Jan 16
Chapter 5 of Five Time Angel Called Alastor Daddy
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Chapter 5 of Five Time Angel Called Alastor Daddy
A Vintage Love | Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader
Summary: Steve Harrington used to be your best-friend. Then he broke your heart. Then he became your kid brother's babysitter? And now you're chasing giant cat-eating lizards around Hawkins together. [3.5k]
Warnings: S2 SPOILERS! Enemies-ish to lovers. Cursing. Way too many Star Wars references.
Credits to 10 Things I Hate About You for one minor spiel.
❃❃❃❃❃
“Y/N!!!” Dustin yelled, fist repeatedly slamming on your bedroom door, the hinges painfully squeaking for mercy.
You sighed, pushing your headphones off and slinging them around your neck. Subtly slamming your hand against your desk before getting up, you flung the door open with a harsh, “What, doofus?! You’ll break my door down, again!”
Yet your expression and confidence faltered when you saw Steve Harrington next to him. Your childhood best friend (until he became a popular dick), your longtime crush, and your baby brother’s… babysitter?
He was wearing a wrinkled gray jacket over a navy shirt, a pair of tight light-blue jeans hugging his muscular legs – because, holy shit, he was a man, not the scraggly teenager you used to tackle.
And Steve’s heart strings tugged at seeing you after so long. The same, beautiful face. The same eyes. The same nerdy fashion style from before: an Indiana Jones shirt underneath a light vest.
❃❃❃❃❃
You and Steve had grown up together. ‘Glued by the hip’, one could say. Every waking moment was spent in the other’s presence. Walking to school. Sitting next to each other in class. Going to the movies. Lazing at his pool. Rollerblading.
It was a special bond. An affectionate one, filled with hand holding and sun-kissed cheeks; playful shoving and name-calling.
Until one fated day: the start of high school.
With teenage hormones raging, testosterone flooding every ounce of his body, reaching every receptive gland, Steve Harrington wanted recognition.
He wanted, for once in his life, to be noticed – if not by his parents, why not his generation. He wanted a name for himself, a title.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about all that. You were content with what you had, eager to join the reputed Hellfire Club, disregarding whatever labels would be stuck on to you.
And Steve was content, too. He adored you.
But he wanted more. And life bears sacrifices.
He made it perfectly clear on that first day of school, during lunch. You walked up to him, a tray in your hands and a grin on your dimpled face, only to be sneered at by Tommy and Carol.
The most painful expression beset your features as you retreated: pure heartbreak. He saw the way your hands shook when you dropped your tray on an empty table, the liquid pooling in your eyes as you bolted off.
Steve’s chest physically ached. He felt nauseous, overwhelmed. Like his body was fighting against him, trying to stop him from making a big mistake.
He ran after you. But when he heard your cries echoing from the girl’s bathroom, he felt a stake being driven through his heart. A stake made of your devastation. Piercing his taut flesh, cutting every artery and vein, rupturing the sack of cardiac muscle, dislodging itself through his back.
And so he panicked. And so he ran away.
For years, Steve had regretted losing you – losing you for some overrated popularity bullshit, primitive constructs that matter so much to insecure teenagers. And the remorse only hit harder whenever he saw you strolling the school hallways alone, or being pushed against a locker for wearing Star Wars merchandise.
If only he could turn back time.
❃❃❃❃❃
You looked expectantly at Dustin, one hand on your hip.
“There’s a baby demogorgon roaming around Hawkins, his face opened up and he ate Mews, Steve and I are gonna hunt him down, and we need your help,” Dustin rambled. Steve watched in quiet amusement at the expressions flying across your face in rapid succession: confusion, disbelief, grief.
“You’re our only hope,” Dustin added, knowing the reference would win you over.
You knew about the Upside-Down. You had helped search for Will, and then Dustin told you about everything that went down: demogorgons and other dimensions and a bald child named Eleven.
“Mews?” You whimpered out. Dustin nodded solemnly, lips pressed together. You exhaled a sigh, pressing your hand to your temple before shouting, “Son of a bitch, the fuck are you waiting for then! Let’s go! I’ll meet you in the car.” You ushered them out with your hands, at the last minute grabbing Dustin by the collar of his shirt, pulling him so that you could whisper in his ear.
“The fuck is Steve Harrington doing here?” You hissed, teeth clenched.
“I thought you two were friends,” Dustin shrugged.
“Past tense, brother dear.”
“Look, I issued a code red, alright?” Dustin gestured to his headgear. “And nobody else was available. He was my last resort.”
You gently rolled your eyes, slapping him lightly against the head, muttering a short “gimme a sec.”
You pulled on some more decent clothing: jeans, loose sweater, jacket, Nike sneakers. The bangles on your wrist jiggled, blue and green and purple like all the lightsabers of the rainbow; headphones slung around your neck.
You sprinted to the car, jumping in the back. Steve tried to forced Dustin to move, to let you have shotgun, rambling about getting some more humility and learning some manners – all to no avail.
Steve’s eyes hadn’t left you since he saw you locking the door to your house, tracing you longingly, knowingly. He knew your gait better than his own. Recognized the sneakers on your feet, the same pair you bought years ago, creased and muddy. The chain around your neck that you slept with.
“You sure you don’t want shotgun?” Steve looked in the rearview mirror at you.
“I’m good,” you smiled softly, leaning back, feet on the console. Your nose instantly scrunched up in disgust, “Jesus, Steve, it stinks. You hiding a body back here?”
The boy chuckled, scratching his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know it, Henderson.”
“It’s bait,” Dustin explained, though you were perfectly content with the banter. “And stop flirting, it’s disgusting.”
“Necrophilia, too, Harrington?” You picked up some bent and damaged roses haphazardly discarded on the back seat, continuing to egg him on much to Dustin’s dismay. A rumble of a laugh bloomed from Steve’s throat.
He really missed you.
Though you didn’t speak another word during the ride, opting to stare out the window and play with the soft rose petals while Dustin rambled on and on, Steve couldn’t keep his gaze off you. He shot fleeting glances at the mirror every few seconds, just to make sure you were still there. That he wasn’t dreaming of a vintage love.
And he suddenly thought the roses suited you much better than Nancy.
❃❃❃❃❃
You walked ahead of the boys, can in your left hand, flinging bits of meat around you with your right, headphones tightly clasped over your ears.
Behind you, the boys were having a quiet conversation that you didn’t even notice, too distracted and deafened by the music blasting in your ears.
“All right, so let me get this straight,” Steve started, confounded, chucking scraps of raw meat around, “You kept something you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl… who you just met?”
“All right, that’s grossly oversimplifying things,” Dustin defended.
“I mean, why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” Steve scrunched up his nose in disgust.
“An interdimensional slug?” Dustin grinned. “Because it’s awesome!”
“Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t, I… I just… I don’t know. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard.”
Dustin looked at the ground, the hint of a frown on his eyebrows. “Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, all right?”
“It’s not about the hair, man. The key with girls is just… just acting like you don’t care.” Steve’s eyes were fixated in front of him on the tracks, on his surroundings, absentmindedly chucking meat.
“Even if you do?” Dustin asked, minor bafflement in his tone.
“Yeah, exactly,” Steve nodded. “It drives them nuts.”
“Then what?”
“You just wait until, uh… until you feel it.” Steve nudged Dustin with his elbow.
“Feel what?”
“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh…” Steve squinted in thought, “electricity, you know?”
Dustin nodded. This was, after all, his area of expertise. “Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere.”
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Steve shook his head, hair bouncing. “Like a- like a- like a sexual electricity.”
“Oh.”
“You feel that,” Steve pointed a finger, “and then you make your move.”
“So that’s when you kiss her?”
“No, woah, woah, woah! Slow down, Romeo.”
“Sorry.”
“Sure, OK, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a… I don’t know, a lion.”
“Mhmmm.”
“But others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy, like a… like a ninja.”
“What type is Y/N?”
“What?!” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, turning to Dustin.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Dustin asked nonchalantly, a blend of sheepish and confident.
“And what makes you say that, Henderson?” Steve squinted at the boy, a pink dust sprinkling on his cheeks.
“I don’t know. I just remember when I was young. You came over all the time. And you always stared at her. And you were always chasing her,” Dustin counted off on his fingers.
Steve gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, feelings that never truly vanished suddenly resurfacing like a tsunami wave.
Dustin’s lips curved into an ‘o’ shape, understanding hitting him, “so that’s why you two stopped hanging out. Making her think that you don’t care. I got ya-”
“No, no. Y/N/N’s different,” Steve interrupted. “Ignoring her doesn’t win her over, that’s not why- that was my mist- She’s different than other girls.”
“Yeah, she seems pretty special, I guess.” The only image in Dustin’s head being that one Halloween when you dressed up as Chewbacca and forced him to be an ewok.
“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Steve affirmed, gaze resting on your figure. The light swaying of your hips and shoulders as you danced to a tune only you could hear. But damn, when did you get so curvy? And hot?
“But this girl’s special, too, you know,” Dustin added, talking about a whole different type of ‘special.’ “It’s just, like, something about her.”
“Woah, woah, woah. Hey, hey, hey.” Steve paused, arm extended.
“What?” Dustin halted at his side.
“You’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?” Steve’s eyes bore into Dustin, stern and serious.
“Uh, no. No.” Dustin shook his head vehemently.
“Come on, you two!” You yelled, turning around and seeing them a dozen feet away from you, huddled together. “Otherwise we’ll be lizard feed soon!”
Steve waved in assent and recognition, continuing to walk, still talking to Dustin, “OK, good… Don’t.”
“I won’t.”
“She’s only gonna break your heart, and you’re way too young for that shit.” Eyes glossed over. A visceral pain emerging.
A solemn expression grew on Dustin’s face, which Steve adroitly noticed. His heart softened. He remembered the same expression on your face.
“Fabergé,” Steve spoke into the silence.
“What?”
Steve pointed to his hair. “It’s Fabergé Organics. Use the shampoo and conditioner, and when your hair’s damp- it’s not wet, OK? When it’s damp…”
“Damp.”
“You do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray,” Steve shyly finished.
“Farah Fawcett spray?” Dustin chortled.
“Yeah, Farah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that, and your ass is grass. You’re dead, Henderson. Do you understand?”
“Yup.”
“OK.”
The two continued walking, flinging meat.
“Farah Fawcett, really?” Dustin questioned. “Y/N uses that.”
“I mean, they’re both hot.”
Dustin shot Steve a slightly disgusted yet bemused look.
❃❃❃❃❃
The three of you emerged from the thick of the woods into an abandoned field, a few broken down vehicles scattered about including a bus. You placed the headphones around your neck, scanning your surroundings.
Having donned his sunglasses, Steve nodded while looking around. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. This will do just fine. Good call, dude.”
Dustin beamed, and you ruffled his curls before a shrill voice called out: “I said medium-well!”
It was Lucas, and next to him a red-haired young girl.
“Who’s that?” You asked, and when Dustin scowled Steve instantly understood.
Extending your hand in greeting, you quickly acquainted yourself with Max Mayfield, more commonly known as Mad Max. A few jokes later, you already liked her, and the two of you instantly got to work, collecting scraps of metal and piling them around the bus, creating a fortification. After watching you discreetly, Steve joined in. Dustin and Lucas, on the other hand, were crouched behind some car, bickering in whispers.
Strolling past, Steve hit the car with a metal chair. “Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are Y/N/N and this random girl? We lose light in 40 minutes. Let’s go. Let’s go, I said!”
“Alright, asshole! God!” Dustin huffed out, simultaneous with Lucas’, “OK! Stupid!”
You all started throwing metal sheets onto a pile, piling it along the bus, rolling barrels, spreading gasoline around. You couldn’t help but revel in the sight of Steve: sweaty, rubbing his forehead with his sleeve, muscles bulging against the cloth of his clothes, jeans increasingly tighter.
You strolled over to a distant hedge to search for more scraps, and at watching you walk off Dustin nudged Steve with his elbow, gesturing with his head to follow you. For all his nagging, your little shithead of a brother happened to be quite protective over you. Steve pretended to roll his eyes, but like a lovesick puppy jogged over, muttering, “alright, alright.”
“Shit,” he heard you hiss. You were crouched down, examining a trail of blood seeping from your hand.
“Hey, you alright?” Steve acknowledged the way you tensed up at his voice, breath freezing in your lungs before that gorgeous smile of yours returned, albeit subdued.
“Sharp,” you pointed to a discarded car door.
“Here, let me.” Steve unzipped his jacket, untucking his shirt and ripping a piece off, despite your vehement protests. He crouched down next to you, head low as he wrapped your hand gently. Small mumbles of “sorry” when you winced at his applied pressure to tie it off. The linger of his hand on yours, the minor sweep of his thumb over your knuckles, like a caress.
“Thanks,” you said. A silence grew. You sat on the little mound of hill, turned towards the setting sun. Steve followed, a slight distance away from you.
After a moment: “Her name’s Max, by the way.”
“Huh?” Steve asked, head turning to you, eyes meeting for the first time.
“Random girl. She’s called Max.”
“Oh, right, right.” Steve nodded, looking into the distance, squinting at the sun. Where were his sunglasses now that he needed them?
“How have you been doing?” You asked timidly, bending your knees in front of your chest and hugging them.
“Aside from chasing giant lizards, you mean?” You giggled, and Steve’s ears marveled at the music. “Yeah, not exactly how I planned to spend my week.”
“I’m glad you’re here, though.” You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, bangles sliding down towards your elbow.
Steve wanted to say so much: I’m sorry I ever left, I’m not that thrilled about putting you in danger, I’m an oblivious and selfish prick. But Dustin’s shouting for you to return stopped him. Steve stuck out a calloused hand, helping you up. Despite his support, you still managed to trip on a scattered pebble, falling into his chest.
“Easy,” Steve hummed. Your perfume was intoxicating. Your hair tickled his neck. “You always were clumsy, Henderson.”
“Guilty as charged,” you pushed off, surprised at the firmness of Steve’s chest. That wasn’t what middle-school-Steve felt like.
The pair of you walked into the bus. A golden sun setting behind you. A dark and scary night rising.
While Lucas was on the roof, serving as lookout with binoculars glued to his eyes, the rest of you were in the body of the bus. Max on the back seat; Dustin pacing around; you and Steve side by side on the floor. He kept flicking his lighter, an unbearable waiting tension. Palpable, hard on your chest.
“So, you really fought one of these things before?” Max broke the crisp silence.
Steve nodded.
“And you’re, like, totally 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”
“Shit. Don’t be an idiot, OK?” Dustin spoke, annoyed. “It wasn’t a bear. Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.”
“Dustin!” You scolded, shooting him a shocked look, eyes wide.
Max was, naturally, taken aback. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” She crawled up the ladder, next to Lucas.
“The hell has gotten into you?” You asked him, kicking his shin with your shoe.
“Steve told me to show Max that I don’t care,” he shrugged.
“You what?!” You turned to Steve.
Steve stuttered, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, “I-I-I just.”
“That’s the advice you gave him?” You scoffed.
“I’ll be over there… somewhere,” Dustin squeezed away to the front of the trailer, peeking out of the metal holes.
“So that’s your tactic, is it? Is that why you left me, too?” Fury and sorrow taking control of your brain, your actions. You were a puppet in your mind’s hands. “This whole time, were you just pretending that you didn’t care, or did you actually not give a fuck? Because it sure as hell felt like the latter.”
“No, no, no, that’s not-”
“All I ever wanted, Steve, was for you to see me,” you confessed, whispering into the cold night air, unaware of your actions. Tears welled in your eyes, all you could see was blurry redness. Your voice choked up, suffocating.
Steve was silent for a moment. But he caught your words. They didn’t float off. They didn’t ricochet back. They were caught, embraced, and reciprocated: “I never laid eyes off of you.”
Startled, you turned to him, breath catching in your throat.
“Y/N/N, listen to me,” Steve grabbed your hands in his, gentler with the wounded one, searching for your eyes which expertly avoided his. “I made a mistake. A big mistake. Which I- I can’t take back. And I’m sorry. Alright?” You started to pull your hands away, but he gripped them tighter. “I know that means bullshit but I- look, you didn’t deserve any of it, OK? And the advice? It’s shit advice. Cause you’re not like other girls. You’re special. And I’m a blind dumbass. And I care fo- screw it, I love you… too damn much.”
Chest huffing, jaw trembling, the odd tear falling down your cheek, Steve’s calloused thumb rubbing it away before it could slide over the bump of your cheekbone. You finally brought your eyes to his - his dark brown forests of sincerity and pain.
“I love you, too, Steve Harrington,” you voiced. “I always have. But I also hate you.” Your jaw trembled. “I hate everything about you: the way your hair is always so goddamn perfect, the way you make me laugh… and the fact that you broke my heart.”
He went to interrupt you, but you placed your finger against his lips. “A-and most of all, Harrington, I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not at all. After everything, not even a little bit.”
You moved your finger away. It felt like a weight had fallen off your chest, but had somehow latched itself to your foot, pulling you down into an endless chasm. Fat tears cascading down your cheeks. Drowning you.
Until Steve cut the silence.
“I really want to kiss you right now.”
You swallowed, eyelashes wet, emotions rampaging. The adrenaline of confessions erupting.
“Then do it.”
In one swift movement Steve cupped your neck, pulling you against him. You were on your knees, practically straddling him, palms flat against his firm chest. His lips desperately found yours, years of sorrow and loneliness forcefully emerging.
His fingers dug into your skin, your nails latched onto the fabric of his jacket. Neither of you wanted to lose the other. To let go even for a second. For fear that the other would fall into the void, travel to another galaxy, get lost in the vacuum of space.
Pulling away, you brought your forehead to Steve’s, eyes locked together, panting breaths hitting each other. His fingers traced your hairline, the contours of your face, your neck. His jacket bunched in your tight fists.
“Don’t you ever leave me again. I swear on my mother, I’ll kill you, Harrington,” you spoke under your breath, stance not faltering.
Steve flashed his lopsided grin, “If I do, I’ll hand you the gun before going.”
“It’ll probably be your nail-bat,” you giggled, scanning his face. The curve of his nose, the moles scattered like raindrops, the waves of hair.
His expression turned serious, nose bumping against your own as he whispered against your lips: “I won’t. I promise. I love you.”
“I know,” you couldn’t help from saying.
“Ahhh! My eyes!” Dustin yelled from the front, shielding his face with his arms. “Son of a bitch, Steve!”
❃❃❃❃❃
Thanks for reading! x
”i’m so sorry.” it was a whisper, the familiar voice like a siren song, faint in the winds as the ruins of her once-home sat in front of her.
a small scoff was all she could muster in response “you can’t be sorry, Crystja, you died. you’re not even here now, just a voice in my head.”
in the end, they could have been together, in every single world, just not this one. never this one.
(this is payback for killing astro @zithergilt )
Shiratorizawa's Mute Musician (and Volleyball Star) - Tendou's Sister He Never Had
I am once again writing about my mute Shiratorizawa OC, Tsukamoto Yuki! This time I'm exploring her friendship with Tendou because I love them. Also available on AO3!
90% of the time, Yuki is completely receptive to Tendou’s energy and he can often get her to match it in some capacity. They’ve spent hours rambling back and forth to each other, where she’s gotten so into it that Tendou simply doesn’t have the heart to tell her that her hands are moving too fast for him to catch everything. He gets the gist of it, at least. But the other 10% of the time, Yuki completely locks in to what she’s doing and very little can pry her from her focus. Not that Tendou doesn’t try.
“Tsuuuuuka,” he singsongs, stretching his leg out to nudge her calf under the table. She glances at her book, then back at her notes and writes something down. “Tsuka. Tsuka, Tsuka, Tsuuuukaaaa. Tsukamoto.” Her fingers twitch around her pencil, but she doesn’t look up. Tendou slumps forward on the table, stretching his arms out to cover her book and notebook. “Yukiiiiii.” She sighs and lifts her gaze, one eyebrow quirking upward. She signs with her pencil still in hand.
“What, Tendou?” she asks, fingers flicking up from the top of her head as a sign of his name. He tilts his head on the table, peering up at her.
“I’m bored,” he says, lightly nudging her leg again. She gives him an unimpressed look.
“You have homework to do and so do I,” she says. He sighs dramatically.
“But I need help with it. If only I had a smart, talented, kind best friend who would help me,” he says. Yuki blinks at him.
“I’m sure Ushijima would be happy to help,” she says, and her expression tells him exactly how dry her tone is. He loves how expressive she is. His two best friends are complete opposites of each other in that aspect, but he likes that about them. With Ushijima, he feels privileged to know what each of his microexpressions mean and to have the ability to read him like a book. Alternatively, Yuki’s expressiveness is simply a delight to watch. She talks with her hands, but she speaks with her face. She can’t convey sarcasm or dryness with her hands alone, but her expression always gives her away.
“You’re so mean to me, Yuki,” Tendou says, dipping his head to rest it on the table. He pulls his arms back so that they’re no longer in her way, but quickly notices how she moves her things to the side so that the table near her left hand is free. One might assume that she’s turning away from him to get work done, but she’s simply moving her work out of the way so that she can do what she always does: extend her left hand toward him and allow him to grasp it and play with her fingers. He likes Yuki’s hands. They’re calloused, for one thing, specifically at the points where she repeatedly makes contact with volleyballs when she spikes. Her fingers are fairly long, but not spindly and bony, so they’re nice to play with and hold. But the biggest thing is that Yuki often wears rings on her left hand. They were gifts from her girlfriend and, damn, Hirano Chō sure knows how to pick jewelry that’s fun to play with. Tendou looks up from where he’s playing with her fingers, instead observing her face. She’s expressive even when she’s not trying to say something or convey her mood, so he likes watching her even when she’s occupied. You can only tell when you get close to her, but she puts red eyeliner above her eyes, and it gives her a very subtle, but cool, look. He compares her to Ushijima a lot. They both have an air of seriousness and cool about them—at least in his opinion—but not as many people know about how cool Yuki is. They don’t take the time to communicate with her, let alone know her. They’re missing out. Yuki looks down at him, almost as if she heard his thoughts. She raises an eyebrow and does her best to sign with her free hand.
“Did you actually need help?” she asks. He smiles up at her.
“I’m just thinking,” he says. She cocks her head slightly.
“About what?” He chuckles to himself.
“How cool you are,” he says. Yuki blinks at him, then her face breaks into a smile as air rushes out of her nose and her shoulders shake a little. The puff of air is the only sound that she makes when she laughs, and sometimes he wishes that, even if she still couldn’t say words, she could laugh. She’d have the nicest laugh, he’s decided. Still, the laugh she does have is a nice laugh, too, and he doesn’t tire of hearing it.
“I’m not that cool,” she says. He hums.
“Agree to disagree.” She blows a raspberry and waves her hand dismissively at him.
“Do your homework,” she says, though she notably doesn’t tug her hand from his grasp. He opts to take a nap instead, and a warm, affectionate feeling fills his chest when Yuki gently strokes her thumb along his hand.
When he wakes from his nap, Tendou can hear a pencil scratching over paper. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but he guesses that Yuki’s already finished her homework, and she’s more than likely writing in her songwriting notebook. He likes her songs, even if he can’t understand all of the more personal messages she puts in them. He doesn’t need to understand to recognize how nice the words and melodies she strings together are. His eyes flutter open slowly, and he notices that there’s afternoon sunlight spilling over the table. When his eyes flick up slightly, he finds that Yuki is using her free hand to block the sunlight from hitting his face. Tendou smiles to himself.
“Maybe you’re not so mean after all,” he says, voice a little creaky from sleep. Yuki’s gaze immediately lifts and snaps toward him, and he smiles up at her. After a beat, she smiles back, huffing softly and fondly as she reaches down to stroke her fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes again, pressing his head into her hand, and he hears her huff of laughter. Her hand pauses and she makes a clicking sound with her tongue to get his attention, so he opens his eyes to look at her.
“You’re like a cat,” she says, and he can see the affection in the crinkles that appear around her eyes. He chuckles, and she scratches his head as if to prove her point. If he were a cat, he’d probably be purring from how nice it feels. Instead of telling her that, though, his gaze falls to her notebook.
“What are you writing?” Yuki looks down at it as well, then smiles. Her hand leaves his hair and he almost whines and complains about it, but stops when she slides the notebook toward him. He eyes it for a moment, then lifts his head from the table, reaching out to pull it over. “Did you write this from you, or did your Karasuno friend send you more inspiration?” He glances at her as he’s flipping the notebook around to read it.
“That one’s mine,” she says, proudly patting her hand against her chest. When he glances down to read the latest entry, he finds that it’s still partially incomplete, but the pieces that she does have feel…Complicated. It’s a love song, he realizes, but not a romantic one for her girlfriend or one of the platonic pieces she’s written about her friends—himself included. It feels more like she’s describing a love that isn’t so intimate, but is wholly different from the love she feels for her friends, family, or partner. One line sticks out to him and makes understanding click into place.
“This is about how playing makes you feel,” Tendou says, lifting his head to look at her again. She tilts her head at him, amused.
“Why do you say that?” she asks, before propping her head up on her hand to watch him. He looks back down at the song, eyes scanning over the words.
“It’s not done, obviously, but the foundation of it is there. You talk about ‘a love affair with pain and pleasure,’ which feels like an obvious reference to spiking, because hitting the ball can hurt but you feel good doing it. This part talks about how you’re never more understood or more ostracized when you’re there, and that feels like it connects with your teammates and how some of them treat you really well while others are just bitchy. But the thing that really made it click for me was this one. ‘You ripped out her heart just to take care of mine.’ That’s about your friend who quit, right? Céline? You’ve never given me details, but you said that she used to love volleyball, but playing the game just ended up hurting her.” He looks up to see her answer, and she looks so happy as she looks back at him. She nods enthusiastically as she signs her response.
“Wow! That was a really great breakdown! I’m surprised you noticed all of that! You’re right, though, it’s about my feelings toward volleyball.” Tendou grins at her.
“Well, I know you, Tsuka. And volleyball is kind of my forte.” She smiles and her shoulders shake a little. He cocks his head to the side. “Any ideas for what you’ll name it yet?” Yuki beams and nods again.
“I want the last line of the chorus to be: ‘So is this real, or is your love just a fallacy?’ I was thinking I’d name it Fallacy.” Tendou hums, looking back down at the notebook and considering what the song will sound like. After a few beats, his head snaps up again.
“Shit, Yuki, is this going to use the music you wrote last month? The one that got stuck in my head for a week after you played it for me?” He’s met with another enthusiastic nod, and he sighs, glancing back at the notebook one more time before he slides it back to her. “You’ll have to play it for me once it’s done.” She grins at him.
“You’ll be the first to hear it once I have Céline record it for me,” she says. He nods, then looks out the window. The sun is starting to go down.
“We should get going. Your dad will have me killed if I send you home after dark,” he says. Yuki nods and starts to collect her stuff, sliding it haphazardly into her bag. Tsukamoto Yuki is many things, but organized isn’t one of them, and that fact always makes him laugh a little. He stands up and pulls his bag onto his shoulder, looking down at her. “Want me to walk you to your car?” She looks up at him, nodding with a warm smile on her face. She quickly slings her bag onto her shoulder as well and they leave the dorm lounge. He can’t help himself when he ruffles her hair, which causes her to bat at his arm, making clicking noises with her tongue as she throws well-aimed pokes into his ribs. He laughs, and he can see her smiling as well. Tendou Satori loves Tsukamoto Yuki. She’s like the sister he’s never had and never knew he wanted.
A Court of 'It's giving beauty & the beast' and 'Except you can't tell which one is which'
Spring is rotting away. Not just its Court but across the lands as well. Without it, there can be no new beginnings, no rebirths and nature itself will cease to a halt. And thus Fates dictate that a human and a broken Fae must create a miracle together.
OR
Tamlin thinks that the Mother is cruel for the salvation of his home requires another human’s help while Juno curses whatever entity that Isekai’ed her into this shitty ass book series.
AO3
Chapter 2: It’s the panic attack for me
Juno shares some discoveries. Tamlin is trying to process said discoveries. No one wins.
CH1 |CH3
-
Tamlin and Juno’s misfortune began when they woke up beside the Rot. For clearer context, both of them woke up in different parts of the Spring Court, yet at the same time. The sun was shining high in the afternoon sky, the grass had patches of darkness that upon contact, became ashes, and the air was foul. Juno found herself underneath a sad, dying tree that used to be oak. Tamlin opened his eyes beside a murky lake where dead, sickly-looking fishes floated on the surface - both of them terribly confused with a voice faintly lingering in the recess of their mind:
“Stop the Rot. Restore Spring.”
What happened next was a series of more misfortune, more confusion, and an altercation that could only erupt from a Fae who had been betrayed by a human and a human who had no idea where she was. Tamlin, who cursed when he discovered that his magic became so weak that it forcefully shifted him back to his Fae form, wandered further into his Court; where the Rot had feasted upon the lands that all was left were husk. Juno, who was supposed to crash at her best friend’s apartment for their sleepover, searched for civilisation. Both ended up meeting in a wasteland that used to be a flourishing wheat field.
The two made eye contact. The two had no idea how to react at first.
The exiled High Lord proved quicker, eager to lose himself in rage. His life had never been the same when a human female walked into it. From then onwards, his prejudice against mankind had turned to the worst. With his last bit of magic and rationality, he transformed back into a beast and launched himself at the poor human female.
Except the human isn’t as ‘poor’ as Tamlin thought. The beast completely missed his claws despite the human being frozen in shock. He scrambled to his feet, snarling mindlessly. The High Lord was more feral than Fae, and that, in itself, is one of the sweetest forms of escapism. All that drives him are pure emotion and needless violence. So he tries again and attacks, only to stumble upon a weak knee. Tamlin was exhausted in every way - magic, body and mind - and the sight of him was beyond pathetic. The once powerful and dignified High Lord of the Spring Court was reduced to an incoherent mess. Yet he tries to attack again and again… and again. None of the blows were delivered.
“Ok. So. I have no idea what I just did, but this is sad, man.” The human female confessed, a complicated expression on her face. She warily - and a bit annoyed - stepped around Tamlin. “You could talk earlier, so can you quit it already? I really need some answers, and you’re the only one around.” Well, he didn’t talk so much as screaming at her about how humans bring nothing but destruction and that he’ll rip out her throat. Not the most sane person that Juno could’ve come across but at this point, she’s desperate for some information.
The beast didn’t give her an answer, for exhaustion finally took him over, and he passed out.
Tamlin was the only one to wake up a second time. The sun had long set beneath the horizon; the night air was chilling and was only kept at bay by a crackling fire.
“You’re awake, Beasty?” It’s the human female again, and that’s when Tamlin realises he’s in a cave and tied up by dry vines when he tries to wiggle. “I bet you can easily break free from those ropes. That wasn’t an invitation, by the way. I’m really hoping you finally chill the fuck out so we can talk.”
She’s right. He can easily rip the vines off of him, even in his weakened state. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” Tamlin scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I can promise you, you won’t be making it out of here alive.”
The human pauses from kindling the fire to stare incredulously at him. “Dude, I told you earlier. All I wanted was some answers! A-And you’re the one who attacked me! What the fuck is your deal?”
“Give them an inch, and humans will always take a mile. Your kind is beyond ungrateful even when I… I…” Anger, self-loathing, and despair threaten to choke Tamlin as the image of one female keeps replaying in his mind. He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath.
“Right…” For a brief moment, the human worries that Tamlin is about to dissolve into a crying mess of a puddle. “I’m gonna be honest; I don’t really care what you’re going through right now. I just want to go back home. So if you can shelf your mental breakdown for some other time and tell me where we are right now, that’ll be great.”
It took a herculean effort for Tamlin to calm himself before finally pushing himself up so he could sit properly. Shadows from the fire dance upon his figure. “Wandered a bit too far away from home, mortal? Did your curiosity drive you to explore beyond the Wall?”
Instead of bristling with embarrassment, the human merely blinks. “What Wall? I woke up somewhere here, underneath a tree.” She explained, and Tamlin did not sense any lies. “Which is weird because I can clearly remember that I was walking up to Nora’s apartment. I don’t think I was jumped or murdered because the street was busy with people. Sunday afternoon - you know how it is.”
She speaks freely with no hesitation or any underlying misdirection. This human is honestly lost and… utterly strange to Tamlin. From the clothing that she wore (he had never seen a female wearing a pair of strange dark, circular glasses on her face before) to her manner of speaking. She worries about her current predicament, that much is given, yet nonchalant too - as if she had already resigned to her fate. Curiosity begins to take root within Tamlin, and after staring at the equally strange-shaped bags beside the human, he decides to ask, "Who are you?"
The human tilts her head as if she didn't expect him to cooperate. "Juno." She replies, still honest. "No last name. I see those pointy ears. I have a good guess as to what you are."
"And what am I?"
"Elves. Maybe Vampires? I know some versions have pointy ears, but I don't see fangs. Siren? But we're not even near the ocean. I guess... a Faerie then."
Tamlin's eyebrows nearly raise to his hairline. She's astute. However, he doesn't know what kind of creature she listed as the second option. "Wise of you to keep your name close to your chest against a Fae."
"Play it safe instead of going in aggro; that's my kind of play style," The human female - Juno, as he now knows - speaks with stranger phrases and words. "Since you're in a chatty mood, can you tell me where we are right now?"
Tamlin tosses her an unimpressed look.
"Aww, c'mon! Look, I'll give you some fruits if you just give me one tiny answer." Juno wheedled and presented two pears from behind her back. They look juicy and healthy. A stark difference from the nearby vegetation. It seems she did some foraging while he was passed out.
At that moment, something unthinkable happened - Tamlin's stomach growl. Hunger finally caught up to him.
"Fine," He snaps, refusing to be embarrassed even when Juno smirks. "Release me, and I'll answer your question.”
“That sounds stupid, but what the hell. I got a feeling that you can't do much in your current state anyway.”
The High Lord has never felt so... so degraded! Even against Rhysand and Feyre! This human female is seriously pissing him off. So he makes his displeasure known through his glare as she unties the vines and plops a pear on his lap. When she turns her back on him, Tamlin entertains the thought of slashing her into ribbons... and decides that he's not in the mood. The two dined on whatever fruits Juno could forage and washed their sticky hands and parched throats with clean water. The food wasn't enough to fill his stomach, but it'll have to do for now.
"Well?" Juno prompted once there was nothing but the crackling fire to fill in the silence.
Tamlin sigh. Something he would have never done before an introduction, something his father would beat him to a pulp for his lack of decorum. However, there's little that he gives a fuck about nowadays. "You're in the Spring Court. My Court - I'm Tamlin, its High Lord." He doesn't even know why he gave the human his name and title. It's not like she would even -
"Are you fucking serious?"
Tamlin expected a tilt of the head, he expected a sign of obnoxious confusion or even a mouth shaped into an 'o' because the information means nothing to a human. Or at least, it should mean nothing to her.
What he didn't expect was Juno's face to twist in utter hatred and recognition that ignited his fight-or-flight instincts. Every bit of his training as a warrior warned him that whatever was in front of him couldn't be human, for Tamlin was familiar with animalistic rage, but this? This goes beyond that.
"You're Tamlin... the High Lord of the Spring Court," Juno repeats slowly as if she couldn't believe it. A part of Tamlin feels insulted, but he doesn't know why. "OH, FUCK OFF! SHUT THE FUCK UP! HOLY SHIT, SHUT THE FUCK UP! FUCK YOU, SJM! I'VE BEEN ISEKAI'ED INTO THE COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES!"
-
This is how the fates of the world change; the worldviews of two characters flipped into a 180°.
Sometime in the night, the fire has long died off. Outside of the cave, a new day is creeping ever closer. Not that it matters to Tamlin and Juno, who might as well be frozen in time due to the sheer absurdity of what they've discovered from each other.
" - LOSE WHATEVER BRAINCELLS I HAVE LEFT WHENEVER I READ SCREENSHOTS OF PAGES FROM THE BOOKS! I CAN'T FUCKING STAND FEYRE EVEN BEFORE SHE WAS RETCONNED IN THE LATER SERIES! I HAVE NEVER HATED A CHARACTER WITH EVERY FIBRE OF MY VERY BEING UNTIL I FOUND OUT ABOUT THAT STUPID PIECE OF WHITE GIRL SHIT AND HER CUNTLICKERS!"
Juno screamed, ranted, cursed, and generally complained very heatedly about a book series called A Court of Thorn and Roses written by a human named Sarah Janet Maas as she paced for hours and hours. Her words were a jumbled mess of pieces from the books and her opinions about the characters, lore and even the maps ("I KNEW THE SERIES IS NOTHING BUT DUMPSTER FIRE WHEN PRYTHIAN IS LITERALLY ENGLAND! SHE CAN'T EVEN CREATE HER OWN MAPS!? WHAT LAZY WRITING! AND PEOPLE LET HER GET AWAY WITH IT? LET HER VILLAINISE IRELAND? WHAT THE FUCK!?"). She's a passionate human - or maybe hateful? - who looked as if she was about to crack open Feyre's or any of her courtiers' ribcage and dig out their hearts so she could feast on them. The manic gleam in her eyes is even more frightful than the King of Hybern’sl.
As for Tamlin, he's provided with two options: Decide that this female is utterly insane or accept the fact that it was fate by a white, mortal woman and her mediocre writing for him to be a villain in someone else's story. And he hates how he's leaning to the latter.
Everything that came out of Juno's mouth aligned with everything that Tamlin went through, everything that he did and did not do. The world that he always knew had been yanked from underneath his feet because -
“ - THE AUDACITY OF THE FUCKING BITCH TO BELIEVE THAT HER ACTIONS HAVE NO CONSEQUENCES WHEN SHE KILLED ANDRAS AND HELLO? WHY WAS HE NOT MENTIONED EVER AGAIN AFTERWARDS!?
Tamlin is nothing more -
“ - AND ANOTHER THING, THAT CLARE BEDDOR BIT!? SCUMMY. SHITTY. AND THE WORST PART? ABSOLUTELY NO ACCOUNTABILITY. ACTUALLY, YEAH, LET’S TALK ABOUT ACCOUNTABILITY - ”
A character to be -
“EVERYTHING THAT YOU DID AS THE STORY PROGRESSED? IT GAVE ABUSER. YOU’RE WAY TO DAMN EMOTIONAL FOR SOMEONE WHO IS A LEADER, MIND YOU, AND LASHED OUT AT EVERY PERCEIVED SLIGHTS AND HARM! I GET THAT YOU WANTED TO PROTECT FUCK’S HER FACE. I GET THAT YOU GOT MAD BEEF WITH RHYSAND ‘CAUSE OF THE PAST. I GET IT! BUT FOR FUCK’S SAKE TAMLIN! YOU COULD’VE PLAYED THE GAME A LOT BETTER!”
Juno suddenly pauses here. She finally turns to Tamlin, who had been silent the entire night. Seeing his grief-stricken face and faraway gaze made her sigh. She strides forward to plant her ass beside him, her voice now soft. “And yet, you’re a much better person than me, Tamlin. ‘Cause if I was told to save my ex’s new lover who has done so many horrible shits to me and my family? I’d spit, piss and shit in Feyre’s mouth before laughing and driving off into the sunset.”
“Used. I’ve been used my entire life.” Tamlin croaks out. His voice is uncomfortably dry. He feels like throwing up, screaming at the high heavens.
He wants to disappear.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Juno sighs. She begins looking around and patting the pockets of her pants. “Apparently, SJM likes to villainise you. You were so thoroughly retconned that it felt like a fanfic where she bashed your character. Don’t let her win. Hell, don’t let the Covid-carrying batboys win either.”
“You just told me that none of this is real! This world, its people and by extension, me!” He roars. He whips his head to the side, hands balling into fists. “I’m a monster, always have been! An irredeemable villain meant to be forgotten while the ‘main characters’ get to enjoy their happily ever after! They won, human!”
Juno rolls her eyes. “So what if you’re ‘irredeemable’? I don’t care about you enough as a character or even hate you! And besides, this isn’t the checkout counter, and you’re not a coupon. Here.” She fishes a piece of chocolate from her pocket and hands it to Tamlin. “It’s valid for you to be upset, but if you don’t face the fact that your story has already ended, you’re gonna continue to spiral like this. It’s not healthy, man.”
Tamlin begrudgingly accepts the chocolate. He unwraps to take a small bite, pleasantly surprised to find it’s filled with caramel. The flavour bursts onto his tongue, and for a moment, the sweetness is enough to tamper with the choking bitterness that threatens to overwhelm him.
“I’m gonna be honest with you - ”
“You weren’t the whole night?”
Juno’s mouth hangs open; she didn’t expect his dry quip. Soon enough, her dark brown eyes dance with mirth.
“That’s cute. Ok, so, what I was trying to say is that exile? Clearly, not a good look on you, Tamlin. The hobo aesthetic isn’t it. Don’t you want your pound of flesh from Shitsand and French Fries?”
She’s genuinely curious, Tamlin understood. Revenge… how many nights did he dream about it? Sometimes, the ‘what ifs’ were the only thing that could help him sleep. What if he still had his army, his sentries? His loyal band of warriors after the wake of Amarantha and Feyre’s attack? He would overthrow Rhysand, finally kill him and then… kill Feyre? The once mortal girl he thought he loved, and she, loved him in return? Thinking about her never fails to send him into a vicious cycle that revenge is merely a pipe dream. And truth be told, he is done with violence especially after the war with Hybern.
So, instead, what he says is, “I just want to be left alone. I’m done with everyone’s bullshit.” It’s as honest as someone like Tamlin could give.
“Fair,” Juno shrugs. “Though I don’t think everyone is done with you just yet...” She trails off. Tamlin follows her attention to the world outside of the cave. Morning has finally risen, and instead of luscious green, what greeted the two was an expansion of black and dry cracks on the ground and lifeless trees. “Quick question: Does the sentence, ’Stop the Rot. Restore Spring.’ means anything to you?”
“Stop the Rot. Restore Spring.”
Tamlin's heart stutter a beat. He recalls that sentence, spoken in his mother’s voice. Now, it echoes in his mind as he meets his eyes with Juno’s.
“Guess you have, huh? Aite. I’ve seen enough anime and read Manhwas about this premise.”
“How… you’ve heard my mother’s voice as well?” Tamlin asks incredulously.
This time, it’s her who is startled. She and Tamlin share the same expression. “What? No! When I first woke up here, I heard that same sentence rattling in my head. Though, I heard it in my Mum’s voice, which is weird because she would never say something so formal to me. It would have been, “Juno! Stop being lazy and go fix Spring already!”
She cackles and slaps her knees. Tamlin ignores her. What does this mean? They both heard the same sentence but in their own mother’s voice? He has never come across such a peculiar conundrum. A single glance at his Court is enough to see the issue at hand - everything is dying or rotting to the core. Tamlin recalls seeing patches of land that appear sickly months after the downfall of his rule and home. Is magic itself leaving the Spring Court? Is that why everything is turning into a husk, and him growing weaker by the day?
As Tamlin ponders about this, Juno entertains herself by rummaging through her bags. Sorting out the items that can help her survive in the long run.
“This is a sign from the Mother,” Tamlin suddenly gasps out, eyes wide with realisation. The cogs in his brain are shifting rapidly as everything starts to fall into place. “I must restore the Spring Court to its former glory before the Rot destroys it completely.” ‘And me along with it’ was what he didn’t say.
“Congrats! You figured it out.” Juno applauded him. In her hand is a thin, rectangular object; her eyes are glued to it. “And it looks like I’ll be helping you out.”
Tamlin immediately scoffs. “I’ve paid the price of needing a mortal’s help,” That’s an overflowing can of worms he never wants to open. “I don’t need anyone’s help. Least of all, you.”
Juno simply hums; his ire sluices off her like water. “Yeah, no, that’s gonna fly with dear, old Mother,” Tamlin bristles, but she continues, “Like I said, I’m familiar with this schtick: The MC falls into a fictional world, gets caught up with the drama, and the only way to go back home is to help solve said drama with some OP powers or whatever. So face it, Legolas Wannabe, your Mother brought me - a puny human - to this shit hole to help you.”
“Just like Amarantha’s curse.” Tamlin replied bitterly.
“Hey, I’m way better than Fry-Her-Face Feyre, alright!?” Juno counters, affronted. She spread her arms as if to prove a point. “I’ll definitely beat your ass if you even think about pulling your old shits again. So! Have we got a Bargain?”
Tamlin narrowed a piercing gaze at her. “You should know better than to strike up a Bargain with me. What? You couldn’t have forgotten what it entails. Not with all your hatred of this world.”
“I didn’t actually read the books. Just picked up enough bits and pieces from mutuals and online posts to get the entire gist of it,” Juno admits without shame. For a moment, Tamlin wondered how someone could hate something so passionately without even properly engaging with it. “You’re right, though; let’s not do a suicide pact. We actually have common sense, unlike some people. So… how are we going to do this?”
“I cannot think of any reasons why you’ve heard the Mother’s voice,” Tamlin ran a hand down his exhausted face. “If the Fates has truly bound us together then… then I will adhere to her words. I will do whatever it takes to stop the Rot. Restore the Spring Court, and you will be helping me every step out of the way. Once it’s over…”
Juno easily jumps in. “Then the opportunity or pathway that can get me home should open up!” She thrust her hand towards him, a pleased grin curling her lips. “I got some ideas on where we can start. You’re in?”
“Tell me more about the books, and I’ll hear you out,” Tamlin demanded, and with nothing else to do, he clasped her hand with his. They’ve sealed the deal. For better or worse, the two of them are in this together now—a human from a world beyond he could ever comprehend and an exiled High Lord who has become Prythian number 1 pariah.
“Oh, I’m gonna dump so many shits on you that you’re gonna regret that sooner than later.” Juno smirks. “Now then, let’s go to your manor. We can start there.”
-
The annual High Lord meeting hosted by Helion was a success more than any of them would ever know. Except for Juno and Tamlin, of course.
After her friendly chat with Feyre, Juno made no detours and headed straight to where her ‘Mate’ was - hanging out with Tarquin at one of Helion’s more publicly accessible libraries. When she found the two High Lords, they were conversing near the lit fireplace. A cosy atmosphere sets around them like a warm blanket on a winter’s morning. Juno would’ve loved to join them (steal any opportunity to talk to Tarquin since he’s her favourite character among the barrel of proverbial rotten apples), but she and Tamlin need to return home so they can plan their next move.
“Hm? Oh!” It’s Tarquin who notices her first when she enters the room. His blue eyes are akin to the loveliest sapphires, and they light up when she approaches them. “Juno, right? It’s very nice to meet you; I’m Tarquin. The current High Lord of the Summer Court.” He pushes himself off his chair to shake her hand—ever the perfect gentleman.
“Same here,” Juno replies, her voice soft, almost shy. A dramatic contrast when she was talking to Feyre. Internally, she giggles like a high school girl who has been acknowledge by her crush. “Thanks for keeping Tamlin busy. His bark is worse than his bite nowadays, don’t worry.”
Tamlin, in his defence, silently sneers at her.
Tarquin cocks an eyebrow as he stares at him and then back to Juno. He wisely kept whatever thoughts he had to himself. “I don’t know about that, but Tamlin has been an excellent company. He was kind enough to share the foundations of this ‘democracy’ that you spoke about during our meeting. Will you reveal your plans about the new form of governing system in the Spring Court?”
Not so much as spoke but more of dropping a bomb on the High Lords and their Mates’ heads. Juno purposely gave details of the barest bones within 10 minutes, enough to get everyone curious yet leave room for doubts. It took everything in her not to laugh when Beron was the first one to fall for it. But since this is Tarquin…
“Everything will unfold in due time,” Tamlin answered for her instead. He casts a knowing look at Juno. She might rant a lot about how terrible the Court series is, from the author to the very cartography of the world, but she also ‘simps’ a lot about Tarquin and Nesta. Her… bias. “I believe the changes that will be happening in the Spring Court would serve as great references to you in the future.”
(When you’re forced to work together with someone in close quarters for an indefinite amount of time, It’s unreal how quickly Tamlin could decipher her otherworldly phrases, slang and words to the point that he’s semi-fluent when it comes to her manner of speech.)
Tarquin inclines his head. “I will look forward to it.” He suddenly hesitated for a moment before genuine happiness overtook him. “I hope I’m not overstepping when I say this: I’m glad to see you back to your old self again, Tamlin.”
The High Lord of the Spring Court searches for any mockery from Tarquin (steadfastly ignoring how his ‘Mate’ is vibrating out of control and is in the process of cutting the blood circulation off in his arm via clenching), and when he finds none, Tamlin is oddly humbled and embarrassed. It was Tarquin who sought him out after the meeting. It was Tarquin who suggested they relocate to the library when he noticed how tense Tamlin’s shoulders were when eyes followed him into the dining hall. It was Tarquin who was the only one among them who treated him as a fellow High Lord instead of as a traitor of war or a mindless beast.
“The old Tamlin died when my Court fell into ruin - ” Tamlin says after a while. His voice is thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry, the old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now - “ Juno interjects underneath her breath, snickering. Tarquin tilts his head, confused.
Tamlin gently elbowed her for the interruption. “Shut it, peanut gallery. As I was saying, it’s better that the old me is dead. Spring is about rebirth, and it’s time I follow suit.”
“Very poignant,” Tarquin replies with a smile. Changes are always heralded by Spring, and he’s glad to see that its High Lord is taking the helm once again. “Then I wish nothing but the best for you and your Mate, Tamlin. May the two of you always be happy.”
“You’re so sweet!” Juno suddenly blurts out, unable to hold back any longer. This beautiful Fae needs to be protected at all costs! “You totally don’t deserve the bullshits from Rice Fail and his Inner Cave. The fucking audacity of those Zionists to trespass into your Court, steal your shit, destroy your building and then reprimand you when you confronted them!? Not to mention how the two of them argued like fucking toddlers over who’s the most jealous, and-and how dare Fugly Fucker use you! You! One of the few things that SJM did right in this world! And can we talk about how if those motherfuckers just talked to you about that damn Books, you’d have easily negotiated with them? What the fuck!? None of them are fit to rule! Oh, and “She’s the High Lady of the Night Court; she can do what wishes” Bitch!? You guys were in the Summer Court! What does that have to do with anything!? Is accountability a word they’re allergic to!? If I was you, I’d - ”
Juno’s mouth is immediately muffled tight by Tamlin’s broad hand.
“She’s your biggest fan,” Tamlin apologises through gritted teeth while Tarquin is utterly taken aback with his eyes wide open. “Don’t pay her any mind.”
“How… How do you - “ Tarquin splutters. Why does she know the exact conversation that transpired between him, Rhysand and Feyre!?
“I’m afraid we must be going now. It was a pleasure, Lord Tarquin.” Tamlin smoothly interrupted. With a glaring Juno in his arms, he Winnowed the two of them back to the Spring Court. Back to the entrance of his manor, which is still under construction.
“What happened to you promising to behave when we’re in the Day Court?” Tamlin demanded once he released the human female. It’s quiet just as they left for the meeting, but now, the night sky greets them with twinkling stars overhead.
“The crimes committed against Tarquin by that shitty ass Court are fucking disgusting.” Juno scoffs with disdain. Without waiting for him, she stepped through the newly repaired doors, and Tamlin rolled his eyes. He follows her stride.
“You realise that he’s probably scared of you now, right?” Tamlin dryly says as the two head deeper. Although it’s been a few months since the two of them started rebuilding the manor, there were still some parts of the area that are in ruins, and the two just can’t move the large rubbles and crumbled hallways all on their own (“What are those muscles for if you can’t lift a simple rock, human!?”, “I work as a dancer you insensitive, fuck! I’m not used to this kind of physical labour!). Still, they have running water, working plumbing and kitchen and a roof above their heads. It will have to do for now. His family home is a shell of its former glory, but after talking to Tarquin, a blooming part of him is excited to start everything from scratch. To create a home where no ghosts of the past or painful memories haunt the walls. “Was there a point to your word dumping on the High Lord of the Summer Court?”
They’re now in the kitchen. Juno perches herself onto one of the high stools, her face scrunched up. “God, you sound like a fucking boomer. Wait, you’re way older than that generation. You’re, what, 500 something? You should be in a museum.” She says, distracted as she rummages through her make-up case.
“I don’t know what that word means.” Tamlin snaps, though there’s no heat behind it. He’d learned that her ire is solely reserved for the Night Court, so whatever else comes out from her mouth is either empty insults or rambles. He rounds the table to heat the stove. He had given Juno what little money he had left from the treasury for grocery and supply shopping this week, and for his part, he became the designated cook and rationed whatever his partner could buy.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Fine. Now, did you get everything you needed from the meeting?”
Juno looks up from her self-appointed task for the evening: Removing her acrylic nails. A broad smirk transforms her unremarkable face into that of a cruel goddess. “Everything and then some. I got to hit my newest punching bag, so that’s a bonus!”
“Right…” Tamlin grimaced when an unknown scent from Juno’s bottle itched his nose. “Will you now explain why you insisted on following me to attend the meeting? And please tell me it’s not because you just wanted to see Tarquin.” To combat that piercing and irritating scent, Tamlin begins cooking a light dinner.
“Tarquin is everything I imagined him to be,” Juno sighs, a little lovestruck. She giggles to herself when Tamlin tosses a deadpan stare. She then focuses back on her nails. “Nah, but for real, I wanted some insurance. You’re in your Healing Era, Tamlin, and that means our goal is to get you back to full power - mentally, emotionally and physically. It’s your rebirth, remember? And I don’t want anyone from the other Courts to interfere with that.”
The word rebirth continues to strike Tamlin’s core. He’s so exhausted from rage… from grief. He wants to change, but…
“Redemption. Do I even deserve it?”
“Not this again. Rebirth and redemption are two different things, Tamlin. The way I see it, you’ve paid your dues in your own way already. You don’t owe anyone else. You wanna turn your life around? Good. Noble, even. But you gotta do it because YOU want it, not because you’re expected to.”
“I didn’t know that you’re capable of such profound words. It seems that tonight is full of surprises.”
“This bitch! I’m trying to help you feel better!”
“Spare us both and stick to insults instead.”
Because Juno is facing Tamlin’s back, she couldn’t see the tiny grin on his face. The mortal woman has been growing on to him like a moss. He doesn’t know if they’re friends yet, but so far, he enjoys having some company again.
(He misses Lucien.)
“You’re so weird,” Says the literal alien from another world. “While you sort out the remaining bits of your existential crisis, I’m gonna be focusing on the security of the Spring Court. Not a lockdown per se. More like… feeding any unwanted parties some false information.” The last of her black nails clatter on the table. Pleased with the shine of her natural nails, she went over beside Tamlin to wash her hands in the sink before wiping them dry. When Tamlin handed her two plates of simple stir-fried noodles with vegetables, she carried them to the table.
“And how exactly will you be doing that?”
“So… remember what I said when we were in the cave?”
“You have to be specific; I got lost among the venomous spew about the Night Court and the fact that I live in a fictional world.”
“Cute, Tamlin. I meant about how Isekai protagonists are usually given some bullshit OP ability.”
“Elaborate what’s ‘OP’.”
“Urgh, overpowered, you amoeba.”
Tamlin stops eating; his fork hangs in the air. He cautiously asks, “You can wield magic?” He sensed nothing! Absolutely nothing from this human the moment they met.
Juno taps her foot against the floor, contemplating. “I don’t know if it’s magic, but I definitely have something. In fact, it saved my fine ass when you tried to attack me.”
The High Lord remembered as clear as day. He has never been brought to such a pathetic state that every time he tried to attack her, they all missed. A stumble. A mis-aim. A stomach wreck with hunger so bad that he could barely stand upright. A disgraceful performance as a warrior. Was it truly because of his weakened state? Tamlin’s pride wanted it to be otherwise, but the more logical part of him warned him that the unknown was a lot worse. “What did you do?”
For the first time since they met, Juno looks… scared and for some reason, Tamlin’s heartstrings twist. “Ok, don’t freak out. I sorta… control which actions you would take among the many possibilities. And time froze too when I was picking them, so that’s cool.”
“You… controlled my actions?” Tamlin repeats slowly.
She sighs and leans back against the chair, arms folded across her chest. “This is an ability that I’ve seen in Blazblue and Umeniko. Let me try my best to explain it to you in the simplest way since it’s quite abstract in theory. I’ll give you a scenario: Aelin wakes up. She’s sitting at the dining table, about to have breakfast. In front of her is a pancake and a bowl of porridge - two possibilities. She picked the pancakes, but I chose the porridge. The world corrects her actions, and without her knowing, she’s cleaning that porridge bowl.”
Tamlin’s jaw is now hanging, and understanding sinks in. “You can change the Fates themselves.”
“In a way. When you launched at me first, time stopped. I could see 4 other possible actions - you would lob my head clean from that jump. The second possibility was you thrusting a claw at my abdomen, tearing out my entrails. The third is you using your sharp teeth, tearing out my neck. The fourth, now this is interesting, was you stumbling after launching at me. So I picked that instead and did the same for the rest of your murderous attempts.”
Juno could control Tamlin. Just like -
A crash. A shout. Precious minutes vanished from Tamlin.
“ - keep it a secret. No, no - keeping such an OP power as a secret is usually the fastest route to the Bad Ending. Like hell would I follow those YA and Manhwa heroines. Fuck! I can’t remember what you’re supposed to do when someone is having a panic attack. Not touch them? Talk them through it? Uh, Tamlin? Tamlin, can you hear me? At least you’re not blindly lashing out, so that’s good. I hope you can listen to me because I promise you - I swear it, OK? - that I won’t ever mess with you like that.”
“How could I possibly trust you?” Tamlin rasped, his eyes are dull. He struggles to ground himself once more, but when he slowly comes to his senses, he finds himself slumped on the floor. The table is flipped, and their dinner is scattered on the floor with bits and pieces of the porcelain plate. “When you’re the second coming of Amarantha.”
Kneeling at a good distance from him, Juno is insulted. Still scared but uncharacteristically solemn. “How can I assure you, Tamlin? A Bargain? Some kind of blood oath? I don’t know what’s available in this world that can make you trust me.”
Tamlin heard stories about the gods when he was still a Youngling. How they are callous, indifferent, and so easily bored by the monotony of life. How it’s considered an honour, a great blessing to be chosen by them. Hah. Tamlin has lived long enough to understand that being unnoticed by heartless divinities is a true blessing.
It’s mind-shattering to realise that Juno is a young god masquerading as a human to stave off the boredom. One that is still growing, still coming into her divinity - a petulant, playful god with venom running in her veins and hatred burning her forever warm. This is who the Mother invoked as a symbol of salvation for Tamlin.
“Will you use your powers on me?”
“Only for your best interest,” Juno admits. “I’m planning on taking the role of a Support Class whenever you’re in a fight. The books claimed that you’re a powerful High Lord - but not as strong as Rice Failure, tch - and I believe it. But just in case, I can make sure that you won’t encounter any close calls or nasty surprises. Plus, I’m not a healer, but if you’re badly injured on the battlefield and, god forbid, no one can get to you in time, I can just replace your body with another version of Tamlin who is strong, whole and not exhausted by the fight.”
He listens, and he processes everything that this capricious creature says. It’s unfathomable.
Silence stretches between the two. Juno is at a loss; for the first time in her life, she desperately wants to convey her most sincere feelings to another person (other than her bestie and parents) and has no idea how, while Tamlin is painfully aware that there’s really nothing that can stop her from turning every living creature in this world into her playthings.
“I need some time to think about this.” Mother, he suddenly has the urge to get rip-roaring drunk just so he can escape for more than a few minutes. “Are you going to dictate what I’ll do next?”
Juno grins. It’s utterly plastic. “I don’t care about you enough as a character to control every aspect of your life, Tamlin.”
Trust is a fickle thing. In Tamlin’s case, who is a Fae, he could only take Juno’s words as a form of trust. How ironic.
He pushes himself up, choosing not to comment when she flinches. He needs to change his skin and, maybe later, find some leftover bottle of wine or whiskey. Just as he was about to exit the kitchen, he paused and asked without turning around. “Who did you play with?” The implication is clear during Juno’s explanation.
“A vertically challenged hag.”
WHERE YOU SHOW FAVORITISM DIFFERENTLY
aka you bully people to show love<3
just thought i would start something fun for the rebrand of this blog lmao and lately, sagau (this au has turned into a pretty broad term lemme know if i should tag it as smth else) has been ROTTING my brain i love the concept behind it
this is me being self indulgent because this is EXACTLY how i would act in genshin–im not a very nice person but i show my love differently
if you guys want more characters or want to request something else, feel free to send me an ask!
includes: gender-neutral reader w/ the main bois aka albedo, childe, diluc, kaeya, and zhongli!
want other characters? take a look
Albedo
at first he doesn’t even know you’re teasing him!!!! honestly he’s just glad you want to be around him at all
you probably call him “chalk boy” just to rile him up but he doesn't even care he's like uwu a nickname? for moi? like binch i'm trying to piss u off stop looking cute!!!!!
at most you're like a cat who tries to get his attention you're semi aware you're being an inconvenience but why won't he pay attention?? (he is but this is too fun) WHAT DID YOU DO???
you think he’s paying too much attention to his experiments? boom knock over a flask!!! he’s writing something down while you’re talking to him? my pencil now heheheh that'll show him!! whatever you say
your grace.,...,.,.,just ask him to talk to you
(no he can't know!!! my pride my dignity!!!!!!)
he thinks it’s cute–he probably even does it purpose because he’s a smart lil f*cker smh if you think you're so smart why aren't you looking at me?? HUH??? stupid head*ss go back to ur chem set binch
you probably say that more times than you can count like who does he think he is??? a GENIUS??!!! your grace...,,yes
be careful though! he isn’t afraid to tease back even if you are the creator! most people think of him as apathetic with no feelings but you see right through him
“Oh? Does their Grace believe my worship is not enough? I thought you liked it when I experiment. Then what else are you here for? Hm? You couldn't have come all the way up the mountain just to stare at me...right All-Creator?"
Childe
he loves it he wants all your attention!!! he doesn't care if it's "mean"!!!! <3
"their grace wants to tease...me?"
YES U HOMICIDAL MANIAC KEEP UP
if you like banter he's your harbinger!!!!!!!!!!!!
"damn ajax you didn't die today? :/"
"well your grace tomorrow is a new day :))"
if you fight you would banter during it and he probably is like probably *heart eyes*
if you aren't however
you, an all-powerful god: no ajax I'm not gonna fight you...
childe: coward smh didn't know the creator was such a loser :/
you: *glowing eyes of DEATH*
there is SO MUCH you can bully about this man
"ajax please.,.,.,that isn't how you hold a bow"
very much high school rivals who are secretly into each other vibe
he truly loves how fun you are which makes him worship you even more if that's possible
however if you team up with scaramouche he gets SO pissy it's insane like the both of you are UNSTOPPABLE it really is scary
and obviously the more he pouts the more you bully him like c'mon babe don't give me more ammo
"Your Grace! Please don't tell Scaramouche how I fell into the lake that one time! Oh? You did? Your Grace whatever shall I do with you? Fine, fine it is a funny story. However, would you like me to tell him how you warmed me up afterward?"
also consider:
you and him are interchangeable in this exchange it depends on the time of day lmao
Diluc
oh
ohohohooh
he is SO fun to tease
at first he would just let it happen with just an odd look on his face...can't upset the creator now can he?
for the first couple of times he probably truly thinks you don't like :/ he's used to hearing people call him grumpy
but after a while and the years he's spent with kaeya he finally realizes you mean no harm
"damn master diluc who made you so grumpy today? did someone tell you that your hair looks really messy today? :/ i mean it does but they didn't have to tell you to your face...how rude"
he just rolls his eyes and continues making drinks and then checks the mirror in the backroom when you're not looking does his hair look weird DOES IT???
honestly the patrons at angel's share have never seen diluc so calm and it's when the creator is bullying teasing him?? you really are the creator!
and oh boy when he realized you do it out of FAVORITISM?? he turns red whenever you tease him it's so cute
you could tease him how stupid his superhero name is or smth when he's doing his nightly duties and he'd act like you just gave him the biggest compliment ever
you: diluc you are so lucky that most of the knights are dumb as rocks because YOU are so stupid how has nobody figured out you're batman the darknight hero?? you barely even change your appearance? i bet you change your voice to seem lower to look cooler stars above i hate you
diluc, turning into a strawberry: im in love with u
after a while he'll tease you right back, we all know that man is a bundle of dry humor wrapped up in a coat and it'll leave you flustered every time
"Thank you, your Grace I'll take your suggestions of my after-dark identity into consideration. I consider myself blessed to have such a thoughtful and amenable God watching out for me. Are you this considerate to all of your loyal subjects or do you just give me your special attention? Should I get down on my knees and thank you properly?"
Kaeya
oh lord what a menace
right off the bat he sees right through he KNOWS you tease him because he likes you because he's exactly the same
you know "how 'bout it boss" line? yeah he probably calls you boss instead of something appropriate like your actual titles he wouldn't dare call you by your actual name though that is a privilege he does not deserve
honestly the two of you probably get into fake fights on purpose just for the drama of it all
"what kind of person let alone GOD forgets to blow out a candle? you could have burned the city down? i cannot believe our "all-loving" creator hates us so that they would do this"
"maybe if you stopped drinking and put away your tits this wouldn't have happened...were you so drunk last night that you couldn't have done it yourself?"
he would probably joke that your "old world" didnt want you and spat you out to teyvat and you're like "you know what? you're probably right lmao"
he'd laugh it off and so would you but on the inside he's like did i offend them?? oh my god kaeya what the F*CK??? was that too far??? what is wrong with you????????
the knights would be MORTIFIED by the way he speaks to you
one day however a knight tries to tease you and kaeya goes OFF absolutely bonkers
he can tease you but no one else he's a bit jealous/protective
you tease him more if you find out
"Hm? Of course, I defended your honor, Boss. We can't have people thinking they can go about slandering our good creator's name. Why, yes, I do tease you from time to time but that is only in good nature and a form of worship. If you want, however, I can show you a different way I worship you."
Zhongli
now i don't want to be stereotypical with mr zhongli here, but honestly you two look like an old married couple bickering
you know those ones at restaurants that are like "i hope i die soon so i dont have see your ugly face anymore" and the other one is like "yes yes go to hell honey anyways we'll share the soup <3"
yeah that's how it goes
people are still like "wow how cute" so like who cares lmao
he thinks it's very amusing whenever you're mean to him because most of the time it only happens around other people
like once you guys are alone it's sappy as hell and he wouldn't want it any other way except nobody believes him when he says how kind you and how you even cook for him from time to time
flame his *ss for never having mora while you're paying for everything he wants ok sugar baby zhongli
you and hu tao are absolutely the worst though please do not team up against him
he counters this though by pretending how honored he is that the all-creator picked him, a lowly humble man
he is VERY grateful and shows it but cmon..."lowly humble man"? stfu morax you used to eat gods for breakfast
zhongli: everyday i thank rex lapis for allowing this union between the creator and i. i do not know what i did to deserve his praise or their grace's...rex lapis truly is amazing
you: are you f*cking kidding me
all in all though it is very cute he would be saying how pretty you look today and kisses your hand and meanwhile you're blushing super badly and you're like "you're ugly and i hate you"
he responds with a smug lil smile every time that makes you want to punch him
"Well, your grace, as much as I enjoy your teasing and vice versa, just know that I mean every word when I say how grateful I am for you to bless me with your companionship. I will gladly be the brunt of every scathing joke you make if it means I can hear your lovely voice."
Lady Ramblings
That feeling when you’re so caught up in so many possible story ideas that you can’t help freezing like a deer in headlights. Y’all, the plot bunnies are multiplying, and I have no idea what to do. Current WIP is a Modern AU short one (for a change), so hoping to have that one finished soon. Troll butler + Human mistress = Tense Shenanigans.
Meanwhile, finishing some already started stories would be nice. Mog, Lily, you two feel like talking to me? *crickets* No? Fine, stay in the corner until you do! Uruks, y’all, am I right?
Favorite interaction/passage
A while ago I was tagged by @natsora to share my fave interaction or passage from all of my writing.
So the following one comes from my wip one-shot about my Inquisitor and I really, really like how it came out ^^
P.S. Teach this bird some manners.
Leliana chuckled softly and lifted her gaze from the report. The raven that brought it from the Free Marches was nervously jumping on the edge of her desk and flapping its wings like it was trying to shake off a small package strapped to its back. She whistled quietly to get its attention and opened her arms invitingly. The bird looked at her curiously with one beady eye than with the other like it was assesing her intentions. Finally, it let out a loud caw and hopped closer to the Sister.
“There, there, Baron,” she purred, scratching feathery messenger under its beak. “Your manners are fine. You’re even a bit of a cuddler, no?”
I’m tagging: @trajektoria @perseus-huntress @noonvraith @vorchagirl - as usually with 0 obligations <3