relinquish your freedom; you will not be permitted to leave Fontaine and will be bound to this place for eternity.”

A choked sob escaped your lips. No matter what you chose, your life’s work and passion would be extinguished. You would be forced to either become an actress in the court’s performance or resign your soul to a watery grave.

Both option chained you to the Region of Hydro forever.

But one option at least granted you a semblance of freedom—a notion that you soon learned was as transitory as a bubble in water.

The crack of a cane against wood resounded through the Opera, quickly silencing the crowd’s mutterings over your sentence. “What is your decision?”

You could have heard a pin drop as the audience waited in rapt anticipation for your answer.

“I…I choose the latter,” you declared, tilting your chin up. You maintained direct eye contact with the Iudex all the while, holding onto your last bit of pride.

You could have sworn you saw Neuvillette release a breath of relief. “Very well. I hereby adjourn the court. Gardes, please escort the defendant to my office for further instruction.”

Two Gardes led you out of the Opera and onto an Aquabus to the city. They informed you that you would now be living in the Palais Mermonia and your duties would begin immediately. When you asked about retrieving your belongings and notifying your family, the Gardes exchanged glances.

“That won’t be necessary,” one said cryptically. “Monsieur Neuvillette will page your relatives and have your possessions seized.”

You frowned, wishing to object, but the Palais doors loomed before you like the entrance to a monster’s lair. You gulped but swallowed your fears, straightening your back pridefully as you were ushered inside and into the Chief Justice’s office. The bolting of the lock from the outside set alarm bells off immediately.

Neuvillette stood from his seat as you walked in. He coughed awkwardly, red dusting across his pale complexion. “Ah, Lady (Y/n). I do apologize for such a fast-paced series of events. You must be exhausted.” He motioned towards the sofa adjacent to his workspace. “Please, sit.”

You blinked at him in surprise. What happened to the unwavering judge from the court? Why was he suddenly treating you kindly? And why in the Archons’ names was he blushing of all things? Unsure how else to react, you obeyed and settled into your seat, with Neuvillette taking his own on the sofa across from you.

Neuvillette poured you a glass of what appeared to be plain water into an exquisitely ornamented cup. You took it wordlessly, noticing his eyes flare with a silver glow when your fingers brushed his own. Gripping his own cup, he raised the chalice towards you. “To a long and dedicated future together.”

You sketched a brow curiously but raised your glass in tandem to…whatever that was supposed to mean. “To not being in prison, I guess.”

“Indeed.” A breathy chuckle followed. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering as to what this whole business regarding your sentence is.” Neuvillette took a long sip from his chalice. He frowned slightly when you simply placed yours on the coffee table separating the two of you. “Although you may have thought you’d be completing droll office work, your duties will be a tad unorthodox.”

At this, your brows furrowed. Wasn’t that what all those employees you had passed in the Palais foyer had been doing—pushing papers? You had cringed at the dark bags under many of their eyes, at how many were asleep at their desks, imagining how similar you’ll look once your sentence was completed. But based on Neuvillette’s words, it sounded like you would be doing something very different.

Oh, Archons. I’m fucked.

You braced yourself to speak, but Neuvillette beat you to it.

“You are to be my wife.”

You blinked once, twice, waiting for the punchline of the joke.

Neuvillette merely stared at you with his hands folded across his lap, waiting for your response.

After a pregnant pause, you couldn’t help the stunned scoff that escaped your lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“Quite, I’m afraid.”

You shook your head. “With all due respect, Monsieur—”

“Please, call me Neuvillette.”

Ignoring him, you continued, “I did not agree to be your wife.”

The Chief Justice leaned back against the posh blue cushions of the sofa. “Although that may be the case, you are in no position to refuse. In fact, your sentence mandates that you follow my orders.”

You stood abruptly, sending your goblet toppling over and spilling its contents across the table. “Marriage was not a part of that sentence.” Which was ridiculous to begin with, you added to yourself. I mean, a life sentence for a pet name? It’s almost like he wanted me arrested.

Neuvillette sighed and flicked his wrist, causing the chalice to right itself and the water to refill. “Marriage is the highest form of dedication, no? Is that not what you pledged to?”

“I dedicated my life to the court,” you clarified.

“My dear, I am the court.”

You emitted a low hiss, turning to the door. “I’m leaving.”

Before you could take more than a step, Neuvillette moved towards you faster than a crack of lightning across the sea. His large frame straddled yours, pinning you against the sofa. He grabbed your dominant wrist, a foreign bubbling under your skin erecting the hairs on your arms. Your mind reached out for your hydro powers to defend yourself, only to be crushed with the realization that your vision had been confiscated at the court.

Despite your struggles, you could only watch in terror as a glowing silver-blue mark in the shape of a dragon burned across the length of your arm. The leviathan’s scaly body twisted in ringlets up your forearm and bicep, ending in a slender head with twin horns that crested your shoulder.

As soon as Neuvillette loosed his grip, you shoved him away, panting heavily. The mark had already disappeared, but you could still feel the ghost of it under your skin.“What have you done?” you whispered breathlessly.

In total contrast to your own contorted expression, Neuvillette appeared completely calm. He smoothed out his robes and adjusted his jabot. “I have lived for centuries, and I have many centuries more. I’ve merely gifted some of them to you.”

Your body began to shake, from fear, sadness, or rage you did not know. “I don’t want them.”

“You do remember that you promised to serve the court for eternity, don’t you? How do you expect to persist by my side otherwise?”

Eyes locked on the exit, you tried for a different tactic. “Take me to the Fortress of Meropide.”

Neuvillette’s expression darkened, his patience clearly thinning. “I will not.”

Your eyes shifted back to his. Although Neuvillette intimidated you beyond belief, you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without fighting for your life’s hard work. “I want to change my sentence.”

He glanced down at your arm. “It’s a bit too late for that, my dear.” Taking your hand in his, he pulled you to his chest. His form towered over you, capable of resting his chin on the top of your head. “Please, understand. I mean to keep you from harm, even if it means being your jailor.”

“You’re insane,” you hissed, futility attempting to pull away. “Let go of me!”

Neuvillette’s grip was relentless. You stilled when you felt claws ghost up your back in a silent warning. “That is one thing I will never do.”

The fight in you slowly ebbed away—for now. Your resistance was clearly moot, like a gnat trying to down a dragon. You’d have to play the long game to learn how to get under his skin—and how to rid your own of this new mark. “I will find a way out of this,” was all you could promise, refusing to meet his eyes.

A deep sigh sounded above you. Neuvillette took a step back, looking at you with such longing you thought you’d combust on the spot. With one last stroke of your cheek, he strode towards the office’s exit and unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist. Looking over his shoulder, he fixed you with a forlorn gaze. “By the time you realize your place here, there will be nothing for you to escape to. Only I will remain.” He once more turned his back to you and stepped out of the room.

You suddenly paled, realizing the implication of his words. If his declaration was true and you were to live as long as him, then your family, your career, the world as you know it would be completely gone. Your only company, your only solace, the only one who would remember your name, would be him. “Wait, no, you can’t—!”

He closed the doors.

~*~

Neuvillette was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

True to his word, you remained locked almost exclusively in the Palais Mermonia. On the rare occasions he let you outside, the Iudex served as your only company, diligently making sure you were hidden. Your vision was permanently taken, supposedly to prevent danger to yourself. It didn’t go unnoticed when he would wear it on his hip at important or potentially volatile trials. When you finally asked—or growled at him, really—why he kept it on his person, he had merely frowned and replied, “I originally thought the idea of a fake vision preposterous, I admit. I have no need for one. Yet having it feels as if you are constantly by my side.”

The draconic tattoo he had branded onto your arm not only extended your lifespan but also gave you a minuscule drop of his abilities—though only when you were in his presence (and most definitely not against him—you had tried). That allowed the two of you to transport to and breath in the depths of Fontaine whenever you begged to go out. In his mind, it was perfect—not only was the sea his realm, but no one and nothing could touch you. You were his alone to hold, to see, to have.

Those trips were torture for you. Free, but trapped; floating, but tied down to the man who was supposed to be the symbol of justice.

You, on the other hand, had tried a variety of (fruitless) tactics to convince the judge to free you. Any attempt at conversation or advance in his part was met with either vitriol or indifference on your part. You had once tried to charm him into letting his guard down, hoping you could sneak away while he was preoccupied at the court. This plan epically backfired on you when he mistook your subtle touches as permission to devour you with kisses and love bites, covering you in bruises from his sharp teeth for the next week. You wouldn’t so much as let him tap your shoulder for the next month after—the spark of silver in his eyes while he kissed you foretold of a deep, overwhelming desire that far surpassed simple kisses. You feared what might occur if the composed Chief Justice were given the opportunity to release his more primal urges.

And so, each day was passed much in the same:

1) Wake up on the floor or couch of his suite in the Palais—like hell you’d be sharing a bed with him. Oh, how he had tried in the beginning to usher you into bed, into his arms. It was childish, yes, but at least your refusal have you some semblance of autonomy.

2) Ponder on how you would greet Neuvillette that day.

3) Choose between fury or pretending he didn’t exist, typically the latter.

4) Look for a way to escape after he left for the Opera. Fail.

5) Spend most of the day scouring court cases in his office for clues to overturn your cause. Fail again.

6) Look out the window pitifully at the water beyond the Court of Fontaine (were the levels rising?). You often thought of your family back in Mondstadt; what were they told of your imprisonment, if anything? How long had you been stuck with the Chief Justice? The days blurred like ink in water.

7) Immediately exit the office towards his attached suite the moment he returned—any other room was preferable to his suffocating presence.

Today, though, he had chosen to interrupt your musings out the window before you could make your exit.

“You know, I find the beauty of the bright sunlight is best appreciated from the indoors through a window.”

Turning your head from the glass pane, your attention was brought to the figure standing in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but a simple pair of dark blue slacks and a white tunic, his robes hooked over his arm. At the start of your captivity you had mused how strange it was to see him without his normal ornamentation; now his comparatively plain appearance was a daily sight for you.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the window, relishing the heat from the coastal sun against your back. It was nothing like the dark pits he practically dragged you to now that you could breathe underwater. “Personally, I prefer to enjoy it with the company of a cool breeze by the shoreline.”

The Chief Justice loosed a deep sigh as he approached you. He extended his palm, caressing your cheek gently. “If you desire it so, I will rearrange some meetings and escort you—”

Below the waves, where he clung to you like a Lumitoile to a rock? “No need. Present company would ruin the experience. I prefer to be above water.”

Neuvillette had the audacity to wince at your retort. “So you instead choose to wallow in your self-inflicted solitude?”

You wanted to laugh at the hurt edge to his voice. Self-inflicted your ass—every moment of your life now centered on him, depended on his permission. Solitude was a disguise for any reprieve you could get from his constant attempts to court you.

The ironic part was that, if he had approached you normally, you could have seen yourself falling for him. He brought and cooked your favorite foods and beverages, showered you with gifts and books on photography, and tried his utmost to make you comfortable.

But you knew it was as nothing but glitter in a gilded cage. Neuvillette had drowned your whole world. So no, you wouldn’t act like any of this is normal.

Resisting the urge to bite his bare hand, you glared at your captor. “You could simply, oh, I don’t know, let me go.”

Neuvillette’s jaw tightened. His patience might run deeper than the Trench of Elton, but it was not everlasting. “We’ve discussed this.”

At that, you shrugged his hand off. “Can I at least speak with my family? My friends?”

A pained look flickered across Neuvillette’s face. “That isn’t possible.”

Your lip curled in response to his expression. “Don’t act like you actually care.”

Pursing his lips, he settled onto the window seat next to you. Though you were twitching with the urge to escape, he placed a large hand on your thigh, a gentle warning. “(Y/n), there’s something we must discuss.”

You narrowed your eyes, though your heart rate spiked. By now, he recognized your silence as a sign to continue.

“Do you wish to walk around the Court of Fontaine with me?”

Blinking, your throat dried. You swore you heard him wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Neuvillette squeezed your leg in what he thought was a comforting manner. His eyes—fuck, you had to admit they were wickedly beautiful, silver and sharp as a sword—never left your own. “You have been justified in your anger with me. I have restricted you for far too long. I would like to extend an olive branch, if you will—an agreement that we will both retain civility. I will grant you freedoms, but you must adhere to your sentence. Any deviation will not be tolerated.”

Your head was spinning, so you didn’t even consider the implications of his words. He was letting you out. “Can we go now?”

Neuvillette smiled softly. “Of course.” Standing, he offered you a hand. You tentatively took it, more awestruck than anything as he unlocked the doors to the outside. You’d finally get to see your family, your colleagues, the sun—!

Fontaine was unrecognizable.

The last time you seen the square of the Statue of the Seven, the roads were cobblestone. Now, strange machines roamed the paved streets, clearly serving as sentinels. None of the shops or restaurants were familiar—your favorite coffee shop, where you had so many chats with Carole, was now boasting signs for upscale fashion. A Melusine hopped by, wearing a Garde’s uniform, something that you remembered as being rare due to the increased chances of them being targeted. Your heart rate spiked in worry when the Melusine approached a group of children and their parents, only for a stunned expression to hit you when the creature was hugged by a little girl, her parents cooing in delight.

“Where…what?” you stammered. Fontaine had seemingly changed overnight—at least in your experience of time. Dread pooled in your stomach.

You attempted to pull your arm away from him, but his grip on you was steadfast. That same pained look from before marred his handsome features. “I did not lie when I said you have nothing to return to.” The Chief Justice sounded melancholic—he wished it hadn’t come to this, but he had to eliminate any prompts for you to leave.

“No, no.” Your heart dropped. “What… What year is it?”

The silence that followed was all you needed to know.

“How many years has it been, Neuvillette?” you repeated, your voice cracking with a desperate tone.

For once, Neuvillette avoided eye contact with you. He simply gestured towards a bulletin board, where the latest issue of The Steambird (at least one thing was consistent) was posted. You tore it from its pin, choking back a sob as you read the date.

Hands shaking, the issue fell to the ground. It landed in a puddle, its edges slowing soaking and blurring the ink. A steady rain had started to fall, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.

It had been over four hundred years since Neuvillette had taken you.

If it weren’t for Neuvillete’s hand on your hip, you would have crumpled to your knees. “H-how?”

Neuvillete looked to the skies solemnly. “Time passes differently for us long-lived species.” You cringed at his use of us, and how he actually sounded remorseful. “But this is our opportunity for a fresh start.”

Silent tears streamed down your face. For what could you do? Everyone and everything you knew was gone. Lost to the sea of time forever. You had nothing.

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. “Cry not, my little pearl. No matter how many centuries pass, you will always have me.”

~*~

Neuvillette was many things.

And now, just as he dreamed since the moment he set his eyes on you, he was your everything.

And yet, you refused to drown.

As the years flowed like water through a stream, you began to learn the beat of Neuvillette’s dance. His emotions, his moods, his thoughts, all reflected themselves within the waltz of his life, and soon maneuvering around the steps became second nature to you. The balance of power laid within the count, and you were determined to be the one leading,

The dragon wanted to dance? So be it.

You’d give him the most challenging dance of his life.

#yandere #neuvillette #yandere neuvillette #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #fontaine #ao3 fanfic

802 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 months

Text

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently.

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended.

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused.

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles.

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV.

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit.

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week.

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling.

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.”

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive.

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there.

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks.

They give him access to his Twitter.

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening.

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested.

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening.

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it.

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees.

Therefore, it begins.

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions.

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution.

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.

He is not put in another video.

And so he finds himself here.

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up.

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows.

“No.”

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to.

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad.

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was–

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily.

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now.

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head.

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question.

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked.

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night.

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly.

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.”

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them.

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?”

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–”

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum.

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together.

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it.

You were… loud. And open.

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium.

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

“Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow.

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates.

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head.

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues.

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud.

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?”

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay.

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly.

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table.

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

542 notes · View notes

fuckyeahgoodomens · 4 months

Text

Ooh! A wonderful interview with Rich Keeble who played Mr. Arnold (the one with the Doctor Who Annual :)) in S2! :)❤

Q: In Good Omens 2 you play Mr. Arnold, who runs the music shop on Whickber Street. Were you a fan of Good Omens before joining the cast, and is it challenging to take on such an iconic story which is already loved by a huge fanbase?

A: “There’s always pressure if you’re working on something with an existing fanbase and people might have an idea already as to how you should be approaching something. To be honest I was aware of the show but I hadn’t actually seen it before I was asked to get involved. I knew it was something special though! I remember talking to Tim Downie [Mr. Brown] about how when you tape for certain things you know if something’s a “good one”. Of course by the time I was on set I’d watched Season 1 and read the book.

I had an interesting route into the show actually: I was asked at the last minute to read the stage directions at the tableread on Zoom, and Douglas [Mackinnon] the director called me up to discuss pronunciations of the character names etc. To prepare further I quickly watched the first episode on Prime Video, and I was very quickly drawn into it. A couple of hours later I was on a Zoom call with David [Tennant], Michael [Sheen] (with his bleached hair), Neil [Gaiman], Douglas and the whole team, including Suzanne [Smith] and Glenda [Mariani] in casting. After that readthrough I asked my agent to try and see if she could shoehorn me in and she came back with a tape for Mr. Arnold saying “you play the piano don’t you…?” They wanted me to demonstrate my musical playing ability, so I rented a rehearsal studio room in Brixton for an hour and filmed myself playing piano (and drums just in case), then I did my scenes a couple of different ways and I guess it wasn’t too terrible!”

Q: During episode five you mimed to music written by series composer David Arnold alongside a real string quartet – this must have been very immersive! How did it feel to work with David, and bring the ball to life?

A: “I actually didn’t meet David Arnold sadly, but I did work with Catherine Grimes, the music supervisor who is lovely. David was at the London screening but I missed an opportunity to go and say hello to him which I kicked myself about.

I remember before I was in Scotland there was a bit of uncertainty as to whether I would need to play anything for real or not, so I practised every day playing loads of Bach and other music I thought was era-appropriate just in case they asked me to do anything on the fly. So yes, it was very immersive as you say! They sent me three pieces of music to learn which I practised in my Edinburgh apartment on a portable folding keyboard thing I bought. They introduced me to the string quartet (John, Sarah, Alison and Stephanie) and I tried to hang out with them when I could. On the day we all had earpieces to mime to. I had to mime while listening out for a cue from Nina [Sosanya] from across the room, then deliver my dialogue and carry on playing, which was tricky! The quartet and I helped each other out actually: Douglas would say something like “let’s go from a minute into the second piece of music”, I’d look at the sheet music and whisper “where the hell is that?” and one of the quartet would say “we think that’s bar 90” or something. Here’s a little bit of trivia: the shooting overran and the string quartet couldn’t make the last day, so they found some incredible lookalikes to replace them for the scene when we get lead out of the bookshop through all the demons, although I think they also kept them deliberately off camera.”

Q: What did you think of your music shop when you first saw the set? Did you have a favourite poster or prop?

A: “I thought it was incredible! It could’ve been an actual music shop with all the instruments hanging up with the “Arnold’s” price tags on. The attention to detail was incredible, well IS incredible as I understand it’s all still there. It’s hard to pick a favourite to be honest. I did a little video walkaround on my phone at the time so maybe I’ll post that if I won’t get in trouble. Interestingly the shop interior itself was elsewhere on the set to the shop entrance you see from the street. You walk out of Aziraphale’s shop, over the road, through the door of the music shop and… there’s nothing.”

Q: Mr. Arnold is tempted into the ball by a Doctor Who Annual and is playing the theme in the music shop scene – are you a fan of Doctor Who in real life? And what was it like making those jokes and references in front of the Tenth Doctor David Tennant?

A: “I’ve always dipped in and out of Doctor Who over the years since Sylvestor McCoy, who was doing it when I first became aware of it when I was growing up. Even if you’re not a fan it’s one of those shows you can’t really get away from, so doing that particular scene in front of David was really fun, and of course Douglas had directed Doctor Who as well. Apart from the amusing situation of two supposed Doctor Who fans talking about Doctor Who without realising they’re in the company of a Doctor Who, I also seem to remember Michael being the one to suggest that he would deliver his “due to problems at the BBC” line directly to David.

Oh, and I think it was actually my idea to grab the annual off the harpsichord before joining the queue behind Crowley at the end of the ballroom scene (which we’d shot weeks earlier at this point). When we were blocking it out and rehearsing I knew I had to leave my position and get to the front for my “surrender the angle” line, and then later it just felt like I wouldn’t leave without the annual so I ran back through everyone to grab it. Nobody seemed to have a problem with me doing that so I just carried on doing it when we shot it! I do remember it being a fun set with Douglas and the team being very open to suggestions.”

Q: How did you balance filming both Good Omens and BBC Ghosts at the same time?

A: “Luckily both shows were a joy to work on, and everyone seems to know about both of them. We were shooting them in early 2022 and I also had a little part in an ITV drama called ‘Stonehouse’, starring Matthew Macfadyen. I usually never know when I’m working next so to have three great TV jobs at once was very unusual. There was all this date juggling and I actually almost had to turn down Ghosts due to clashes. Luckily both shows had to move some dates so it worked out. But yes, I spent two weeks up in Scotland shooting all that Good Omens ballroom stuff, then I came back down to London to do Ghosts, knowing I’d be back up to shoot my scenes in the music shop in a couple of weeks. Now, when I found out who was playing my wife in Ghosts I couldn’t believe it: Caroline Sheen – Michael Sheen’s cousin! She was amazing and that was another great set in general. I say “set”, but it’s all filmed in that house which surprised me. I’d worked with Kiell [Smith-Bynoe] and Jim [Howick] before, and Charlotte [Ritchie] was in the Good Omens radio play a few years ago and a big fan of the book. Charlotte’s very musical of course and we got talking about my folding keyboard I had for practising my Good Omens stuff, and she ended up setting it up in the house for us to have a play on!

Now, when we’d shot all our internal scenes there was this big storm forecast, and our external scenes were scheduled for the day of the storm, so that had to be moved into the next week. It meant I ended up shooting those scenes outside the house, then going straight back up to Scotland to shoot the Good Omens music shop scene the next day! When I mentioned to Michael I’d just worked with Caroline he said “ooh she’s in Ghosts is she!” and revealed that she’d texted him about me which was rather surreal. Then later after the Ghosts wrap party Kiell gave me a part in his Channel 4 Blap, so at the time I felt like I was killing it career wise, but the industry quietened a bit after that and my workload eased off over the year so I was in my overdraft by November.”

Q: What are your plans for the future – can we expect to see you in something else soon?

A: “This year, after a bit of a quiet start, I was very fortunate to work on a Disney+ show called Rivals which stars… David Tennant! I think I’m allowed to say my character is called Brian, and I shot five episodes so that was another really amazing job, and great to work with David again (I told him he must be my good luck charm, although I hope he’s not sick of me). That should be out at some point in late 2024. Other than that I’ve filmed a few other bits I presume will be out next year, one of which is called Truelove on Channel 4 which actually looks really good. That starts early January. Of course now Season 3 of Good Omens has been greenlit, I would love Neil and the gang to have me back on that… but I can only keep my fingers crossed!”

712 notes · View notes

xmalereader · 4 months

Text

PS5 Peter Parker x Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

REQUEST: May I request a PS5 Peter Parker x Male Reader. The reader and Peter used to be a thing when they were in high school but, they didn't work due to Peter's distance and cold because of him being spiderman especially when aunt May died. Years later, they encountered each other, the reader achieved his dream of being a writer, he wrote a book about him and unexpectedly, Peter came to his convention. Peter has been following the reader ever since they broke up, he always checks up on what he was doing daily without him. He visited the reader's convention hoping for a closure and confessed that he still loves the reader.

TAG: @jihanbang

WC: 4.7K

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, mentions of high school sweethearts, age gap ( one year difference ), Peter is angsty, reader is a writer, break ups and make ups, request made, insomniac Peter Parker, Spider-Man, some mature language, memories, childhood, high school memories. Peter POV, OOC Peter Parker.

NOTES: I may have gone a little overboard with this one, but I don’t care. I’ve actually been planning on writing an angsty Peter about ex lovers and all and when I saw your request I just had to write it right away. I was gonna keep it short but instead took it further almost 5k! (°▽°), but anyways I enjoyed writing this and put it as Peter perspective. I hope you enjoy this shot because I know I did!

Peter stares at the poster board plastered on the front window of the cities famous bookstore that he’d been passing by on the way out of F.E.A.S.T. He wasn’t much of a reader when it came towards books of fantasy or romance and would much rather have his nose stuck between the pages of a physics and engineering book, but he’d for sure read this new one coming out soon. His eyes drift over to the authors picture, staring at the smiling man and taking in their appearance. How long has it been since he’s last seen that smile?

Peter remembers the first time he saw that smile.

He was sixteen years old and freshly new to high school near his aunt May’s place. He’d grown nervous and anxious at the idea of starting his first year of his last three years of education before collage could even start, he remembers arriving late on his first day, flustered and embarrassed when walking into his first period only to have everyone laugh at him when the teacher points out his tardiness to the whole class.

He was embarrassed, but also lucky enough to get a seat in the back of the classroom where no one would see him. The only difference was that the only spot avaliable was next to the schools president who was a year older than Peter and the only Junior in his first period class. Peter always steered away from class representatives having experience their egos back in middle school. The good thing was that he didn’t have to deal with it all day and only for the first hour of school.

Until he found out that the president was in all of his classes, meaning that he would be seeing the kid for the whole school year and being partnered with him in various projects together. When he was first partnered with the class president he figured that he would be the only one doing the project and getting them an easy A only to get the total opposite from him.

Peter was surprised when Y/n sat next to him during class, shoulders bumping as he opens their textbooks and began to plan out their project and what subject they should look into along with figuring out where to meet up and when to get started. Peter didn’t think that the class president would actually help him out or put the work into their project.

He figured that he was only being nice because he was the schools star until he started following Peter everywhere. He’d invite him to eat lunch together or even drag him to the library in order to get started on their project it wasn’t until Peter actually freaked out when Y/n followed him home, thinking that he was being stalked and gained the confidence to stick up to the president, glaring at the junior and asking him why he was following him and claiming him to be a stalker.

Only for Y/n to laugh at Peters accusations and quickly clear up the problem by telling him that he actually lived in the same street as him, pointing out to the house just a few blocks down from Peters aunts place. Lets just say that Peter was embarrassed that day.

It wasn’t until their time together became a routine.

Y/n would be waiting for Peter every morning in order to walk to school together, visiting his place and joining his and aunt Mays dinner nights and keeping them company. There time together almost everyday caused a strange feeling to bloom deep down inside of Peter, questioning himself as to why he was feeling this way whenever he was around Y/n.

Peter liked science and like a scientist he had to experiment.

So, the teen started the process. His mornings with Y/n on the way to school were normal the two always talking about class work that was left unfinished or Y/n telling Peter about the different ideas he had in mind for the students and making sure that the year ends perfectly for everyone. There lunch together was also normal with Peter sitting across from Y/n as he eats his chocolate pudding, staring at the other teen who also eats his lunch and passing Peter his own pudding cup.

Y/n knew that Peter liked the schools chocolate pudding and always gave him his each time they got it for lunch without even having to offer it and Peter would easily take it without hesitation and eat a spoonful while they continued to converse.

Peter didn’t get that familer feeling anymore and figured that he was possibly just sick that day. Only to get that same feeling again when their both sitting in his bedroom after finishing up their project with Y/n rambling to Peter about his writing and the amount of ideas he had in mind while showing his drafts, sitting so close to each other that they can feel each others breaths.

That’s when Peter discovered that he was crushing on the class president.

Which resulted into Peter screaming into his pillow that night after going to bed. He couldn’t be crushing on Y/n out of all people why him? Since his discovery he was much more careful around Y/n, cutting their time together, leaving earlier than him in the mornings to the point that he had to fake being sick in order to avoid seeing him.

It didn’t take long for Y/n to notice Peter avoiding him and he wasn’t one to let things drag on. The day that Peter arrived to school an hour early in order to avoid Y/n he didn’t expect himself to be grabbed by the back of his backpack and dragged inside the janitors closet. He panics at first until he’s face to face with Y/n, staring at him with wide eyes and noticed how angry he looked.

“You’re avoiding me.”

Peter chuckled nervously while shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the crap, Peter.”

Peter can’t help but wince softly by his stern voice, avoiding eye contact when he feels his heart race, noticing how close Y/n is being while he continues to talk.

“You’re always leaving earlier than me in the mornings which is funny because your always waking up late and I have to be the one to wake you up—you stopped eating lunch with me and your always taking sick days which never happens because you hate missing school and you never get sick!” He continued to ramble on, losing Peter half way when he’s staring at him with admiration. The fact that Y/n not only noticed Peters avoidance but also pointed out the smallest things about him that not many people knew about, not even his aunt did.

“—and then you leave me behind after school when we always walk back home together and you don’t answer my texts! So, I figured that I’d corner you before school started in order to get answers.”

Peter is pulled from his thoughts and focused back on Y/n, staring at him as he stands before him with crossed arms and a frown on his face and a raised brow, waiting for an answer.

“It’s complicated.”

“Bullshit.”

Y/n was quick to respond, surprising Peter.

The two are staring each other down until Y/n sighs in defeat, frown softening while breaking contact and rubbing his temples. “Look, I won’t push you to tell me but can I least ask…did I do something to make you act this way?” His voice is filled with concern which only makes Peter quickly speak up. “No! No you didn’t do anything its…” He hesitates to speak, growing afraid and anxious by how Y/n will react when confessing his feelings.

He’s afraid to lose the person he really cares for, but he can’t always keep his feelings bottled up.

“Peter—?”

“I like you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched when hearing Peters confession, eyes full of surprise and with a gaped mouth. Before he could say anything Peter continues on. “I didn’t know until I started being around you more often and ever time I’m around you my hearts races and my stomach makes me feel like I want to throw up. I was avoiding you because I was afraid of how you’d react if you found out and I thought it would be better for me to keep my distance in hopes of getting rid of these feelings, but it only made me feel worse.”

Peter would think that Y/n would reject him and possibly leave him alone in the closet, ending their friendship after confessing. He didn’t think that he’d pulled into a kiss, warm hands cupping his cheeks and soft lips against his own. Peters eyes were wide in and face going red, he wasn’t only full of surprise but it was also his first kiss.

“You’re an idiot if you didn’t think i’d feel the same way.” Y/n says against Peters lips when breaking apart.

From that moment on the two started dating.

Peter expected the entire school to find out that their popular Vice president was dating him only to get nothing due to them keeping their relationship private. Y/n wanted to continue enjoying his time with Peter in school without being bombarded with questions by the various popular students who liked him. The two had their peace for the first year until graduation neared.

During Y/n’s last year of school he had told everyone that he wasn’t running for president for his Senior year and instead with the extra time he had he spent it at Peters place after school. The two would listen to each others talk passionately about what they loved with Peter talking fondly about his science projects and him listening to Y/n ramble on about his writing and his book ideas that he’s noted down for Peter to read and critique.

Everything was going well until it wasn’t.

Before Peter and Y/n officially started dating he focused on his duties as the cities hero, never having to worry about keeping it a secret from anyone else but his Aunt only to find out that he’d have to eventually tell Y/n about it which only freaked him out. He couldn’t allow him to know due to the fear of ruining their relationship and perhaps putting him in danger if things were to get bad as he continued to be the cities hero.

So, little by little Peter became distant towards Y/n.

Coming up with excuses as to why he didn’t want to go out to the point that arguments started over the smallest things. Peter wanted to keep Y/n close to him but the fear of being discovered as to why he’s always late to their small dates caused him to make the worst decision ever. It was the week before senior graduation that he broke up with Y/n, making up a lie that he didn’t want to hold him back when he’s in college and should have the freedom to be with other people who were far better than him.

Peter couldn’t even look him in the eyes when he utters those words and instead runs away like a coward.

That same night he had cried himself to sleep, feeling devastated and broken by his poor decision but also telling himself that it was for the best. Peter avoided Y/n on the days that he tried to talk to him, coming over to his aunts place to try and have a conversation only to be pushed away, keeping himself busy with his Spider-Man duties and spending more time in the city.

It wasn’t until after graduation that Y/n moves out of his parents place and got himself an apartment on the other side of the city, far away from Peter. He didn’t have to worry about going outside and bumping into his ex each time he checked the mail or took out the trash even though Peter wished to see him again he knew it’s was better to stay away.

Even after twelve years he couldn’t stop thinking about the man.

As the years went on he had found Y/n on social media, checking in on his profile every few weeks and taking notice of the various pictures that are posted along with interviews and conventions about his book that is to be released soon. Peter didn’t want to look like a stalker checking his ex’s socials, but can’t help himself and do it.

After returning back home from F.E.A.S.T he didn’t expect to find MJ working in the living room. Even though the two were close friends she had recently moved in with him as a way of saving some money and making living easier for the both of them.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked when enter the house and closing the door behind him while heading towards the kitchen to make himself something to eat while he listened to MJ type away on her computer. “Just on a new article.” She answers and looks up from her computer to see Peter searching the fridge. MJ took the opportunity to close her laptop and rush over to Peter with a smirk on his face.

“An article about what?” Peter closed the fridge after taking out the orange juice and slightly jolts by MJ’s sudden close appearance, startling him and sighing deeply.

“About Y/n.”

Peter froze at the familiar name.

Even though him and MJ had been friends for years he hadn’t told her or Harry about his past relationship with Y/n he never even mentioned dating someone when he was with them. He wasn’t ashamed he just didn’t want to bring up something he regrets ruining.

“The author?” He stutters out and focused back on pouring himself a drink and setting the carton of orange juice aside while he listened to MJ. “Yeah! I got to interview him about his book and he was very nice.” She went on about her time with Y/n. “Oh! He actually gave me a copy of his book before the release date and I took today to start reading it, I’m half way through but I really like it. I think its kind of cute that he turned his life story into a little fairy tale of his own.” She chuckled while approaching the living room where she picks up the book.

Peters eyes land on the cover page and watched her open the book to where she left off, his eyes averting as he focused on drinking his juice.

“Check this out! While I was reading it I noticed that the love interest has the same name as you.”

Peter chokes on his juice.

Spitting and coughing by the action.

“Are you okay?” MJ approached him, patting his back as she looks at him with worry only for Peter to reassure her that he’s fine and that he choked on his juice, claiming that he was drinking to face when in reality he was shocked by MJ’s words.

“Can I see?” He points towards the open book that she left open on the counter. “sure.” Her approval is all he needed for him to pick up the book and scan the pages, eyes moving back and forth as he read a few paragraphs and noticed how familiar the sounded to him. He doesn’t realize how engrossed he is that MJ clears her throat. “You can borrow it if you want, although you don’t look like the kind of guy who reads this sort of stuff.” She teased, earning a small laugh from Peter.

“You’d be surprised.” He gives off a faint smile, checks turning red as he closed the book. “Would it be alright for me to borrow it? I won’t move your bookmark.” He said.

MJ chuckled while nodding her head. “You can borrow it, just make sure to give it back once your done. I want to know what happens next.”

Peter promises MJ that he’ll return it once he’s finished.

He doesn’t read it right away and instead waits until sunset when he’s getting ready for bed, finally getting the peace and quiet that he needs before he takes the book from his nightstand and stares at the cover, growing nervous by the second until he finally decides to open the book.

Peter spends the entire night reading Y/n’s writing and realizing that his story is a reflection of their past relationship only with a few changes here and there, but it felt like Peter was watching a movie about his past and the things that both he and Y/n did together. He remembers the amount of drafts and ideas that Y/n wold show Peter and how he struggled to write a good story. He remembers Y/n telling him that he wanted a story that his readers would actually enjoy a story that will pull them in to the point where they are begging for more.

The story is written in Y/n’s perspective, obviously using a different name for the character he’s writing about. It’s the way that the words are perfectly written for him to understand and remember those days of them being together. It all came crawling back to him as he nears the end only to find out that the ending was different.

Instead of both characters breaking up the story continues on with Y/n’s perspective of his life in college, not giving much detail about what happened to the relationship and ending with him finding joy in writing. Which leaves Peter questioning himself, why?

When he completes the book he sets it aside sitting in silence and thinking about everything that happened between the two. He thinks about the first time they kisses, their first date, the first time that Y/n convinced Peter to sneak out to a party, the time that Y/n snuck inside Peters bedroom window as the two snuck around like teenagers would.

He also thinks about their break up and how scared he was to even look at Y/n when ending it between the two.

It was obvious that he still loved him and after twelve years he couldn’t let go.

—

Peter shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be at this convention when he clearly told himself that he’d keep his distance and yet, here he stands in a line full of fans that came to see Y/n and get their books signed. His hand gripped a copy of the book, growing anxious each time the line got closer only to chicken out every time he gets close and head back to the end of the line.

His anxiety washed away every time he got to the back of the line and did this almost five times until the line was cut short when announced that this was Y/n’s hour before leaving, meaning that Peter couldn’t turn back nor could he avoid confrontation. His heart raced as the line moved closer, keeping his head down in hopes of avoiding getting attention. He found out that he was the last one in line which would make the whole situation less awkward between the two.

He wouldn’t be holding anyone back and could leave whenever he can without a problem.

That was until his turn came up.

After the young girl in front of him gets her book signed and goes along her day he noticed Y/n turning around in order to get another marker due to the last one running out of ink, not noticing Peter when he approached the table. He slides the book in front of Y/n and when he turns back around his focus is on the book first, smiling as he flips it open.

“Sorry about that my last maker ran out and had to get a new one! But, good thing your the last I’m in no rush!” He chuckled out, being friendly as always as he flips to the front page where he signs his name. “who am I signing this for?”

Peter hesitates.

“Peter Parker.”

He noticed Y/n freeze mid signature, looking up slowly to face Peter.

After twelve years Y/n hadn’t changed a bit, his hair was still the same and so was his sense of fashion, remembering when he was teased for wearing a coat the minute fall started even though it wasn’t even cold outside yet.

The two stare at each other in silence only for Peter to break the tension between them. “I liked your book.”

Y/n blinks at him, focusing back on the book and clearing his throat while he nods. “Thanks…” He finished signing the book and closed the cover, sliding the book back to Peter while avoiding eye contact.

Peter wanted to wince, but it was expected. He ended things terribly between them and didn’t blame Y/n for avoiding him. As he reached out to take the book back into his hand he lets his fingers trace over the binding the tension between them growing even more as they remain silent amongst themselves.

“Why did you end it like that?”

Peters question gets Y/n’s attention, finally looking at him with a confused look. “What?”

“The story, why did you end it like that?”

Y/n licks his lips. “Because I thought it fit well.”

“Even when you know what the ending was really like?”

Peter wasn’t trying to judge his writing or criticize the ending, he was simply confused as to why he ended it when him sounding like everything was fine when in reality the ending would have been different if he had added their break up into it.

Y/n doesn’t know what to say, remaining silent as he stands from his seat and tried to keep himself distracted by cleaning up his area and pouting things away. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I know what its really about.” Peter speaks up, taking a step forward and setting the book down on the table as he watched Y/n collect his things. “You’ve showed me your writing before and I know how much you like being honest in your stories—“

“Not everything has to be true.” Y/n blurts out getting Peters attention who gets cut off mid conversation while looking at the man that he knew loved to write stories with passion who’d quickly pull out his phone the minute an idea came to minute and would note it down for later.

“What do you mean?”

His question causes Y/n to really look at him. “Yes, the story is about us and yes I changed the ending, but that doesn’t mean that everything is true. If you want the truth then I am more than happy to tell you the truth.” He glares at Peter while shoving his jacket inside his bag. “The truth is that I was miserable in college, I hated that place and the people who were there with me. I didn’t care for anyone and I stopped writing for years because every time I sit down and pick up a pen and start writing I can’t help but think about you all the time and that stupid smile on your face. I found it hard to visit my family knowing that you lived just a few blocks down.”

Peters heart races when listening to his explanation.

“So I figured, why not write our story the way I always thought it would be like?”

By the time he was done talking he had finished getting his things, giving peter one last look before leaving, brushing past Peter and making his way towards the exit while Peter stood back and watched. He felt like he was losing him all over again telling himself that it wasn’t worth it and to move on like he has been in the last twelve years, but after reading his book after getting the truth as to why he wrote it he knows he can’t sit back this time and watch as the person he still loves slip away from him.

So, Peter is quick to react. He’s rushing after Y/n and running out of the bookstore, looking both ways until his eyes land on Y/n who walked further up ahead. He’s running after him, chasing down the man and grabbing him by the arm and he pulls him into an alley way, perhaps not the best place but the only one that can give them some privacy from the public eye.

“what are you—!?”

“I’m sorry.” Peter cuts in.

“Peter—“

“No, let me finish.” He cuts in again, this time letting go of Y/n’s arm. “I’m tired of running and I’m tired of letting the best thing get away from me. I know what I did to you was horrible and it was the most dick thing I could ever to do and yes, you should be mad at me and you should hate me for it, but I never stopped thinking about it. You have no idea how many times I wanted to reach out and apologize but every time I thought about it I couldn't help but think about how I ended things and I regret everything about it.”

Y/n sighs softly, eyes softening as he leans back against the wall. “Then answer me this, why did you end things?”

Peter froze, the familiar fear crawling back to him.

“Because I.,,” He couldn’t speak. “Because I was afraid to lose you if I told you the truth. I was afraid that you’d possibly stop liking me or end things with me first before anything else.” He was rambling at this point knowing that he wasn’t telling him everything and was still avoiding the truth.

“Peter,” Y/n’s voice is enough to bring him back. “The truth, now.” His tone grew stern, glaring this time.

Peter sighs in defeat. “I didn’t break up with you because of you going to college, I broke up with you because I was afraid of telling you that I’m Spider-Man…” He finally says the words, finally revealing the truth. He expects Y/n to laugh at him or perhaps walk away without a word only to hear the most jaw dropping thing ever.

“I knew.”

‘you knew—how?”

Y/n laughed at Peters shock. “Peter I was always paying attention. I knew that something wasn’t right when you grew distant with me and I didn’t realize until I found your suit hidden under your bed. I didn’t want to believe that my boyfriend was Spider-Man until I started piecing everything together.” He explains to Peter. “You were always late to our dates, ditching classes which you never do, I even noticed the amount of muscles you gained when we were in gym together.”

Peter blushed at the last statement not realizing how much Y/n stared at him each time he changed in front of him.

“If you knew why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out and instead I decided to wait until you were ready to tell me…and this is the results.” He points a finger between the two, realizing that this all caused them to break up even when he already knew. Peter felt even worse now that he knew the truth, wanting to punch himself and feeling ashamed of himself.

While Peter cursed at himself for everything, Y/n speaks up with a small smile on his face. “So you thought about me?” Peter blushed at his comment. “Yeah.” He answers honestly, staring at the man who chuckled. “You wrote a book about me.”

“Technically it wasn’t about you it was about us.”

“Still counts,”

Y/n can only laugh which makes Peter smile feeling like teenagers again. Their laughter and smiles bring them back memories of their time together and perhaps they can make new ones

#male reader #Peter parker x male reader #Peter Parker #marvel x male reader #Spider-Man x male reader #Spider-Man #insomniac spider man #peter parker ps5 x male reader #PS5 Spiderman #Insomniac Peter Parker

440 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 9 months

Text

As My Own

Miguel O'Hara x Daughter'sRoomate!femreader .

Don't think I have forgotten about the requests 👀.

WARNING: Fluff. A tiny squeeze of angst, Rotting tooth fluff, daily snippets of life, anxious dad.

Summary: Gabi wants a mom. And who is Miguel to deny such wish?

Requested Here. Hope you like ❤️ Feedback is highly appreciated.

Sighing for the third time in a row, Miguel looked fondly at the pictures of his daughter through the years, until she grew out to be a lovely young lady, whose talents in soccer had earned her a scholarship in college.

Despite being terrified of the idea of Gabriela spreading her wings and soar into life itself, he knew the moment would come sooner or later, more like, right now. He was unpacking some boxes into the apartment Gabi would be staying, and if he was honest, the idea of her sharing a room with someone else didn't appeal that much on his trust issues.

If it wasn't for the house renovations needed to be done ASAP, he'd make sure to get Gabi a place for her own.

------

Emancipation had taken a toll on him and his mind, The once girly and colorful room filled with drawings, trophies and medals with a soccer player motifs, soccer star posters, some consoles and games, was now an empty space full of memories.

When Gabi gave him the news of her moving out completely, made his heart to shrink and break, but he knew that he had to let her go. Gabriela was 19 at the time, doing good at college, had found herself a half time job and a new roommate. The last one seemed the most preoccupying thing on the list. Was it a man? Did she eat well? Did she get along with them? Probably had gotten her a couple of fights, were they older? Was his Solecito safe?

It had been three years since she left home and pursue her superior studies and a professional soccer player career.

His mind was racing with the infinite questions and his stress gnawed at his chest, his phone buzzing interrupted his accelerating thoughts. He opened the message log and sighed in relief to see Gabriela's name on the screen.

He tapped at the message and his heart nearly melted at seeing Gabi with a goofy expression on her face, her hands making a V sign as she hovered over a small table set for two.

"Dinner time with Roomie~"

The caption read. The food looked delicious and esthetically pleasing at the eye. Nearly Michelin star awarded restaurant quality.

(Name) 's food is amazing! . Btw Im free next week, so come over, I miss you Papa.

Gabi had texted him some couple of hours later. (Name) ; at least he now knew that Gabi shared space with a woman. He didn't trust college guys at all. At least, he could sleep a bit better now. However, something had caught his attention, despite Gabi's competitive traits, she rarely loosened herself around others. And the picture only proved him right.

Gabi was unabashedly goofy and silly on the picture, with a genuine smile on her face. Whoever you were, he was grateful for making his most precious treasure comfortable and safe.

-----

The first time you met Gabi was quite the experience, you had just returned from work to find a lot of boxes loitering the entrance and part of the living room. Books, some baskets with soccer balls and equipment, Somw clothes and more books.

The burning smell immediately alerted you as smoke begun filling in the room. Rushing you opened the window and started to dissipate the smoke away with a towel.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" The young and tall woman panicked as she came out of the bathroom, body wrapped in a towel, just like her hair. Skin still sudsy with soap.

The chaos was tamed, leaving one of your favorite collectible pots, charred and useless.

"I'm really really sorry! I'll get you a new one."

"Don't you worry. Just... be careful. Don't leave the stove on when you are away. You could've burn the place down"

Gabi nodded sheepishly and looked down, when she noticed your chef uniform, the logo of a prestigious place she could only dream to afford in a couple of months and a place where he wanted to take her Papa as a surprise, standing out in your chest.

"Im (Name), the other tenant. Nice to meet you." Your voice was firm, yet kind. The kind of kindness that could insult anyone and still sound charming.

"Gabriela O'Hara. Sorry for your pot. I'll get you a new one"

"Ah stop it. It was just a family relic passed on generation to generation that now will end up in the trash."

You couldn't help but laugh at her panicking and guilty reaction.

"I'm just messing with you, sweetie. I got Ceci on a promo back at the supermarket. Don't worry. It's just a pot. We throw at least one daily at the restaurant. What were you trying to make anyways?"

Gabi didn't know if to be shocked or be laughing at your attitude. She settled for confused.

"Cause it smelled like cheap Mac and Cheese"

Her cheeks flushed and you just chuckled knowingly.

"Freshman?" Gabi nodded and you smiled almost endearingly at her.

"Such a cutie! I remember my first semester at college. Such a mess, terrible food and a terrible roommate"

"You're graduated?"

"A long time ago, yeah, Culinary school is something else. Don't get in there if you like having perfect skin."You chuckled and rolled up your sleeve, showing a few shares of scars and burn marks.

"Anyways, let's have a couple of rules okay? If you follow them, who knows? it can take us places." You grinned.

"No boys after 10 pm on weekends, and if you do, keep it low. Thin walls. Same applies to me, but don't worry about it. Im way too tired to actually do something about bringing my libido back."

Jeesh

Gabi's cheek flushed as her stomach fluttered anxiously.

"You can use my tools for cooking with the only condition to leave them clean and back at their place. Got it?"

She nodded at every reasonable rule you gave her. You had warned her that sometimes you'd be out of town due work, and that left her on charge of the place. It was brought to her attention that despite the place being small, it was conditioned enough to make it almost fancy looking. The kitchen specially.

Of course things just grew from there. At first Gabi was shocked to find you were a couple of years younger than her Papa. And that you had been single for quite a time now. Couple of years to be exact.

But that mattered little as her growing fondness for you was borderline adorable. You had helped her through some really bad times, like getting her a part time job at your workplace after being fired from the college coffee shop, something she never had the guts to tell Miguel.

Then you of course helping her out in her cooking skills, to at least stop eating plain ramen and packaged food bags.

"You're an athlete, you must feed like one."

"But I can't... afford it-"

"Uh uh. Shh." You shook your head and taught her to buy the right sort of meals even under a tight budget. Sometimes she would even find meals prepped for her whenever she had run short on money.

You were there when she got her first college date, and also were there when the young man turned out to be a fuckboy and a prick. Wiping her tears and feeding her a freshly made creme brule. A favorite of hers. You had also Dropped her and picked her up in her soccer practices whenever time allowed you so. She seeked guidance in you

She was there for you when depression was making it's way into your head, she was also there when she helped you to recover from a hang over after another failed date, and nursed you through your terrible period cramps. Even though sometimes harmony seemed disrupted by external causes, such as stress, work and feeling particularly wistful and blue, you'd always find comfort in eachother.

You were amazed by the fact that you realized that she was like the little girl you always dreamed to have.

"How come you don't have children?" Gabi had asked carefully. Despite the trust you hsd built over the years, there was some things you still couldn't bring yourself to discuss so openly, until now.

"I..."

"Sorry if I'm overstepping"

"Nah. I think it's time I actually come clean about some stuffs."

"Are you sure?" You nodded and sighed

"I can't have them"

Surprise drawed into Gabi's eyes as she stared at you.

"Infertility?"

"Yup. But... It's fine. I've come to terms with it, so..."

You trailed and she swallowed as her hand was placed above yours.

"For all it's worth? I'm sure you could have been an amazing mother."

Could have been

" To me, you... you are."

Gabi mumbled as tears swelled up in her eyes, threatening to fall. You stared at her, heart leaping in your chest

"Like... You are like the mother I never had... My Papa is amazing, but sometimes I actually yearn for a different kind of love." She hiccuped and you frowned, holding her closer.

"Like a mom. I want... I want to go shopping and talking about boys and how stupid they are. I want... to be cheered on by someone else at my games and not only my Papa."

Your heart felt breaking bit by bit as Gabi broke before you

"Don't get me wrong, I love Papa to death but... It's hard, y'know?"

"Ah, cariño." An endearment term you had learn from her, "You are such an amazing kid. Im sure that whoever comes into your life to take that spot needs to be amazing, because you're such a special young woman. Look at you, bright future ahead, smart, so so pretty and brave"

But Gabriela didn't want a stranger as her mother figure. She wanted you.

Gabi hid her face on your chest as you held her close, consoling her as much as you could. She remained there until she looked up at you with a suspicious glare

"Maybe I can introduce you to my dad" Your cheeks flushed bright red and she gasped, a bright bulb of an idea popping in her mind, sadness remnants vanishing from her body almost instantly

"No, Gabi, cariño-"

"You can meet him this weekend!"

"That's too soon, I am not prepared! Plus I have work remember?"

"He's staying all weekend, don't worry."

You had seen her adoring Papa through pictures she had showed you. The man was attractive, and looked certainly way too out of your league but of course you never told Gabi about it. You just shrugged it off with a 'Oh, cute'. But now that her plan was on set, you couldn't say no to her.

"Besides, I think it's time for you to actually meet guys. And this time no excuses like Im busy or stuff like that."

"Okay, okay. But if things don't work out-"

"I know, I'll drop it." Gabi rolled her eyes.

-----

Even though the recipe for a certain disaster was cooking, you tried to be optimistic about it. A bit of positive thinking wouldn't hurt you from time to time. However, your shift turned out a bit trickier than usual, since the restaurant had been reserved for a main event for important people.

In the little chance you had, you sent Gabi a little video of how crowded it was, and apologizing cause you didn't know if you were making a double shift and wouldn't be able to meet Papa.

Gabi just sent you a picture of the both with a "Miss you! Dad just came"

------

3 am. 3 am and you were finally done, no more stuck up clients pretending to love raw fish and meats, people that were just actually there for the food pictures and to be able to brag about they were there. Your feet ached, and so was your headache. The good thing was that the company allowed you to take some food home.

Keys tinkered as you grabbed them to finally turn them in the keyhole and entering home and closed the door, angry and heavy steps alerted you as the hulking figure of a man stood in the dark, as the dim lit red iris flashed at you. You had to crane your head up to meet his deep eyes.

Now you wondered where Gabi had came out so tall.

"H-Hello..." You gulped and he sighed, hard expression melting slowly.

"Sorry for... the late hour."

"No, no. Discúlpeme I mean, forgive me. Though someone had broke in, until I heard the keys a bit too late. I'm Miguel. O'Hara." He offered you his large hand that easily engulfed yours.

"Oh, so you're... Papa" you shook it gently. He was warm, and chuckled. "Im (Name). Gabi never stops talking about you." You gave him an amiable smile and put your containers on the dining table.

"Nice to meet you" you began unpacking, aligning the recipients carefully on the table.

"How's... Gabriela doing?" His deep voice snapped your focus for a moment and your eyes darted to his form. Sweatpants in grey, a white fitting shirt that snugged his form a bit too nicely for a short stare. Hair slicked back, pouty lips, thick brows and his deep... red eyes? He certainly was even more handsome in the flesh than in the pictures.

"Oh, she's amazing. Her practice in soccer has improved even more. She has a final next week."

His brow arched at how much information you knew about her.

"I apologize, she fell asleep in your room, despite me telling her that the couch would be-"

"Ah don't worry about it. My bed is big enough for two, and she isn't a kicker in her sleep. So make sure to rest properly. Oh! And welcome for the weekend. Would you like something to eat?"

Miguel shook his head and softly smiled at you. You were pretty. So so pretty that his mind was almost in shortcut when you were removing your chef robe, in the kitchen exposing a bit more of skin. Your left arm was adorned with little burn marks and cuts, you poured yourself a glass of wine when you felt his eyes on you.

"Want some?" You offered the wine and he nodded, a bit reluctant at first.

"Has Gabi acted out of place while I'm gone?" You giggled as you poured him some wine.

"If by out of place means sleeping one hour later than she is used to, yeah. She has." Your hands gave him the cup and he leaned on the table. Gabi groggily came out your room, lured away by the delicious smell of food.

"Hey" She mumbled and hugged Miguel and then hugged you, and remained with her arms around your waist. You kissed her forehead and she smiled.

Miguel entered in spectator mode.

"Hey, cupcake. Want some food?"

"Can I have it tomorrow?"

"Got you a Creme Brule." She grunted happily.

Gabi smiled and went through the bags, popping a chocolate coated strawberry on her mouth.

"Still, I'm too tired to actually eat. Got Papa and I some takeout."

"Takeout?! The good sort of thing I hope" Gabriela groaned as she made her way back to your room.

"Don't steal the fluffy sheets!"

"Yes, mom. Take a bath first, you smell like garlic." she mumbled and went to bed.

Your whole face was as red as a strawberry not because your smell, but for how she had called you, you gulped down the wine and sighed. Miguel stared at you and his chest couldn't help but constrict a little more.

" I apologize for that, Gabriela is..."

"Quite receptive to smells? Yeah."

"And she called you mom." He was more surprised about it than anything else.

"Ah hehe. Yeah, she had been calling me accidentally that a bit more often."

"Does it makes you feel uncomfortable?" He sipped his wine

"Not really. I find it cute. She eh... talked to me about growing up and how things had been for her."

"I must thank you. You have fed her, taken care of her and now even protect her."

"She's a great kid." You nodded proudly. "Couldn't find a better roomie, and a friend. You did a good job raising her, Papa."

Miguel cleared his throat and gave you a small smile.

"I hope she hasn't-"

"Relax, she's been nothing but a good kid all these years. You gotta trust her a bit more."

"It's the people around her that I don't trust"

"Ouch..."

"I mean, not that I dont... just... carajo." you giggled at his cursing as his brows knitted together

"I mean, my daughter trusts you enough to sleep in your bed, call you mom even, so... would be kinda dumb to say that you're a bad person... And I'm not making any sense right?"

You gave him a bashful smile and it was your turn to clear your throat.

"She's been busy at playing cupid. She thinks she is subtle..." You bit your lip and poured yourself a bit more of wine as Miguel rubbed his face, tiredly.

"What about, today at 7 pm?"

"At 7pm what?" He coked an eyebrow to you and Gabriela poked her head out of your room, sighing with exasperation.

"Por Dios pa, Te está invitando a salir!" (My god, Papa, she's asking you out.)

You just laughed and put the food in the fridge

"If you're up for it, that is. It's fine if you don't-"

"Make it at 8. Traffic has lowered by that hour."

"Alright." You smiled and took your chef coat with you.

"Sleep well, Papa."

He downed the remnants of his wine and smiled to himself. He had a date.

------—----

And a second, and a third and a fourth and a fifth. You were such an enjoyable being to hang around. You shared little silly texts, learnt a bit more spanish thanks to him to slowly bring down your language barrier. Even though you understood some words here and there, you wanted to understand so you could also feel part of the secret and long conversations the two O'Haras shared when it came to you.

Miguel was the first in making a move and kissed you around the fourth date. Nervous as you were, you finally felt good enough to just allow yourself to indulge in his company and what he had to offer. Great company, laughs, delicious make out sessions you didn't thought possible at your age.

Gabi had found you both eating each other's mouth in the livingroom

"Get a room!" She'd yell as she locked herself, headphones up her ears, but a beam in her face. Her chest swelled in joy knowing her cupid stunt had paid off.

--------

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, pa. Like... She's the best. She's so sweet and... makes me happy cause you are happy."

"You'd be the only child, you're aware of that right?"

Gabi nodded upon remembering your words and your condition.

"Having a little sibling at this point would be awkward anyways."

"That doesn't mean I can't try-"

"Oh my god stop..." Gabi shook her head and Miguel smirked

"Payback for not telling me you were fired." She grunted as Miguel held her tightly.

"I think it's time to try something new."

"You'll ask her to marry you?!" Gabi gasped excited with a beam on her face

"Relax, Solecito. We're still knowing each other. And we wanna make sure that things work out before thinking in something so important as that."

"If you let her go, I promise that I won't talk to you again."

"Ouch."

--------

Bit by bit you had small milestones in your relationship with Miguel, you visiting his home back at New York, you staying a weekend in said home, you being introduced to his friends, sharing carneada with his friends, and of course, being found by Gabriela about to have sex, none of you mentioned it during dinner.

To make things even more convenient and better, your restaurant had opened a second branch in New York. Gabi was about to graduate college and of course, you both were saddened that soon you'll part ways. The both were too enraptured enjoying your mother-daughter relationship you had created that forgot about the future.

It didn't help to her sadness when you told her about you and other crew members of your work were selected for a three months workshop in France.

Despite your own sadness, both O'Haras cheered you to go.

"Three months is gonna be torture without you, but time goes so fast. You'll be back sooner than we expect it." Gabi had spoken. And of course, after her graduation, and a kiss goodbye, you flew to France.

Communication wasn't an issue since you talked every day. And still, the gnawing feeling of not being with them made you wish time to fly. You spoke every night with Miguel, telling him how much you have missed him. Even though work had kept you both busy enough, you'd always find a way to talk or text.

And when you came back? It felt like floating in a dream.

"Mom!" Gabriela rushed to you and crushed you in her arms, sniffling and holding you tightly.

"I missed you soo much, cariño." You kissed her forehead, Miguel joined a bit later with a rose bouquet on hand. He pulled you in for a deep kiss.

"Missed you, preciosa".

What sealed the deal for him was seeing you sharing a moment with Gabi. You were brushing her hair as you caught up eith the things you learned in France and how excited you were for them both to taste them.

He asked you to move in with them. And god he loved the feeling of you being around. Gabi was happy, he was happy and you were as well.

Everything about you had captured his heart. Your personality, your way to carry on things, the subtle ways you guided Gabriela without imposing in her autonomy, How much love you seemed to have for them, the delicious feeling of your skin against his on bed.

He proposed a year after. He wouldn't let you go, no no. You were too perfect for him, and a perfect Mom for Gabriela.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #dad miguel o'hara #gabi o'hara #Fluff #miguel fluff #miguel o'hara fluff #fem reader #atsv fluff #astv fanfic

909 notes · View notes

bby-deerling · 5 months

Text

trade of goods and services (law x reader)

can be read platonically (but why would you), happens during timeskip, strawhat!reader wc: 860 masterlist

You notice his spotted bucket hat before you see the rest of him slowly ambling through the tents that make up the commune of artists that you’ve made a home with over the past year or so. Turning your head down and away from him, you keep glances at the tall, tan man limited to your peripherals and pray he doesn’t recognize you from Sabaody, or your bounty poster; you had been getting tougher, but trying to take on the captain of the Heart Pirates alone would be pure delusion.

“Hey. You.” he says, his voice deep and low. You tense up, and snap your head to meet his gaze, hand flashing him a brief peace sign in greetings by force of habit.

“You’re a Strawhat.” he says. You nod affirmatively and give him your name, thoroughly convinced it was going to be the last thing you said before he ripped your heart out of your chest and sent it to Marine Headquarters in a box.

“I know. We’ve met.” he says. You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering what he was getting at by telling you information you both already knew. The only thing that came to mind besides him being there to collect your bounty was that you had seen in the news that he had helped Luffy escape Marineford, and that he might be hoping for a sympathy discount on whatever he was about to ask you to paint.

Surprisingly, you found that Trafalgar Law was simply awkward at introductions.

“I need a birthday gift for my navigator, Bepo. Eight inches by ten, oil on board. We’ll be in town for a few days, can you handle it?” he says, demanding more than asking.

You nod affirmatively, giving him a price. He slides you a picture of Bepo and enough berries to cover the fifty percent deposit.

“Come back in three days; I’ll use fast-drying medium so I can varnish it sooner.” you tell him. Truthfully, you hated doing so, preferring more time to work with the paint before it dries, but the job often demanded it with so many people coming in and out of the tiny port island. Law nods and begins to walk away, and you give him something between a wave and a peace sign. He stops and turns around.

“You always do that? With your fingers?” he asks. His tone is low, as if he is trying to ascertain whether or not you were trying to intentionally get under his skin.

You nod. “Sorry if it’s obnoxious. I do it without thinking.”

“It’s not.” he says with a huff as he walks away.

When Law returns, he’s impressed with the piece, and pays you the rest of the berries for the work. As you grab your wallet from your desk to put your berries away, Law gets nosy and peeks in your drawer, examining the rare coins floating around.

“These should really be in a book.” he says, giving you unsolicited advice as he goes through your things, much to your chagrin.

“I’ve got a book on the Sunny. These are just the ones I’ve collected here.” you reply, trying not to lose your marbles at his invasiveness.

Law’s inked fingers halt as he spots something in the corner of your drawer, grabbing it before thinking; his heart nearly stops when he confirms his suspicions that the coin was from Flevance.

“You must have paid a fortune for this.” he says, choosing his words carefully to prevent giving too much about himself away.

“Not as much as you’d think.” you reply, watching his face carefully as he clenched his jaw while examining the coin. “Do you want it?” you ask him. He stares at you, alarmed by the apparent concern for him brimming in your eyes.

“How much?” he says, phrasing it as more of a statement than a question.

“Take it.” you insist, eyes pleading with him. Law opens his mouth to protest, but you speak before he can. “Consider it thanks for saving my captain’s life.”

Law knows he really should pay you for it, but finds himself accepting your small token of kindness, closing his fingers around the coin. He found you peculiar; under any other circumstances, he would find the coin an omen of danger, a sign that someone was trying to send him a thinly veiled threat, but he only turned up with good intentions when searching your face.

Law intends to leave it at that and walk away, but something in him urges him to leave you with some parting words.

“You’re too sweet. The New World is going to eat you alive.” he warns.

You smile at him, eyes filled with determination and blind faith. “Not when I have Luffy by my side!” Your words take Law aback, and slightly amuse him.

“I have a feeling we’ll meet again.” you tell him. “When we do, you better have a coin for me.”

“I’ll think about it.” he replies indifferently as he keeps walking.

(When you meet him again, he does indeed return the favor by slipping a rare coin into the pocket of your coat.)

#one piece x reader #x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #this was gonna stay on the hard drive but i edited it and felt good enough abt it to share #one piece scenarios

521 notes · View notes

fcwoso · 6 months

Text

Personal tattoo artist · Mapi León

Summary: Mapi helps reader to overcome her fears but not without a cheeky proposal (fluffy)

MASTERLIST

María has always loved tattoos. It didn't matter if she was the one getting them or someone else, it was something she felt passionate about. She saw the body as a canvas, one that would tell it's own story as time passed by. The drawings and words each represented something, a thought or a feeling. Even if it referred to a miniscule moment. It wasn't a surprise when she announced that, that would be the career path she'd follow when her time as a soccer play would come to an end. On one side it was a scary thought, football is all she has been doing for most of her life.

"Amor (love), come on. You trust me, right?" María pouted as she put her sketchbook down. The book was filled with her creative ideas, she even dedicated a few pages to you. Sketches that reminded her of you, ones that she'd love you to get tatted. The Spanish woman pulled you closer and nuzzled her face in your neck. You could feel her sighing for the umpteenth time this evening, but not before she left a trail of kisses on your warm skin. She wasn't really frustrated, she just loved being a bit dramatic.

The evening started out relaxed. María had training in the morning which meant you two had the rest of the day to spent together. After Googling for a nice place to eat, you decided to go to a restaurant not far from your appartment. Unfortunately once arrived at the place, you stumbled upon a poster that said the place was under reconstruction.

The mood was pretty much killed after that but María came up with the brilliant idea to cook something at home. The muscles in her legs were still aching and all she wanted was to have a nice meal and watch a good show, was what she said. In reality she prefered cuddling on the couch with you. Her muscles were completely fine, she felt great even.

The now empty plates were placed on the glass table in front of the lovers while the tv was still on in the background. "Yes, cariño (honey). Ofcourse i do. It's just that i'm scared i'll regret it." You admitted. A few weeks ago you two went to visit an old friend of hers. That friend is a tattoo artist and offered you to get a tattoo of your choice. You actually had something in mind but backed out last minute. It was this intense fear of regret that kept your mind wondering if it was a good idea to continue, so you didn't.

María's hands found yours as she noticed you were actually worried. It really wasn't that big of a deal, but she didn't want to downplay your emotions. Your thumb grazed over the rose that was displayed on her palm. The rose was her own work, it was a piece she was proud of. And so were you, you were so proud of her courage. The exact courage you were currently missing.

"You know, it's okay to feel that way." María engulfed one hand of yours in hers while the other one travelled to your chin. "I just don't want you to regret not getting it". She softly placed a kiss on your lips and smoothed out the frown between your eyebrows. It's true, it's been a couple of months since you've started talking about this tattoo. Your lips found hers again right after she pulled away, missing her reassuring touch. Her eyes twinkled as she stared at your face, a child-like smile growing on hers.

"Just a reminder, i can do the job as well." María said with raised eyebrows. She wrapped her arms around your waist, you could feel her getting excited at the idea because of the way she was almost restricting your blood flow. "I mean..." You wondered. It's María. Mapi. Your partner in crime. How would you ever be able to regret this tattoo?

She did have the equipment for it, she had the skills as well. "Princesa." María stood up firmly and placed her hands on her sides. "I believe in you." You started giggling, not being able to take her seriously because of the look on her face. "You're lucky you're cute." You said. Eyes following her frame when she made her way out of the living room. She came back with another book, a smaller book than the one she was drawing in earlier.

"What's that?" You asked, curiosity growing bigger by the second. "Oh, this old thing?" Maria huffed and laughed nervously. A few strands of hair were covering her face, she started to scan the pages of the mysterious book. "Escúchame (listen), i have this theory." You couldn't help but laugh at her behaviour, your fingers stroking her short hair back behind her pierced ears. "You should go for something totally different, you don't want to get a tattoo you've had major doubts about."

"Okay, but what does this book have to do with it?" You asked, still not fully understanding the purpose of it. The book was quickly placed in your hands by your lover. The woman next to you started to grow shy under your stare, which is unusual for her, feeling as if she had just exposed one of her biggest secrets. "These are sketches i've never shared with anyone. I'm sure you'll find one that perfectly suits you." María admitted with a soft smile on her face. You couldn't help but pull her closer in your arms, leaving a couple of kisses to the side of her face and on her now slightly red cheeks.

"Thank you." The sincere words were very much appreciated by the footballer. "I'd love to share some other ideas, though." The Spanish woman gained her confidence back in a matter of time. You suddenly found yourself sitting on her lap, legs on each side of her strong body. Her hands wandered around your waist and eventually rested on your thighs that were covered by one of her joggers. "There's this really cool name, something along the lines of Mani, Mapi?" She began. One of her hands moved and rested on your lower back, you quickly understood what she was proposing. "Yeah, there's no way i'm getting a tramp stamp."

#mapi leon x reader #maria leon x reader #mapi leon one shot #mapi leon #barcelona femeni x reader #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine

473 notes · View notes

stillmonsterz · 4 days

Text

birds of a feather

this is part two to brave it together.

pairing: jay x reader, jake x reader genre: smut, angst, slight humor summary: after your eventful week, you assumed that life would go back to normal. instead, things only become even more complicated and tangled. your feelings for jay continue morphing, and his treatment of you only make you feel even more confused. as you attempt to balance your newfound social life, your complex intrapersonal relationships, and the mystery surrounding mina's suicide, you begin to wonder if there's anyone in the school you could trust. contains: unprotected sex, dubcon, drug usage, alcohol usage, manipulation, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder, infidelity, exhibitionism, name calling word count: 28.9k taglist: @moon7jay @ui11iane @bambangan @belowbun @sseobonggs

You were lying in Jay’s arms, and you were scared to make a sound. If you did, you felt as though he would remember you were there and tell you to leave. But right now, as his cheek rested on your bare shoulder, you didn’t want to go.

After you had gone to his room, you had drunk exactly one shot of the whiskey he had promised you before he was all over you again. You’d had sex twice more in his bedroom after your time on the roof. It was a blur to you, a hazy deluge of memories: being spanked, thrown around in whatever position he wanted you in, hands gripping you tight enough to leave an array of bruises more vibrant than the last set, kisses full of venom.

Jay clung to you after he came the third time, your back flush against his chest so that you were spooning. You basked in his attention, in the scent of Jay’s sweat mixed with his cologne.

You didn’t want to move your head, so you had a limited view of his room. In the dark, you could see his nightstand, whereupon a half-empty package of cigarettes, a box of condoms, some scattered books, and assorted jewelry lay. The condoms surprised you, because Jay hadn’t used any with you.The floor was messy, with clothes strewn haphazardly on the plush carpet. Some of those were yours. You could see band posters stuck all over, some you recognized and some you didn’t. The room was gradually becoming brighter, and you dimly realized that the sun was rising. Already? It was November, meaning that it had to be approaching morning-time.

“Jay,” you muttered. He made a muffled noise and shifted, pressing his cheek against you. “Jay, it’s morning.”

“Mm…”

“I should go.”

Some part of you wanted him to tell you to stay, but instead Jay whispered, “One more round?” HIs hands started to caress your waist again.

You sighed. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Jay groaned and released you, sitting up in his bed. His hair was messy, and by the light filtering in through his curtains, you could see that you had left scratches on his back and shoulders. The cigarette mark you had made last night still lingered on his arm. “You’re still such a prude,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“What if someone catches us?” You sat up as well, mustering the urge to stand. Your legs were terribly sore, and when you tried to stand up they shook like a fawn’s.

Jay watched you as you collected your clothes from the ground and put them on mechanically. “You’re right,” he said in a strange voice. “It’s 7, so I doubt anyone in Stoker will be up anyways. If you take the back exit…down the back set of stairs…take a right…you should be fine.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, fumbling with the buttons of your jacket. All you’d had to eat yesterday was a samosa and three cigarettes, with scant sleep in between, and it was starting to take a toll on your body. The cold that had been brewing was starting to rear its ugly head, and you made a note to get your hands on some cough syrup. You were glad that you wore shoes you could slip into, because you doubted that you could be trusted to tie shoelaces.

Jay sighed and beckoned for you. “C’mere,” he said. “You’re so helpless. You’re like a newborn or something.”

You shuffled over to the bed, sitting on the edge. “You have sex with newborns often?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jay fixed your buttons for you, one by one. “Don’t get cute with me.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t be sarcastic, either. It doesn’t look good on you.” Jay squeezed your cheeks between his thumb and middle finger, pulling it this way and that as though to inspect your features. “You look like shit.”

“It’s been a long weekend,” you say dryly.

“Hm.” Jay looked into your eyes for a few seconds too long before releasing you. “Well, get out of here. Don’t need Jake having a stroke because I’ve defiled his new white whale.” Jay chuckled, his usual smug expression returning. “On second thought, maybe you should stay. I could call Jakey, he could come over here, and I could show him just how good you are at taking my-,”

“Goodbye,” you said, pulling away from him and standing upright. Just the sound of Jake’s name made you feel odd. Not guilt, not shame, but another emotion you couldn’t place. Something nasty, something that felt like tar trickling down your throat.

“Bye, little prude,” Jay said. “Oh, where are my manners?” He got out of bed, shivered at the cold, and opened the door for you. His eyes glittered with their usual spark of malice, and it made you wonder what he was going to do. You didn’t want to stick around to find out, so you nodded your head and took a step from his room.

There was a tug at your jacket’s collar, and Jay whispered your name. You turned your head to meet his gaze once more. “Probably don’t have to tell you this,” he began, eyes trained on you, “but don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“Who would I tell?” you replied quietly.

Jay smiled, his dimple adding an uncharacteristic boyishness to his otherwise chiseled face. “Good answer,” he said, “but that’s not a yes. Don’t tell anyone we fucked, alright?”

You looked down at the ground. For some reason, it still hadn’t sunk in that you had voluntarily slept with Jay. Several times, at that.

“Look at me,” he said, and you lifted your head. “You won’t tell a soul?”

“I won’t,” you said softly.

Jay nodded and let go of your jacket. “You’re so obedient,” he muttered. “You’ll make an excellent housewife someday.”

“Housewife? I don’t know if I want to get married.”

“Please. Nice, meek girls like you always end up barefoot and pregnant to some hulking idiot,” Jay said dismissively. “It’s a matter of when, not if.”

“What about you?” you asked.

Jay frowned. “What about me?”

“Will you get married, have kids?”

A brief flash of hurt crossed Jay’s features, the first time you had ever seen it on his face. “Can’t have kids,” he said. “I shoot blanks.”

“Oh.”

“I had hypospadias as a baby. Got the surgery young, everything is fine, I’m just completely sterile. So I’ll never bear my parents an heir.” Jay said the last sentence in someone else’s voice, as though he were mimicking words another had said.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Jay snorted and scratched his arm. “Don’t be,” he said. “I can fuck like an animal and never get a bitch pregnant. It’s the best. So you don’t have to worry about having my kid…although I feel like you would look good pregnant.”

“Jay.”

“You’d gain weight in all the right places…yeah, I wouldn’t let you abort my kid,” Jay continued. “You’d be forced to bear little Jay junior, and like a good father I would pay child support and take the little shit to Disneyland once in a while. And he’d be like, ‘Daddy, daddy, I just got a b minus in math class!’ And I’d say, ‘Son, you’re going to learn that math matters little in the real world. Come, let me take you to Hooters, so that you can swim in the ocean with men, instead of wallowing in the kiddy pool of arithmetic.’”

“Little Jay junior wouldn’t be happy,” you said, smiling slightly. “How could he be happy when Daddy hates Mommy?”

Jay laughed, quietly enough so the sound didn’t resonate down the hallway. He leaned against the doorframe, holding his arm above his head. “Please. Daddies hate mommies all the time. It’s normal.”

You hesitated before whispering, “And do mommies hate daddies?”

Jay paused as well. One of his hands reached out slowly and gently rubbed at the corner of your lips. ”They should,” he murmured, flicking something away. “They should hate daddies. Mommies aren’t very smart sometimes.” Jay cleared his throat, pulling his hand away from you. “Now run along or I really will split you open in front of Jake.”

Without another word, you took off down the hallway. The wide hallway alone reeked of decadence and dripped with pretension. There was no reason why a college dorm should have delicate china vases balancing on hardwood nightstands that lined the hallways, nor why the walls should have crown molding. What asshole had spent this much money on a college dorm?

As you crept towards the back staircase, you noticed that one of the dorm rooms had a sock on the doorknob. That seemed much more appropriate for a building populated largely by idiotic young men. You continued down the steps, to the right, and exited the building safely.

Just before you left to head to Fawcett, you turned around. The lights were off in all of the rooms except for one, and if you shielded your eyes, you could see a dark figure inside. You wondered if it wasn’t Jay watching you. You thought about waving, but that would seem far too playful. You continued walking through the cold, back to your own dorm.

–

After a weary shower in the communal bathroom and a long, long nap in your room, you decided that it might be time to actually get some schoolwork done. You had a group project that you hadn’t started, assignments in all of your classes, and you had to be at the library by four to start your shift there.

You were ravenous, though. Damned if you saw Isa, or Riki, or whoever else. You were going to go to Fawcett and get yourself something to eat. You put some decent clothes on, pocketed some of the money Jay had given you, and went to the caf. Amazingly, no one was there. No one you knew, anyways. You got yourself a breakfast meal and tore into it. As you ate, you decided to text Isa. Yesterday had been too busy, too overwhelming to even think about talking to another soul.

You: Sorry for the late message. I’m doing all right. Hope you’re okay.

Isa texted back so quickly, your head spun.

Isa: im doing great omg

Isa: no need to apologize!

Isa: are u okay though? :(((

Isa: jake told me jay was bothering you again :/

Isa: i talked to jay about it and he says he’ll stop

Isa: im so glad we’re talking again i missed him badddd

What?

You: You and Jay?

Isa: yupp

Isa: he says hi btw

Isa: he’s with me rn

Isa: oh him and jake fought

Isa: jake looks fuckedddd lol

Isa: shouldn’t have fought w jay

Isa: he’s a psycho fr

Isa: i’ve always liked them a little crazy lmao

A chill ran through you, and the bite of food you had been chewing turned into ash. You swallowed it, nearly choking. Already? He had gone to Isa already? Mere hours after you two had fucked? And what did she mean by “my man”, when Jay had explicitly told you that they weren’t dating?

You recollected yourself and typed out a quick “see you at work” message to Isa. Why did you care so much? Things were going back to the way they had always been. Jay teased you, Isa was gorgeous, and they would make tender, sweet love while you twiddled your fucking thumbs and knitted sweaters. This was the way things had been for weeks, months, years. Why should they change now? It was obvious to you now. Jay had merely used you to get his rocks off, just another ploy in his juvenile game. In just a few days, he had erased months of harassment by showing you the barest modicum of kindness. Jay was right. You were pathetic.

You forced yourself to eat the rest of your food, lest you faint from hunger. If Jay was going to return to his old self, so would you. You would withdraw into yourself once more and pretend like the past week had never happened.

–

You didn’t know why you still bothered making dramatic ultimatums like that. After your classes on Monday, which were such an unbearable slog that you almost wished Jay had pushed you off the roof, you trudged to your job at the library.

When you got to the main desk, Jay and Isa were already there. It was revolting, seeing Jay lean in to give Isa a gentle kiss on the lips, far sweeter than any he had given you. Your face burned with indignation, but you swallowed it down. If there was anything you were good at, it was pretending not to have emotions. Sometimes you almost believed it.

Isa was wearing a baggy T-shirt, which you recognized as Jay’s Jane’s Addiction t-shirt, over a red-and-black plaid skirt with combat boots. It was a cute, punk look.

“Isa,” you said with a slight wave. She turned to you and squealed, and any irritation you held towards her washed away.

“I was so worried about you,” Isa wailed, rushing forward to give you a hug. You hugged her back stiffly, patting her back. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sick,” you said quietly. “The weather.” She smelled like Jay’s cologne.

“Stupid Jake and his golf cart,” Isa mumbled.

“Golf cart? He had my golf cart?” Jay’s voice was incredulous, and you tried not to focus on the way his thumb was hooked through the belt loops on Isa’s skirt.

“Yeah, he drove us to Yeonjun’s in it,” Isa said, turning to look at Jay with shimmering eyes.

“What the fuck? That was mine,” Jay said. “I was wondering why it was missing. What the fuck is his problem?”

“I didn’t know you played golf.”

“I do a lot of things you don’t know about.”

Isa danced her fingers up Jay’s chest. “Maybe you could show me some of those things.”

Jesus. You walked past Isa and stood behind the main desk, picking up the list of tasks. The words swam in front of your eyes, and you blinked several times to clear up the dizziness. “I’m going to contact the clubs,” you said weakly. The library regularly booked spaces for different clubs, and you were in charge of corresponding with them. Sometimes you wondered exactly what the morning library staff did.

Isa nodded at you. “Jay’s gonna help me shelve the books,” she said, gripping the front of his shirt. “Aren’t you?” She pouted at him.

“Whatever,” Jay said. You kept your head bowed as you settled into the swivel chair, booting up the computer. Their footsteps faded, and you snuck one look at their retreating figures. Just like last week, you observed that they did look good together.

The minutes passed by without you realizing it. You were grateful for the routine: help people with stupid questions, check out books, place holds. Sometimes you would hear Isa’s giggle and your heart would clench. As you worked at the desk, a shadow covered your workspace. Assuming that it was a student, you said, “Can I help you?” before you looked up.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to get someone a smoothie, but she doesn’t stop working,” a familiar voice said. Jake stood in front of you, both hands drumming on the desk. His eye was still swollen, his eyelids painted a harsh, glossy purple. His smile only served to showcase his split lip, and his hair fell into his eyes as usual.

“Jake,” you said. “I don’t get off for another ten minutes.”

“I figured,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “But I wanted to see you before then. You aren’t busy, are you?”

“Incredibly busy. Can’t you see I’m being swarmed by people?”

Jake laughed, so you let out a soft chuckle too. If only he didn’t have feelings for you. If only he wasn’t in the Karma Club. If only he hadn’t potentially driven a girl to suicide, or worse.

“Anything I can help with?” he asked, resting his arms on the desk and propping his chin on his sleeves. Now that he was eye-level with you, you could study his features closely. Despite his injuries, Jake was still really cute.

“Don’t think so,” you said. “Hardest thing to do is reshelving, and Isa and Jay are doing that.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows at the sound of Jay’s name. “So they’re back together?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a surprise, considering how much Jay bitches about Isa. Then again, what doesn’t Jay bitch about? He’d whine about a fountain of gold if he could. And he’s helping her do something? Seriously? Isa’s amazing.”

You must have looked pretty bad, because Jake’s face grew worried. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Just a little sick. Hurricane and all.”

“The smoothie will be full of Vitamin C,” Jake said thoughtfully. “So that should help rejuvenate your system, boost your immune system. Oh, speaking of that, you mind if Sunghoon comes? He’s chill.”

Sunghoon? He was the one who had been there on that first fateful day of school, the one who had looked at you with such scorn. “Sure,” you said. “Hey, by the w-,”

Jake cut you off by plucking something off of your sweater; a little piece of yarn. “Sorry,” he said, flicking it away, “it was bothering me.”

“No problem,” you mumbled. It had been so natural, the way he had done that. You couldn’t imagine what it was like to just live without second-guessing your actions, your words. In that moment, you deeply envied Jake.

His soft eyes met with yours again. “How come you always wear those big sweaters, anyways?”

“They’re comfortable,” you said.

“Seems a little hot,” Jake said. “I mean, you’re even wearing a turtleneck under there.”

You couldn’t exactly tell him that you were trying to hide the hickeys Jay had given you, so you muttered, “It’s winter soon.”

“I guess,” Jake said. He didn’t sound entirely convinced, but he dropped it.

“I’ll meet you at Stopkewich,” you said, adjusting the collar of your sweater. “Just have to finish up here.”

“Sure, sure,” Jake said, grinning widely. “See you.”

For some reason, you wanted to feel normal, like everyone else. You reached out and grabbed the cuff of his flannel’s sleeve. Jake looked at you expectantly. “What is it, Wednesday?”

You grasped for words before finally mustering up a quiet, “Thanks for coming to see me.”

To your surprise, and slight confusion, Jake grew bashful, looking down at the ground. “Aw, it was no big deal. It’s fun seeing you…seeing you in the zone, y’know?”

You let go of his sleeve, pleased at your success. It was really that easy? “Thank you anyways,” you said.

Jake waved at you, licking his busted lip as he walked backwards. “See you in five,” he said before accidentally knocking into a display of pamphlets. He glanced around him before walking away quickly, heading out the doors. Cute.

“Ooh,” Isa said. You hadn’t even realized that she had returned, but when you looked away from the exit you saw Isa and Jay standing around the desk. “You and Jake, huh?”

“I didn’t realize Jake liked her,” Jay said, his eyes fixed on Isa. You had resented his cold gaze for a long time, but you disliked his indifference more.

“Oh, they were so close at Yeonjun’s,” Isa said, clasping her hands together. “They were dancing together, and when she went to lie down, Jake went in after her. He didn’t come out for a while…”

“Is that so?” Jay asked coolly.

“Yeah,” you said, looking directly at Isa. “We just talked, though.”

Isa looked disappointed. “That’s it?”

You shrugged. “That’s all.”

“Well, I support it,” Isa said, regaining steam. “Maybe we could go on double dates.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Jay said quickly. “Jake’s a pussy. He’d never ask her out.”

“I mean…” Isa’s voice turned sly, and she playfully poked your arm. “They’re already going out for smoothies today, right?”

“Yeah. That’s why Jake came here,” you said, “he wanted to see me before we went…”

Isa clapped her hands together and pushed Jay. “Oh, so cute. If you guys got together, wouldn’t he be your first boyfriend?”

Scary how Isa already knew you had no experience, but you figured it was glaringly apparent. “He would be.”

“So cute,” she repeated. “You can go ahead and leave early. I’ll finish up around here.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Isa said fiercely. “You go get your man.”

You smiled at Isa, getting to your feet. “You’re so sweet,” you said.

“Just don’t forget to invite me to the wedding,” she said with a laugh. You walked out of the library without casting another glance in Jay’s direction. You didn’t know what his game was, but you didn’t care. If your life wouldn’t return to normal, then you would at least try to get a smoothie out of the deal.

–

Jake and Sunghoon were lingering just outside of Stopkewich. It was fascinating, seeing the effect that they had on people; swathes of students and even some members of the faculty gave them such a wide berth that one could think there was a bubble surrounding them.

You waved at Jake when you got closer, and Jake smiled and trotted up to you. Sunghoon followed, pale hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” Jake said. “Jay didn’t bother you today, right?”

You shook your head.

“Great. Great, good. Probably doesn’t want another fight,” Jake said, looking away.

“Yeah, he doesn’t,” Sunghoon said, nudging Jake’s arm. He gave you an appraising look. It seemed that all members of the Karma Club had a way of analyzing people, breaking them into their basest components.

“Fuck off, Hoon,” Jake mumbled.

Sunghoon laughed and stuck out his hand. “Sunghoon Park.”

You took his hand and shook it. You introduced yourself, including your major.

“Nice to meet you,” Sunghoon said, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. “God, Heeseung hates you.”

“What?”

Jake shook his hands, glancing between you and Sunghoon. He laughed nervously. “Well, he doesn’t hate y-,”

“Two members in a fight,” Sunghoon continued, “our newest recruit living in Fawcett because he picked a fight with Jay about you, Sunoo poisoning the lacrosse team…”

You squinted. “That last one…”

“At this point, Heeseung’s sort of just blaming you for everything,” Sunghoon said with a shrug. “But the first two are your fault.”

“Hey,” Jake said, stepping in between the two of you. You hadn’t sensed any real malice coming from Sunghoon, so you weren’t sure why Jake was acting so skittish. “None of that is her fault. It’s not her fault Jay has a hate boner for her.”

Sunghoon put his hands up, relenting. “Hey, hey, I’m not blaming her. I’m just saying that Heeseung wants her head on a pike.”

“Then he should say so,” you said.

Jake and Sunghoon both looked at you, with Sunghoon snorting as he attempted to stifle a laugh. “Pardon?” Sunghoon asked, pushing his glasses up.

“Yeah,” you said. “Maybe we could talk. If I’m doing something wrong, I should fix it, right?”

Sunghoon let out a full laugh. “She’s got balls, huh, Jake?”

Jake groaned. “Let’s just go get a smoothie. Everything is always a federal fucking issue with the Karmas, I swear…” Jake started stalking over to the entrance of Stopkewich, with you and Sunghoon following behind.

“I hope that bitch isn’t there,” Sunghoon said, screwing up his nose. “I wanted a simple smoothie and she wouldn’t make it. She was all, ‘Um, I don’t do remixes on drinks!’ Uppity whore. Who calls a drink a remix? Cringe. I should fucking have this place demolished and turned into a Carl’s Jr. See how those vegans like it then.”

“Don’t pick a fight with the barista, Hoon.”

“I won’t if she makes my smoothie order the way I asked.”

“And what was that smoothie order, again?” Jake asked lightly. He looked back and gave you a small smile. You liked it. It made you feel like you were in on something.

“It was simple. Chia seeds, organic almond milk because regular milk fucks with my skin’s barrier, camu camu powder - from the Amazon, it’s the best there - red algae for my complexion, goji berries, spinach, and maca powder. Like it wasn’t a very tall order but this uppity- oh fuck, there she is.” Sunghoon jerked his thumb at Lily and groaned. “God fucking dammit.”

“You’d better go ahead first,” Jake said. “Sunghoon here has to decompress.”

“‘Uh, we don’t have any red algae,’” Sunghoon mocked. “‘Why would you want algae in a smoothie?’”

You headed over to the counter, where Lily was currently using a pitter on the cherries. Her gloved hands were stained red. She glanced up at you briefly and smiled. “Hey,” she said brightly. “I thought you would have abandoned me.”

“No way. How could I do that?” You settled into a booth and scoured the menu. You figured you’d just have whatever she gave you.

Lily tossed another cherry pit into a bowl. “Well, I saw that you were partying with the KC…”

You blinked. “How did you see that?”

“Oh, I follow what’s-her-name on Instagram…Isa? She posted a picture of you guys on her story. I didn’t know you were so popular.”

“Neither did I,” you mumbled. “What’s on the menu today?”

Lily smiled and held up the cherries. “Funny you should ask. I’ve just gotten the last ingredient for my newest idea. So it’s going to be cherries, banana, chia seeds, almond butter, almond milk…”

“So far so good.”

“Stinging nettle.”

“Lily…”

Lily procured a baggie from her apron’s pocket and shook it. “What? It’s perfectly safe! It’s not like it-,”

“Well, well, well,” a voice behind you said. Sunghoon snatched the stinging nettle from Lily’s hands and examined its contents.

“You,” she said, glaring at Sunghoon. “This is the guy who got mad at me because I don’t do remixes.”

“And here’s the girl who doesn’t do remixes.” He tapped the baggie with his index finger. “But, you know, I can’t help but notice that this…herb…isn’t on the menu. Yet here you are, about to put it into a drink that isn’t on the menu. Isn’t that crazy? Isn’t that crazy, Jake?”

“Leave me out of this,” Jake said. “Can I get the watermelon mint smoothie?”

“Coming right up,” Lily said through gritted teeth. “For your information, I was testing a recipe out, that’s why I have that.”

“Sure,” Sunghoon said, “sure. Or the more obvious answer, which is that you’re prejudiced against members of the KC.”

Lily gasped. “Not true!” She peeled her old gloves off, got new ones, and started putting chunks of watermelon in the blender.

Sunghoon shook the baggie even though Lily couldn’t see it. “Oh, it’s very true.”

“I’m making Jake a smoothie right now, he’s KC.”

“Jake is Australian, so you two probably have some sort of secret bond. He doesn’t count.”

“What the fuck,” Jake mumbled.

Lily scoffed. “And also for your information, I didn’t have the ingredients!”

Sunghoon shook the baggie again. “And why wasn’t your kitchen stocked with the basics?”

“Normally,” Lily said, tossing things into the blender, “people don’t ask for camu camu powder. Never gotten that request before.”

“You should buy more ingredients then,” Sunghoon said, putting the baggie on the counter. “You could offer a wider selection of drinks that have added health benefits.”

“And where am I supposed to get the extra money?” Lily turned the blender on. “No one knows we’re here, anyways. They’re considering replacing us with a Jamba Juice.”

“I’ll give you the ingredients,” Sunghoon yelled over the harsh noise.

“You want your weird smoothie that bad?” Lily asked, holding onto the top of the blender.

“Yeah, I do.”

“You know what?” Lily pointed at Sunghoon. “I can respect a guy who wants a weird smoothie.”

Sunghoon smiled. “Thank you! Thank you! That pauper over there doesn’t get it.”

“What the fuck,” Jake whispered to himself.

“Sorry for being so rude,” Sunghoon said, projecting his voice. “I really did think you were being a bitch for no reason.”

Lily turned the blender off and poured Jake’s smoothie into a glass jar, carefully affixing a little red gingham bow around its neck. “Thanks for the apology,” she said, pushing the smoothie over to Jake. She looked at you next. “Did you want the stinging nettle and cherry smoothie?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said.

Jake sipped on his smoothie through the straw. “Oh, this is good,” he said, holding the jar out to you. “Try a sip.”

You’d had this flavour before, but you took a sip anyway. “Lily is great,” you said, “that’s why I always come here.”

Sunghoon remained quiet, pressing his hands on the counter, before saying, “Could I get one too, a stinging nettle and cherry smoothie?”

Lily smiled. “Of course!”

Sunghoon offered her a soft smile, his lips pressed tightly together. He watched her closely as she went about preparing the smoothies. Jake looked at you, and you looked at Jake. He mimed shooting himself in the head and you grinned.

After Lily finished making you and Sunghoon your drinks, you looked at her expectantly. “Could I get your phone number?”

She looked at you in mild surprise. “Really? Yeah, sure. Pass your phone.”

You opened the phone up to your contacts and held it out to her. As she typed her number in, she smiled. “We should hang sometime.”

“Yeah,” you said. You had no intention of hanging out with her. You did plan to wheedle information out of her regarding Mina. Despite Riki telling you that no one knew about her suicide attempt in the bathroom, Lily had mentioned an attempted murder performed by the KC in the school bathroom. Who could the victim have been, if not Mina?

Lily handed you your phone back and grinned. Jake tapped his card on the reader, paying for your orders. “Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said. “I said I would.”

“I was just kidding about it at the party, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to buy you smoothies,” Jake said. “Just let me try yours when it’s ready.”

Lily got to work preparing her newest mix, and you noticed that Sunghoon was staring at her with curious eyes. When he saw you looking at him, he cleared his throat and focused his attention on his wristwatch. Strange, strange things were happening.

–

You got to your dorm room and started on your work. You were a scholarship student, so it was imperative that you kept your grades up. Which meant that you ended up ignoring the incessant knocking on your dorm door. Eventually, you heard the doorknob rattling violently. You pulled your headphones off and knocked on the door. “Who is it?”

“Open up,” Jay grumbled. “Don’t you answer your phone? I’ve been out here for like five minutes.” Sighing, you unlocked your door. Jay strided in, closing the door behind himself. He leaned against the door with his arms crossed and glanced around your room. “What were you doing, homework?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course you are,” he said.

“You don’t study?”

“Why would I do that?”

You let out a frustrated huff of breath. “What do you want, Jay?”

“‘What do you want, Jay?’” he mocked. A familiar scene was stretching out in front of you. “I want more of what I got yesterday, but you were busy hanging around dickless.”

You leaned against the wall. “Dickless? Who, Jake?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t stop,” you said. “You don’t own me, and we’re not dating.”

Jay barked out a laugh. “Oh, wow. Since when do you talk back?”

“Around when you threatened to kill me.”

Jay’s eyes were chunks of obsidian glinting in the afternoon sun. “You know I was just playing around, right? I wasn’t actually going to kill you. I’m not a psycho. I just wanted…”

Suddenly, the room seemed stiflingly warm. Your voice was even quieter than usual. “Wanted what?”

“I wanted…” Jay pushed his hair out of his face and licked his lips, looking around your room. “I wanted to see you do something besides stand around looking at me like you’re…like there’s nothing inside of you. Just an automaton pretending to be a human, just taking everything, passive, nothing, boring.”

“Well,” you said flatly, “am I acting like a human now?”

Jay cracked a grin. “A little. You’re blossoming under my tutelage. With a little more training…” Jay reached his hand out towards you.

You smacked his hand away lightly. “Training?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking your hand in his, “you could end up becoming a real human.”

“Like you?”

His smile grew wider. “Nah, you could never be like me.”

“Thank God.”

Jay laughed, and you had to admit that you didn’t hate the sound. “See what I mean? You’re coming along nicely.”

“You’re not responsible for my personality,” you said.

“Who, if not me? Jake?”

“No, no one is. What is with you and Jake?”

“I could ask you the same question, you and your filthy fixation with him.”

“There is no fixation,” you said, frustration nipping at your voice. “He’s just nice to me.”

Jay pulled you towards him with the hand holding yours. “I’m nice to you, aren’t I?” His other hand came to grab your chin, forcing your head up. “I’m so nice to you,” he murmured. “You don’t even appreciate it.” He leaned in and kissed you in that same smothering manner as before, his mouth hot and wet. As though you were being controlled by outside forces, you kissed him back. Your arms still hung limply against your side.

Jay pulled away and tugged your turtleneck’s collar down, exposing the hickeys he had given you. “Wish you didn’t dress like a nun,” he said. “You could show these off.”

You turned your head, staring down at your floor. “What about Isa, Jay? You two are together.”

Jay groaned. “Don’t worry about her. Fuck, you always bring her up.”

You looked back at him. “Why shouldn’t I? She really likes you.”

“Her mistake,” Jay replied, a sneer on his face. His hand reached out to caress the back of your head. “I told you she doesn’t matter to me.”

“And who does?”

Jay didn’t answer at first. Instead, he spun you around so that you were pressed against the door. He kissed you with the same ferocity, hands clutching your shoulders. “Don’t talk about Isa,” he said hoarsely.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you said, a weak appeal.

Jay groaned. “Fine. Let’s play a game, then. It’s really simple. You wanna hear the rules?”

“Fine.”

His hand hiked your skirt up, all the way to your waist. The other hand rested on your thigh, dangerously close to your underwear. “If I check and you’re wet, I get to fuck you. If you’re not wet, I’ll leave you alone and go weave baskets and pick daisies with Isa. Deal?”

You nodded. “Sure,” you said, as though he wouldn’t be able to feel the moisture pooling between your legs. Maybe he wouldn’t feel anything through a stroke of sheer luck. Jay slipped two of his fingers inside of your panties, and you winced as you heard a squelching noise.

“Look at that. You’re wet,” Jay said in an accusatory voice. Jay dragged his fingers along your labial lips, smearing your arousal. He didn’t plunge his fingers into your desperate pussy, nor did he touch your clitoris. Judging by his smile, he relished in withholding pleasure from you. “You’re soaking wet just from a few kisses. You couldn’t be more pathetic if you tried.”

The constant teasing at relief was driving you mad. “Just fuck me.”

Jay let out a breathy laugh. “Look at you, getting so bold. Just listen to yourself.” He didn’t allow you any time to reflect on his statement, working on tugging your panties and skirt all the way down. You stepped out of them, kicking them to the side.

“You haven’t changed me,” you said, eyebrows glowering in defiance.

“You’ll see,” Jay replied. You closed your eyes so you could hear the rattle of his belt buckle as it clicked, the sound of his jeans sliding to the floor, his soft grunts.

Jay lifted your leg up and pounded you, your back pressed against the door. It creaked loudly enough that you figured that someone would hear, but Fawcett was a loud dorm. “Pussy’s so good,” Jay whispered through gritted teeth, leaning his head back. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Thought I would have fucked you loose by now.”

It was almost more than you could handle, considering only a mere 12 hours had passed since the last time. But you were already growing to love how Jay felt inside of you, the aggressive way he snapped his hips, the shapes of the bruises he left on your arms. You clamped your hand over your mouth so your moans would be muffled. Jay had a similar idea, biting his lip and only letting out faint grunts. He lifted your other leg up, utilizing strength you didn’t know he had to fuck into you while he was standing. Your arms hung around his neck.

You wrapped your legs around him, and he carried you away from the door and onto the bed. By now, you had noticed that Jay liked to alternate between fucking into you rapidly and employing hard, somewhat slower strokes. The shift was dizzying; your nails dug into his shirt, leaving miniscule holes behind in the fabric.

After Jay came, he remained on top of you, his limp cock lying on your thigh. He pushed himself off and crawled to the side of the bed facing the window.

You rolled away from Jay, reaching into your nightstand’s drawer. You pulled out your pack of cigarettes and took one out.

“Give me one,” he called from behind you.

“Sure. Open the window for me.” Jay lifted the window upwards, and chilly air wafted into the room. You tucked yourself under your blanket, scooted towards the window, and lit your cigarettes. You handed one to Jay and placed your own between your lips. Your dorm room faced the woods, so you generally didn’t see people come around. On nights when the weather was bad and you couldn’t go up to the roof, you liked to open the window and smoke, listening to the rain.

Jay sat upright, smoking his own cigarette. His eyebrows were knit in concentration.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, so you clambered to your feet. You opened the text as you headed to your bed.

Riki: help

Riki: my girlfriend is trying out her makeup on me :/

Riki: *sent 1 picture*

Riki: i kinda fw it tbqh

You: You look very pretty.

Riki: thank u

You: You have a girlfriend?

Riki: o yeah

Riki: don’t tell anyone lmao

Riki: it’s a secret like not even jake knows

Riki: i don’t want her getting mina’d

Riki: or you’d

Riki: no offense

You: None taken.

Riki: 👍

Riki: lowk i’m considering using some bb cream now

Riki: could be a good look for me

You: Go talk to your girlfriend or something. I’m busy.

Riki: busy my ass

Riki: and my gf is on her phone looking at tiktok pranks to torture me with

You: You deserve the misery.

Riki: fuck u 🖕

Riki: betrayal can never come from your opps ig

“Who are you texting?” Jay asked. “I didn’t know you had friends.”

“Riki,” you said, turning your phone off.

“Riki? You’re friends with Riki?” Jay looked incredulous, his cigarette hanging from his lips.

You shrugged, holding your cigarette between your lips as you laid back down on your bed. It was a no-smoking building, but a part of you just couldn’t be bothered anymore. “Well, ‘friends’ is a strong word. We’ve known each other for a few days. He just texts a lot.”

Jay took another long drag, blowing it out of the window. “You guys are around the same age, right?”

“Yeah, same year.”

“Hm.” Jay turned to look at you. “Have you met any other Karmas?”

“Sunghoon, Jungwon briefly…that’s it.” You breathed out more smoke. “Heeseung hates me, apparently.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jay said, “Ha. Yeah, he doesn’t like you. Thinks you’re tearing us apart.”

“But I’m not.”

“Yeah, I know that, and you know that, and even Heeseung knows that. I think it’s because he can’t exhume Mina’s dead body and yell at her for corrupting poor little Jakey, so you’re the next best thing.”

Your eyes were focused on Jay now, on his hunched back, on his serious brows. “You think Mina’s dead?”

“Dropped out of school, disappeared off the face of the earth, her friends all left her behind…she’s probably dead, yeah.” After a moment, he said, “Do I sound terrible?”

You shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

Jay smiled again. “I guess so.” He waved his cigarette, now only a smouldering nub. “Where can I put this out? On you again?”

You reached under your bed and pulled out a small ceramic dish, already scattered with cigarette butts. “Use this.”

He stubbed his cigarette out. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

You gave him a quick little nod and watched him zip his pants up, put his belt back on, smooth out his hair. Without another word, he left your room.

–

You decided to call Lily rather than texting her. You had found, through texting with Riki, that you largely preferred talking out loud. Pacing around the room, you waited for her to pick up.

“Hey,” she said, her voice sounding lighter than usual.

“Hi. I had to ask you a question.”

“Sure, anything.”

You tried to invoke the same nonchalant tone you normally used, but you found that it was strangely difficult. “Last week, you told me that the Karma Club nearly killed a girl in the bathroom…”

“Oh,” she said. “That was just a silly rumour…groundless…” Lily’s voice faded as she spoke, almost sheepishly.

“Do you know who told you?”

“Why do you ask?”

You already had a lie for this. “You know how Jake brought me that smoothie?”

Lily’s voice immediately took on interest, and you marveled at how similar she was to Isa. “Yeah…?”

“Well, the thing is, he told me he likes me…”

Lily shrieked. “Aw, that is so cute. Jake is like the nicest - well, you know, there are a few nice ones in the KC, but he’s really nice. That is just adorable, oh my god.”

“Don’t tell anyone I told you,” you added.

“Not a word out of me. So do you guys have, like, a thing?”

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t want to pursue anything before I know he’s good,” you lied, scratching your head. “You know how cautious I am.”

“Oh, I get it, I get it,” Lily said. “Sure. I think I heard that from this girl named Nina? She’s a year below me. She’s Aussie, which is how I know her…She’s nice. If you have any questions about him, you should ask her. She runs the girl’s gaming club. You know where that is?”

“No.”

“Oh. It’s held in Nakashima’s common room. You can probably find out when they meet from the school website.”

“Thanks, Lily.” You paused, figuring that you had to ask her something. So you didn’t seem suspicious. “So…stinging nettle. Why?”

“Fun fact, actually. Stinging nettle is a galactagogue!”

“What’s a galactagogue?”

“Uh, increases breast milk production.”

“I’m going to hang up on you now, Lily.”

Lily laughed, and you did too. “Hey, you wanna hang out sometime? Like, for real?”

Out of anyone in the school, you would prefer to hang out with Lily the most. You desperately hoped that she didn’t get involved in the Karma Club. “What would we do?”

“I haven’t gone to see a movie in a while. You?”

“I pirate everything, so no.”

“Sooo…” You could practically hear Lily creeping towards you with a silly smile pasted on her face. “We should see one together. Something scary.”

“Sounds good. Text me when you’re free.”

“Great! Have a good night.”

“You too, Lily.” You hung up on her and your smile fell. The true reason for your call dawned on you once more, and now you had to do some research. First, you Googled the word you had been dreading: naloxone. Jay had mentioned watching the paramedics administer it to Mina when she had overdosed. When you searched it up, you found that it was an opioid antagonist. In the case of anti-psychotic overdose, particularly Seroquel, activated charcoal was used as treatment. So either Jay had misremembered, Jay had lied, or Jay didn’t know.

Why would Jay lie about that? But then, it was Jay. Nothing he did made sense. You couldn’t go to Riki for help, either, because he didn’t know what Mina had overdosed on. Jake hadn’t even mentioned Mina’s suicide, so he definitely couldn’t help you. None of the three had mentioned opioids. It was a dead end.

You moved on to finding out when the gaming club met next: That Friday at 6 pm. Anyone could come, apparently. Perfect. You wondered if Jay liked gaming.

At any rate, you had exhausted your meager resources. All you could do now was wait for Friday.

–

The week passed by largely the same way. You would wake up to a barrage of texts from Riki and Lily, tiredly answer them, and trudge to class. Then you would go to the library, watch Isa coo over Jay while he ignored you, and get picked up by Jake to get a smoothie from Stopkewich. Sunghoon notably only showed up when Lily had a shift there and did nothing but stare at her adoringly. You and Jake would make eye contact every time Sunghoon smiled at her, mimicking his lovesick expression. Jake’s eye healed well, and his face became less painful to look at for more than one reason. The more time you spent with Jake, trying each other’s drinks, the more you realized that you didn’t mind him.

After talking to Jake, you would go to your room, try to do homework, and answer the knock at the door. Jay would come in, you would protest for the sake of doing so, and then you’d fuck. He stayed for longer and longer every time, his scent beginning to permeate your bed already, down to the mattress. You wouldn’t talk very much, which suited you just fine. You’d just stare at the ceiling. Occasionally, he would complain about something Riki or Jungwon did. He never brought up Jake or Isa, so neither did you.

On Thursday, you were both lying in your bed, naked. You were draped in your quilt while he blew cigarette smoke to the ceiling.

“You’re not cold?” you asked, forgoing smoking your own cigarette for today. You didn’t feel like it, for some reason. When you smacked your lips together, you could taste the strawberry banana smoothie one of the other barista’s had made on your lips. Jay had commented on it when he kissed you, saying that you tasted sweet.

“I don’t get cold that easily,” Jay said.

“Oh.”

“If you want me to join you under there, just say so.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Jay shrugged. “Closed mouths don’t get fed.”

“Implying that you’re a necessity?”

“Some could say that, yeah.”

“Some could be mentally ill.”

“Like you’re so sane,” Jay said, jabbing his cigarette in your direction. “Sunoo could fix your ass up nicely. He might end up giving you diarrhea, though. It’s a mixed bag with him. Still worth a shot, though.”

Sunoo…why hadn’t you considered him?

You pulled your phone from the nightstand and opened it up.

You: Riki.

Riki: hey

Riki: you finally changed your mind about cliffside laser tag?

You: No.

Riki: then there’s no reason for you to text me

You: I need to know which room Sunoo is in.

Riki: why lol

You: Decided to develop a drug dependency

Riki: nooooo you have so much life to live

Riki: noooooooooo don’t do it

Riki: well

Riki: that covers my ass

Riki: you can’t get mad at me when your life falls apart

Riki: he’s in room 24

Riki: i’m in 22 by the way

Riki: in case you ever change your mind about the slap jenga tournament

You: I won’t.

Riki: i never liked you

You: Thanks for the help.

Riki: 🖕

Riki: seriously though be careful

You: I’ll be okay.

Riki: you’d better

“Texting Riki again?” Jay asked. His gaze danced suspiciously between your phone and your face.

“Yeah.” You put your phone back on your nightstand.

“About?”

You shrugged and leaned against the headboard, bringing your heavy quilt around your shoulders. “He wants to try cliffside laser tag in the dark.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Jay groaned. “Are you going to go?”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

“Well, I mean…”

“No.” You tried to ignore Jay’s snickers. “No, I didn’t even consider it.”

Jay leaned back as well, seeming somewhat mollified. “That kid is going to get himself killed doing something stupid one day. Or someone else, honestly.”

“Then he’d be a true member of the Karma Club,” you said jokingly. Jay’s jaw tightened, and the hairs on your arms raised. You hadn’t seen that angry look in his eyes in nearly a week.

“Look. You might think,” he began, his voice as venomous as it had always been. You realized that you hadn’t even noticed that his voice had softened until now. “You might think that because we fuck that we’re close or something. We’re not. Joke about shit like that again and I swear to God, I’ll-,”

“You’ll what?”

Jay grabbed your shoulder, jostling the quilt covering you. His grip was tight, and his eyes sparked with anger. “I’ll make sure you end up just like Mina. How’s that?”

You swallowed, unable to speak. Your eyes were trained on his other hand, and you realized just how stupid you had been, allowing yourself to be lulled into this stupor by him. Jay still hated you.

Jay let go of you and made a frustrated noise. “Fuck, fuck. Fuck, I hate it when you do that. Play mute.”

“I don’t have anything to say right now,” you replied.

“I thought we made progress,” Jay said, putting his cigarette behind his ear. “You were really growing a spine there, making jokes, fighting back. You were starting to be a lot of fun.”

You stared at Jay, and the unfamiliar sensation of anger broiled in your stomach. “For someone who doesn’t believe that people can change,” you said slowly, “you sure are trying to change me.”

“That’s different,” Jay insisted, crawling out of your bed. He pulled his boxers up and fixed his shirt. “There’s a very interesting girl in you begging to be let out, and all you have to do is give in.”

Your eyes locked with his, the anger in his a mirror of your own. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know enough,” Jay said slowly, tilting his head even closer.

“No,” you whispered, “you don’t.”

Jay’s lips brushed yours, ever-so-slightly, his eyes never straying away from yours. “It’s like I said. It’s already inside you, and all you have to do is just…let her out.” His breath ghosted your lips once more before he briefly closed the gap.

–

Jay didn’t come to the library on Friday.

“He got busy,” Isa said sadly, flicking away some lint off of her ripped sweater. “Family stuff.” The two of you were pasting barcodes on the backs of books, spreading the thin paper carefully to avoid ripples. You put a thin piece of plastic over top to protect the code. Easy, monotonous work.

“Oh.” Quickly, you added. “That sucks.”

“Yeah…he’s been so distant recently,” she continued, idly flipping through a new YA romance novel. “Ever since the party, or a little before then…can I be a little TMI?”

“Go for it,” you said.

Isa put the book down carefully, and you could see her bottom lip tremble. Her eyes fell to the floor and her voice was a mere whisper. “He doesn’t touch me. Like, we’ve done some…stuff. And, you know, it was nice. But that was it. Nothing serious, you know? I mean, we’ve been talking on and off for a month, but he hasn’t initiated anything.”

Guilt filled your mouth with the bitter edge of bile. Isa reached for the sheet of codes before laying her hands flat on the table. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she said. “I’m trying to be patient with him, but he doesn’t even open up to me.”

You should come clean, admit that Jay had been fucking you, but you remembered that he told you not to utter a word to anyone. Isa might run behind your back and confront him, which would be disastrous for you. And, worst of all, a part of you felt a certain thrill at being the one he chose. In some capacity, he was picking you.

Reality struck you once more. He wasn’t picking you. Isa was the one he had chosen to be his girlfriend, or at least the woman with whom he could be seen. You were the one he slept with, like a secret rotting away in a dusty attic. He hated you, no matter how he felt about Isa.

Isa glanced at you, biting her lip, and you realized that you hadn’t said anything. “I’m sorry,” you said finally.

She mustered up a small smile and shook her head, her red curls flicking back and forth like a flame. “It’s okay,” she replied. “Thanks for listening. I’d tell my friends but I’d feel pathetic telling them.” Her eyes widened. “Not that I don’t see you as a friend or anything…”

You smiled back at her, resting your hand on her shoulder. “I know what you meant.”

Isa patted your hand. “Thanks, pookie. You’re a good listener. We should hang out again soon. It was so fun when we watched Oldboy and Lady Vengeance.”

“Actually,” you said slowly, “Lily wanted to watch a movie with me. Do you know her?”

Isa brightened, seeming to regain some of her buoyancy. “Yeah, we were in second year philosophy together. Yeah, I know her. Oh, that’s great. I’ll make a group chat for us!” Then she bit her lip. “I wonder if she’ll want to hang with me, though?”

“Don’t worry,” you said. “Everyone does.”

–

Nakashima’s dorm was unlike the others. It was the newest, a tall, sleek, bauhaus white building with a gray stone path leading inside. To the left, obscured by a hill, was the school’s greenhouse. You would have liked to explore the inside, but it was normally staffed by at least 3 bleary-eyed, surly students, so you didn’t bother.

As you walked inside, you marveled at the change in atmosphere. Your own dorm seemed carefree, Stopkewich had an airiness, and Stoker managed to avoid feeling stiflingly opulent with its small markers of humanity. Nakashima students all bustled around with their heads tucked low. The common room was on the second floor, so you took the translucent glass steps carefully. It was down a hallway lined with achievements garnered from previous Nakashima students. Self-fellatio was a skill honed into an art at Sadame University, it seemed.

You never went inside of Fawcett’s common room, so you weren’t sure how it looked. Nakashima’s was lined with computers, expensive gaming chairs, and a vending machine in the corner. The main lights were turned off, so the glow from their keyboards and the purple LED strips lining the walls was what illuminated the space.

The Nakashima girls in the common room dressed in the ubiquitous STEM student uniform of a hoodie and sweatpants or jeans. You had arrived early, but they were already logging onto the computers. A woman wearing a white Sadame sweatshirt who, based on your surveyal of the gaming club’s page, was Nina, hunched over a monitor as another woman sat in the chair. You waited for Nina to finish helping the other student before you approached her.

“Are you Nina?” you asked quietly.

Nina smiled at you. “That’s me! Are you here to join the gaming club?”

“Ah…no, sorry,” you said, watching the smile falter on her face. “No, I’m here because of something else.”

She frowned. “Something else?”

You nodded.

“You wanna talk outside?” With another nod of your head, she ushered you out into the hallway and looked at you expectantly.

“It’s just…a friend of mine told me that…you knew about what happened with that girl, Mina,” you said slowly. “And, I was wondering how you knew, because, um…”

“Because the Karma Club cover everything up,” Nina finished.

“Right, that.”

“Because they’re a bunch of fucking assholes who treat everyone, especially women, like shit.”

“Yeah…”

Nina placed her hand on your shoulder. “Did they…hurt you?”

Now that was a question for the ages. “Yeah.”

Nina pursed her lips together and sighed. “Another one. Those bastards…look, there’s a group chat I know of. If you give me your Instagram-,”

“I don’t have one.”

“Really? How?”

You shrugged.

“Well, go ahead and make one. I’ll give you mine…” Nina pulled a blue pen from her pocket, took the palm of your hand, and scribbled her Instagram’s handle on it. “So once you’ve made an account, DM me, and I’ll have you added.”

You stared at your palm. “What’s the group chat for?”

Nina capped the pen and tucked it behind her ear. “For victims of the Karma Creeps. It started shortly after Mina disappeared. Just make sure to keep it DL, okay? Those weirdos have eyes everywhere in this school, but I’m sure you already know that.”

Did you ever? “Thank you, Nina.”

“Also,” she added hastily, “don’t screenshot anything. We don’t need anything leaking, you know? It might seem really stringent, but we can’t let anything get back to them.”

“Makes sense,” you said softly.

“I heard that they’re planning on compiling all the information, maybe trying to bring it to the local news,” she continued. “Again, don’t bring that up.”

“I won’t.”

Nina smiled at you. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get you some help.”

When you walked away from her, you realized that she had never asked you for your name.

–

As you were walking back to the Fawcett campus, holding your palm face down, you got a call. It was Jay. For a second, you felt stricken by guilt, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You answered the call.

“Open the door,” Jay said, exasperated. “Seriously, I’m starting to feel stupid standing out here.”

“I’m not in my room.”

“Are you avoiding me?”

“No,” you said. “I had to talk to someone about a project.”

“You can do that literally any other time,” Jay said. He lowered his voice; from the background chatter, you could tell that people were walking in the hallway. “I need you right now. I had the shittiest day and Isa wants me to watch some braindead movie with her.”

“Just have sex with Isa,” you said, your voice equally as quiet.

Jay shifted. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Then she’ll think I’m serious.”

“So why won’t you break up with her?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jay said.

“Right,” you replied dryly. “I could never hope to understand the complexities of your mind.”

“First of all, that wasn’t as cutting as you thought it was. Second of all, I think that was the longest sentence I’ve heard you say. So touching. Like seeing a dog learn how to use its legs again after a car accident. I could cry.”

“Then cry.”

“Just shut up and get over here,” Jay said. “I hate being in Fawcett too long.”

You stopped, halting near a warehouse. Belatedly, you realized that it was the same building where you had seen Jay for the first time. The wall was plain, but for some reason you had expected to see a garish, red bloodstain.

“Hello? You still there?”

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry,” you said.

“Yeah, you’re a goody-two-shoes who thinks she’ll go to heaven if she gets good grades, it’s fine.”

“Not that. I’m sorry I said that yesterday. You know…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly. “You know me. The tiniest thing annoys me. Didn’t think about it after you said it.”

“Sorry anyways.”

Jay fell silent as well. Just as you had assumed that he had forgotten to hang up, he said, “Yeah, well. Me too. Now come here and show me how sorry you are.”

You smiled, just slightly. “Be there in 5.”

“Make it three.”

“Not possible.”

“Well, come as soon as you can, then.” He hung up on you, and you walked just the slightest bit faster. Just enough that you could convince yourself that you hadn’t.

Just before you got to your room, you wrote Nina’s username into your notes app. Then you licked your hand, smearing the letters until they were an incomprehensible blur.

–

After he fucked you, Jay sprawled onto your bed, as if attempting to take up as much room as possible. You were lying on top of his arm on his right side, too lazy to even get the quilt to cover yourself up.

“God,” he breathed out. “I almost forgot about how shit today was.”

You stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “What happened?”

Jay scoffed. “You don’t give a shit.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

Neither of you spoke for a full minute.

“Just…it’s Jake,” Jay said finally. “Can I get a smoke?”

You reached over to your cigarette package, realizing that you only had two left. You handed one to him and took one for yourself. “Need to get more.”

“Remind me to get some,” Jay said, gesturing for the lighter. He lit yours, then his, then handed the lighter back to you. “It’s Jake. He’s doing his ‘wahh, wahh, everyone wants me to be the nice one’ routine. Saying that the pressure of having boyish good looks, good grades, and being rich is just too much for him.”

You reached below your bed to get your makeshift ashtray. “He seems normal to me.”

“Yeah, because if he knows if you saw him for the spineless dick he was, you wouldn’t want to fuck him anymore,” Jay said.

“I don’t want to fuck him.”

“What? You don’t want Jakey in you?” Jay asked with a snicker.

You laughed quietly. “Not when you’ve already had him.”

“Fuck off,” Jay said, lightly pushing you. ”Even if Jake were the only hole left in the world, I’d never touch him.”

“A very convincing vindication of your heterosexuality.”

Rolling his eyes, Jay took a long drag. “I just don’t know. Everyone worships Jake, anyways. Even if people think he’s a dick, he’s still not as bad as the rest of us.”

“So what, do you wish people liked you?”

“No, God no,” Jay said. “I just wish I didn’t have to see Jake have a meltdown every month because he hates that everyone loves him. Or that he loves that everyone loves him, I can’t keep up with his shit.”

You blew smoke out of your mouth, closing your eyes. “This doesn’t seem like enough to constitute being a shitty day.”

“Oh, trust me,” Jay said. “It is. Heeseung shuts everything down to take care of Jake. Got a lecture from Heeseung…and then my parents called, nagging and shit…I have to go redo my statistics test…and then Isa wants to watch White Girls or Mean Chicks, something like that…and my dog wasn’t there when I needed her.”

“You have a dog?”

Jay smirked at you. “I do. She’s quiet, isn’t very well-trained yet, but I’m working on it. She’s very good at coming when I call for her, though.”

You turned away from him and took an annoyed little drag. “I’m not a dog.”

“What was that? All I heard was ‘woof woof woof’,” Jay said, reaching out and turning your head towards his.

“Jay, y-,”

“Bark, bark, bark.”

“Jay.”

“Grrr.”

“Shut up.”

Pulling his cigarette out of his mouth, Jay blew smoke into your face gently. “Make me shut up.”

You had a feeling you knew where this was going. You reached over, placed your cigarette on the nightstand, and lowered your lips onto his.

Jay broke the kiss, the tip of his nose still rubbing against yours. “Good doggy,” Jay whispered before leaning in to kiss you again.

–

On Saturday, you had already steeled your nerves and decided to head into Stoker early in the morning. Jay had offhandedly mentioned that he hated getting out of bed before noon, and you could only pray that Jake wasn’t around.

As you walked to Stoker, bundled in your coat, you noticed that something was different. A niggling feeling in the back of your neck. Trudging along the path, you heard a voice telling you slow down. You turned and saw a girl you had never once seen before, with bouncy brown curls. A group of people, presumably her friends, lingered a few meters away.

“Hey,” she said, voice bright and chirpy, “that skirt is so cute, oh my god. Where did you get it?”

You’d gone through this song and dance before. When you were younger, sometimes people would ask you where you had bought your shabby clothes, knowing fully well that you were too poor to buy them at full price. “Thrifted,” you said brusquely.

“That is so cool,” she said. “Thrifting is so much fun. I can never find anything good, though.”

What were you supposed to say? “Oh.”

“Where do you go thrifting?”

“My hometown,” you said.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t go thrifting here, either,” she said. “Nothing good.”

You said that already, you thought. Instead, you said, “I guess.”

“I’ve always loved your style,” she continued. “Whenever I see you, I’m like, oh, that is so grungecore.”

“Thanks, but I have to meet someone,” you said, jerking your thumb at Stoker.

“Oh, of course. Have a good one,” she said before waving and walking back towards her friends. What an earnest attempt at bullying.

You walked into Stoker, wiping your shoes off on the plush welcome mat. To the right was the restaurant and dining area, so you glanced over. You could see Riki standing in line, checking his phone.

You: Look at the doors.

Riki lifted his head, saw you, and grinned. He waved you over, so you entered the dining area. The few people who were eating looked at you as you walked in, and you forced yourself to look straight at Riki.

“Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Sunoo,” you said. “Is he awake?”

Riki nodded. “Sunoo always gets up early.”

“How come you’re up?”

“I’m going to go to the gym early,” he explained. “My girlfriend wants to watch that new horror movie.”

“The one with the ghosts that can possess you if you’re the same zodiac sign as them?”

Riki grinned. “Fuck yeah.”

“Lily, Isa, and I are seeing that tonight,” you said. Isa had very neatly arranged it in the new group chat she had created. It was the first group chat you had ever been in, and even though you barely spoke while the pair planned the outing, it still felt nice to be included.

Riki had been checking on his order, but his eyes widened in surprise. “What showing?”

“8:30 pm.”

He visibly relaxed, putting a hand over his heart. “Good. We’re going at 6.” You didn’t say that you had vetoed a potential 6 pm showing because that was when Jay would knock on your door.

“No spoilers,” you said.

“Swear on my heart,” Riki said.

“Good.” You stuffed your hands into your coat pocket. “By the way, I got bullied today.”

“Jay again?”

“No, some girl. She asked me where I got my skirt,” you explained.

Riki stared at you, dumbfounded. “So she liked your skirt.”

“No,” you said. “Haven’t you ever had someone ask where you got your clothes, but it was meant in a…demeaning way?”

“No, generally guys will just say, ‘Your shirt is ugly and you get no hoes’,” Riki said, shaking his head. “Girls complicate things too much. She probably really did just like your skirt. It’s nice.”

You looked down. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I like your fashion sense.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I’ll see you around, okay? You enjoy your…”

“Breakfast burrito,” Riki said. “I’m going to tear this shit up, hit the gym, pass out, beg Sunoo for an edible so I can watch that movie zooted, pass out again…”

“Good plan.”

“The best,” Riki said. “See you later.”

–

You knocked on Sunoo’s door falteringly. You had never actually seen the guy, but the descriptions of him you had been given thus far were scary. You wondered if he were as tall as Riki, or imposing and muscular?

The door opened, and a gentle face with plush cheeks and soft lips peered at you. Sunoo was wearing a baby-blue baseball tee with black accents. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi,” you said, caught off-guard. You introduced yourself.

“Nice to meet you,” Sunoo said, sticking his hand out. You shook it, bewildered by his smile. “I’m Sunoo. Riki’s been talking about you.”

“Has he?”

“Mhm! He says he’s happy to have a friend his own age.”

“Well,” you said. “He’s a nice friend to have.”

Sunoo beamed at you. “How sweet! Did you need something?”

“I was wondering if you had, uh…drugs?” You cursed yourself for sounding so amateurish.

If you had seemed inexperienced, Sunoo didn’t seem to mind. “I do,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

“Uh, do you sell, uh, opioids?”

Sunoo’s face fell. “No,” he said gravely. “I don’t. I haven’t carried opioids for a long time. No, only fun stuff here.”

“Fun stuff?”

“Yes,” Sunoo said with a giggle. “You want to try a little speed?”

“No…no Xanax?”

Sunoo shook his head. “Nope. No opioids and no benzodiazepines. I could give you a little K.”

Your head was starting to hurt. “What?”

“You know, put you in a K-hole. Experience ego death. It could be very enlightening,” Sunoo said earnestly. “Want some?”

“I’ll pass,” you said weakly.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Sunoo said. “You shouldn’t be afraid of ascension.”

Your parka was starting to feel too hot and Sunoo was starting to creep you out. “Sorry,” you said. “Not today. Have a nice day.”

As you walked away, you heard him call, “Don’t be afraid…”

You shivered as you re-entered the Stoker dining hall. You spotted Riki sitting down alone and headed towards him, sitting on the long bench in front of him. “How was it?” he asked through a muffled bite of breakfast burrito.

“He’s scary,” you said.

Riki laughed, choking on his burrito. He covered his mouth as he caught his breath. “Yeah, that’s Sunoo for you. Did you get anything?”

You shook your head. “No. Got too spooked. I’m straight edge now.”

“Good,” Riki said. “It’s nothing to play around with.”

You gestured for him to bring his burrito towards you, remembering the playful way he had taken a bite of your samosa last week. He reminded you of Lily, vaguely. You felt like you could try out being human around him. It was nice that he didn’t have any strong feelings for you. Riki held his food towards you and you took a bite.

You swallowed. “I’ll be safe,” you said.

“You better,” Riki said. “Listen, I know we’ve been friends for like, five minutes, but, well, you know... So I just wanted to let you know that if you, you know…ever need someone to… ah, this is so corny.”

“It is corny.”

“Shut up,” Riki mumbled.

“The same to you,” you said, a bit awkwardly. “If you ever, uh…”

“Thanks.”

“Whatever.”

Riki held up his breakfast burrito; a lone bean toppled to the table. “Want another bite?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

–

There was a bus stop a few blocks away from the school. Isa, Lily, and you all lived on-campus, and all of them were from out of town, so you took the bus to the movie theatre. Sitting on the cramped bench, squeezed in-between Lily and Isa, was enough to make your palms sweat.

You had never had friends, save for ones in middle school who would guise their ridicule as teasing. They’d tell you that you had thin skin, that they teased you because it was so easy to get a reaction out of you. So you stopped giving them a reaction. Now, inexplicably, you waited for the shoe to drop.

Isa was dressed in an oversized sweater with tweed pants, her padded coat tossed over top. It was much more like the outfits you were used to seeing her wearing. Lily wore a baggy hoodie with a long skirt, an outfit similar to yours. Isa touched up her lip gloss while she waited for the bus to arrive.

“This movie is going to be so ass,” she said, puckering her lips. “Can’t wait.”

“It has like a 20% on Rotten Tomatoes,” Lily replied.

“That’s not too bad,” Isa said. “That’s like a ‘so bad it’s good’ rating.”

“I just hope it’s entertaining at least,” Lily said with a sigh. “If it won’t scare me, I want to at least laugh.”

“If it’s not funny, I’ll find the director myself,” you said dryly.

Lily laughed. “What would you do?”

“Can’t say,” you said. Isa snorted and nudged you with her elbow.

“Little vigilante,” Isa said.

The bus arrived, you shakily dropped a few coins into the machine, and you were on. Then there was the matter of sitting. The scratchy, navy blue bus seats were arranged by twos. So Lily and Isa would sit together, and you would sit in the back. Or should you sit in the front while they sat in the back together?

Isa sat down first, patting the seat next to her. “Come sit,” she said, beckoning you. You sat down beside her, folding your hands in your lap. So it was that easy. You caught a whiff of her perfume.

“You smell good,” you said quietly. Was that creepy?

“Oh, thank you,” Isa said. “This is actually a sample I got from Marc Jacobs, Daisy Fresh.”

“Let me smell,” Lily said. Isa held her wrist behind her and Lily took a dramatic inhale. “That is really good. I wonder if I could put daisies in the smoothies…”

Isa wrinkled her nose. “Are daisies edible?”

“Chamomile is edible,” you said, “and those are daisies.”

“They are?”

“Not all daisies are chamomiles, but all chamomiles are daisies.”

Lily snapped her fingers. “Perfect. Chamomile smoothie next.”

“It could be like a sleepytime smoothie,” Isa suggested. “Lily’s Night Night Potion.”

“I like that,” Lily said approvingly. “I think chamomile is also a galactagogue.”

“A what?”

“Increases milk flow,” Lily said.

Isa turned and gave you a little conspiratorial look. She swirled her finger around her head as if to say, “She’s crazy.” It made you feel special, the same way you did when Jake treated you like a friend. Like you were normal.

It dawned on you then, as you rode the bus with two people you could consider your friends, that this could all end. If Lily found out that the Mina thing had actually happened, she would be disgusted by Jake, Sunghoon, and your association with them. You could hardly imagine what Isa would do if she found out that Jay had been breaking your back every single day for a week. It was so fragile. The basis of your friendship with them was contingent on secrets.

You started to wonder if it was worth it to figure out the full truth about what happened to Mina. You were starting to wonder why you cared.

As you watched the unsurprisingly mediocre film, sharing a full tub of popcorn between Lily and Isa, the phone containing Nina’s Instagram name burnt in your back pocket. Just a little longer. You would wait just a little longer to keep digging.

–

On Sunday, as you sat on your bed getting some studying in, you heard knocking at your door. It was a bit later, around eight. Jay hadn’t come by that evening, so you figured that he wasn’t interested. A part of you felt sad, but a part of you wished that he would come by.

To both your glee and chagrin, it was Jay. You sat down on your bed in anticipation for whatever was to come. Jay locked the door behind himself and grinned at you. “How was the movie?”

“Bad.”

“Isa said it was really shit.”

“She wasn’t lying.”

“Do you ever feel weird, working with her and talking to her while I’m…” Jay made an OK-sign and violently shoved his finger into it.

Every day. “No, do you?”

“No. Anyways, Sunoo was talking and mentioned that you wanted to try getting high,” he said, sitting on your bed. He pulled a dime bag decorated with Hello Kitty stickers out of his pocket and dangled it in front of your face. “But you got scared. So I brought you a little gift.” He threw one leg over yours and rested against the headboard.

You looked at the baggie warily. “Is that…”

Jay smiled at you. “It is.”

“Isn’t cocaine…not a, uh, beginner drug? Isn’t it normally weed?”

Jay opened the bag and touched his pinky to the powder. He tasted it and nodded. “Please. You’ll be fine. I mean, middle schoolers do coke.”

“Do they?”

“Sure they do. C’mere.”

Reluctantly, you scooted closer to Jay, who promptly wrapped one arm around you. He held your chin with one hand, his arm hooked around your neck.

“Now open wide,” he said. “I’ll rub it on your gums, the way you see in movies. You ever watch Scarface?”

“No?”

“Seriously? Well, it’ll be like that.”

You opened your mouth, just enough to accommodate a finger. He gently inserted his other pinky into your mouth and rubbed the cocaine directly onto your gums. You thought it would taste like talcum powder, but instead it was more like crushed up multivitamins. The taste was almost enough to make you gag. You were expecting to feel heart palpitations, nausea, and maybe a sneak peek at death at any second. You had bought some weed back in high school, dabbled with Xanax at your lowest, but nothing that felt this dangerous.

“You’ll be fine,” Jay said, as though he could read your mind. He continued rubbing the bitter powder over your gums. “It’ll feel really good. Promise.”

Your lips grew cold and numb, and you clamped your mouth around Jay’s finger to test if you could feel something. No dice. Jay smiled and pulled his pinky away, sucking the tip of it. “Feels numb?”

You nodded and Jay laughed. “You can talk,” he said in an almost gentle tone.

“It’s numb,” you said, pressing your fingers to your lips. “My gums are numb too.”

“Is it freaky?”

“A little,” you admitted. “Don’t like it.”

“You will,” Jay said. “Trust me. You sit tight over there, I’m gonna get myself started.” You watched as Jay used one of your textbook and a razor to cut neat little lines of cocaine. You wondered if the razor marks would be embedded into the hardcover.

He snorted the lines, holding the bridge of his nose once he was done. “Fuck,” he said. “Always hurts...” Jay sat next to you again, wrapped his arm around you, and held you closely. His other hand rubbed your thigh in a languid motion.

“I fucked a girl on ecstasy once,” Jay said, brushing his fingers against you gently. “We fucked for like three hours, and she loved every second.”

“Was it that good?” you asked. Normally, you figured you would feel that strange burning sensation in your chest at the mention of another woman, but it was absent this time. You tried to scoot the slightest bit closer to him without drawing his attention.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Rolling sex is different from coke sex. Rolling sex is like…I hate to sound pretentious or corny, but it really does feel spiritual sometimes. You feel so connected to the other person, like there’s something deeper at work. To me, sex on coke is more…raw.” As he said that last word, his hand slipped under your skirt.

“It sounds fun,” you said. “Sex on ecstasy.” His subtle touch felt wonderful. It made you want to be bold again, so you ran your fingers along his jaw. It was so sharp, so perfectly sculpted.

Jay laughed. “What, you wanna try it?” His hand was now caressing your bare upper thigh with long, slow strokes, his thumb just barely teasing the edge of your panties.

“We’d have to see if I like this first,” you whispered, dragging your index finger along his Adam’s apple. You felt the way it bobbed when he swallowed, the stiffness of the cartilage of his trachea.

“Like what? Fucking me on coke?” Jay looked into your eyes and smiled in a lackadaisical manner you weren’t used to.

“Yeah,” you said. You placed your thumb and middle finger against the sides of his throat, lightly pressing down. Its rigidity juxtaposed with its fragility fascinated you. It felt like you held his life in your hands.

“Squeeze a little harder,” Jay said, heaviness sinking into his voice.

You gripped his throat a little harder, and he let out a labored breath. “Fuck,” he whispered. “More.”

You shifted yourself that you were straddling his lap. Your skirt had ridden up, bunched around your waist. Just the slight brush of his crotch against your clothed pussy was enough to make you gasp. both of your hands encircled his neck and you squeezed again. Jay let out a surprisingly loud moan, shivering underneath you. Normally, he muffled any sounds he made or merely gritted his teeth together.

“More,” Jay said, closing his eyes. “Harder, harder, harder.”

Additional pressure on his neck made Jay cry out again. He rutted his crotch against yours, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. “More,” he said, sweat starting to form beads on his forehead. His lips were parted. “Harder.”

You were starting to actually strangle him, but you didn’t care. Another squeeze and Jay groaned, involuntarily canting his hips into you again. “Fuck, fuck, stop.” He grabbed your hands and pulled them off of his neck. His eyes were bloodshot and his breathing was heavy. “Almost came…I almost came. Shit.”

You remained straddling his lap, your mind hazed over by lust. You pulled your sweater off, tossing it to the side. Jay shook his head and laughed as he threw his shirt off. “God, we should fuck on E after all,” he said. “Get off real quick?”

You pulled yourself off of his body, struggling to take your dress off. Once you had disrobed, your underwear included, you turned back to Jay. He was undressed as well, tugging his Calvin Klein boxers down; his cock sprang free, reddened and hard, the tip already wet with precum.

“I can’t do foreplay today,” Jay said, his voice strained. “Need to fuck you now. You wet enough?”

“Find out,” you said, as eager as him.

Jay laughed breathlessly, holding his arms out. You crawled back onto his lap, sitting on his thigh, and his hands settled on your hips. “I can feel it,” he whispered. “You’re dripping all over me. Can’t wait to get inside you, shit. You ever ride dick?”

You squinted at him.

“Stupid question,” Jay said. “Okay, I’ll teach you how to ride dick.” He lifted you up, giving you just enough support. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Knees on either side of me.” He wriggled backwards so that he was leaning against the headboard again, and you followed his instructions.

“Good,” he said. “Now, you just…lower yourself down on it.” You bit your lip, marveling at the lack of sensation, and lifted your hips up with Jay’s help. Sinking down on his cock made you moan, deeper than you had ever done before. Jay hissed, your name slipping from his lips. You felt your walls expanding to envelop Jay’s cock, and you felt like screaming already.

Jay guided your hips up slowly before bringing you down on his length again. “That’s all,” he said. “Up and down.” With his hands loosely holding your hips, you tried it yourself, lowering yourself on his cock again. He let out a pornographic groan which only spurred you on. Once again, you took his dick. It felt like it was filling you, all the way to your guts.

You developed a rhythm, working his cock the best you could. “That’s it,” Jay grunted, his nails digging into your flesh as he gripped your hips tighter. “Bounce on it, bounce on this dick. Like you’re my… little pornstar.” Normally, when Jay fucked you, you let him do whatever he want. It felt fine no matter what. But you liked this, being adventurous, like you were taking the lead. Testing a move you had seen in a porno a while ago, you tentatively swirled your pussy around his cock. Jay groaned and ground you down onto his lap, his balls slapping your ass. “Do that again,” he said. When you raised yourself up again, you performed the same motion. “Jesus.”

After a while, your thighs started to burn. “Hurts,” you said, slowing down. You felt disappointed that you couldn’t keep going, but apparently coke didn’t give you superpowers.

With a speed you didn’t know he possessed, Jay pulled out of you and pushed you down onto the sheets. Rolling you over onto your stomach, he lifted your hips up. His hand cracked against your ass, and you yelped. “Gonna fuck you into the mattress,” he hissed.

This wasn’t the first time he had taken you from behind, nor was it the first time he had been rough, but it still felt amazing. He pushed your head down, his hand lightly settling on your throat. With your face planted firmly inside your sheets, you rocked back onto his cock, trying to match his pace. Another hard slap landed on your ass. “Good bitch,” Jay said.

As he slid his dick in and out of you, the wetness making obscene noises, Jay nibbled and sucked harshly on a small spot on your shoulder. He loved marking you, even though you never wore anything that would reveal the traces he left behind.

Jay pounded into you from behind, his hands crawling to your tummy. He moaned erratically, and when you looked behind you, you saw that his eyes were screwed shut. You collected the arousal dripping from your pussy and played with your clit. “Gonna cum,” Jay said, panting. “Cum for me.”

You felt your orgasm building, hot and palpitating, and you moaned his name. You’d never done it before, and it made you feel self-conscious. Until Jay chanted your own name like a mantra, intermingled with loud curses. Just as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you screaming and shaking, you felt Jay pull out of you. A cool substance splattered over your back, probably his cum. Exhausted, you dropped your hips onto the bed and groaned. Your pussy contracted while you tried to ride out your orgasm, your fingers still gently making circles on your tired clit before you felt calm enough to stop.

As you laid there, you realized that you hadn’t thought about Isa once. Normally, even when he was inside you, you wondered if he had done this with Isa, and if so, how many times, and who had made him cum more, and on and on. But you hadn’t compared yourself with her once. You had just enjoyed yourself. But now the reality crept on you, that you were fucking someone else’s man. You were a homewrecker, a cheater. If the old you could see you now, she would hate you.

Jay slapped your ass again, snapping you out of your reverie. “You good?”

Lifting your head up, you turned to face Jay. Sweat dripped down his face, and his torso was trembling. You nodded, but your face must have been unconvincing.

“It’s the comedown,” Jay said. “It’s brutal the first time. You feel like shit now, right?”

“Sure, yeah,” you said shakily. “I do.”

“It’ll pass,” he said. “Come on, sit up.”

You crawled over to your headboard, feeling cold all of a sudden. Cold and empty. You thought Jay would put his arm around you, but all he did was rummage through your nightstand’s drawer for your smokes and lighter. He lit two and put one in between your lips. “It’ll help,” he murmured.

You took a long drag, shakily exhaling the smoke.

“You should take a shower after this,” Jay said. “It’ll help you clear your head.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not nearly so bad,” Jay said. Then he chuckled. “I hope you enjoyed that. That’s the best high you’ll get.” His eyes were reflective, and he took a short, angry drag.

“After this?”

“The old cliche. Now you’ll just try to chase this feeling,” he said. Clearing his throat, Jay reached for his boxers. “I gotta go. Gotta meet Sunghoon. You’ll be fine.”

You blearily watched him get dressed. He hadn’t kissed you once.

He left. You took a shower.

It didn’t help.

When you opened the door to your room, the scent of sex was so heady that you took a step back. Every time he fucked you, you felt full, until you felt hopelessly empty. Tears welled in your eyes, and you wiped them away angrily. It had been so long since you had cried properly. Now, you felt like a broken piece of china, nothing but sharp, jagged edges.

You didn’t want to be alone right now, so you picked up your cell phone. Riki had said that you were friends, and friends helped each other, right?

“Riki?” you said, your throat hoarse.

“Yeah?” he asked. “You good?”

“No,” you said quietly. “My, uh, my dog died.”

Riki fell silent. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit,” he said, his voice growing somber. “I’m sorry.”

“He was my best friend,” you said. “I’m just…sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you, but…”

“No, no, no,” Riki said. “No, Jesus, your dog died. It’s fine. You wanna meet up?”

“Yes,” you said, almost too eagerly. “Sure.”

“Your room?”

“No, no…”

“Mine?” And potentially run into Jay? You’d pass. Just as you were about to decline, Riki said, “Jay’s out with Sunghoon right now, and Jake is studying, so you won’t run into them.”

Huh. So he wasn’t lying. “Sure, yeah. I’ll come over.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come to yours? You sound really messed up.”

“I’m positive,” you said, trying to sound neutral. You knew you were failing.

–

Riki’s room was different than Jay’s in a good way. Movie posters lined his walls, and he had stuck random fast-food receipts to the walls. Clothes were thrown around haphazardly, even tossed onto his lamp. Riki was lying in bed, watching something on his laptop, but when he saw you he closed the screen and walked towards you. Without waiting for a word, he enveloped you in a hug.

It felt so good to touch someone who wasn’t involved in the stupid Jay-Isa-Jake conundrum. When you felt his arms wrap around you, you broke down into tears. It was embarrassing, falling apart in the embrace of someone you had effectively known for a few weeks. Still, Riki rubbed your back.

“I know how it is,” Riki murmured, patting your head. “If I lost bisco, I’d lose my mind. You guys were close?”

“Yeah,” you lied, allowing yourself to hug Riki back. “He was my only friend when I was younger.”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “You really must have loved him.”

“Yeah,” you said. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a shuddering sob. “I think I did. And I feel stupid for it.”

Riki pulled away slightly, just so he could look at your face. “Why?”

“He’s…” you swallowed. “He was just a dog. I know that they have shorter lifespans than humans, and-and I knew that…it wouldn’t last. So why am I so upset?”

Riki pressed your head into his shoulder. “Because you’re human,” he said with a soft, not unkind, laugh. “You’re a human. It’s normal to love dogs, even if they have short lifespans. You can’t choose how you react to situations. It’d be great if you could, but you can’t.”

“I wish I could,” you said helplessly. “I wish I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Don’t say that,” Riki said. “You don’t mean that. You felt good when you were with your dog, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, tears still spilling onto Riki’s sweater. “Yeah, I did.”

“You wouldn’t get to feel that if you had no feelings. You can’t experience the highs without the lows and all that.”

You laughed despite yourself. “So wise.”

“I’m a fount of knowledge,” Riki said, patting your head again. “I keep telling you.”

You sniffled and a realization overtook you. You pulled away from Riki and he stepped back, surprised. “What is it?”

“You’re dating someone,” you said quietly. “Sorry, I forgot. I forgot you were…sorry.”

Riki grabbed your wrist, preventing you from leaving. “Hey. My girlfriend doesn’t own me, first of all. If anyone I date gets mad because I’m comforting a friend with a dead dog, then I wouldn’t date them. That’s fucked. Second of all…” Riki hesitated, pressing his thumb against your veins. “I think we’re done soon, anyways.”

“Really?”

Riki nodded, letting go of you. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’m not….the best person, you know. So it’s sort of inevitable.”

“You don’t seem so bad to me,” you protested. “You aren’t as bad as Jay.”

Riki covered his mouth as he snickered. “If you have to use Jay as a benchmark…”

“Fair enough.”

Riki shrugged, kicking a stray sock around on his floor.

“Well, you’re nice to me,” you said.

That made Riki scoff. “Quit it. You sound like an orphan again. It’s not that hard to be nice to you, you know. I’m not a good person just because I don’t treat you like shit.”

You bit your lip, feeling admonished. Riki looked up at you and winced. “Look at me, being a dick to a girl with a dead dog. I told you I’m not nice.”

It was your turn to scoff, lightly hitting his arm. “Shut up.”

Riki chuckled. “What was his name?”

“Whose?”

“Your dog’s, dummy.”

Shit. Shit, shit, what was a name? “Mr. Wigglesworth,” you offered.

“Mr.? Did he have a first name?”

“Mr. was his first name.”

“That’s a really stupid name for a dog.”

“Well,” you said flatly. “He’s dead, so at least he doesn’t have it anymore.”

“All right, Wednesday, I was just joking.”

“So was I.”

With a shake of his head, Riki flopped back onto his bed. “You’re so difficult,” he said with a smile. “And very annoying.”

“You’re rubbing off on me,” you retorted.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s my birthday month. Be nice to me. Oh, shit, I didn’t invite you to the party yet.”

“Party?”

“Sunghoon’s birthday is on the 8th, and mine is on the 9th, so we’re going to have a joint party. It’ll start at 11 on the 8th and end…whenever it ends. It’ll be really fun. You should come. Well, no, you have to come. It’s an order from the birthday boy.”

You didn’t relish the thought of another party, but how could you refuse Riki after he had been so kind to you? “Yeah, of course. Where is it?”

“Heh. I won’t tell you. You’ll have to drive there with me,” Riki said.

“Oh. So I won’t need a password?”

“Nah,” Riki said. “If you want it, it’s ‘foreshadow’.”

“How cryptic,” you said.

Riki smiled. “I try. Anyways, you want to watch Jujutsu Kaisen with me?”

“Never seen it.”

“Oh, you’re missing out,” he said, turning his tablet back on.

“I bet.”

–

Jake texted you on Sunday night, asking you to meet up at Stoker’s cafeteria. You were starting to spend far too much time there for your liking. As you diligently walked over there, you felt the same feeling, like something was off. The clusters of people still dotting the fields glanced at you - that was it. People were looking at you. They never used to pay attention to you before, but now their eyes burnt holes into you. You were starting to become associated with the Karma Club, and you realized that that association would make joining the group chat even more difficult. You’d have to use a burner account, if you did join it. If.

Jake was sitting on one of the oak benches, two bagels in his hands. His black eye had faded into a yellow-green smear, and his lip had scarred over. “Hey,” he said, smiling at you. “I hope you like bagels.”

You took one of the bagels and sat down across from him. “Bagels at night?”

Jake shrugged. “Why not?”

“Why not, indeed?” You took a bite of it and wiped the crumbs from your lips. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he said slowly. “It’s just that I’m going away for my birthday. I’ll be gone for two weeks.”

“Two weeks for your birthday?”

“My parents are extra,” Jake said, tearing off a chunk of his bagel. “I’ll be back in time for Sunghoon and Riki’s birthday party, though. You going?”

“Riki forced my hand,” you said.

Jake grinned. “Attaboy. So, you know, if Jay does anything, just let me know. I hate that I’m leaving you alone with him for two weeks.”

“He hasn’t done anything to me in a while,” you said, your eyes drifting away from Jake’s face.

“That’s good,” Jake said. “It’s just…you can never know with him. He’s so unpredictable. We had an argument a few days ago…” Jake popped another bite of bagel into his mouth.

“Argument?”

“I haven’t been doing very well,” Jake said quietly. Now it was his turn to avert his gaze; he picked at a thread on his large grey hoodie. “I’ve been doing shit recently. Nothing to do with you, just life. I, you know, I’ve always had problems, and sometimes I can deal with them. Control them, be the person my friends want me to be. But sometimes they get the best of me.”

“What do your friends want you to be?”

“Nice guy Jake.” Jake’s voice was bitter. “Everyone wants me to be that way. Can’t make a mistake. Can’t slip up. When someone else fucks up, it’s fine. It’s normal. But when I fuck up, it’s the end of the world. I’m the worst person alive.”

You nodded slowly, comparing his words with what Jay had told you. “I don’t think you’re the worst person alive.”

Jake chuckled, examining his bagel. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“You’ve been nice to me,” you continued. “So thank you. I know it must be weird…”

“It’s not weird at all,” Jake said. “It’s not weird for me, I swear. I fell for you really fast, I know. I don’t expect anything and I still don’t.”

You didn’t know what else to say, and Jake fell silent too. “I love the Karma Club,” he said after a while, “but sometimes I feel like I’m losing myself, hanging around them all the time, always doing risky shit.”

“Maybe this will be good for you,” you said. “Your vacation, I mean.”

“Vacation,” Jake said vaguely. “Maybe it will. Thanks for letting me talk, Wednesday.”

“No problem,” you said. “Thanks for the bagel.”

“No problem.”

You smiled at Jake, and Jake smiled at you, and for a moment you wished that you could just like Jake. You could have a million nights like this, eating bagels together, talking, baring your souls. If you thought about it, it nearly sounded appealing.

“Happy early birthday,” you said after a while.

“Thank you,” Jake said.

The two of you ate your bagels in silence.

–

You spent the next three weeks as usual. This time, after your library shift, you, Isa, Sunghoon, and Riki would go to the smoothie shop. When Lily wasn’t working there, she would go as well, sitting next to Sunghoon and discussing different flavour pairings. You, Isa, and Riki would sit at a table, sipping your smoothie and talking. Isa treated Riki like a little brother, and it was fun to see them argue about nothing in particular.

Jay still came into your room every evening. At some point, you could tell that he had started to derive some sort of pleasure in ignoring you at the library only to be intimate with you in private. When Isa wasn’t looking, he would give you a quick once-over, mouth obscenities at you, or even wink at you.

He was staying for longer, now. Jay would laze in your room for an entire hour afterwards. You wondered where he told his friends he was going every evening, if he told them anything at all. You didn’t want to ask, though. The “relationship” between the two of you seemed so tenuous, so fragile, that if you pulled at any of the threads it could unravel. The emptiness after he left was becoming worse, too. What was once an indefinite, hazy feeling turned into a wound that began to fester. You constantly had to gauge how much you could reveal, holding back on kissing him passionately lest Jay find out that you didn’t hate him. That you were starting to want more.

It was a Tuesday. Sunghoon’s birthday fell on Wednesday, and Riki’s fell on Thursday, so everyone who was going to the party was planning on skipping school. You had never skipped a day of college before, so you felt a delicious little thrill at the thought of it. Jay was lying in your bed, his hand on your stomach, lightly squeezing it. His hair was stuck to his forehead, and he was only now starting to catch his breath. He had gotten a new gash on his arm, probably from a stupid fight. He would always summarize those skirmishes as, “dumbass bullshit.” You never pried too deeply into what he did when he was being a Karma Club member. “I was thinking,” he said, “you know that motel, Colborne Motel?”

“No.”

“The one where that guy killed that hooker?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Huh. Well, a guy killed a hooker in one of those rooms, Room 115 or 116 or something.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Jay smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the darkening light filtering in from outside. “I think we should go there, drop E, and fuck.”

You squinted. “You want to hook up where someone got murdered?”

“I thought that that would appeal to you,” Jay said, continuing to squeeze and stroke your stomach. “Given your…personality.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You flicked his forehead, something you had seen Isa do to Riki.

Jay lightly flicked you back with his free hand. “You know exactly what that’s supposed to mean.”

You reached out to flick him again, but Jay grabbed your wrist and rolled on top of you, pinning you to the bed. “Say it anyways.”

“Well, you certainly don’t seem scared of death,” he said, “and your Emily the Strange vibe doesn’t help.”

“You know who Emily the Strange is?”

“She was my first crush,” Jay said.

“Explains a lot about your psyche,” you deadpanned. “It’s very Freudian, your first love-object.”

“Oh, don’t start talking pseudoscience,” Jay said, pulling both of your wrists over your head. “It makes me want to do nasty things to you.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, but you’re lucky I’m too tired.” Jay leaned down and kissed you, holding your wrists in one hand. The other slipped to your cheek. When he pulled away, he gave you an odd look. “Have you bought anything for Riki’s birthday?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t really know what to get him.”

Jay let go of your wrists and fell down beside you once more. “Neither do I,” Jay said. “That kid already has everything. Sunghoon was easy to shop for.”

“What’d you get him?”

“A novelty toaster oven.”

“Where’s the novelty?”

“It can toast a picture of a penguin on the bread,” Jay said. “It’s pretty cool.”

“I see.”

Jay sighed, running his fingers through his damp hair. “What do I get that kid?”

“Maybe I’ll get him a cologne,” you said thoughtfully. “He doesn’t seem like he has a lot. I guess I can take the bus to the mall”

“I’ll just drive you,” Jay said. You stared at him, befuddled. “What? It makes sense. I can find something for Riki, you can get him something so he knows that you’re not a shit friend who didn’t buy him a birthday gift, you give me head in a change room…”

“Jay.”

“The perfect plan,” he continued. “Go shower. Meet me on the corner of Decelis Street and blossom avenue.” Jay rolled out of your bed and started to put his clothes back on.

You could hardly move, but you got up anyway and started going through your closet for something to wear. You laid your clothes out on your bed.

“See you in 20,” Jay said once he was fully dressed. When he left, you shoved the wad of bills he had given you last month into your purse. Thanks to Jay, you could afford to buy Riki something nice.

—

Jay pulled up in his all-black Mazda. It didn’t have a single scuff, or any visible use of wear, which surprised you. You had figured that he would be a risky driver. Jay opened the door for you, yelling, “Get in.”

You sank your head into the soft leather seat, trying not to make it apparent that you were admiring his car. No such luck. Jay looked at you and smirked.

“You’ve never even seen a car this nice, right?” he asked.

“It serves its purpose as compensation for your manhood quite well,” you said.

Jay scoffed, buckling his seatbelt. “That little joke would work better if you hadn’t seen how big my dick is. And you can’t say it’s not, either.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. You have a huge dick, a nice car, and you’re rich. You win.”

“Thank you,” Jay said. “That’s all I’ve been wanting to hear.”

“Can you put some sunglasses on, too?” you asked, putting your own seatbelt on over your bulky sweater. “So you can be as douchey as possible?”

Jay opened the glove compartment, fumbled around, and took out a small glasses case embossed with the word PRADA in gold lettering. He took out a sleek pair of sunglasses and put them on. “Are you ready for the most pretentious car ride of your goddamn life?”

“Ready,” you said, fighting a grin.

Jay peeled off of the curb and drove towards the mall. You stared out of the window, trying to absorb everything about the surrounding city. Having no reason to venture off campus, this was practically new territory for you. The leaves were already red, shifting into a decaying brown. The houses you passed were somewhat smaller than Yeonjun’s place, yet still just as lavish. Jay turned onto the highway.

“Gonna play some rock music,” he said, fidding with the Spotify app on the dashboard panel. “I know it’s not Alanis Morisette, but…”

“I like rock,” you said. “As most people do.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jay said. “Isa listens to the most mainstream shit ever. Frank Ocean, SZA, Taylor Swift…” Jay wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“They’re popular artists,” you said.

“Popular shartists,” he said. Jay put on Highway to Hell by AC/DC, and you rolled your eyes.

“Asserting your musical dominance by playing one of the most well-known rock songs of all time, are we?”

“You don’t deserve to hear my selection of deep cuts,” Jay retorted. “Bitch.”

You laughed. “Deep cuts such as American Idiot by Green Day and Smells like Teen Spirit by Nirvana?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jay said, but he was fighting a grin. “Pretentious slut.”

“Hypocritical manwhore.”

“Gloomy bitch.”

“Unfunny asshole.”

“Humourless cunt.”

“You copied mine,” you said.

“That wasn’t copying,” Jay replied. “That was me improving upon your work.”

“Improving used subjectively here?”

“I’ll use you subjectively,” Jay said.

“What?”

“My dick is like half-mast right now,” he said. “Can I pull over so we can…”

“No.”

Jay laughed so loudly he nearly swerved into a semi-truck. You yelled, which only made him laugh more. Eventually, you joined in as well.

–

You had never been to an outlet mall before, let alone one so upscale. You only recognized some of the names displayed on the map just outside the entrance - Prada, Dior, Chanel, Gucci, Versace. It was a dizzying list, one that harkened back the years of thrift store clothes and exclusion.

“You see anywhere you want to go?” Jay asked, coming up behind you. He had been busy trying to tuck his sunglasses into his loose baggy T-shirt, eventually settling with wearing them around the back of his head.

“Uh,” you said. “Don’t know.”

“There’s a Tom Ford store,” Jay said, pointing towards the north of the map. They make good fragrances. I have a few, actually. We could go there first, then I’ll get my gift for him.”

“Sounds good,” you said weakly. Even though he was dressed casually, Jay still seemed like he meshed better with the platoon of patrons wandering around, hauling shopping bags as big as suitcases around. You felt like someone’s raggedy little sister.

“What are you waiting for?” Jay asked. “Shoo.”

You sighed, walking towards Tom Ford. As you walked, you passed by stores with avant-garde clothes pasted on mannequins in different poses, makeup boutiques, and lingerie stores.

“Should we stop here?” Jay asked innocently, pointing at La Perla.

“What, for you? Sure,” you said.

“Maybe I will,” Jay said. “I’d look cute in a thong, wouldn’t you agree.”

You clamped your mouth shut and he snorted. “This mall is nice because no one from our school comes here,” he said. “They just shop online, or if they shop in person, they go to the one over in Riverfield.”

“Why?”

“There’s boba,” he explained. “And there’s trendier stores there, but I like classic stores better. You know what I mean?”

“No.”

“I guess you wouldn’t,” he said. “Like Cinderella without the talking rats.”

“There’s one right next to me,” you said.

Jay snorted. “That was good, actually.”

You smiled and continued taking in your surroundings. The sky was dark, but the cobblestone paths of the outlet mall were lined with old-fashioned street lamps that illuminated the area well. Eventually, you made your way to Tom Ford. Jay opened the door for you, impatiently ushering you inside. The store was hopelessly luxurious. Two sumptuous grey couches faced each other, settled on swirled marble floors. The shelves were glass, and the items were one of each. You supposed that you had to request the item you wanted.

You wandered towards the fragrance section, where an overly-effusive worker hounded you. Jay nodded at him once and then he went away somewhere else. You marveled at how Jay’s aura, if you could call it that, extended outside of school. You spritzed a random bottle of cologne onto a strip of paper, waved it in the air, and took a sniff.

“Costa Azzura,” Jay said, watching you closely. “That’s a good one.”

“I don’t know if it’ll suit Riki,” you mumbled. Jay snatched the piece of paper from you and inhaled.

“You’re right,” he said. “Too mature for him.”

You took a lighter-coloured bottle and sampled that next. It was citrusy, with a hint of spice. “This is better,” you said. Grey Vetiver.

Jay frowned at you. “Don’t you want to try more?”

“Why? This one smells fine.”

“Maybe there’s one that’ll be better,” Jay said.

You groaned and put the bottle back on the shelf. Azure Lime was next, then Tuscan Leather, then Fucking Fabulous. “There’s too many,” you grumbled. “I’m getting Grey Vetiver.”

“You’re rushing the process,” Jay said. “Here, try Electric Cherry.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Do it,” he growled. You reluctantly took a sniff of the strip of paper Jay had thrust under your nose.

“It’s fine,” you said weakly. “It’s very feminine, though. Not sure if Riki would like it.”

“Riki,” Jay said. “Riki. Yeah, you’re right. Get the Grey Vetiver.” Jay beckoned a store attendant to come over, requesting a box of the cologne. While they were gone, you opened your purse and took out a few of the $100 bills Jay had given you.

Jay stared at you, dumbfounded. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m going to pay for th-,”

“No,” Jay said sternly. “No, no paying with fucking cash at a luxury store. Were you raised in a barn?”

“But-,”

“So useless,” Jay said. “I’ll just pay for it. It’s my money you were going to use anyways.” He walked over to the cash register and paid for the cologne, a scowl on his face the entire time. When he was done, he thrusted the bag into your hands. “You’re welcome,” he said.

You stumbled out of the store after him. “Where will you go to get your gift for Riki?” you asked.

“I don’t know, prude,” Jay snapped. “Unlike you, I know how to enjoy a shopping experience.”

Enjoy was a very generous word to use. Jay dragged you to virtually every single store in the mall that sold men’s clothing. He hemmed and hawed over the cut of pants, asked the store attendants to bring out clothes that he examined with the scrutiny of a surgeon, and fingered the fabric of every piece he liked.

He made you try on the clothes over your own outfit, forcing you to put on bombers, puffs, leather jackets, and assorted hats.

“This Moncler raincoat suits you,” Jay murmured. It had been two hours, and your feet were aching.

“It doesn’t matter if it suits me,” you said, your voice coming out in a whine. “It’s for Riki.”

Jay waved his hand. “All you younger people are the same anyways. Come on, put this short down jacket on.”

You stripped the raincoat off and handed it over to an attendant before trying on the jacket.

“Very nice,” Jay said, a hand over his mouth. “Very nice…”

“How come you’re getting him a jacket, anyways? Doesn’t he already have one? Or several?”

“Every year, the KC goes on a trip over winter break,” Jay explained, fondling the hem of the jacket. “We all pick straws to see who gets to pick the location. Jungwon drew the longest, so we’re going to the Swiss Alps.”

“The Alps?”

“Don’t bother asking,” Jay muttered. “I don’t know either. Arms up.”

You stuck your arms out so Jay could examine the “movement” of the jacket, whatever that meant. He wasn’t even getting them in Riki’s size anymore.

“Yes….good…Now take it off.” Once you peeled off the warm coat, Jay gestured for a store attendant. “One in this size,” he said.

“Riki won’t fit in that,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jay said. “That’s for something else.”

Or someone else. You bit your lip in frustration. He was probably buying that stupid jacket for Isa, and you were just the model.

“I’m tired,” you said.

“One last store,” Jay said, his voice dropping slightly. “Wanted to go back to Armani, get him a nice suit.”

“Whatever.”

“Poor doggy,” Jay said, scratching your chin. “All tired out?”

You pulled your head away from his hand. “I’m not a dog.”

“Woof.”

“I hope you get stranded in the Swiss Alps,” you grumbled.

“You’d get stranded there too,” Jay said.

“Why would I be there?”

Jay smiled, once again brandishing his credit card as he walked to the cash register. “Trip rules state that we can take one person as a date,” he said. “And dickless is probably going to ask you to go with him.”

“And you’ll ask Isa?”

If you hadn’t been so attuned to his actions, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way his fingers tightened on his bank card. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll take Isa.”

–

When you got back to your dorm room, clutching the Tom Ford back, you let out a shaky sigh. You considered tossing the cologne onto your bed, but Riki didn’t deserve to suffer just because you were upset. Instead, you pulled out your phone and downloaded the Instagram app.

You needed a good name, something anonymous, something that no one could ever associate with you. Just in case things went tits-up. You decided on the moniker “jumblesack82.” Then you went to your Notes app, found Nina’s Instagram handle, and typed it in. She wasn’t private, so you could scroll through her photos.

Nina was pretty, sociable, smart, and outgoing. Her feed was plastered with pictures of her with friends, wearing cute outfits, and enjoying life. Just before you followed her, you decided to see if you couldn’t find Lily.

Scrolling through her followers list, you eventually found her. lily2morrow. Her entire page appeared to be pictures of her holding various drinks and smiling, one of which you recognized as the maca root smoothie she had given you last month. Lily had posted something on her Instagram story, so you clicked on it. It was a picture of someone with their face cut off, holding the straw of a smoothie and playfully trying to cover the photo with the other. To your horror and dismay, you recognized those pale, pale hands. Sunghoon and Lily…? The Karma Club truly left no stones unturned.

You went through her following to find Isa’s page next. It just made you feel like throwing up. Seeing her selfies, her vibrant red hair, her stupid fucking captions like, “I’d marry you with paper rings~” it made you feel insane. What turned your stomach the most recent photo she had taken, one of her and Jay. His hand settled on her waist, and she was cupping his chin in her hand. He was actually smiling into the camera.

From what you had ascertained from his comments about her, you had assumed that Jay disliked Isa. You couldn’t understand why he was still with her, but you could at least revel in the fact that he disliked her in some way. But this picture of them, undeniable proof that people knew they were together, that they existed beyond four walls, it made your skin crawl. People probably mentioned them in tandem: there’s Jay and Isa, are Isa and Jay going to the party, Jay likes Isa, Isa likes Jay, Isa loves Jay, Isa wants to fuck Jay. Seemingly to protect your sensibilities, Isa rarely talked about Jay in the group chat you had with her and Lily. Mainly, you coordinated when you were going to meet up, shared funny pictures. Occasionally, she would allude to “her man”, but you could take that in stride. You realized that she probably spoke to Lily about Jay, behind your back.

You didn’t bother trying to find the Karma Club members on Instagram. You felt like your world was already imploding. Through blurred vision, you DMed Nina. You thought it would be wise to disguise your typing style.

You: hi im the girl you met earlier >_<

Nina: Hi! You’re the one who had trouble with the Karma Club

You: yes ._.

Nina: I’ll tell one of them to invite you right now, girlie!

You: thank you girlie >3<

Soon, you were inside of the group chat, conveniently and aptly titled “Anti KC”. Immediately, several people started texting at once, relaying a variety of greetings. They asked you what your name was, and you said you were hiding your identity for protection. “So smart,” one of them typed. You frowned. None of them had used alternate accounts?

You scrolled through the members of the group chat. You didn’t know most of them. Jisun, Somi, Rachel, Sieun, Irene, Chaeyoung, Minji, Dia. All very beautiful girls.

One of them asked what the Karma Club had done to you, and the others concurred. They wanted to know everything. So they could help you, they said. You briefly considered lying, but then you remembered that picture, that damned picture of Jay and Isa.

So you typed out everything leading up to Jay’s rape of you. After some hesitation, you included that. You read your message back over before you sent it. It looked so garish, awful, and inhumane looking at it. The facts were cold and conveyed none of the nuance. None of the emotions you had felt. You sent it anyways.

You received a sympathetic wave of asspats, which did nothing to lessen your internal anguish. Oh, well. They believed you, and they trusted you. That was something. You didn’t exactly join the group chat to kumbaya anyways. You were here for answers, to figure out what had happened to Mina once and for all. Nina had mentioned that the group chat was made shortly after the Mina incident, so you started by backscrolling. You didn’t care that it would take a while.

You were surprised by the sheer inanity of half of the conversations in the group chat. You had assumed that it would be more like a group of women attempting to take down the Karma Club, but instead it was partially being used for idle gossip. Still, some of the things you saw were interesting. For example, that Heeseung was a serial cheater, and had slept with nearly every single girl in the group besides Sieun and Minji, who were your age.

One year, the Karma Club had allegedly destroyed thousands of dollars worth of alcohol when they went to a bar. Sunoo had given the rugby team, the volleyball team, the cheerleading squad, several teachers, and a few of the girls in the chat the shits. Sunghoon extorted people for money, Jungwon supposedly had blackmail on half of the school, and Riki was “cute but evil.” They didn’t say anything about the things he had done, oddly enough.

None of this seemed as bad as what Jay had done to you, although Jay was a most reviled figure in the chat. Strangely enough, they seemed to slobber over him in equal measure to their lambasement of him. “He’s so hot but so fucked up,” one of them said. “He’s like irl Takumi from Nana frrrr” another person said. Ridiculous. All they could say about him was that he got into fights, had a nasty temper, and couldn’t hold a girlfriend down. “Good luck to Isa,” one person said. You had to bite your fist to stop yourself from screaming.

Eventually, after what felt like a month of nonstop scrolling, you got into the earlier years of the chat. Dia, Chaeyoung, and Rachel had started the group chat because they had gotten cheated on by Heeseung. They commented on the Mina incident, initially condemning her.

“she makes the rest of us look bad,” Rachel had typed. “lying about rape is crazyyy”

“fr,” Chaeyoung had sent. “amber heard ass”

Then someone named Jisun had been introduced into the chat. She had been diligent in cataloging what the Karma Club had done. Jisun had apparently been friends with Mina and defended her friend.

“jake is so evil and im sick of people acting like he’s not as equally as big of a piece of shit as the rest of them lmao,” Jisun had said. “jake ruined her life. hes the one that got her hooked on oxy. shes prbly in rehab rn. i dont even know if she lied her not. even if she did, he deserved it”

“fuck fake” Dia had typed. “*jake”

Oxy? Oxycontin? You already knew, but you Googled it just to be sure. Your heart was pounding inside of your ears. Oxycontin, a known opioid. On one hand, you should be wary of any information you got from people who hated the Karma Club members. On the other hand, it was a coincidence you couldn’t ignore.

Mina had to be administered naloxone, something used during an opioid overdose. Jake had introduced Mina to opioids.

And tomorrow night, you would be partying with him.

(continued in next part)

#enha smut #enhypen smut #kpop fanfiction #jay smut #jay x reader #enhypen x reader #jay enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts

351 notes · View notes

blueberrypancakesworld · 1 year

Text

Perv!Charlie Walker headcanons

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

warning : perverted behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, obsession, nothing graphical, mention of nudeness, clueless reader, obsessed love

second part , third part, fourth part

masterlist

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

°It all started when you switched to his history class. When you came in and chose a seat diagonally opposite to him. You hadn't noticed his presence when you entered. But his gaze fixed on you the whole class. You were perfect. More perfect than Kirby could ever have been.

°My beautiful victim he thought as he walked past her, trying to catch a glimpse of her scent. You smelled so sweet and innocent. He would make her his Sydney. Keep her forever.

°A few weeks passed and his obsession with her grew from day to day. Every day he tried to talk to you as often as he could. No matter if it was the little talks during the break. Trivial or not, it was all the same. Your affection was enough for him. He just needed to have you with him. Just for him.

°He could hardly believe his luck when one day you asked him if you could come to the film club.

°Of course he immediately agreed and couldn't hide the blush on his cheeks when you pulled him into a thankful hug. You are so soft and warm...she's everything he thought as his arms wrapped around your body. It was only a moment but it meant so much more to him.

°The weeks went by and besides the activities at the club he helped her with her homework almost every day. Acting a little foolish with his own, knowing that you would help him. That you would pull him into the library and the two of you would sit together at the table next to each other. Yet you didn't see the look in his blue eyes. But he saw her and his heart beat with happiness every time you pulled him here by the wrist. She likes me he thought delightedly and continued to watch you.

°Soon he would find a way to get to know you even better. To see you whenever he wanted. To record you in his camera. Just for himself.

°It was the last lunch break before the weekend when he approached her. A smile played around his lips as she waved at him. A simple plan but it would do. ,,Hey, I was wondering if you would like to work together on the history presentation?" he asked and immediately saw her nod. ,,Of course I would love to, how about tomorrow afternoon, my parents are at work so we can relax" she suggested and there was joy in her eyes as she almost proudly told him about the free house. ,,Cool, see you tomorrow," he said, knowing that you would already have him in your house forever.

°As soon as he was in your house the next day his heart beat faster with joy. It was your house, your home, just you and him. He looked at your shape as you walked up the stairs in front of him and showed him your room. ,,You have good taste," he commented and smiled. You couldn't have been more perfect. Several horror movie posters and fantasy books were on the wall. Some he had read and watched himself. She's perfect for me he thought, letting his fingers roam over some of the books and posters.

°Everything here seemed to reflect you as if he could see and understand you so indirectly. He could touch you. He heard you say that you would fetch something to drink from the cellar. He just nodded before waiting for the door to close. His smile widened, his gaze determined as he pulled out of his backpack the many small cameras. They were not cheap, but for you, anything was enough. He quickly thought of the right places and set up the cameras. Before he saw on his mobile phone that he could see the whole room.

°He listened, but you were still searching in the basement. Before his gaze fell on your dresser with clothes inside. A blush crept into his cheeks. He knew he was close to being caught. But he wanted to finally possess something of you. To finally have you. Just a small part. Carefully he opened one of the many drawers. Your clothes came out, with the same engaging smell. It's almost like she's embracing me, he thought with a sigh as he reached for one of your t-shirts and stuffed it into his backpack.

°Then his eyes caught a pair of black folded panties with black lace. His cheeks grew even darker. His fantasy of what you would look like in them began to come together in his head. She's only wearing it for me he thought and a furtive smile crept onto his lips. It smelled just like you. Hastily he stuffed the garment into his backpack before the door to your room opened only a moment later.

°The remaining hours he was full of enthusiasm and admiration. He enjoyed the contact, touched you as often as he could and finally wanted to have you for himself. Only when you said goodbye to him in the evening did he practically run home. Connecting his mobile phone to his computer and opening the programme, he finally saw your room.

°You had already gone back to your bedroom and had just closed the curtains to your window when you started to undress. ,,So beautiful," he murmured and zoomed in with the camera. He saw you take off your pullover and fold it carefully. He saw your torso, saw the dark red bra with black lace that nestled comfortably against your breasts. His heart beat faster, you were so unbelievably captivating. He saw her take off her trousers and put them with the pullover. A matching pair of panties in the same colour showed itself to him. They clung to your hips and your body.

°He thought you were going to bed when you turned to one of the cameras. For a moment he was afraid that you had seen him. Instead you walked to your full body mirror and took off your bra. For a split moment, all thought was gone from his mind. Before he felt the slight tug at his centre. He could see your naked breasts and you seemed to almost present yourself to him as you looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment. Before she finally went to her bed and lay down under the covers. It turned him on, nervous and crazy for you, knowing that you slept only in your underwear.

°For him, for his image of you, you seemed to long for him. Seeming to wait for him. Loving him too. He continued to watch you through the hours. Taking in every bit of your features that he saw and loving you more and more. ,,Charlie" he heard you murmur as you moved slightly and seemed to almost hug the blanket. She's dreaming of me, the brown-haired man realised, and at that moment he would have loved to look inside your head.

°But for him it was just another proof. Another proof that maybe he should slip into your room tonight. Into you. Not just watch you anymore. Finally kiss you and finally have you to himself. Not kill you no you were better than Sydney he would keep you with him. You loved him as much as he loved you, he just knew it. But in the end you would have no choice. For no matter how much time passed he would always be watching you. Because love would always find its way. Willingly or not.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

#male x female #fem reader #scream 4 #scream movie #charlie walker scream #charlie walker #charlie walker x reader #obssesive #obssesion #obsessive love #obsessive thoughts #yandere behavior #yandere thoughts #stalking #nothing graphic #nudeness #clueless #x reader #tw obsessive behavior

1K notes · View notes

hbyrde36 · 25 days

Text

Chapter 1: Under My Skin

Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Art (coming soon!) by @glitterfang

Beta'd by @penny00dreadful

Rating: E | WC: 5937 | Chapters: 1/2 | AO3 Link

Not for the first time, Eddie was really regretting his decision to book a client on a Friday night, and a new client at that.

It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, exactly. There were no dates on his calendar, and going out to random bars and clubs on the weekends to look for quick hookups had begun losing its appeal lately.

But it’d been a long week, and he’d much rather have been getting ready to plop down on the couch with Chrissy to split a bottle of red wine while they watched Drag Race, than preparing to do a cover up for some idiot who’d gotten his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his body, only to fall victim to—The Curse.

Ask any tattoo artist and they’d be the first to tell you, there was no surer way to guarantee a breakup than to ink your significant other’s name on your body forever.

And yeah, it probably wasn’t fair to judge the guy before they’d even met, but there were only two kinds of people who tended to make that particular mistake—dumbasses, and hopeless romantics. He just kind of assumed his client fell into the former camp, rather than the latter.

Eddie had just started wiping down the front desk counter, which doubled as a display case for the various accessories and body jewelry they carried trying to kill some time between his last appointment and cover-up-guy, when Chrissy came walking out of her studio.

It was one of the biggest perks, in his opinion, of owning their own shop. Not only did each of them finally have their own work spaces—no more having to listen to other client conversations or fighting over a single bluetooth speaker—but being their own bosses also meant they could decorate and customize their own studios to their heart’s content.

The main area of the shop was a bit of a catch-all, much like his and Chrissy’s shared apartment. It featured neutral walls lined with a mishmash of all the things they loved, sprinkled in and amongst odd antiques, knick-knacks, and various pieces of unique artwork. There was everything from vintage vinyl record jackets tacked to the wall, to faux taxidermy mountings of creatures that had never existed in real life.

Entering Chrissy’s studio was a little like stepping inside a Lisa Frank notebook cover. All vibrant rainbow colors and aggressive animal print. Eddie had painted the walls himself, color matching the exact shade of fuchsia as the adjustable chair he’d custom ordered just for her. He was no interior designer so she’d taken it from there, and though the finished product was a little too bright for his tastes, even he had to admit it was still pretty fucking metal.

Eddie’s space was the polar opposite, featuring dark stained wood furniture and a style of decor that could be best described as a slightly more grown up version of a teenage boy's bedroom. Band and movie posters lined three of the walls, but instead of being held up with thumbtacks, or scotch tape, they were neatly laid in matching frames with thick black edging. The remaining wall held a gallery of photos. Him and Wayne from their last fishing trip, one from when he and Chrissy had received the keys to the parlor unlocking its doors on the first day that it was theirs, and an old snap of him and his high school bandmates standing in front of their homemade banner, among many others.

It wasn’t until Chrissy came up to lean on the counter with her jacket zipped-up and her purse slung over her shoulder that he realized something was up.

“Don’t forget to lock up when you're done.” She said, tapping her nails on the glass. “Oh! And can you stop and pick up some oat milk on your way home? We’re out.”

“Wait, where are you going? Didn’t you have a client booked tonight too? I thought we were in this together, Cunningham!”

“Not anymore.” She said cheerfully, leaning across the counter to rest her elbows on the glass, leaving an ink smudge on the exact spot he had just finished cleaning. He swatted at her with the damp rag and she jerked back with a giggling-gasp.

“Mine had to cancel.”

Eddie groaned. “I hate when clients do that.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s like a free night off I wasn’t expecting.”

“Not exactly free, since canceling means not paying in full.” He grumbled.

“Oh lighten up! It’s not like we’re that behind on bills or anything.”

“Tell that to the electric company.” He said, mostly to tease her, though he couldn't help glancing up at the excessively large and kitschy skull chandelier he’d found on Amazon that definitely didn’t use high efficiency light bulbs, but he had sworn at the time was worth it for The Aesthetic™.

“Why are you always so grumpy?” Chrissy asked, jutting her lip out in a dramatic reenactment of him pouting.

Not that he was one to pout.

“I’m not!”

“Look at your face, you're grumpy right now!”

“That's because y- you’re…” He cut himself off with a sigh.

He couldn't begrudge her the time off, he’d be hightailing it out of there just the same if it had been him.

“Just get out of here.” He said, conceding defeat.

She beamed. “Okay! See you later!” She said, all but sprinting to the front doors. “Don’t forget about the milk!”

“Wait, why can’t you–” He started to ask, but she was on the other side of the door before he could get the words out.

“Oh forget it.” He mumbled, stashing the glass cleaner away where it belonged.

About fifteen minutes later the bell above the door chimed, signaling the arrival of what Eddie assumed to be his last customer of the day.

Except, it couldn't be.

It couldn’t possibly be because the Adonis that had just entered his humble tattoo parlor was, quite frankly, bonkers hot. There was no way, absolutely no way someone had this guy—this guy—so obsessed with them that he went and got their name tattooed on his perfect body and then just… let him go.

It was unthinkable.

“Hi, you must be Eddie. I recognized you from your Instagram.” Pretty-boy said with a shy smile.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, blinking hard, completely unable to mask the tone of disbelief.

The other man nodded.

Shit, okay.

So this was him—Steeeeeeve Harrington. This was the guy.

Maybe there was something wrong with him? There had to be a catch, a series of very red flags or something because all Eddie could think about at that moment was, if he ever got a chance with Steve? He’d never let him go.

Get it together, Munson!

The bright side, of a sort, was that Steve smacked of straight guy energy, so it was unlikely Eddie would even be in the running for a chance anyway. Better to just put it out of his mind.

Though, he supposed he could still… look. It's not like looking ever hurt anyone. Not that he made a habit out of ogling the clientele. Of course, none of his other customers had ever come in wearing vintage Levi’s that fit their ass like a glove, not to mention the way they fit around his–

“Eddie?”

Fuck.

Had Steve been talking this whole time while he’d been off daydreaming about what those sinfully tight jeans might look like on his bedroom floor?

“Yeah.” A soft chuckle fell from Eddie’s lips as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “S- sorry, man. Spaced out for a second there I guess.”

What the fuck was wrong with him today?!

“It’s okay. I was just asking if the plan was still the same? In your last email you suggested we should do this over two appointments.”

Work question… yes, good. Focus on the job!

“Right. With what we talked about I'd like to concentrate on just the outline today, maybe a little shading, and then in six weeks or so once that’s healed have you come back for the color. If you’re still alright with that?”

Eddie could do the whole thing in one shot if Steve really wanted to sit that long, but with something like this he didn't want to feel rushed. He’d done a few concept sketches after emailing back and forth with Steve about what he was looking for, and honestly what they’d come up with wasn’t really his usual style. He could do it, he was more than capable, but he had to wonder why Steve had picked him, out of all the tattoo artists in the city. He’d seen Eddie’s Instagram, so he knew the kind of work he usually churned out. Hell, Chrissy would have been the more obvious choice for this.

Of course, now that he’d gotten an eye-full of Steve in person he was glad he hadn’t tried to pawn him off on her. He was also really hoping Steve would agree to the split sessions, it would give them an excuse to see each other again.

“Whatever you think is best. I’m putting myself in your expert hands.” Steve said, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

That was… interesting.

Maybe Eddie had been a little bit hasty in his initial straight assessment?

Steve’s deposit had been paid, and they’d already gone over pricing through email so there wasn't much to discuss as far as that was concerned, After signing some paperwork and getting the other man’s ID scanned into the system there was nothing left to do but walk Steve back to his studio and get this show on the road.

“You can go ahead and take your shirt off, get comfortable. I’ll show you the stencil I drew up and if it looks good we can put it on and get started.” Eddie said, gesturing to his client chair.

He leaned over his desk while Steve got situated, taking a second to gather his thoughts, as well as add a small finishing touch to the transfer sketch before turning back to his client. The sight made his throat go dry.

It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.

At Eddie's direction, in preparation, Steve had shaved his chest. More specifically, Steve had shaved half of his chest. The side Eddie would be working on, that sported the existing tattoo, was bare—smooth as a baby's bottom. The other side was…

It was…

Jesus Christ.

It should have looked ridiculous actually, and it was a little funny, but honestly all Eddie could think when he stared at the untrimmed side of Steve's upper body, resplendent with the most glorious chest hair, was that it was a travesty, a crime even, that he’d never get to see the whole thing grown out in its full glory.

The lack of a shirt also highlighted the fact that Steve was incredibly toned, much more so than he had initially appeared even through his slim fit henley.

Eddie shook his head, praying it had suddenly become an etch-a-sketch and he could clear out his thoughts by sheer force.

He truly didn’t know what had gotten into him. It was hardly the first time he’d worked on someone he found attractive, but usually he didn’t notice it quite this much. When you pierce and tattoo for a living you get used to seeing a lot of bare skin, including occasionally, areas typically reserved for romantic partners. Professional hazzard, but it’d never been a problem for him before. He was an artist, this was his craft, and bare skin was just another kind of canvas.

He blamed it on his current dry spell, self-imposed as it was.

It was easy enough to go out on a Saturday and find a guy or girl to bring home for the night, but he was so tired of one night stands and meaningless hookups in bar bathrooms. Where was the substance? He wanted companionship. He wanted a partner. He wanted to fall in love.

Eddie cleared his throat and crossed the room to hand Steve the stencil, busying himself with raising up his stool to the proper height and pulling on a pair of thick black neoprene gloves while the other man looked it over.

“It’s great.” Steve said.

“Good.” Eddie quietly let out the breath he’d been holding. “Alright I'm gonna put this on and have you take a look at the placement, make sure you like it, then we can get started.”

Eddie squeezed out a dime sized amount of the stencil gel and rubbed it into Steve’s chest, laying the transfer paper down in just the right way so that the final design would sufficiently cover what was underneath, assuming he had scaled it right.

It was perfect. After a quick check in the mirror, Steve agreed.

While they waited for it to dry Eddie double checked his set up to make sure he had everything he would need for the session.

“Ready to get started?”

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slow. “Yeah. I am.”

His reply felt heavy, like maybe he was talking about more than just the tattoo. Had they known each other at all Eddie might have asked about it, but they were basically strangers, and it wasn’t his job to pry.

With steady hands he set the needle to Steve's skin and got to work.

They weren’t at it for very long before Steve started to squirm.

Eddie ignored it at first, he could tell the guy was trying hard to keep himself still, and he wasn’t really moving enough to actually disturb the work. Sometimes it took a bit for clients to sink into the feeling, to let the pain fade to the background enough that they could relax a little bit or at least be able to keep their body from trying to react to the odd sensation. But then he noticed the light sheen of sweat spreading over Steve's upper body, and would have sworn he could somehow feel the other man’s pulse quickening beneath the hand he had pressed so closely to his heart, even over the vibration of the tattoo machine.

He should probably stop and do a check-in, suggest a breather or some water. It wouldn't be the first time a seemingly tough muscle-bound guy had struggled to sit for him.

He opened his mouth to say something about it, lifting the needle as he took a quick glance up at Steve’s face, but what he saw had the words dying on his tongue. Steve was staring back at him, face flushed, breath coming quick and shallow, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

That… did not look like a face that was in pain—or rather—it didn’t seem like the pain was unpleasant.

Fuck.

Eddie flicked his gaze quickly back down to his hands, the needle, fighting the urge to look lower.

He shouldn’t.

It wasn’t right.

The professional thing to do would be to ignore the reaction completely.

But Eddie was a weak, weak man.

He looked.

Just a quick peek, less than a half-second that his eyes wandered south, and immediately he regretted it.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuck.

Suspicion confirmed. Steve was hard. He was also huge if the unmistakable outline was any indication. Eddie bit his tongue, fighting back the groan that was trying to fight its way out of his throat.

Those jeans should be fucking illegal. The only thing worse would’ve been a pair of gray sweatpants. Now he was the one sweating.

“Sorry.” Steve said, voice strained.

Eddie stilled, lifting the machine away from Steve's chest again before looking back up to meet his eyes.

“For?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, challenging him to continue to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

“It’s fine, really. It… happens. Everyone reacts differently to the pain.”

Steve let out a high pitched and breathy huff of laughter. “It wasn’t like this last time.” He muttered under his breath.

Eddie tried hard not to read into that, not to think about what the difference might be.

“Do you need to take a break?”

“No,” Steve swallowed hard. Eddie watched, momentarily mesmerized by the bob of his adams apple. “But, uh, can we talk or something? To distract me?”

He sounded so vulnerable, and a little embarrassed. It was enough to snap Eddie out of his daze. The last thing he wanted was for the person in his chair to feel uncomfortable. Talking he could do, it was one of his best things.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” Eddie asked casually, getting right back into his line work.

“You.” Steve answered quickly, pausing to clear his throat. “Um, I mean, did you always want to be a tattoo artist?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. I used to spend all my time, including the time I should have been using to study or do my homework, drawing, sketching, painting, you name it, and it just kinda developed from there. I gave myself my first stick-and-poke when I was about 15. My uncle was pissed. Not about the tattoo exactly, but he was worried I wasn't being safe enough about it—sanitary and stuff. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. So, Wayne took me out the next day and we got a book about it, and he bought me all the right materials. Even let me practice on him when I graduated to a tattoo machine.”

“He sounds like a really great guy.” Steve said.

“Yeah, he is.” Eddie could feel the wistful smile spreading across his own face. “Not just anyone could step in and raise someone else’s kid like that. Just wish I got to see him more. I go back to Indiana to visit him a few times a year, but it’s not the same.”

“I don’t see my family very much either, but we’re not close.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My parents, they’re–” Steve trailed off as if looking for the right words. “Well, let's just say they're not as supportive of my—life choices, as your uncle was for you.”

“Oh?”

“I, uh, came out to them a while ago… as bisexual? They didn’t take it very well. Said I was just going through some kind of phase or crisis or something. Sorry, this is probably, like, way too much information to share with someone I just met.”

“No. it’s—Okay, maybe to a normal person it might be but I've never been what anyone would describe as normal. And… I get it.”

Eddie didn’t really have to say it. The outside of the shop sported every kind of pride flag you could think of. There were pictures right behind him on the wall of him and Chrissy at their first ever pride parade right here in the city. Not to mention his social media profiles, where he had a bi flag right next to his age and pronouns in his bio. Steve knew, was the point, and Eddie was glad he’d felt safe enough in his shop—with him, to talk about it.

“Wayne was really good about that too.” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t.”

A comfortable silence settled between them after that and Eddie left it unbroken, better to let Steve decide which direction their conversation went from here—if he wanted to continue it. He seemed more relaxed already and his… predicament had mercifully gone down as they spoke.

“When did you—how did you… know?“ Steve asked after a while.

“Junior High.” Eddie answered quickly, smiling to himself as he indulged in a little nostalgia. “Kinda the opposite of the usual story, I guess. I thought I was gay. I had such a crush on this boy a grade above me. Nobody that would have given me the time of day mind you, I was a band geek and a huge nerd, but he was very nice to look at. Then he changed schools. I was heartbroken of course, which is my excuse for why I let this girl drag me under the bleachers during gym class. One second we were just sitting there talking and the next she was in my lap with her tongue down my throat.”

“And?”

Eddie shrugged. “And I didn’t hate it. I reacted exactly the way a young boy reacts when a pretty girl is kissing them and grinding in their lap. Honestly, it blew my mind a little bit—had to reevaluate my whole world view.”

Steve hummed in understanding.

“It’s still mostly men for me but–” Eddie sighed wistfully, “Women.”

“Women,” Steve agreed reverently, letting out a soft laugh. “It was a bit more recent for me. A friend took me to a gay bar—dragged me there actually.” He started to shake his head, stopping instantly when he seemed to realize he might be moving too much.

Good boy.

Eddie smirked. “I bet you were popular.”

“You could say that. I’ve never had so many people offer to buy me a drink in my life.” As Steve went on he began to rub his hand along the chair's armrest, mindlessly drawing patterns into its surface with his long fingers.

“It’s funny, at 25 I didn’t think I had anything new to discover about myself, at least nothing big, but after that rather eye-opening evening I had to, like you said, reevaluate some things about myself. It wasn’t a huge shock I guess. Like, I had found guys attractive before—friends, celebrities, whatever, I just thought everyone felt that way.”

“Ah, the bisexual’s fallacy. Sure I think about other dudes sometimes, but only the normal amount.” Eddie said.

“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t!”

Eddie stopped tattooing as they held each other's gaze, both managing to keep a straight face for only a second before simultaneously dissolving into hysterical laughter.

Figuring it was as good a time as any to take a short break, Eddie stripped his gloves off and slid across the room on his stool to a small mini-fridge he kept tucked under his desk, stocked with water and juice—something he always kept on hand in case a client got lightheaded.

As they sipped their drinks and both took an opportunity to stretch, Eddie decided it was finally time to put his foot in his mouth.

“So, how are you enjoying things on this side of the field? Someone as pretty as you, I'm sure you get asked out a lot.”

“No, uh, I don't know. I- I haven't really been out on any dates with guys.” Steve stuttered out nervously. “Kissed a few, but that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Eddie said. He meant it too. Not only was Steve something special to look at, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He deserved to be taken out and shown a good time. Maybe he was shy.

Steve laid back in the chair, puffing his chest out as he got back into position while Eddie slipped a new pair of gloves on.

“Why, you offering to show me the ropes?” Steve asked, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

Eddie’s mouth went dry.

Okay, not that shy then. Surely it was just fun friendly flirting though, right?

“Don’t tempt me.” Eddie teased back. Two could play this game.

“Why not?”

“First rule of the trade, or at least the Munson doctrine, no dating the clients.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Steve said, and without even looking up Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, a hint of–challenge accepted–in his tone.

The next hour flew by as they continued to chat, both remarking on the differences between small town life and city life, as well as lamenting how expensive it was, and how neither of them thought they’d still be living with roommates in their mid-to-late-20's.

For a while Eddie waxed poetic about Chrissy, who of course filled the roles of bestie, roommate, and business partner, which tickled Steve to no end.

He told the other man how they’d met, apprenticing at the same tattoo parlor at around the same time. and wound up bonding for life almost immediately. They were total opposites on the surface but deep down they were remarkably similar. Eddie didn’t go into too much detail, as it wasn’t his story to tell, but alluded to the fact that he and Chrissy had the shared experience of being born to shitty parents, only to be raised by another family member. A grandmother in Chrissy’s case.

It meant that they understood each other more than most, and yeah, being around one another 24/7 also meant they got on each other’s nerves a lot, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

At some point Steve’s cell phone began to ring from where it was shoved in his front pocket. He apologized profusely for forgetting to switch it on silent before they’d gotten started, but Eddie assured him it wasn’t a big deal.

Or—it wouldn't have been, except either it was some kind of emergency, or someone who was intent on reaching Steve immediately, and continued trying to call three more times.

“We can take a break if you need to get that.” Eddie offered.

Truth be told he could use a little breather himself. All this time of being essentially face down in Steve’s incredible chest was getting to him a little bit, not to mention the way his forearm lightly brushed along Steve's stomach whenever he braced himself across the man’s body. The feel of their bare skin touching was almost too much, and more than once Eddie felt himself breaking out in goosebumps.

“Yeah, I think we’d better. It’s gotta be my little brother and knowing him he won’t stop calling until I answer.”

Eddie busied himself removing his gloves and taking a long drink from his water bottle while he flipped through a few drawings on his side table, trying to look like he wasn’t hearing every word of Steve's side of the conversation.

“Hey buddy, I'm a little busy right now. What’s going on?”

Steve paused, listening attentively to the voice on the other end of the call.

“Dustin, he’s not abandoning you. Just because he wants–”

Sighing as he was abruptly interrupted, Steve somehow made the huff of breath sound both annoyed and fond.

“Well, did he actually say he didn’t want to play D&D with you anymore?”

Eddie’s head snapped up of its own volition. Did the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen in real life just say D&D?

“That’s what I thought.” Steve said with a satisfied tone. “It's gonna be fine. I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? Tell your mom I said hi.”

“Sorry about that.” Steve said, addressing Eddie this time, rolling his eyes as he ended the call. “Teenagers.”

“Pretty cool little brother if he plays Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned. “Not you too! He and all his little friends are obsessed with it.”

“I used to play all the time with a group back in high school. We still try and get together for a one-shot at the holidays when we’re all back home visiting.” Eddie paused, concentrating for a second on wiggling his fingers into yet another set of gloves. There wasn’t really all that much left to do, another 20 minutes or so and he’d be done with the outline. “Was he alright, your brother?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Steve replied as he sat back, getting into position. “We, uh, technically we’re not actually related—I'm an only child. But I used to babysit Dustin when he was younger and when he grew up I just sorta stuck around. It’s only him and his mom at home and I guess I thought… I dunno, like, maybe I could help? I drove him to his first school dance, taught him how to do his hair, shave, that kinda stuff.”

“That's… that’s really sweet, man. I’m sure he appreciates having you around.”

With every new thing he learned about Steve, Eddie felt like he was in deeper and deeper trouble. He’d been having a tough enough time keeping it together with simply lusting over a hot body, but now Steve was turning out to be this sweetheart of a guy and, client or not, Eddie thought he might just be worth breaking all the rules for.

“He’s worried his friend group is falling apart because one of the guys is going out for the basketball team. He’s afraid if Lucas gets in good with the jocks he won’t want to play with them anymore.”

“As a former outcast and enemy to jocks everywhere, I can understand his concern.”

“Are you saying we wouldn't have been friends in high school then?”

“Steve, Stevie, please. Please don’t tell me…” Eddie trailed off, stopping what he was doing and gasping for dramatic effect–hand over his heart. “Oh god, you were captain of the sportsball team weren’t you?”

Steve giggled, his beautiful eyes sparkling with it. “Basketball, to be exact. I was the co-captain of the swim team too.”

“I knew it would never work between us.” Eddie tutted, shaking his head as he got back to tattooing. “Are you reformed, at least?”

“Once a jock, always a jock, I'm afraid. I’m a personal trainer now.”

It explained a lot, and the perks—pun absolutely intended—of Steve's day job were undeniable, but as hot as the mental image of him pumping iron was, the idea of Steve palling around with toxic gym bros all day was almost enough to have Eddie second guessing everything.

“Don’t worry though, I don’t like gym bros any more than the next guy.” Steve said conspiratorially. “My clients are mainly older women looking to maintain their strength and mobility as they age.”

Aaaaand Eddie stood corrected. “Lucky ladies.”

Jesus Christ, could this guy get any more perfect?

Steve shifted in his seat, starting to get antsy after keeeping still for so long.

“Just a few more minutes, almost done.” Eddie murmured, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on a spot near the curve of Steve’s collarbone.

“Do you do a lot of these? Cover-ups I mean?” Steve asked. “My roommate is the one who actually suggested it. For some reason I just never thought about it as an option.”

“I don’t know if i’d say a lot, but a fair few, yeah.”

“You, um. You can ask about it… If you want.”

Eddie glanced up in surprise. He would never have brought it up without being prompted, it just didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t deny he was curious, and if Steve was okay with it then–

“Okay, I'll bite. Who’s Nancy?”

“My fiance’. Well, ex-fiance’ now. We broke things off a little over a year ago.”

“That’s rough, I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, It’s… I should have probably seen it coming? We were high school sweethearts—got together before we really knew who we were on our own. But I was dumb and in love. I got the tattoo and proposed. I was so happy that day, but looking back it was so obvious that she’d only said yes out of pity or guilt, not because she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.”

The part of Eddie that believed in true love—and all that cheesy shit—was sad that a couple who had been together for so long, who had essentially grown up together, hadn’t been able to make it work. Selfishly though, a small piece of him was happy to learn that they’d been broken up for quite some time, lessening the chance that, if he did somehow gather the courage to ask Steve out when the tattoo was done, he wouldn’t be on the rebound.

“It was tough. I felt like a failure for a long time, like I was having to start my whole life over from scratch when I'd thought for so long that she was it for me, but it's actually been… good. We weren’t right for eachother, I can see that now. As much as it hurt, I'm grateful she had the courage to break things off when she did.”

“I’m glad you’ve been able to come to peace with it.”

“Getting this tattoo feels like the final step into letting that life go, y’know?”

Eddie nodded. Steve’s demeanor before they got started made so much sense now.

“Is there some significance to the design?” He asked, making his final line and setting the machine down. He wiped at the excess ink on Steve's skin, raising his head just in time to see the way the other man’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, Robin. She–she’s everything to me. Like a best friend, but more somehow. I don’t think I really knew what unconditional love was before her. She’s like, another piece of my soul or something. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Eddie froze.

The tattoo design was a bird—a robin.

A robin.

For, Robin.

How could he have been so stupid!

Of course, Steve was getting one girl’s name covered up with something to represent the new one.

Jesus Christ, they were both idiots.

Eddie for getting his hopes up, and Steve for making the same mistake—twice. At least this time it was a symbol and not a name, so if he and the latest potential Mrs. Harrington didn’t work out, at least he wouldn't have to worry about covering it up.

“Everything alright?” Steve asked.

The question spurred Eddie back into action. He spread the foam soap over Steve’s chest continuing to clean the finished tattoo while his heart crawled up into his throat.

“Yup. All good.” Eddie forced the words out.

That's what Steve must have meant about not going on dates, he already had someone at home. Why hadn’t he just said that before though? And why had he flirted with him?

Maybe he’d felt funny at first about admitting to being with a woman after all the talk about being bisexual. Not that Eddie would have judged, but he knew a lot of people did—bi erasure was so real. He understood that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less that Steve had, inadvertently or not, lead him on.

Eddie gently patted the newly cleaned skin dry with a paper towel and carefully applied a square of Saniderm over the area, smoothing it out as he gave Steve his usual spiel, albeit a little robotically, about how to care for the tattoo over the coming days and weeks.

He quickly turned his back when he was done, telling Steve he could get dressed, and feeling stupid as all hell for being this upset about a guy he barely knew. He’d felt something though, potential—a spark. It was more than he’d felt for anyone in a long time.

Steve got quiet, looking a little confused with the sudden 180° Eddie’s mood had pulled. He felt a little bad about that as he brought the guy back out to the counter, but it wasn’t as though he’d suddenly become unprofessional. He was just… no longer being overly friendly.

After confirming the date for his second session, Steve paid his balance and Eddie walked him to the door.

“Have a good night, Steve. Call the shop if you have any concerns or questions about aftercare.”

Steve bit his lip. “Oh, I… okay. See you in six weeks then.”

Eddie forced a smile, waiting until Steve was out of sight around the corner to lock up, and slunk back to his studio to disinfect it so he could finally go home and sulk.

Chapter 2

All my thanks to @penny00dreadful for all of your wonderful beta work, and cheerleading, and support, and just generally being THE BEST 💜

#steddie fanfic #stranger things reverse big bang #steddie #tattoo artist eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #tattoo artist chrissy cunningham

151 notes · View notes