#-that he realizes the beauty in just...taking a moment and taking in the sky with someone by your side.

[lonely-ey3s]

Ride or Die | Chapter Three

pairing: rodeo/cowboy!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary : With you and Joel growing closer on the Ferris wheel and afterwards - your father continues to overstep boundaries. When Joel invites you to go dancing with him and his brother, Tommy, your trust is tested, and you've never felt so confused and conflicted with those around you that you thought you could count on.

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn-ish, angst, Joel pre-outbreak and pre Sarah. Joel and reader are mid to late 20's. Joel speaks Spanish (translations will be there), reader has a somewhat emotionally abusive father, gaslighting, racism, flirting, flashbacks, sexual harassment, drinking, mentions of SMUT (18+ MDNI), teasing, sexual tension.

word count: 7.3k

a/n: as a reminder, chapters will be every other sunday-- alternating with heartlines !!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

The Ferris wheel rose slowly, the car swaying just a little as it climbed higher into the summer night.

Below, the fair stretched out in every direction — glittering booths, winding rows of food trucks, the carousel spinning in soft, golden circles. Music drifted up on the breeze, mixed with the distant laughs and voices of those below. 

You leaned slightly over the edge, not dangerously, just enough to take it all in. The air felt cooler up here, the chaos below softened by distance. It was beautiful. It felt like magic.

And then… a knot formed in your chest.

Because you’d seen this view before.

Same fair. Same warm air. Same twinkling lights.

Only back then… you’d been alone.

The memory hit you fast — unexpected and sharp. 

The night you’d begged Riley back in high school to take you to the fair, just like this. You wanted to see the 4th of July fireworks show, something your mom always took you to. It was something special, something you wanted to share with him.

You could still hear the sound of his voice, flat and dismissive: “You seriously gonna cry over corn dogs and Ferris wheels?”

The sting of standing there in your sundress  – one you wore just for him.

The pain of watching him peel away in a car full of his buddies, like you were nothing more than an inconvenience.

You remembered walking the fairgrounds alone that night, pretending not to care. Telling yourself the lights and the noise were enough. But up on the Ferris wheel alone, you had looked down at the fair and realized something you couldn’t un-realize.

You hadn’t just wanted cotton candy and fireworks. You wanted to be chosen.

And he hadn’t.

Your chest tightened, but before the ache could pull you under, a warm hand settled on top of yours.

You turned your head, blinking back into the present — into this moment.

Joel sat beside you, his fingers laced with yours, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles along your knuckles. 

He didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. He just looked at you with that open, steady kind of gaze that made you feel like maybe the whole world had waited for you both to get here.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, gentle.

You nodded slowly, your throat thick. “Yeah. Just… remembering an old memory...”

He didn’t press. He just lifted your joined hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly, holding you like something precious, something wanted.

And when the Ferris wheel creaked to a stop at the very top, the fireworks cracked open in the sky — brilliant and loud and beautiful.

You leaned into him, looking above you in awe, and whispered, “Thank you for being here.”

Joel smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, hermosa…”

You smiled and leaned your head onto his shoulder as the two of you watched the show.

A few moments went by, and the tension of the show building up to the big finale made the tension between the two of you intense. 

You looked down at your hand in his and bit your lip, remembering the events of today: the photo booth, the stables, the kiss.

You couldn’t put it into words, the feeling. The light sense of comfort you had all day, the safety, the sense of being desired by someone who was a good person — a good man.

He looked down and did the same, reminiscing about every moment he’d had with you today. His heart hadn’t calmed down from constantly pounding in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach kept fluttering, and his mind was racing. You — it was all you. He was consumed, intoxicated, and completely committed to you. 

He turned his head a fraction to kiss the top of yours before softly saying your name.

You glanced up at him and hummed in acknowledgment. Your eyes danced across his features, slowly, as a warm smile stretched across your face, taking in the look in his eyes. 

His hand reached across with his free hand and tucked your hair behind your ear before his fingertips softly caressed your cheek. The lights of the fireworks making your eyes sparkle. "God, you're so beautiful..." He leaned in and whispered. “Soñaré contigo…” (I’ll dream of you)

Before you had a chance to speak, he closed the distance. He kissed your lips tenderly but deeply, moving his hand further back to cradle you by the base of your neck. 

Fireworks began to go off rapidly as the show began it's finale presentation. 

But you didn’t hear it.

You didn’t jump when they struck the sky like you usually did. No – everything was muted, floating around you in slow motion.

His lips on yours had the effect of putting you into a trance, slowing down all space and time — doing something that no physicist could ever explain. 

Your hand instinctually moved to his chest. Your palm laying over his heart as it beat rapidly in his chest. 

When he pulled back he leaned his forehead against yours and nudged his nose against yours gently. “Wanna get a funnel cake to share and go sit in my truck? Talk for a bit? I’ll drive ya home…” he opened his eyes and stroked your cheek with his thumb.  

You blushed, your eyes staying close, staying in the moment with him as long as you could. You softly giggled as your eyes opened and you looked up into his eyes, “Yeah, I’d like that…” 

He smiled and leaned up, kissing your forehead before he leaned back, and the two of you waited together as the ride came back down. 

After the two of you got off the Ferris wheel, the night died down, and the fair had quieted. 

The fireworks were over. The Ferris wheel lights had gone dim, and most of the crowd had filtered out, arms full of prizes and leftover popcorn.

You and Joel sat on the tailgate of his truck, parked just far enough from the fairgrounds that the noise felt like a memory. A half-empty cup of lemonade sat between you two as you sat and shared that funnel cake together. 

The night air had cooled, but his hoodie around your shoulders kept you warm. You hadn’t asked for it—he’d just handed it to you the second you got out there without saying a word.

You were quiet for a while. And he didn’t rush you, he just enjoyed your company.

Just sat with you, shoulder to shoulder, like silence wasn’t something that had to be filled, but something you two could share.

Finally, you exhaled slowly and said, “I’ve only been up there one other time… on the Ferris wheel.”

Joel turned his head, waiting.

You stared straight ahead, fingers picking at the hem of the hoodie sleeve. “It was years ago. High school. I really wanted to come, but Riley… well, he ditched me. Said he had something better to do. So I came alone. Rode the Ferris wheel by myself. I was so convinced I was fine, that being alone was ok.” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you kept going. “But, I remember sitting up there, watching everyone else laugh and hold hands and... I just felt stupid. Like I wanted something from him… something that I didn’t deserve.”

Joel didn’t say anything at first. He just gently reached over, threading his fingers through yours, letting the silence stretch—safe, not empty.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he said finally, his voice steady. “You never deserved to be made to feel small. Or unwanted.”

You looked over at him, your eyes wet but clear. “I know that now. Hell, I don’t know why I left here to follow him to Nashville. I knew it wouldn’t work out… I mean, deep down, something always sat wrong,” you sadly scoffed and shook your head. “But back then… I really thought it was my fault, or things would get better.”

He turned fully towards you then, reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand.

“I wish I did a lot with you back then… I saw how he treated you, and I just sat back. I didn’t think it was any of my business." he looked down for a moment, shamefully, then back up. "But — I regret the time I haven’t been able to give you — time where you feel like you are enough.” he paused, and his eyes scanned your features. 

“I wish I could've been up there... to hold your hand and tell you that one day, you’d never have to wonder if you were enough again.” He sat there for a moment then spoke more surely.

Your breath caught.

“Because you are,” he added. “You’re more than enough. You always have been. And I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks silently, but he kissed them away — slow, tender. No urgency. No performance. Just lovingly pressed into your skin like a promise.

“I felt it tonight,” you whispered when pulled away. “The difference. What it’s like to be… chosen.”

Joel smiled, soft and sure. “I’ll choose you every damn time, querida.”

You leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder, as his arm wrapped around you, strong and steady.

After some time you both decided it was time to head home.

The drive back was quiet in the best kind of way.

Your head leaned gently against the passenger window, the distant glow of the fairgrounds fading in the rearview mirror. The truck's cab smelled faintly of mint and dust, and his cologne — the kind of scent that settles into your memory whether you want it to or not.

Joel tapped the steering wheel softly in time with the country song playing low on the radio. Every so often, he glanced over at you, like he was making sure you were still okay… still with him after the heavy conversation earlier.

You caught one of those glances and smiled softly. “You’re doing that thing again...”

“What thing?” he asked, but his grin gave him away.

You let out a light chuckle, “Looking at me like you’re trying to figure something out.”

He shrugged, eyes flicking back to the road. “Just trying to decide if I’m gonna be able to wait more than a day to see you again, hermosa.” 

Your heart fluttered — the same way it had when he held your hand at the top of the Ferris wheel or when he kissed you in the photobooth like the world had stopped for just the two of you.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, cowboy…” you teased.

When he reached your driveway, he threw the truck in park but didn’t turn the key. The engine hummed quietly beneath you two. Crickets sang outside like the night was still wide awake, even if the rest of the world was asleep.

He climbed out first and came around to open your door, offering his hand like a cowboy straight out of a movie — the good kind. The kind who meant every gentle touch and slow smile.

At your doorstep, you turned to face him, your fingers brushing his lightly.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, looking up at him as you wore his two-sizes-too-big hoodie over your sundress. If he could, he’d take a picture at how damn cute he thought you looked right now.

“For what?” he teased his fingers with yours as they lay between the two of you, shyly. 

“For today... for tonight. For… being the exact opposite of everything I’ve ever known.”

Joel stepped a little closer, his voice low and warm. “You deserve everything good, you know that?”

A slight breeze blew behind you, blowing a strand of hair onto your face, causing you both to chuckle softly. 

He reached out and tucked it behind your ear, letting his fingertips trail down your jaw before tilting your chin up.

Then he kissed you.

It was soft, at first — careful. But it deepened just enough to leave you breathless, your hands curling into the front of his shirt. It was a goodnight kiss that didn’t want to say goodbye yet.

When you finally pulled apart, he kept his forehead resting against yours, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I wanna take you dancing,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. “What?”

He chuckled. “Me, you, and my brother go out to this cowboy bar on the edge of town. Live music, two-stepping, probably some terrible line dances... you in?”

You grinned, heart skipping. “Are you asking me on a second date with your brother as a chaperone?” you teased, reaching up and gently combing his hair back over his ear. 

He craved the contact you gave him; the small gestures like that will have him singing Frank Sinatra on the way home with the windows rolled down. 

“He's more of a third-wheel, really,” Joel said. “But yeah. I’m asking.”

“I’m in,” you said, smiling up at him. “But only if you promise to spin me around at least once.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing one last kiss against your lips. “I’ll spin you all night long.”

You laughed and then hummed against his lips, “It’s late…” you whispered. 

He whispered back, “I know…” he took a deep breath, inhaling your sweet scent once more before he pulled away and walked backwards, slowly letting go of your hand.  

“Goodnight, cowboy...” you said as you reached behind and twisted the door open. 

“Goodnight, querida…” he stood at the bottom of your porch steps, looking up at you. 

You reluctantly stepped inside with your heart full and your cheeks warm.

But when you closed the door, you didn’t feel the old familiar ache of being left behind.

You felt chosen.

You sighed softly with your back against the front door and smiled to yourself.

After a few moments, you quietly took off your shoes and started tiptoeing towards the stairs. 

Right before you crossed the boundary from the living room to the hallway, a light from behind came on.

“It’s 1 o’clock in the mornin’, where the hell have you been?” your dad said, sounding annoyed, a hint of anger. 

‘Oh for fuck sakes…’ you thought, annoyed. 

You turned around and sighed. “I told you that I’d be home late. Not to wait up.” 

“Yeah, and I texted back sayin’ to be home before midnight.” he stood from the chair he’d been sitting in. “Was that him? The Miller boy?” 

“You say that like saying his first name makes it dirty or too real.” You shook your head and leaned against the doorframe. “His name is Joel… and yes, that was him.” You crossed your arms over your chest, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from mouthing off.  

He stood there and clenched his jaw, trying to keep his temper under control. “I told you he wasn’t welcome here…” 

“Yeah I know — which is why he dropped me off at the door.” you bit out harshly. “What? Is he barred from the property?” you sarcastically asked. 

He turned and looked out the window, his anger starting to boil with your lack of respect and sarcasm. 

“Dad, I’m a grown adult. For you to tell me that my date can’t come onto the property seems ridiculous and an abuse of power.” you said plainly. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t pay the mortgage, do you? So I guess I pay — I make the rules,” he said without turning his head. 

“Oh, so if this is about money, I’d be happy to pay rent if it means I’m contributing to making this house less of an authoritarianism,” you scoffed and pulled open your purse, searching for your wallet. 

Your dad turned around and saw what you were doing, and let out a chuckle, “You can’t pay me re—“ 

You slammed $300 cash onto the coffee table that laid between the two of you, “I know you pay two thousand for the mortgage. Consider that half of my third. I’ll have the rest to you tomorrow morning if that's the game you want to play.” 

He didn’t say anything.

Truthfully he didn’t think your job paid you that well, enough that you could do that.

He stood there, too stunned to speak, but then looked at you and swallowed, “Just because you pay me doesn’t mean I want that boy over here.” 

Something in you broke. Nothing would be good enough.

All you could feel was hopelessness at this moment.

The little girl in you started to fracture. 

The little girl whose mom died when she was just barely becoming herself.

The little girl who’s daddy resented her and her siblings for being alive afterwards.

The little girl who was forced to grow up before her mom was even in the ground.

The little girl who lost her dad the second her mom took her last breath. 

You looked at him and tilted your head, eyes glossy, “What happened to you?” 

His eyebrow raised and he scoffed, “What? Nothing happened to me — what do you mean?” he asked, feeling cornered.

Your eyes went sad, and the little girl that you hid and protected from so much, she came to the surface.

“You became so cold when Mom died. You just… you’re not the dad that used to go horseback ridin' with me, that made heart-shaped pancakes for me every Sunday morning, the dad that would have marched to Nashville to beat my cheating fiancé — instead of blaming me… I..." Your lip quivered, so you stepped back and clenched your jaw to suppress the emotion. 

You watched him stiffen up as well and turn away, staying quiet. 

You nodded and tutted, this was nothing new. He was never going to admit he's in the wrong.

“Whatever… doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed.” You turned around and knocked on the door frame. “Night.” 

He didn’t respond or say another word; he just stood there, stuck in his own guilt. 

You went up the stairs. Tears fell the moment you turned your back away from him. 

The moment you were in the sanctuary of your room and closed your door, you didn’t bother to undress. Not when you were wrapped in the last piece of Joel you could have to yourself. 

You curled up into your bed, sleeves close to your face, softly breathing in the remnants of his cologne stuck in the fabric. Breathing it in deeply as it lulled you to sleep. 

Saturday night 

The bar was already alive when you both walked in — boots thudding against the hardwood floor, twangy guitar riffs cutting through the air, and the smell of whiskey and barbecue thick in the room.

Joel picked you up from your sister’s place. 

Since that night, you and your dad continue to argue about Joel coming onto the property. So once Ev found out, she told you he could pick you up at hers until your dad woke up and smelled the roses.

When he asked, you just told Joel she helped you get ready, and with her little boy, it was just easier to go over to her house rather than her come to your dad's. 

You weren’t ready to let him in on that piece of information. That your dad loathed him for just being a Miller. That part wasn’t fair for him to know, at least not now — not when things were so good. 

Joel’s hand stayed at the small of your back, warm and steady as he guided you past the crowd. You liked the way it felt — not possessive, just connected. Like he wanted you close, and you wanted to be kept there.

His brother, Tommy, was already waiting by the bar, leaning casually against the counter, cowboy hat tipped back and grinning, seeing his brother with you.

Tommy was known back in high school to be the troublemaker, the problem child. You couldn’t count the times you saw him in the principal's office for something stupid he’d done. However, he was the life of any party and one of the kindest souls you’ve ever met. All of the Miller’s were kind, which is why you didn’t know why your dad had such a stick up his ass about them. 

"You're late," he said.

"We’re fashionably late," Joel replied, sliding his arm around your waist as he introduced you to Tommy. You smiled and shook his hand, charmed by the easy banter between the brothers.

“It’s good to see you back in town, Whitaker…” Tommy winked. 

You smiled softly and nodded. “It’s good to be back, Miller.” You winked back. 

He laughed heartily and looked at Joel, “She’s a lot less shy than the old days…” He looked at you, grinning. “You’re a lot less shy, darlin’…”

You chuckled softly and shrugged, “A lot can change in a couple of years." You smirked. "You still the troublemaker?”

He grinned and bit his lip. “Always.” 

Joel rolled his eyes and tsked. “That you are, little brother.” 

Tommy chuckled and lightly tapped Joel’s shoulder, “Ya’ll want a drink? First rounds on me!” 

Joel looked down at you, his thumb lightly rubbing circles into your waist, “What’s your drink of choice?” 

You looked at Joel for a moment and smiled, then looked at Tommy and nodded, “Surprise me?”

Tommy clicked his tongue and nodded then knocked his hand against the bar, “You got it!” He then turned to the bartender and ordered drinks for the three of you. 

Your phone buzzed, a familiar area code from Nashville popping up, making you think it was for work.

You turned back to Joel and put your hand on his chest before leaning up and kissing his cheek, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to use the powder room quick.” 

He put his hand over yours and kissed your forehead before telling you that he and Tommy would wait here for you to get back before finding a table. 

You quickly weaved through the buzzing crowd to the ladies' room and answered the phone, “Hello?” 

“Oh, so you’ll answer a random number but block mine?” Riley said, annoyed. 

Instantly, a wave of anger started to boil through your veins. “Riley, I said never to contact me again. What the hell do you possibly want?” 

The door swung open, and a couple of girls giggled as they came inside, country music briefly seeping through the room loudly. 

“Where the hell are you?” 

“That’s none of your business. I won’t ask again, Riley. Spit it out.” 

“You’re on a date, aren’t you?” he seethed. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Now I’m hangin–” 

He cut you off. “Your dad called, he begged me to make it up to you.” he chuckled coldly. “He said you’ve been going out with one of the Miller’s… uhm, what's his name... Joel?” 

“My dad called you?” You scoffed and huffed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” You muttered.

“Are you with him?” 

You chuckled at his continued disregard for your boundaries. “Riley, you aren’t my fiancée anymore. I don’t owe you any explanation for where I am or who I’m with. Stop calling.” You went to hang up the phone. 

He started to slur his words. “You’re fucking him aren’t you?” He taunted, and you could hear him take a swig of a drink, then mutter under his breath. “Fucking whore…” 

You paused and were momentarily speechless; every part of you felt like it would explode. Your temper with your dad had been simmering for the last few days, and now this? You were done. This was crossing the line. Calling your ex? Calling your cheating piece of shit ex and telling him personal and private information he has no right to know anymore? Fuck him. 

“I’m not the one who cheated and the one who’s drunk right now,” you said in a low warning tone. “You want to call me a whore? Go ahead. I’m the biggest whore – I’m the biggest whore for someone that has treated me better in a handful of dates than you ever did in in years!” 

You saw yourself in the mirror and shook your head; you were worth more than this.

“Call me again, Riley, and I’ll file harassment charges. Leave me alone.” Then you hung up the phone and exhaled angrily. 

You heard a voice from one of the stalls behind you, “You go, girl!” then a hiccup and giggle, followed by them vomiting into the toilet. 

You shook your head and let out a chuckle as you leaned against the sink. “You good in there?” 

“Peachy!” she coughed and vomited again. 

“Just too many shots, am I right?” another voice came from the same area. You assumed it was the two girls who came in earlier.

You muttered to yourself. “Such a fuckin’ idiot…” You looked down and then pulled your phone back up and blocked the number he’d called from.

You then pulled your texting thread with your dad open and angrily typed:

‘You had no right to call him. Don’t ever do that again. I'll won't be coming home for the time being. Don't call or text. You crossed a line.’ Sent. Power off. 

Your heart was hammering, fists clenched, body buzzing with the fury of betrayal.

He called your ex.

After everything you had just expressed to him? After you’d finally gotten the nerve to cut that part of your life off? After you told your family when Riley tried to reach out to each other them when you came home— not to reach out?

You breathe through your nose. Try to slow it down.

'Focus.'

The flickering fluorescent light overhead snaps once, then settles into a dull, sputtering buzz. It makes the already-yellowed tiles feel sickly, like you're standing inside a mouth that's never quite closed. Your reflection is a stranger: cheeks flushed, eyes wide and glassy. You look like you just ran five miles and lost every fight along the way. This is not how you wanted to start out tonight.

You close your eyes. You listen.

Beyond the door, the bar hums with life—guitars twang, boots stomp, someone yells something too joyful for how you feel. The girl in the stall gags to vomit again. The faucet drips, steady and maddening, like a ticking clock on a bomb you can't defuse.

You exhale shakily. The air smells of industrial cleaner, barely masking layers of sweat, spilled beer, and old cigarette smoke. Your own perfume has faded, now just a ghost clinging to the collar of your denim jacket. You can still taste the whiskey shot you took before leaving to ease your nerves —bitter, unearned, curling at the back of your throat like regret.

‘Focus on what you can feel…’ you remember reading in some self-help magazine you read at the airport. 

The sink is cold beneath your hands. ‘There we go. Focus on that.’

You spread your fingers, flatten your palms. 

‘Breathe in again, slower this time…’

The tile wall beside you is rough when you lean against it, forehead resting on cool ceramic. 

You're sweating, and not just from the heat of the room. The anger—God, it’s thick in your blood, a hot, humming thing with nowhere to go.

But underneath it… you feel the ache. That gut-deep twist of being let down, again, by someone who should have been in your corner. Should have been in your corner all along. 

‘Focus on something positive...’  you quickly pivoted, needing to get away from the anger.

You picture Joel’s face. 

The way he looked at you when he helped you out of the truck earlier, warm and kind. 

‘Think about how he gently placed his hand on your back when you walked into the bar. The way he held your side – to make you feel safe.’ 

You thought of Tommy’s laugh echoing as you teased each other. 

‘You’re supposed to be out there with them, not unraveling in here.’

That was enough. The was the swift kick you needed.

You open your eyes and straighten up, whispering to yourself. “Let’s go have a good night.” 

You check your reflection. Still flushed, but steadier now. You take one last breath—long, deliberate. You tuck your phone into your purse like you’re sealing something away.

Then you push open the bathroom door, head high, and step back into the bar. 

The air out in the bar hits you like a wall—loud, warm, alive.

Music slides across the room in twangy waves, someone’s boot heel scrapes hard against the wooden floor, and laughter peals like wind chimes from the far end of the bar.

You come to the end of the hall and look out to find where you needed to go to regroup with Tommy and Joel.

You spot Joel near the bar, just where he said he’d be, leaning back against it, sipping on a pint of beer. He’s laughing at something Tommy just said, his head tipped back, that boyish grin lighting up his face in a way that makes your stomach twist—but for a good reason, this time.

When his eyes find you, you softly smile, but it wasn’t quick enough – he saw the shift.

He straightens up, shoulders tightening like he’s bracing for a storm. His grin softens into something smaller, more gentle. He sets the beer down on the bar and, without a word to Tommy, starts to walk toward you, weaving through the crowd like he doesn’t even see them.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, just for you. His eyes search your face, not in a prying way—but like he’s trying to read a weather report. “Everything alright?”

You nod. Too fast. 

He doesn’t push, but he doesn’t look away either. One hand comes up to rest lightly on your arm, thumb brushing over your jacket sleeve. That one little touch steadies you more than you want to admit.

“Bathroom alright?” he adds, a little dry, a little teasing. It’s an out. He’s offering it gently, like he’s done this before. 

You give him a small chuckle, trying to loosen up. “Yeah. Just needed to take a quick call.”

He nods like he believes you, but you can tell he doesn’t—not fully. He leans in, lowering his voice. “Come on, I got you somethin’ to eat…” then kissed your cheek softly and took your hand in his. 

You follow him back to the table, heart still tight—but lighter now. The weight’s still there, but you’re not carrying it alone.

After a couple of drinks and a burger that you couldn’t put down, the band kicked up again — something fast and familiar. Couples gathered on the dance floor, boots scuffing and skirts twirling. 

Joel leaned in as he sat beside you in the booth, his arm behind you as the two of you watched the stage from as you sat and ate — his mouth near your ear softly asks.

“You ready to dance, darlin’?”

You giggled, nerves now buzzing from the alcohol and entertainment, but nodded. “Show me your moves, cowboy.”

He grinned and slid out from the booth before he took your hand, confidently leading you into the fray. 

The band transitioned into a new song, a line dance. You followed his lead, learning the steps quickly before giggling and joining in with the group as they danced to 'Boot Scoot Boogie'.

After another upbeat tune played, but this time he took your hand and pulled you into him.

One hand on your waist, the other strong and sure in yours, guiding you across the floor in smooth, spinning steps that made you laugh and cling to him harder every time he twirled you around.

You felt alive with him. Fuck, was this what you were missing out on -for all those years? 

He dipped you once — just enough to make you squeal — and when he brought you back up, your faces were so close your noses touched. Your breath caught, and you giggled.

“How’d you learn to dance like this?” You murmured, breathless.

He smirked. “My dad dances with my mom every night in the kitchen. Picked up a few moves.”

You chuckled and brought your hand up to his cheek as the two of you danced, and your eyes went softer. “That’s really sweet.” You lightly stroked his cheek as he held you close and swayed with you. “Your dad seems like a sweet guy – no wonder you’re the way you are. He raised a good man.” you said warmly.

It warmed his heart to hear your high praise - for thinking he was a good man. That’s all he wanted to be: a good, loyal, loving man. 

He hummed, then leaned in and kissed your lips softly once, just long enough to make you melt further into each other.

He pulled back slowly, nudging your nose gently. “Tell you what, we’ll do the same.” He rubbed small circles into your waist as he held you. 

Your smile widened. “Dance every night in the kitchen together?” 

He lightly chuckled, it vibrating the space between you both. “We can do it whenever, but every night sounds good to me…” 

You had no words so you just nodded then leaned back in and captured his lips, kissing him slowly but deeply as the two of you continued to sway to the music as it began to slow down. 

—

After a few slow dances the music sped up again and the two of you danced through two more songs, sweat starting to bead at your temples, your heart pounding not just from the movement but from the way he kept looking at you — like you were the only thing in the room worth seeing.

Eventually, the two of you made your way back toward the bar for drinks. Joel leaned over to order while you stood just behind him, catching your breath and sipping on some water.

That’s when it happened.

A man — older, already red in the face from one too many beers — walked past, slowed, and then, without warning, reached out and slapped your ass. Hard.

“Damn, girl,” he slurred, grin wide and gross. “Bet you ride better than a buckin’ bronco.”

You flinched, body going rigid, heart slamming into your throat. For a second, you couldn’t even move. Just froze — shocked, humiliated.

But Joel moved fast.

Before the man could take another step, Joel spun around and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanking him back so hard his beer sloshed onto the floor.

“Touch her again,” Joel said, low and lethal, “and you’ll be drinkin’ through a straw for the rest of your goddamn life.”

The guy laughed — nervous, trying to play it off — but Joel didn’t flinch. Didn’t loosen his grip. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark and cold. Tommy appeared beside them in a heartbeat, calm but firm, stepping in to separate them just enough.

The man backed off quickly, muttering something under his breath before disappearing into the crowd, clearly more bark than bite.

Joel turned to you immediately, his hand soft now, cupping your cheek, eyes searching yours. “You okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Just… surprised, sorry.” You quickly tried to calm yourself.

“Hey, no apologies. You didn’t deserve that.” His thumb brushed your cheekbone. “No one touches you like that. Not while I’m around.”

Your heart cracked open a little more in that moment — not because he defended you, but because of the way he did it. Without ego. Without anger aimed at you. Just clear, focused protection. Like your safety was the only thing that mattered.

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, slow and grounding.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, voice low.

You paused… then shook your head. “No. I want to dance some more...”

Joel blinked — surprised — then grinned.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he tucked your hair back gently. 

You smiled, slipping your hand into his. “Good. You better keep up.”

And when you both stepped back onto the dance floor, his arm wrapped tighter around your waist — not to claim you… but to let the whole damn room know:

You were his.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.

After a few more dances, Tommy came onto the dance floor and convinced you both to join him at the pool table for a game.

Once you got there, you both realized he was trying to rob some poor college kids who had too much ego, a little too much to drink, and made the mistake of challenging him. 

You stood in front of Joel with a cue in hand, smiling as you watched Tommy line up the first shot. You leaned against him and nodded at the table, “How good is Tommy?” 

He leaned his chin against your shoulder and put his hand on your waist. "It depends how drunk he is…” he joked. 

You chuckled and watched Tommy hit two solid colored balls into the pockets, then attempt to hit another in, but failed. 

He didn’t care; he had this in the bag with or without you and Joel.

He looked over and grinned at the group of kids, “You’re up…” 

One of the three stepped up and attempted to get one of the striped balls into a pocket. It became apparent he had no idea what he was doing as he knocked the ball against the wall and into one of your balls, making your next shot easy. 

Tommy nudged you with his elbow and smiled, “You’re up, sweet thing.” 

You stepped forward and looked at all your options. Did you want to take the easy play or make it more of a challenge? You walked around the table and leaned forward, calculating the angle of a possible play. 

As you leaned forward, your cleavage became quite visible, and all three college boys grinned and knocked elbows with each other as they gawked. 

Joel stiffened up and clenched the cue in his hand, softly clearing his throat towards them.

Was he becoming jealous, territorial, possessive, protective? Either way, when you saw it from the corner of your eye, you decided to have a little fun – tease him a little. 

You lined up your cue and tossed your hair to one side before your eyes trailed up to the group of boys. They all turned red and nervously swallowed. You winked before you pulled your cue back and then quickly forward, knocking a ball into a pocket, not breaking eye contact. 

You stood straight and then looked at Tommy and Joel, “I get another turn, right?” You acted like you didn’t know how to play or what you were doing. 

Joel saw the glint in your eye, the mischievous grin you were trying to hide. He bit his lip and nodded as Tommy chuckled and answered, not picking up on what you were laying down. 

“Yeah, you get another chance, sweetheart.” Tommy nodded toward the table.  

He leaned back and said lowly to Joel, “Beginner's luck if I’ve ever seen it…” 

Joel smirked as he watched you, softly humming in agreement. 

You nodded and rounded the table to make your next play. 

The part of the table the college boys were standing by was between a wall; it was a tight squeeze to get by. 

You smiled innocently as you approached them, “Excuse me fellas…” then you squeezed past them, sliding your ass against their crotches. 

Joel looked down and shook his head, grinning at your antics. 

All he could think about was how he would make you pay for that later in his truck. 

How sweet you’d taste on his tongue, how beautiful you’d look in his lap. 

You bent over in front of the boys, your already short dress, riding up a little more with how you angled yourself. “Sorry ‘bout the tight squeeze, I’ll make this quick…” You said purposely, breathlessly. 

You lined up your cue and pulled it back and forward quickly, knocking two more balls into two different pockets. 

“Holy shit…” Tommy muttered under his breath. 

The other group didn’t even register your play as they all three were drooling at your ass.

You stayed where you were, and your eyes trailed up to Tommy and Joel, “Shoot, does that mean I have to go again?” 

Tommy grinned and raised his eyebrows, “God damn, you sure you’ve never played before darlin’?” 

You straightened up and crossed your heart with your finger, “I swear! I must be lucky or somethin’…” you shrugged. 

Tommy chuckled and nodded, “You play ‘til you miss a pocket…” he clicked his tongue, “Keep playin’ like that though... win us some cash.” He smirked at the boys. 

You leaned back to aim and decided it was someone else's turn. With that, you missed the pocket and returned to stand in front of Joel.

His hand immediately wrapped firmly around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest before he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You keep teasin’ me like that, darlin’, and I’m gonna have to show you what happens to naughty girls.”

His voice is rough, low enough that only you can hear it, like gravel and heat all wrapped in honey. His fingers flex against your hip like he’s already thinking about how to follow through.

You feel the flush crawl up your neck, and you don’t dare turn to look at him—you know what you’ll find in his eyes, which will only lead you to prematurely want to leave.

Tommy stood a few feet from you, watching one of the other kids line up, completely oblivious. The other two college kids are still too stunned to notice.

Joel’s hand doesn’t move, just rests there, possessive and warm.

“Thought you were bein’ real cute out there,” he murmurs, dragging the words out like he wants them to linger. “Makin’ eyes at those boys, shakin’ that little dress in front of ‘em. Thinkin’ I wouldn’t notice.”

You bite your lip and try to play coy, "I don't know what you mean..."

He chuckles, deep in his chest—a sound that feels like it coils right through you.

“Oh, I think you do. And when I get you in that truck tonight…?” He exhales a quiet, dangerous laugh. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t played so damn innocent.”

Your breath catches, and you immediately feel yourself becoming aroused between your legs.

And then—just like nothing happened—he pulls back a little, gives your waist a reassuring squeeze, before he moves out from behind you as his turn is up.

But the look in his eyes when he glances back at you before taking his shot?

That says everything.

He ends up knocking the last two balls into the separate pockets before finishing the game by knocking the 8 ball into a pocket. 

Tommy pumped his fist and cheered, “Boo-yah baby!” 

Joel chuckled at his brother's excitement, but then, when he found you, your eyes drinking him in, the look of lust in your eyes, his gaze darkened. 

He set the cue onto the pool table before striding over and telling Tommy that the two of you were leaving, before he came over and grabbed your hand. The two of you eagerly weave your way out of the bar.

On the way back to the truck, the walk is quiet, just the two of you walking to the back of the parking lot where he’d parked. 

Joel's hand hovers at your back but never lands. You want him to do something—say something—but he stays maddeningly calm, jaw tight, like he’s holding something in. Something that’s just for later.

He opens the passenger door for you like a gentleman. The second it clicks shut behind you, you feel the air shift.

You barely get your seatbelt pulled over your chest before his hand slides behind your neck and pulls you in, your hand letting the strap go as his mouth crashes onto yours—hot, demanding, hungry. There's no hesitation now. None.

"You think I didn’t notice what you were doin’ in there?” he growls between kisses. “Bendin’ over in that tiny little dress… throwin’ winks at boys who couldn’t even look you in the eye…”

You whimper softly against his mouth, breath catching as his other hand slides up your thigh, slow and rough. The console digs into your side, but you don’t care. All you feel is him—everywhere, all at once.

"You’ve got no idea what you just earned yourself, querida."

He pulls you over the console like it’s nothing. 

The moment you’re in his lap, he leans you back against the steering wheel, the horn blaring briefly before he growls and shifts you to straddle him properly. The whole truck rocks under the movement.

You rock your hips instinctively, and his groan vibrates against your mouth.

Your hands tangle in his shirt, dragging him closer as his lips trail down your throat, teeth grazing your skin.

“You made a show of yourself,” he growls into your neck. “You think I’m just gonna let that slide?”

“No,” you whisper.

His hand slides up your thigh—under your dress now, finding the edge of your panties and tugging them down so roughly and fast it makes your breath catch.

He grins when he sees how soaked they are. “Damn, baby. This all for me?”

You nod, helpless, blushing, seeing how soaked they were. 

He bit his lip and hang them around his clutch before cupping your cheek and leaning back in to kiss your lips. 

You both pause and hover over each others lips when there’s a knock on the fogged window followed by the familiar, annoying, taunting voice of no one other than Will fucking Montgomery.

“Knock knock!” he chuckled. “Como dices: Public indecency?” he said mockingly.

no pressure taglist: @thebeautytoyourbeat, @sarahhxx03, @blahkateisdone, @sunnytuliptime, @pedroscurls, @docharleythegeekqueen @pedritosgirl2000 @fancyyoouu @greendudenumber7, @queenofdisaster12 @axshadows @mystickittytaco @yxtkiwiyxt @alltheirdamn @punkshort @stylesispunk @iheartoldermem @mermaidgirl30 @mountainsandmayhem @sp00kymulderr @brittmb115 @poor-unfortunate-soul9927 @spacelatinos4life @pedge-page @pedropascalfab @readingiskeepingmegoing @sincerelywithheartt @youusunshineyoutemptress @lilasskicker-23 @melsuns00hine @wencontre @pedrofan @suzysface @orcasoul @misstokyo7love @bitchyfestnight @galotti7 @locaparapedrito @harrysrosetatto @bluenightmarepost @mukeovernetflix @pascal-mynightlyobsession @maryfanson @pasc4lfuzz

[bubblyi3]

Eventually, Summer PART 2 | MYG

"some songs you don’t find, they find you.”

pairing: yoongi x female reader

genre: coming of age, grumpy x sunshine trope

word count: 5.8k

content warning: fluff, angst

summary: you’re the town's ray of sunshine. always smiling, always talking, always trying to make people feel at home in your little seaside café. min yoongi? not so much. when a local community project forces you both to co-run a weekly open mic night at the café. yoongi starts to open up. slowly. grudgingly. beneath his cold, quiet exterior is a guy with big dreams, old scars, and a love for music he hasn’t touched in years. and behind your sunshine smile is someone who’s just as scared of being left behind.

author's note: thank you to those who enjoyed the first part<3 hope you like this one just as much as i like writing it:)

playlist:

close to you - gracie abrams

love me not - ravyn lenae

take my hand - matt berry

stardust - zayn

PART 1

You woke up smiling.

Not dramatically and not in a movie scene kind of way. Just a soft, sleepy curve of your lips as the memory of the night before crept in like sunlight under the covers.

Yoongi had kissed you, and not in a fleeting way. It had been deliberate. Like he had made a choice. One slow, intentional brush of his lips over yours, and then again, like he couldn’t help himself. And when you both finally pulled away, your foreheads had rested against each other for a moment too long. Quiet and suspended.

It had felt like the kind of moment people wrote songs about. Or poems in crooked handwriting.

Now, the café was closed for the morning, and you sat cross-legged on the back porch with a mug of coffee and your playlist on low. A breeze tugged at the hem of your shirt, and the sky was that pale, sleepy kind of blue.

You were wondering if he’d come by.

And what you’d say if he did.

He didn’t text you.

Not that night.

Not that morning.

By mid-afternoon, the buzz of excitement had shifted into something more tangled. A knot in your chest that tightened with each hour.

Maybe he regretted it.

Maybe he thought it was a mistake.

Maybe he kissed you and remembered who he was. Which was winter, like he said and thought someone like you didn’t belong there.

You tried to distract yourself by helping Hana restock the shelves and rehang some of the open mic fairy lights that had drooped in the wind. She didn’t bring up the kiss, though her eyes sparkled in that I know what you’re not telling me way.

“He’ll come around,” she said casually as she passed you a hammer.

You didn’t respond.

Because you wanted to believe that too.

It was just past 5pm when you heard the bell over the front door jingle.

You froze.

Then heard the low, familiar voice: “Hey.”

You turned.

Yoongi stood at the counter, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. Black, faded, probably his favorite. His eyes found yours. Tired. Quiet. Honest.

You approached slowly.

“Hi,” you said, heart thudding.

He glanced around, then leaned slightly closer over the counter. “Can we talk?”

You nodded. “Out back?”

He nodded.

The light behind the café was golden, shadows long and soft.

You sat on the step as he stayed standing, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to settle yet.

“I don’t really…” he started, then stopped.

You waited.

He tried again. “I didn’t know how to act today. That’s why I didn’t text.”

You looked up. “You could’ve just said, ‘hey, I kissed you and I’m freaking out.’”

He cracked a smile. “Yeah, well. That’s basically the truth.”

You glanced down, then back up at him. “I don’t regret it.”

His eyes met yours. “Neither do I.”

A beat passed.

Then another.

“I’ve never done this,” he admitted. “The whole… letting people in thing.”

You tilted your head. “You let me in a little. With the poem.”

He looked away, sheepish. “That was a mistake.”

Your chest tightened.

Until he added, “A beautiful one.”

You blinked.

“I’m scared,” he said quietly. “That I’ll mess it up. That I’ll hurt you by accident. That you’ll realize I’m not worth the softness you offer.”

You rose to your feet and walked to him.

“You don’t have to be anything but honest,” you said gently. “I can handle the quiet. I can handle the winter.”

He looked at you like he didn’t deserve you. Like he was afraid to believe this was real.

But you reached for his hand.

And for once, he didn’t pull away.

You laced your fingers together, and the silence between you wasn’t heavy. It was full.

That evening, he stayed late sitting across from you at a corner table, writing in his notebook while you wiped down counters.

Curiosity tugged at you, and you couldn’t hold back the question any longer. “Yoongi,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Why don’t you ever bring your instruments when you come here? I mean, you can play the guitar, the piano… You make music, right? But you’re always just writing in that notebook.”

He looked up at you, a small, knowing smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Instruments are just one way of making music. They’re not always necessary at the beginning.”

You frowned, confused. “But how do you make music just by writing? Don’t you need to play something to hear it, to really feel it?”

Yoongi set his pen down, his gaze thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair. “It’s not always about the instruments. The music starts in the mind, in the words. I write because it’s the foundation. The rhythm, the flow, the words. They form the skeleton of the song. The instruments follow later, once I know how it should feel. If I just grab the guitar or sit at the piano too soon, I might lose what I’m trying to say.”

You watched him closely, trying to understand. “So, you hear the music in your head first? Before you even pick up an instrument?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I hear it. I can hear the melody, the beat. And when the lyrics are in place, I know what needs to follow, what kind of sound fits. It’s like a puzzle that I’m piecing together, but the words come first. They’re the heart of it.”

You leaned against the counter, intrigued by the way he spoke about it. “But you can play those instruments. So why not just play something from the start?”

He shrugged slightly, a subtle shift in his posture as he picked up his pen again. “Because playing without a clear idea is like trying to catch something that’s slipping through your fingers. Once I’ve got the words and the rhythm right, then it all makes sense. I know exactly how it should sound. Whether it’s on guitar, piano, or whatever else. The instruments are there to bring it to life, but they’re not the first step.”

A soft silence fell between you, the weight of his words hanging in the air. It was clear that Yoongi didn’t just make music. He felt it, and his process was as much about emotion and thought as it was about sound.

“So, you write everything down first, then you bring it to life?” you asked, still processing it all.

He nodded, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. “Exactly. The words are the map. The instruments are just the vehicle to take it somewhere.”

You smiled, more understanding now, as you glanced at his notebook, imagining the songs that were yet to be born. “Maybe one day I’ll hear one of those songs, after you’ve put the pieces together.”

Yoongi’s eyes softened, and he gave a slight nod. “Maybe. When it’s ready.”

You didn’t push for more. Something told you that Yoongi’s music would always be a little bit of a mystery, a piece of him reserved for the right moment. But now, you had a glimpse into how his mind worked, and it only made you more eager to hear what he would create next.

The summer festival hit the town like a thunderstorm of color.

Paper lanterns lined the boardwalk, strings of soft yellow lights zigzagging over food stalls, musicians, and barefoot children darting between cotton candy clouds. The sky was dipped in tangerine and honey, and everywhere smelled like roasted corn and burnt sugar.

You were running the café’s tiny pop-up stand with Hana, selling iced teas in mason jars and lemon bars wrapped in wax paper. You wore a sundress with sunflowers on it and your hair up in a messy bun, but it didn’t matter. You were still sweating through everything.

Yoongi was supposed to meet you after a long afternoon at the tiny recording studio he rented behind the old laundromat. A cramped space filled with tangled cords, secondhand equipment, and the scent of burnt coffee.

It was his haven, where he disappeared for hours to layer tracks and chase sounds only he could hear. You weren’t sure he’d show. Not because he was avoiding you. The last few weeks, he’d been surprisingly present. Quiet, as always, but steady in a way that felt intentional.

Still, the thought of him here. In the middle of the summer chaos, surrounded by noise and strangers, felt almost impossible.

You were halfway through pouring a hibiscus tea when Hana elbowed you.

“Don’t look now,” she whispered, “but winter boy just showed up.”

You did the exact opposite of not looking.

Yoongi was walking toward you, black jeans, white tee, his necklace that he always wear, hair pushed back with a bandana that looked like it was borrowed from someone cooler. He had his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the crowd and then finding you.

He smiled.

Tiny. Barely there.

But it was for you.

And that was everything.

He didn’t say much when he reached the stand.

Just a soft, “Hey,” as you handed him a jar of tea and wiped your hands on your apron.

“You came,” you said, like an idiot.

“I said I would.”

You grinned. “I thought you didn’t like crowds.”

“I don’t.”

“But you’re here.”

He shrugged. “You said you wanted someone to walk around with.”

You blinked, surprised.

It had been a throwaway comment days ago said over a croissant and a playlist. But he’d remembered.

You stepped out from behind the stand, brushing your hands off. Hana gave you a wink and shooed you away.

Yoongi offered you his jar of tea. “Want the last sip?”

You took it. Cold and sweet and a little melted.

You didn’t hold hands at first.

You walked shoulder to shoulder, weaving through booths and small-town chaos. He’d ask you what certain things were. Hand-poured candles, tarot card readings, like he was a visitor in someone else’s world.

“This is your thing,” he said. “You like when people show up for each other.”

“Don’t you?”

He thought about it. “I’m learning.”

He bought you a honey stick and didn’t say why. You tucked it behind your ear like a pencil, and he smirked, cheeks barely pink from the heat.

You ended up at the live music stage, sitting in the grass near the back, where the glow of string lights made everyone’s skin look like summer.

The main stage glowed under tangled strings of fairy lights, the air buzzing with laughter and the steady thrum of bass. A local band was setting up. Six guys with easy presence, moving like they belonged there. One of them, tall with long hair tied back, tossed a wink to someone in the crowd. Another tapped the mic gently, then gave a thumbs-up to the sound booth.

You watched them with a tilt of your head. There was something about them. Not quite familiar, but magnetic. Like the kind of act you’d stumble upon and later swear you discovered first.

Yoongi leaned slightly closer. “Never seen them before,” he murmured. “But the setup looks legit.”

You caught the faintest flicker of curiosity in his eyes. Not admiration, exactly. More like he was silently measuring them. Wondering what they’d do.

Then the first chord struck.

It was slow and soulful. A blend of synth, clean guitar, and something warmer underneath. The kind of sound that unfolded gradually, like fog parting over water.

And just like that, the boardwalk shifted. The chatter softened. The air thickened with rhythm and the hum of voices syncing to the beat.

Neither of you spoke. You just listened to the way the lead vocal stretched raw and smooth over the melody. To the harmonies that slid in like secrets, to the pulse in your chest that somehow matched the kick drum.

For a little while, it was just summer. Sun slipping low, music in the air, and him beside you as day fell into night. You leaned against Yoongi’s shoulder, feeling the music more than hearing it.

He didn’t move away.

Then slowly, almost like a question. He reached for your hand. Fingers brushing, searching for yours.

The final chorus rang out like a promise. All six voices soaring above the boardwalk, the crowd swaying like waves pulled by the tide. The moment the last note hit, applause erupted. Cheers, whistles, the echo of summer joy.

One of them stepped forward, breathless and grinning. “We’re BTS,” he said into the mic. “Thanks for spending your night with us.”

“I’m Namjoon,” said the first, smiling shyly. “Seokjin,” said the next, flashing a grin. “Hoseok!” the fourth beamed, full of energy. “Jimin,” said the fifth, breathless. “Taehyung,” came the deep voice, warm and inviting. “Jungkook,” said the youngest, grinning. “See you next time!”

You turned to Yoongi, grinning. Only to find him gone. He was already walking toward the stage.

Your breath caught. “What is he doing?”

Up on stage, the six band members were bowing, waving, collecting their instruments when they spotted him.

Taehyung tilted his head. “Uh… who’s that?”

“Stage crew?” Jin guessed, though he didn’t sound confident.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes. “We don’t have stage crew.”

Jimin stepped slightly forward, microphone still in hand. “Yo, sorry man, this area’s closed—”

But Yoongi didn’t stop. He approached calmly, shoulders relaxed and walked right up to Namjoon. The closest to the mic stand and leaned in to whisper something.

Namjoon blinked. “You’re… Yoongi?”

Jungkook, standing a few steps back with his guitar still strapped on, frowned. “Yoongi… as in SUGA?”

“Bro, I thought he was a myth,” Jimin muttered, half-laughing.

The boys glanced at each other. Confusion mixing with curiosity but Namjoon eventually stepped back and gestured toward the mic.

Jungkook’s head turned, frowning. “No way. That guy doesn’t perform live. Doesn’t even show his face.”

Yoongi, meanwhile, pointed toward the upright piano tucked to the side of the stage. An old wooden one, probably brought in last minute for the set.

Namjoon hesitated, then gave a slow nod and stepped aside.

Yoongi sat down at the piano bench.

He cracked his knuckles lightly, pressed a few keys. A soft, haunting progression rippled into the air. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t loud. But it hushed the boardwalk like a spell.

Then his voice came in. Not singing, not rapping. Just speaking.

He took a breath and began to play in earnest. Minor chords laced with melancholy, and then he started to rap.

It was low, raw, confessional. No hooks. No bravado. Just lines that sounded like they’d been kept in the dark for years, now finally seeing light.

Hoseok whispered to Jimin, “He’s not just good… he’s pouring his soul out.”

Jimin nodded. "This is what it sounds like when you’re all in."

Yoongi kept playing. Building the piano into a storm beneath his voice. Not a perfect performance. But a real one.

When the final chord hit, he didn’t look up right away.

Then slowly, he stood, bowed his head, and walked off the stage, not waiting for applause.

And then it hit. Thunderous, stunned applause erupting like the crowd had just witnessed something sacred. You stood frozen, eyes locked on the space he left behind.

He didn’t look back.

But somehow, it still felt like the entire song had been meant for you.

When Yoongi stepped off the stage, the noise around you was a blur, the applause rising like a wave. He didn’t wait to soak in the praise, just walked with his head slightly down, hands tucked in his pockets as if everything had already been said.

The crowd slowly returned to their chatter, some still buzzing about the performance, others wandering toward the food stalls or leaning against the railing, lost in their own thoughts. But you stayed in place, rooted to the spot, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.

You glanced around. Yoongi wasn’t in sight anymore.

Your heart picked up pace, but the warmth from his performance still lingered, pulling you toward the boardwalk’s edge. The sky had darkened now, the colors fading into twilight, and there was something about the way the stars were beginning to peek out that made everything feel a little more alive.

Minutes later, you spotted Yoongi by the railing, arms crossed, looking out over the water. The buzz of the crowd felt distant now, like the whole world had shrunk down to just you and him.

You walked toward him, hesitating for only a moment before he turned, his eyes soft in the fading light.

“I didn’t expect that,” you said, trying to match the pace of your breathing.

Yoongi gave a small smile, his gaze still distant. “Neither did I.”

The town had become unbearably quiet.

The summer heat pressed down on everything, making the days feel longer, heavier. But it wasn’t just the weather that felt stifling. It was something about Yoongi’s presence that had started to change, like he was slowly slipping away without even realizing it.

At first, it was subtle. He stopped showing up at the café as often. When he did, his conversations were quieter, distracted, like his mind was somewhere far beyond the walls of this small town. His visits, which used to fill your heart with a warmth you could count on, now felt like fleeting moments.

You weren’t sure what it was, but you could feel the shift. More often than not, he stared out the window, lost in thought, his hands fidgeting with something, anything.

And then, the festival had happened.

The first time in a long while that Yoongi had gotten back on stage.

The energy in the air was different that night. The crowd, the lights, the music. It was all electric. You could see it in his eyes as he stepped onto the stage, the way he absorbed the crowd's energy. The crowd cheered louder with every beat, every word, and it felt like the universe had opened up for him in a way you hadn't seen in months.

When he stepped off the stage that night, he was a different person. The spark inside him had been reignited. For a moment, he had looked alive in a way that made everything else seem small in comparison. And you knew, deep down, that this was what he had been craving all along.

He had been fighting the pull of music for too long, pretending that this small town life could hold him. But the truth was, his dreams were too big for this place.

And it was that truth that you could see weighing on him more each day. The more he immersed himself in the music, the more the distance between you two seemed to grow. It wasn’t something he’d said aloud, but it was something you both knew was there.

One evening, after the sound of the town’s quiet settled in. Yoongi showed up again. This time, there was something different about him. He walked into the café with a determined look on his face, and when he sat down at your table, his usual calm demeanor seemed tinged with something else.

“I made this for you,” he said, sliding a small CD case across the table to you. The look in his eyes was guarded, like he wasn’t sure what to say next.

You looked down at the CD, your fingers tracing over the cover. “eventually, summer” it said in his familiar handwriting, along with a tracklist scribbled neatly underneath. You opened it, scanning the list of songs, but before you could ask, Yoongi leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“It’s a playlist. For the nights when... well, when I’m not around,” he said softly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

There it was again, the distance. The way he spoke, the way he looked at the table instead of meeting your eyes, told you more than words ever could. Yoongi wasn’t leaving yet, but you could see the tug of something pulling him away. Something he didn’t know how to explain.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t want to ask him why he was pulling away, but you knew it was because of the music. It was what had always been in the back of his mind. The dream of the bigger city, the stage, the life he couldn’t fully live here.

“I don’t know what I want yet,” he finally said, his voice almost a whisper. “I want to do this. The music, the studio, the crowd, the feeling of being alive. But... I don’t know if you’d fit that life.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you in a way you didn’t expect. “What do you mean?”

Yoongi paused, then sighed deeply. “This town. Daegu, it’s too small for what I’m after. You know how I feel about music. And going on stage the other night. It was like everything clicked again. It’s what I’ve always wanted. But it’s also pulling me away from you. From us.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face. “I can’t just ignore it anymore. But I also can’t bring you into that world. I don’t want to drag you into something that’s bigger than both of us.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him that you could make it work. That you could be part of his dream, his world. But the truth was, deep down, you weren’t sure if that was the life you wanted either. The constant hustle, the uncertainty of it all. It felt like a different universe entirely.

“I don’t want you to give up on your dreams,” you said quietly. “But I don’t want to lose you, either.”

Yoongi’s gaze softened, but there was a sadness in it. He didn’t know how to reconcile the two things. The music and the life you shared.

“Me neither,” he muttered. “But sometimes, I wonder if there’s a place for both of us in all of this. If it’s even possible to be in both worlds.”

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours for the first time in what felt like ages. “I’m trying to figure it out. I don’t want to push you away, but... I also don’t want to be stuck here, forever. I’m not sure what comes next.”

The silence between you lingered, thick with everything neither of you had said yet.

“I guess i'll figure it out,” he murmured after a beat.

You nodded, but the uncertainty in your eyes was clear. And if you were being honest, he felt it too.

You finally whispered, “I guess so,” your voice soft, like you were afraid to speak it any louder. You leaned back slightly, your fingers nervously playing with the edges of your jacket, as if you were trying to distract yourself from the weight of the moment.

The air between you felt thick, like the calm before a storm. You weren’t sure if the storm was inevitable or if it was already here, quietly gathering strength.

"Yoongi, you don't have to figure it out right now," you said, breaking the silence, though you knew you were lying to both of you. You did want him to figure it out, just not at the expense of everything you had shared. “But I think... I think we both need to take a step back and breathe, you know?”

He exhaled, a deep, frustrated sigh that carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say. “I don’t want you to think that I’m running away. It’s just…” He trailed off, unable to finish.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table, your gaze unwavering. “Yoongi,” you started, your voice firm but gentle. “I don’t think you’re running away. I think you’re just realizing what you need. And I can’t stand in the way of that.”

His lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself. Instead, he reached across the table, his hand finding yours. The contact was brief, but it was enough. You could feel the pulse of his heartbeat against your skin, an echo of everything you were both going through.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, but it left behind a strange kind of stillness between you two. You didn’t have answers. You didn’t know what the future held, or whether your paths would ever align the way they once had.

And maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to exist in that space. Between the uncertainty of the future and the pull of what was familiar.

Outside, the stars in the sky above seemed to shimmer brighter, as though they, too, were waiting for the story to continue.

That night, after he left, you sat alone in the quiet café. The CD still resting on the counter. The songs on the tracklist were familiar, yet now they felt like a message, a collection of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t fully voice. They were his way of reaching out, but even that felt distant.

Maybe, one day, you'd listen to it. But for now, you needed time. Time to understand where Yoongi was, and where you both stood.

Yoongi pushed open the café door, the familiar bell chiming above his head. He was hoping to find you there. The quiet hum of the café felt more pronounced now, almost like it was waiting for something.

He lingered by the counter for a few moments, hoping you might appear, but you didn’t. His fingers curled around the edge of the counter, and he exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the moment press in on him. The uncertainty, the tug-of-war between his dreams and what he was willing to give up. It was all still so heavy in his chest.

He stood still for a moment, fingers brushing his hair back as he thought. Maybe you were just taking a break or out for a moment. But Yoongi knew he couldn’t wait around forever. He had to say something. Anything to give this the shot it deserved.

He spotted Hana behind the counter, her usual cheerful smile in place. Yoongi hesitated, then walked toward her, his heart still heavy with everything left unspoken.

“Hana,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of uncertainty. “Can you pass this along to Y/N? It’s important.”

Hana raised an eyebrow at him, clearly sensing the seriousness in his tone. She nodded without question, reaching for the note he handed her. It was simple, folded neatly in his familiar handwriting. As she glanced down at it, Yoongi could almost see her curiosity sparking.

“I’ll pass it on,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. Yoongi nodded in return before turning to leave. As he stepped back outside, the crisp air of the evening made him feel more alive than he had in days. The weight in his chest felt heavier now, but there was also a sense of relief. He had done what he could. The rest was up to you.

As Yoongi made his way back toward his grandmother’s house, his thoughts wandered. Returning to Daegu for the summer and living with his grandmother had always been his grounding force. But now it felt like a part of his life he was slowly outgrowing. He loved her, of course. She was everything to him but the small town, the quiet life, had begun to feel too still.

His heart longed for more, more than this place could offer. He didn’t want to leave it behind, but he wasn’t sure if there was any room for you in his future. In the chaos he knew was waiting for him out there.

At home, he sat in his small room, the space feeling more cramped with each passing day. His grandmother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared dinner. He could hear her, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of you, and what could possibly come next. He hadn’t expected it to get to this point, but the truth was, he couldn’t ignore the feeling that something had shifted in him since he decided to walk on that stage. Music was always going to be his lifeblood, but maybe there was a chance for you and him in this world too.

Yoongi folded his arms over his chest, staring out the window. The sky was beginning to darken, the first stars visible in the sky. It wouldn’t be long before the summer faded, and when it did, so would his chance to make a move.

He wasn’t sure what the future would hold. But he knew one thing for certain. If there was even a small chance that you would give him a shot, he wanted to take it.

The next day, you walked into the café as you get mentally prepared for your shift. The familiar hum of espresso machines and chatter begins to fill the air. Until Hana waved you over from behind the counter, her eyes gleaming with something mischievous.

"Hey, I’ve got something for you," she said, her voice soft but knowing. You raised an eyebrow, not sure what to expect. Hana usually wasn’t the type to keep secrets, but there was an unfamiliar gleam in her eyes now. She reached under the counter and slid a folded piece of paper toward you.

You hesitated for a moment, fingers brushing the edge of the note. “What’s this?”

“It’s from your winter boy.” she said, her smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “He stopped by yesterday. I think you should read it.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, a mix of excitement and nervousness knotting in your chest. Yoongi. The last time you’d seen him, things had been… complicated. But this felt different. You quickly unfolded the note, your eyes scanning over the words that Yoongi had carefully written.

Summer doesn’t last forever, and I’m not sure how long this feeling will stick around either. But here I am, taking a chance. I know things are messy, and I know we’ve got our own complications to deal with. But maybe we could give this a shot? Maybe, in some small way we can figure it out together

~ Yoongi.

Your heart raced as you reread the note, feeling a flutter in your chest with each word. Yoongi wanted to give this a chance? The thought seemed almost impossible. You’d only known him since that first day he stepped into the coffee shop, dragging his suitcase and wearing that grumpy expression.

There had always been an invisible wall between you two. Something unspoken that kept you close, but never truly crossing that line. But now, it felt different. Now, it felt like he was stepping forward, asking you to do the same.

You folded the note back up, not even realising that you had been holding your breath until you exhaled sharply. A sudden sense of urgency washed over you. The warmth of summer, the heat in the air, the feeling of something new, it was slipping away. But there was a part of you that wasn’t ready to let it go yet.

You grabbed your bag from the counter, barely thinking, your heart already racing ahead of you. You didn’t even fully process the way Hana was watching you with that knowing look in her eyes before you turned and rushed out the door.

"Go get your man!" Hana called after you, just loud enough for you to hear, her voice full of playful encouragement.

The cool evening air hit your face like a splash of water, and you jogged down the street, your mind spinning with thoughts of Yoongi and what he’d just written. Here you were, chasing after something you weren’t even sure would be there in the end. But you knew one thing for certain. You didn’t want to look back and wonder, and you didn’t want Yoongi to be another "what if."

The café was behind you now, and you turned onto the quieter street that led to his grandmother’s house, your steps quickening. The note was still tucked in your pocket, but now it felt more like a promise than a burden. His words were bouncing around in your head, and you couldn’t stop smiling, even though your heart was racing like you were about to run a marathon.

You reached his grandmother’s house, a simple, charming building nestled in a narrow street. The faint scent of flowers drifted from the small garden in the front, and the quiet hum of the neighbourhood settled around you. But now, standing here, it suddenly seemed... intimidating.

You knocked. Nothing.

You knocked again, a little louder this time. Still nothing.

You grabbed a small pebble from the ground and tossed it lightly at his window. Thud. It didn’t hit exactly where you’d hoped, but it did the job.

You waited.

Another pebble. Thud. And another. Thud.

Then all a sudden, you hear a shuffle coming from inside. You froze, waiting, heart thudding in your chest. The curtains twitched, and before you knew it, Yoongi appeared at the window.

His sleepy eyes locked with yours, and for a second, he just stared, blinking as though he was still trying to process the sight in front of him. His hair was tousled, his shirt wrinkled from his nap, and his expression was a mix of confusion and surprise.

For a split second, neither of you moved. And then, his eyes widened.

“You—”

The relief that washed over his face was palpable, like a weight lifting off his chest. The lines of tension around his eyes softened as if your presence had erased whatever worry he’d been carrying.

Before you could even respond, Yoongi was already disappearing from the window, his footsteps light but quick, like he couldn’t wait to get to you.

The door swung open fast, and there he was. He stood there, chest rising and falling like he’d just run his own marathon inside the house.

“You came,” he said, voice cracking just slightly.

“I did. And I ran,” you replied, breathless. “Because I’m tired of pretending like we can’t be in each other’s lives.”

Silence fell, but it felt warm and safe. He stepped closer, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I still don’t have all the answers,” he admitted. “Music is a part of me. But so are you. And maybe it doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

You nodded slowly, your voice soft but sure. “Then let’s stop running from what we already know.”

And with that, you fell into him. Into the space he left open, the one only you could fill.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Stargazing, at the edge of the unknown.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎�� ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck. 

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.  

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things. 

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home. 

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.  

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did. 

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away. 

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you. 

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul. 

Holy Shit. 

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer. 

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare. 

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you. 

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it. 

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner. 

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve. 

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement. 

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.” 

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again. 

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen. 

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.” 

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar. 

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid. 

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table. 

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City. 

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted. 

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat. 

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.” 

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.” 

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible. 

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends. 

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction. 

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them. 

“You aren’t serious.” 

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup. 

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.” 

“You’re rich, too, Sam.” 

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.” 

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.” 

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now. 

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked. 

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great. 

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.  

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite. 

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule. 

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do. 

You knew better though. 

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible. 

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so. 

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work. 

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home. 

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him. 

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right. 

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary. 

It was worrisome. 

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him. 

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet. 

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.” 

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?” 

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock. 

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little. 

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore. 

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way. 

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward. 

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.” 

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall. 

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through. 

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back. 

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions. 

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty. 

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet. 

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit. 

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise. 

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that. 

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage. 

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.” 

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him. 

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude. 

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.” 

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long. 

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you. 

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips. 

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent. 

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler. 

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard. 

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool. 

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy. 

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture. 

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you. 

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there. 

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before. 

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there. 

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off. 

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was. 

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell. 

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants. 

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants. 

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip. 

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video. 

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress. 

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer. 

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream. 

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst. 

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.  

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises. 

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker. 

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying. 

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks. 

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter. 

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated. 

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again. 

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing! 

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed. 

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet. 

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.” 

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work. 

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office. 

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong. 

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set. 

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good. 

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet. 

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end. 

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk. 

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island. 

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on. 

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were. 

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top. 

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too. 

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say. 

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now. 

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near. 

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch. 

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display. 

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face. 

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well. 

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours. 

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently. 

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace. 

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air. 

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his. 

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing. 

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.” 

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine. 

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient. 

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.” 

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them. 

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core. 

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world. 

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.” 

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.” 

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.” 

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind. 

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out. 

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything. 

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you. 

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure. 

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs. 

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him. 

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm. 

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating. 

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again. 

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder. 

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach. 

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind. 

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer. 

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest. 

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you. 

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him. 

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure. 

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone. 

“Good morning, Sharon.” 

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head. 

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away. 

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant. 

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as. 

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker. 

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful. 

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning. 

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts. 

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m. 

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything. 

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud. 

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was. 

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly. 

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom. 

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated. 

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off. 

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by. 

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead. 

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin. 

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt. 

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra. 

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them. 

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat. 

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right. 

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.” 

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist. 

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much. 

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you. 

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation. 

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

I couldn't decide which GIF to use, so here are some extras!

If you’ve read this far, I would be so happy to receive a comment or reblog. It helps writers reach more people in the community and also improve themselves. So, if you have the time, please consider giving me some feedback :) until next time ~Meg 💞

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[reilemon]

🌊Beneath the Abyss🌊

♡︎ synopsis: Lured by a haunting melody, you find yourself pulled into the depths of the sea, only to be saved by Rafayel, a mysterious merman.

♡︎ pairing: merman!Rafayel x fem!reader

♡︎ part 2 ♡︎

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: depictions of (almost) drowning, mermaid au , semi-public seggs, oral (f!receiving)

♡︎ word count: 6.2k

♡︎ a/n: the second story for kinktober 2024. the beginning was very fun to write for someone with thalassophobia 🙂

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

Tonight is like any other night - where you sit on a wooden bench by the cliffside and read an old book. The sky is dark as ink, the stars distant and blinking slowly. The moon hangs low and casts a silvery light, illuminating the worn pages of your book. The sea is far below, its waves like whispers, soothing your thoughts as you read. Each wave crashes against the cliff’s base in a rhythmic hum. This place seems cold and unwelcome, but it’s yours. You’ve always come here, seeking solitude that only the night can offer. The dark doesn’t frighten you—it embraces you like an old friend. You feel safe here.

But then, it happens.

A sound, soft at first, like a breath carried on the wind, slips through the night. As it drifts closer, it wraps itself around your mind, around your soul. It’s a melody unlike anything you’ve ever heard—haunting, hypnotic, and achingly beautiful. It calls to something deep inside of you, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re standing, the book forgotten, your feet moving on their own.

The song grows stronger, tugging at you, pulling you toward the cliff's edge. You don’t resist. You can’t. The sea below crashing, dark and deep, but it no longer feels distant or dangerous. It feels inviting. The melody grows stronger, filling the air with its melancholic beauty. It’s not the sweetness of the song that unnerves you, but the way it seeps into your bones, like the sea pulling at the shore. You take another step, the rocks beneath your feet slick and uneven, but none of it matters now. Only the song matters.

And then—you fall.

The world tilts, and the sky spins above you as you plummet toward the water. Panic grips your chest, your heart racing as you crash into the icy depths. The cold is shocking, like needles through your lungs, and the once inviting sea now feels like it has you in its grasp, pulling you under. You thrash, desperate, your limbs sluggish as the water envelops your whole being. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound escapes—only bubbles rising to the surface.

You can’t believe this is happening. You’re going to drown.

Terror floods your veins as you sink deeper, your lungs burning, the black water pressing in from all sides. The song, the beautiful, irresistible song, has led you to this cold, watery grave.

You’re sinking into the deep. How could you let this happen to you?

But then, through the suffocating darkness, you see him.

A figure, a shadow, moving swiftly through the water. His form isn’t human, but sleek and graceful. His movements are too fluid, too fast. You blink, your vision fading as the last of your air escapes in a stream of bubbles.

For a brief moment, you think he’ll leave you to this terrible fate. But then, his hands, cool and firm, wrap around your waist, pulling you upward with a strength that feels effortless. His touch is strangely gentle as he propels you toward the surface, through the crushing weight of the sea.

You break through the surface with a gasp, sucking in air as your body shakes, your limbs still heavy and numb from the cold. His grip remains on you, guiding you through the water as he swims toward the shore. He brings you to a sheltered cove hidden from the world. Here, the water is calm, the sea’s roar softened to a murmur. He releases you gently onto the shore, your body trembling, your mind reeling from what just happened.

You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally lift your head, you see him.

You can’t believe it. You sit in the sand, your breath ragged, lungs burning from the saltwater you swallowed, but your eyes—your eyes are locked on him. A figure not human, not entirely, but something out of stories you were told as a child. Stories you never believed. Myths, you always thought.

A merman.

The word seems impossible, heavy and foreign in your mind, yet he is there before you, dripping with seawater, his form half in the waves, half on the shore. His dusky purple hair clings to his forehead, eyes the color of shifting sunsets—blue fading into pink, hypnotic and unreal. His pale blue tail glistens under the moonlight, every shimmering scale catching the silver glow, moving with a grace that seems almost too smooth.

Are you hallucinating? You struggle to grasp at the fact what you're seeing is true. Mermaids were the stuff of stories, tales sailors told after too much drink, legends spun to explain away the strange sea. But now, here he is. A merman. He saved you.

You feel the weight of that thought settle in your chest—he saved you. Pulled you from the dark, icy depths. His hands had been firm around your waist, his strength undeniable as he swam you to safety, your body limp and helpless in his grip. The memory of it sends a shiver through you, a mixture of fear and awe. And now he is watching you with those strange, unreadable eyes. Your heart beats faster, not out of fear but something deeper—curiosity, wonder, gratitude. You don’t know how to feel.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice hoarse and trembling.

He doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering as if trying to understand your words. He’s silent, but there’s something in his eyes—something that isn’t cold, something that isn’t indifferent. He’s saved you, and yet, you can see the hesitation and caution. His lips part, as if he wants to say something, but no words come. He seems frustrated, as though language is a barrier neither of you can cross.

Still, there’s a connection between you—fragile but real. You stand up and take a small step toward him, your eyes meeting his. He stares at you, taking in your wet form, the way your clothes cling to your body. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something that looks almost like curiosity. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.

As he slips back into the water, his eyes linger on you one last time, and without a word, he disappears beneath the surface. You realize then, with a strange certainty, that you’ll see him again. He may not have meant for you to be drawn into his world, but now, neither of you can escape it. You’ve crossed a threshold, and there’s no going back.

Tomorrow, you’ll return. You both will.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You arrive at the cove just as the sun begins to set, the sky turning into shades of amber and rose. What happened last night feels surreal. But the ache in your muscles tells you it was very much real. In your hand, you clutch a small gold bracelet. It’s a token, a simple gesture, but it feels like the least you can offer him for saving your life. You hope he’ll accept it.

You sit by the shore, the same place where he left you, eyes scanning the horizon. You don’t know how long you’ll wait, but something tells you he’ll come. And you don’t wait long.

The water stirs, a ripple moving across the surface. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him. He emerges from the depths with that same graceful ease, his scales glistening in the fading sunset. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You simply stare, caught in the same strange tension from the night before. He stays just out of reach, half-submerged in the shallow waters of the cove, watching you.

You shift towards him slowly, trying not to startle him this time. You hold up the bracelet. “For you.” your voice hesitant. You know he doesn’t understand the words, but maybe he’ll understand the gesture.

His gaze flickers to the bracelet, and slowly, cautiously, he moves closer. He raises one hand from the sea, fingers delicate, reaching toward the gift. His gaze never leaves yours as his fingers brush against the gold. You clasp it around his wrist gently, and a breath you’ve been holding leaves your lips. He stares at it for a moment, watching the way it catches the light. Then, he looks at you, his expression unreadable, but his guard... lowered. He doesn’t speak, but there’s a softness in his gaze now.

You smile, gesturing to yourself. “I’m...” You say your name slow and clear, hoping he’ll understand. You point again, repeating, “My name is...”

He watches you, brow furrowing in concentration. He lifts a hand, mimicking your gesture, pointing to himself. “Rafayel,” he says, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his silky voice.

A smile tugs at your lips. You repeat his name, savoring the sound of it. It’s a small step, but it feels like a bridge between your worlds.

For the next few minutes, you try to teach him more. Simple words. “Water.” You gesture to the sea. “Sky.” You point to the sky. Each time, he watches you closely, though his lips struggle to form the words. He repeats after you, hesitant at first, but with growing confidence. It’s slow, but it’s something. You laugh softly when he stumbles over a word, and his lips twitch, just the slightest hint of amusement in return.

The moon starts to rise. You sit by the shore while Rafayel rests in the shallow water, his body half-submerged. The quiet between you feels comfortable now, no longer heavy with uncertainty. He watches you with a mix of curiosity and caution, his guard still there, but not as rigid.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You bring a book the next night, an old fairytale, the kind with simple words and enchanting stories. He’s there again and you sit together by the water, turning the pages. You point at the pictures, saying the words slowly, and he listens, repeating the ones he can manage. Each night, you bring another, reading to him in the soft glow of the moon. His words are broken, but he tries. He watches your lips when you speak, mimicking the movements, and each night, you get a little closer to understanding each other.

And as the days pass, something else shifts between you. His wariness fades, replaced by a playful curiosity. He teases you with small splashes of water, grinning at your surprised reactions. His hands linger when he helps you stand up, his touch growing bolder, more confident. You catch him staring sometimes, his eyes roaming your face, your body, with an intensity that sends warmth rushing through you.

You talk more now, not just with words but with gestures, shared looks, and smiles. He asks questions, his voice thick with the unfamiliar human language, but eager to learn. You tell him about your world, your life, and he listens, even if he doesn’t understand it all. And when he speaks of his world, you try to piece together the meaning from the few words he knows, from the way his hands move as if painting a picture.

And each night, as you leave the cove, there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to go. There’s a part of him, too, that lingers in the water, watching you with a look that makes you think he feels the same.

The gold bracelet still gleams on his wrist, a reminder of the night he saved your life.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

Rafayel has always been wary of humans, but with you, he finds himself wanting to know more. There’s a softness in your eyes that eases him, a vulnerability that makes him open up, bit by bit. Each time you smile at him, something stirs in his chest, he can’t quite explain it. It’s different from anything he’s ever known. You’re not like the humans he’s been taught to avoid; there’s no malice, no threat in your presence.

Your beauty, though undeniable, isn’t what captivates him the most. It’s the way you see him. He is not a creature from the deep, something to be feared, but something - someone you want to know. And it confuses him—this growing need to be closer to you, to understand you, to touch you. He’s never felt this way before, and it scares him. But he can’t stay away. The more time he spends with you, the more he begins to desire your presence, the way you make him feel more alive.

The comfort of the cove has become a sanctuary for Rafayel and you. But tonight, something lingers in the air. You’ve been thinking about that first night—about the song that led you to the edge of the cliff. You turn to him, your voice soft but curious “That night, the song... were you the one singing it?”

Rafayel’s gaze hardens at the question, his eyes showing a mix of emotions. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve overstepped. But then, his head dips, as if looking for the right words. He takes a breath, his voice low. “Song... not for you.” His eyes meet yours, and there’s something darker there now, something painful. “For sailors, bad men. Hurt... my kind.”

You feel the weight of his words. You’ve heard stories of sailors plundering the depths, but seeing the pain in Rafayel’s eyes—it feels real now. His hand reaches for yours. He explains, his voice thick with emotions he struggles to contain. “Revenge, for my kind. They come, take… kill. They don’t care. ”His fingers tighten slightly around yours, as if bracing himself for what he’s about to say next. “I... stop them. I sing, they follow.”

You realize then what his song was meant to do. It was a lure for the sailors, to drag them beneath the waves. The weight of that presses down on you, and yet, there’s no fear. Only sadness for the pain he’s carried. You swallow, trying to find the right words. “But... I wasn’t meant to hear it.”

He shakes his head, his grip on your hand softening, his voice quieter now. “No. You... not like them. You hear, but...” His brow furrows. “I... not want to hurt you.” The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. This creature, so powerful and full of vengeance, pulled you from the depths when he could have just let you drown.

You look at him. “I’m sorry.” you say softly, though you know it’s not enough. “I’m sorry for what they did to you. I didn’t know.”

His eyes soften, the darkness in them fading as he looks at you. “You... don’t need to know,” he murmurs. “You are... different.”

You squeeze his hand gently, offering what comfort you can. “I’m glad you didn’t let me drown.” you say, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Rafayel smiles back and you see a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. “Me too.” he says quietly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

The nights spent by the cove have become a routine. You sit with a fairytale book in your lap, your fingers tracing over the worn pages as you read aloud. Rafayel lies on his stomach, his body still, but his gaze is not. He watches you, ombre eyes tracing every movement of your lips, every flutter of lashes as you speak. You glance up from the book, catching the intensity of his stare. A playful smile tugs at your lips, and you pause mid-sentence. "What are you looking at?" you tease.

Rafayel’s brows furrow in concentration. He still struggles to find the words, but he gestures to his own face, then to yours. "You... beautiful."

The words catch you off guard, a blush peppering your cheeks. You are taken aback by his honesty. He says it so simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your heart skips a beat, but you brush it off with a soft laugh. “Thank you.”

He tilts his head with confusion in his eyes, as though he doesn’t understand why you would laugh. You shake your head, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm, feeling his cool skin. His body reacts instantly to your touch, a shiver running through him, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand comes to rest over yours.

Each evening, the distance between slowly fades. Touches become more frequent, more intentional. A hand resting on his arm, fingers tracing his jaw, the way his tail brushes lightly against your leg as he moves closer.

One night, Rafayel’s curiosity takes a new turn. You’re sitting on the sand, the fabric of your flowy dress bunched up around your legs. His gaze lingers on the material that shifts with the breeze. He tilts his head, lips in a small pout. Then he reaches out, pointing at your legs, gesturing to the flowing fabric. “Why... clothes?” he asks.

You laugh softly. “Humans wear different clothing depending on the weather, or their style. And we wear shoes to protect our feet.”

At the mention of shoes, his eyes drop to your bare feet. He looks back at you, his lips parting as if to ask something, but hesitates.

"Do you want to touch them?" you ask.

His face lights up with a mix of curiosity and caution. He nods. You stretch your leg out toward him, offering your foot, and he reaches for it, his fingers brushing lightly over the arch. You smile, watching his face as he studies your foot with such focus that makes you chuckle. But then, his fingers accidentally graze a ticklish spot making you pull away from his grasp and laugh as a reflex.

He jerks his hand back, eyes wide with concern, but you shake your head quickly, still laughing. “It’s okay! You just tickled me.”

His expression softens into a playful one, and he does it again, deliberately this time. He watches as your body reacts, your foot flinching away from his mischievous hands, your laughter bubbling up again. You can see the spark in his eyes, the way his lips curl into that rare smile you’re starting to see more often.

Now your eyes trace pale blue tail that glimmers in the water. You can’t stop yourself from staring. You’ve wanted to touch it from the very first moment you saw him.

You take a deep breath. “Can I... touch your tail? It’s okay if you don’t wa - .”

He chuckles at your stammering and nods, easing your anxiety.  He takes your hand in his, and lowers it onto his tail, around where knees would be. Your lips part in awe, feeling the cool, sleek texture of his scales beneath your fingertips. It’s smooth, almost silky.

You look up at him. “Your tail... it’s incredible.”

Rafayel’s lips twitch into a small smile, pleased by your fascination. He shifts his body, fully focusing on your legs again. His eyes travel up, towards the space between your thighs. He glances at your face, then back, as though trying to make sense of something. Slowly, he leans in, his head tilting as he peers under the hem of your dress, his curiosity as innocent as it is bold.

A flush of heat rises to your cheeks, scooting back and pressing your thighs together. "Uh, Rafayel..." you murmur, your voice catching.

He looks up at you, confused. You can tell he doesn’t fully understand what he’s done to make you flustered, but he’s aware of the shift in your energy. “What... there?” he asks, his voice uncertain, his hand motioning toward your dress.

You bite your lip, the blush deepening. There’s no hidden intent in his question—just pure curiosity, the same way he’d ask about the books or the language you’re teaching him. You take a shaky breath. “It’s... private,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Humans have parts that are personal, and we usually keep them covered, especially around others.”

He nods slowly. His eyes go to your dress for just a moment before they return to yours. “Private,” he repeats, the word unfamiliar on his tongue, but he seems to grasp the meaning of it. You can see the restraint in him now, the way he pulls back slightly, giving you space.

In the quiet that follows, you smile at him, reaching out to touch his face lightly, your fingers brushing over his soft skin. “You’re learning quickly,” you say softly, and he leans into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment.  But now you have a question. Your heart races as you summon the courage to speak. "Rafayel..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Where... where are your private parts?"

The words hang awkwardly between you, and you immediately regret it. Your body tenses as you brace for his reaction. Instead of laughing or brushing off the question, Rafayel’s expression softens with understanding. He lies on his back, glancing down at his sleek, muscled form. There’s a pause as he considers how to respond, his lips curving in a soft smile.

"They're hidden," he says quietly, pointing to the area right below his pelvis. "Beneath, for… when we need them."

You find yourself staring at the spot where he’s pointing. You bite your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze is already on you, soft and unassuming, as if waiting for you to speak.

"So… how does it work?" you ask hesitantly.

Rafayel tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly as he processes your words. "Work?" he repeats. He looks down at his tail, then back up at you. "You… want to know?"

The heat rises to your cheeks, and you glance away, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I—I guess, yeah," you stammer. "I mean, you asked me, and I…" You trail off, embarrassed.

Rafayel’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, and his eyes soften at the sight of your flushed cheeks. Slowly, he speaks again. "I can… show?"

Your breath catches in your throat. The idea of him revealing that intimate part of himself makes your heart race. But before you can respond, Rafayel adds "If… I see yours too?"

Your hands tighten on the fabric of your dress, your mind racing. There's an openness in the way he asks, a genuine desire to understand you better. "You want to see mine?" you ask, your voice trembling just a little. Rafayel nods, his eyes flicking downward for just a second before meeting yours again. “Yes. You… show me. I… show you."

The tension hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, you both just sit there. You consider his words and finally, you nod. "Okay."

Rafayel hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours for permission one more time. With a slow nod from you, he shifts, moving just enough to give you a better view. The area he pointed at begins to part slightly, the scales pulling aside to show what is hidden. Your eyes widen as you catch the first glimpse of what lies underneath. The sight is mesmerizing, a beautiful hybrid of human and something entirely otherworldly. His member, long and thick, tapers slightly toward the tip. The texture is smooth with faint ridges along its surface. Your breath hitches as you notice how his arousal throbs gently, merging seamlessly with his aquatic form.

Rafayel watches you, how fascinated you are by this part of him. His lips quirk into a teasing smile, but a faint blush colors his cheeks. He’s aware of the tension of this moment, but there’s a playful, mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilts his head.

"You… stare long time," he teases, "You… like?"

Your breath catches as you meet Rafayel’s gaze, embarrassed for staring for so long. "Maybe," you admit with a shy smile.

Rafayel’s smile widens, his blush deepening. He glances down at himself, starting to feel bashful under your gaze, before his eyes return to yours. He shifts slightly, his hand moving to caress your cheek. His eyes move downward, toward the thin piece of clothing, then back to your face. You know it’s your turn.

The realization makes your palms clammy. Rafayel’s gaze never leaves yours, patient but full of expectation. And you want to match his vulnerability, to let him see you in the same way you’ve seen him. With a trembling hand, you reach under your dress, tugging down the bottom part of your swimsuit, his eyes following your every movement. Discarding the piece of clothing to the side, you lean back on your hands, spreading your legs.

Rafayel’s eyes widen as he stares at your exposed form, lingering on the soft skin between your thighs, on the slickness already gathering there. He looks mesmerized, his gaze flicking between your face and your body, as if he can’t decide where to focus.

"Can… I touch?" he asks, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

You nod, your heart racing. Slowly, his fingers brush against your inner thigh, cool and soft at first. His fingertips graze your entrance, and you let out a small gasp as a jolt of pleasure courses through you.

He pauses, glancing up at you with concern. “Hurt?”

You shake your head quickly, breathless. "No, no… that feels good," you assure him, your voice a little shaky. "But… if you keep touching me like that, I’ll get more… aroused." The honest answer makes your face flush even more.

Rafayel seems both intrigued and flustered by your response. Rafayel watches you closely, his fingers still resting gently against your slick entrance. He looks down, his breath catching as he feels the wetness coating his fingers. You can see his chest rising and falling as if he's trying to keep control of himself.

He glances back up at you. "Can I… touch more?"

The question takes you by surprise. This isn’t just curiosity or playful exploration anymore—this is crossing into something more intimate. You look at him, your breath catching in your throat. There’s a need that’s been growing inside him for so long—one he’s kept carefully in check, unsure if he could ask, unsure if this moment would ever come.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you at the realization, and with a soft, shaky breath, you nod, guiding his hand a little higher. "Touch me… here," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you place his fingers on the sensitive nub just above your entrance. "This is… very sensitive. If you touch it the right way, it’ll feel incredible."

Rafayel’s breath hitches as his fingers move under your guidance. His touch is light at first, but as he watches your reaction—how your body tenses with pleasure—he grows bolder, circling the sensitive spot with slow, deliberate movements.

The sensations are overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you with every stroke of his fingers. Your hips instinctively move, seeking more of his touch, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips. Rafayel’s eyes are locked on you now, his breath coming faster, his arousal clear in the way his body tenses.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress as you struggle to hold back the rising tide of pleasure. "Just like that…"

Your body is trembling now, shaky gasps leaving your lips, each stroke pulling you closer to the edge. He watches you intently, eyes wide with fascination. He’s studying every reaction, every sound you make. Your fingers dig into the sand, gripping tightly as the pressure builds inside you, a tight coil ready to snap. His touch is gentle but insistent, the perfect rhythm against your most sensitive spot, and it doesn’t take long before you feel that wave approaching. Your hips buck against his hand, and the pleasure becomes too much, too overwhelming to resist.

“Rafayel -” you moan, your voice shaky. Everything seems to blur as the intense pleasure crashes over you in waves, your thighs trembling, your back arching helplessly as you come. Rafayel watches in awe, mesmerized by the way your body reacts to his touch, his hand still gently moving over your clit, prolonging your release as you ride out every last wave of pleasure. Your chest heaves, breathless, the sensation so intense you can barely focus, your body still twitching from the aftershocks. But as the pleasure subsides, his curiosity hasn’t. His fingers, still slick from your release, hover near your entrance, and he glances up at you. His fingers brush against your wetness, lingering just on the edge.

“What… if I…” he trails off.

You’re still catching your breath, your body sensitive, but you manage a nod, giving him permission. He moves slowly, his fingers slipping inside you, cautiously exploring. His finger slides into you easily, your entrance wet from your orgasm, and you let out a soft gasp as he pushes deeper. When he adds a second finger, stretching you just a little more, a shiver runs down your spine, the fullness making you moan softly. His eyes flick up to yours again, watching your face for any sign of discomfort, but all he finds is more of that same pleasure, your hips gently rocking against his hand, guiding him.

And then, as he curls his fingers inside you, searching, he finds it—the spongy spot deep within that makes your body jolt with pleasure. You react immediately, a gasp escaping your lips as he presses against it.

“There,” you gasp, your voice breathless and needy. “Right there…”

Rafayel’s eyes light up, his fingers moving with more confidence now, curling and stroking that sensitive spot inside you. The pleasure is overwhelming, a different kind of ecstasy that makes you arch into his touch, your walls tightening around his fingers. Each movement makes your moans grow louder, more desperate.

Without warning, he leans down, his mouth hovering just above your clit. Then he presses his lips to the sensitive nub. The shock of his warm mouth against you makes you cry out, your hips jerking against him as the pleasure intensifies tenfold. His tongue flicks out, tasting you, and when he hears your moan, he repeats the motion. Your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, guiding him as his tongue moves over your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with the motion of his fingers inside you. The combination is almost too much, the sensations making you dizzy, your body on the verge of losing control.

Rafayel seems affected by your reactions, his own breathing heavy now, his face flushed. He’s learning fast, his fingers curling just right inside you, hitting that sensitive spot over and over, while his mouth works your clit with growing skill. Your hips move desperately against him, seeking more of the pleasure he’s giving you, unable to stop yourself.

And then, you feel it—the tight coil inside you, about to snap again, but this time it’s different. The pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable. You can feel your muscles clenching around his fingers, wet sounds filling the air as your body responds to him.

“I can’t… I’m going to…” you gasp, but before you can finish, your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than anything you’ve ever felt before, your body convulsing, your hips bucking wildly against his hand and mouth. A sudden gush of wetness escapes you, your release splashing against his fingers, your muscles spasm with the force of it.

Rafayel freezes for a moment, startled by the intensity of your release, but he doesn’t pull away. His fingers stay inside you, his mouth still working your clit as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life.

As your release finally subsides, you collapse back against the sand, panting and spent, your body still tingling. Rafayel pulls back, his fingers slipping from your entrance, wet with your release. He looks up at you, awe and a hint of pride in his eyes, as if he can hardly believe what he’s just made you feel.

When you catch the sight of Rafayel’s face, glistening with the remnants of your release, a shy smile tugs at your lips. You reach out, brushing your thumb gently across his cheek, wiping away the wetness. Both of you share a soft, breathy chuckle. Rafayel, his gaze lingering on your lips, leans down slowly. His breath fans across your skin, and then, with a soft press, his lips meet yours. It’s gentle at first, but the moment your lips connect, something shifts. The kiss deepens, grows more urgent, as though all the pent-up desire comes to the surface.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him. His lips move against yours, his tongue teasing yours, and you feel the weight of his body pressing against you. His tail shifts in the sand, positioning himself between your legs, his hardened member brushing against your thigh. The contact makes you moan into the kiss, and you both know where this is headed. It feels natural, like this is where you were always meant to end up, like the bond between you has been building toward this moment. Rafayel’s gaze locks onto yours, checking for any sign of hesitation. But all you offer him is a small nod, your body aching to feel him inside you.

He begins to push forward, slow and careful, the head of his throbbing member pressing against your wetness. You can feel the stretch as he starts to ease into you, your body accommodating his size. The sensation is intense, your walls fluttering around him as he gradually sinks deeper. His eyes never leave yours, his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth slightly parted.

“You… okay?” he asks softly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling. “Don’t stop.”

Encouraged, Rafayel moves deeper. Rolling his hips, each thrust pushes him further, until he’s fully within you, his body pressed flush against yours. He stills for a moment, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him. His hand moves down to where your bodies are joined, his thumb finding your clit, pressing against it in slow circles. You moan, your hips instinctively bucking against his, the stimulation pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.

Every thrust brings him deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than the last. Your walls clench tightly around him, drawing him deeper, and you cry out his name. Your entire body shudders with the force of your release. The feeling of you pulsing around him pushes Rafayel over the edge. His thrusts become erratic, his breath ragged. With a deep groan, he buries himself inside you, his body shaking as his own orgasm overtakes him.

As the last hints of pleasure fade from your bodies, the night air settles around you, cool and soothing against your flushed skin. Rafayel’s body remains pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own as he holds you close. Your legs are still tangled with his tail, the beautiful texture of his scales brushing against your thighs, grounding you in this moment.

Rafayel presses a tender kiss to your temple. His lips trail down to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, and you turn your head, meeting him in a soft, languid kiss. Neither of you speaks for a long moment, simply resting in the aftermath. Rafayel shifts slightly, easing out of you carefully, and you can’t help but shiver at the loss of connection. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, but all you offer him is a lazy smile.

A faint blush lingers on his cheeks, and his lips curve into a small, sheepish smile. "You not hurt?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No," you reply, your voice gentle. "Not at all. That was… wonderful."

He exhales in relief and chuckles softly. "Good."

You move to rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, as if he can’t bear to let go just yet.

Then, after a few moments, you both start to chuckle, the sound light and easy. "I… didn’t think this would happen," you admit with a smile. "Not like this. Not tonight."

Rafayel hums in agreement. "You… so different. So... human," he adds with a playful smirk, but his tone softens. "And yet…"

You smile, lifting your head slightly to meet his gaze, finishing for him. "And yet, it feels right." Rafayel’s lips curve into a slow, gentle smile, and he leans down, his breath warm against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Yes," he whispers. "It… feels right."

For a long time, you simply lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies warm and comfortable against the cool night air. Rafayel’s fingers continue to caress your skin, his touch tender and slow.

"Stay close," he whispers after a while, his voice barely audible, as if he’s speaking to himself, as if the thought of distance—any distance—is unbearable. His arms tighten around you, his embrace full of warmth and need.

You smile against his chest, nuzzling closer. "I’m not going anywhere," you murmur back. And you mean it. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

[andvys]

You said you were gonna grow up (then you were gonna come find me) ⭐︎ S.H.

⭐︎ Warnings: slight angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, childhood best friends to lovers, allusions to cheating (but not really), mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited love, hurt/comfort

⭐︎ Summary: You and Steve used to be inseparable, best friends since childhood, you shared something special, something rare. You promised each other forever but... promises are never to keep... right?

⭐︎ Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 10k

⭐︎ Author's note: To my Steve girlies who have read (and still mourn) I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss -- in the middle of writing this little oneshot, I noticed that Steve and reader reminded me of someone, and then I realized that it's basically Steve and Cheer in a different universe (if Steve hadn't fucked up as badly as he did). This is... what they should have been.

Also shoutout to @hellfire--cult for inspiring me to finish this oneshot (finally) and @ghost-proofbaby thank you for picking a title for me, and for your sweet words about this little piece, you're both the bestest

⭐︎ my library

divider by @saradika (I screamed when I saw the folklore dividers)

♡

The smell of weed and smoke lingers in the air, music blares through the house and bounces off the walls, laughter and giggles come from every corner, conversations he couldn’t care less about yet listens in on because what else is there to do at a party? 

Steve once found himself at home in such gatherings, now he feels nothing but bored as he watches the people instead of interacting with them like he once used to do. 

He used to be on the dancefloor, at the keg stand, pressing some girl against the wall and kissing her neck before taking her upstairs into one of the empty bedrooms – but those days are long over and they are not to be missed, not in the slightest. 

Now he is sitting out in the backyard of some stranger’s house, sipping on a lukewarm soda and waiting for Robin to get sick of this party so he can take her home before going to his empty house and crashing out on his new bed. Seeing as she’s jumping around on the dancefloor with Vickie, it doesn’t seem like she'll want to leave anytime soon. 

 A sigh falls from his lips and he slumps his shoulders in boredom. 

He could be socializing, talking to girls, flirting with them, with the ones who keep waving at him and sending him suggestive, overly sweet looks – he isn’t interested. The past few months were wasted ones, disastrous dates, one or two meaningless hookups, girls who weren’t interested in him but only in sex – that was his reality and he didn’t want that anymore, he doesn’t want that anymore, he wants something real, he wants to feel something, he wants someone to want him for more than just that one thing, he wants a connection, a bond, he wants… you. 

Steve’s lips part, his eyes lighten up, glowing just like the stars in the night sky, he sits up straighter and cranes his neck to see you better, his heart skipping in a way it hasn’t in a long time, he forgot what it feels like… but of course you are the one to remind him of the way his heart can skip and flutter when he feels something, you have always been the one, the only one. 

Not even Nancy could make him feel half of the things you could make him feel. 

But he blew his chances with you – the only chances that ever mattered. 

He hears your laughter, your beautiful giggles that he missed every day since you left, even from all the way here, he can hear the voice that accompanied him throughout most of his life… until it didn’t. 

You were his best friend, the only friend that mattered until he found Robin. You were with him from the moment your mothers introduced you both to each other, joined at the hip, you went through it all together, different hobbies, different friend groups, first crushes and rough school days, arguments with so called friends, first parties, first drunken nights, you went through so much and you did it all together, you experienced everything together. 

Steve would sneak into your room, late at night, he would use the vines on the wall as a ladder, no matter how many times you scolded him, he still climbed up because he wanted to see you so desperately, even when he spent the whole day with you, it just wasn’t enough, you’d spent the nights whispering and talking about the newest gossips, sometimes he would paint your nails or braid your hair, sometimes you would just lie next to each other and listen to some new album and sometimes you would cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms, it was a regular thing, it was something constant. 

But then something changed, you both got curious, you both started acting upon feelings that have been there for a long time already, feelings that were no longer innocent and childish turned into something more. 

You were each other’s first kiss, it was nothing more than a peck at first… and then it was a second and a third before you kissed for real. And then, it was just another regular thing, you started cuddling and kissing every night, smiling and giggling through it all, holding hands and pulling each other closer and closer. 

Those innocent kisses turned into makeout sessions and those turned into your first time. 

It was his first time and yours, you shared it with each other, like you shared everything else together. 

It was filled with nervous giggles, blushing cheeks and shaky touches, you were both scared to do something wrong but you assured one another and you both did your best, he took care of you and you of him. It was slow, it was soft, it was perfect. A night he will never forget. 

Nothing ever came close to this moment, nothing came ever close to how you made him feel. 

Steve should have asked you out after that night, he should’ve, but he didn’t, he chickened out, he got scared and he left the next morning without saying goodbye. That was his biggest mistake. 

To this day, he doesn’t know how you felt about it all, you never spoke of this night again, you never mentioned it again, you both acted like nothing happened, you continued your friendship like you didn’t ruin it. 

He kept coming over, everything stayed the same… but it didn’t. 

You started slipping away from him and he was too busy to notice, he became captain of the basketball team, girls started noticing him, he started going on dates even though you were all he could think about, it felt wrong to hold their hands, to kiss them, to touch them, he felt as though he was betraying you but his new friend Tommy encouraged him, spoke lies into his ear about how you went on dates on the nights you canceled on him. 

He was hurt, he was angry, and it only was a matter of time before he invited a girl who wasn’t you into his sheets. 

He hated how he felt afterwards, but he didn’t stop, he kept going and before he could even blink, he was the most popular boy in school, he was King Steve, the guy who could have anyone but still only had eyes for one. 

Though your shared nights became less frequent, you still spent time with him, even when you weren’t fond of Tommy and Carol, his big parties or the way he treated girls, you were still there and it bothered him that he couldn’t have you. 

It was clear that you didn’t feel the same, despite the many signs that he had missed at that time. He was your best friend, just your best friend, just Steve. He could’ve made a move, he could've asked you out on a date, he could’ve finally confronted you about your night together and how you felt about it, how you felt about him, but he was scared and it was ironic really, because he was good with girls, very charming and cocky, smug and arrogant but not with you, no, not with you. You made him nervous, you made his chest feel weird, his stomach too, you made his heart race and flutter, you made his skin feel hot and his mind all crazy. 

You got him bad. 

You made him fall in love. 

But he was a coward when it came to his feelings for you, he really was, he didn’t even want to admit them to himself, so he watched you slip through his fingers instead of taking action and making you his. His feelings got stronger despite the distance that slowly grew between you.

You were still there, physically, but your mind was somewhere else and you seemed so far away.

He left notes in your locker, just like he did when he was a kid. 

And you did the same to him. 

You waved at each other from afar and shared smiles, you still drove around town and sang along to your favorite songs after an occasional trip to that one diner out of town, you sometimes slept over and left your sweet scent on his pillows, driving him crazy with it. You were still each other’s best friends. 

But then Nancy stepped into his life and that was it, at that point, it was already crumbling, your friendship was hanging by a thread and it earned its final blow when you moved away for college. 

Occasional calls and letters were all that existed between you at that point, it drove him crazy, it made him sad. He suffered heartbreak when you were gone and you weren’t there to mend it, you weren’t there to hold him, to wipe his tears and tell him that he would be alright – how could you? You were the reason for that heartbreak and Nancy was the one who gave him the final push to open his eyes to the feelings he kept pushing away and feeling so scared of. 

When he realized what a mistake he had made, it was far too late to fix it and he never stopped regretting the actions he took and didn’t take. 

But now you are here, you are back. 

He hasn’t heard your voice in so long, he hasn’t seen your beauty in forever, he missed your presence so dearly. 

One year, one whole year without you. 

Are you here to stay for the summer or are you back for good? He hopes it’s the latter, this town felt anything but home without you here. 

Steve stares at you, he stares and stares without shame. His lips are curled into a soft smile, his cheeks already blushing as he takes you in. 

You are so gorgeous. 

A confident smile is lingering on your lips, your makeup is a little bolder than it used to be, back then, but it suits you, your skirt is short, your top is tight, your cleavage is showing and your skin is glowing, your hair is much longer than he remembers it to be, a few highlights added to your pretty hair color and styled into waves. 

You have always been a sight for sore eyes, he was aware of your beauty from a young age, he called you his princess, his sweet, cute and beautiful princess. But you are more than just beautiful now, you are stunning, bewitching, you are heavenly. 

His heart jumps at the sound of your giggle, his skin heating up so rapidly that it catches him off guard. 

Steve watches you, he watches for what feels like forever, you’re here with friends, girls you used to hang out with back in high school. 

The smile never leaves his lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his heart fluttering more and more each passing second, eyes continuing to light up at every sound of your giggle. 

When you step away from your friends and walk back into the house, he wastes no time to follow, grabbing the chance that he once missed, he goes after you and leaves his drink abandoned on the floor. 

He brushes past a group of guys playing beer pong, dodging the dancing people on the dancefloor, keeping his eyes on your body as he follows. Your skirt is swaying, your waves are bouncing, your hips are shaking slightly, your sweet scent lingers in the air and he can’t help but inhale it deeply, it’s still the same scent that he missed on his pillows and the hoodies you used to steal.

With your back turned to him, you stop in front of the snack table and pour yourself a cup of the overly alcoholised punch. 

Steve doesn’t approach you right away, standing by the doorway, he decides to watch you for a second longer, feeling giddy and nervous now that he is so close to you again. 

You nearly choke on the punch, the bitter taste of alcohol overpowering the fruity taste, you scrunch your brows together and swallow it down in disgust, unimpressed by this drink after all the different kind of cocktails you have tried in the past months on your night outs to bars with your girlfriends from college. 

A sigh falls from your lips and you take a second, much needed sip. 

It feels weird to be back home in Hawkins, the town is much quieter than the big city you called home for the past year and you feel that weird tingly shudder on the back of your neck, knowing that he is so close somewhere. 

Steve. 

You miss him so much, you miss him everyday, but it’s been so long, you can’t even remember the last time you have talked to him. You know that he still works at Family Video and his friend Robin moved into his house with him after his parents moved away from Hawkins, for good. 

But that’s all, you don’t know if he is single or if he is dating – you fear your heart wouldn’t take the information very well, which is ironic really, you haven’t seen him in so long, all you have are your memories, some of which you kept in a shoebox under your bed, pictures, notes, letters and little presents from him. Steve was nothing but a ghost these past months and yet it didn’t stop your heart from falling deeper in love… even with just the boy in your memory, the one that will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you look down at the red beverage in your cup, you close your eyes and take another sip and swallow it but this time in delight, you welcome the burning in your throat. 

“You still make that cute face when you don’t like something.” 

The voice you have just been thinking about sounds deeper than it did when you left. 

Those shudders at the back of your neck, run down your spine and transform into heat across your whole body, your heart skips a few beats.

You turn to face him, sloshing the drink around in your cup, you nearly spill it on the white tiles beneath you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your chest tightens when you look at him for the first time again, those hazel eyes that you have missed so much staring back at you with excitement yet nervousness and you have no doubt that your own eyes match the look in his. 

Your lips curl into a shy smile, your cheeks heat up so quickly and you nearly crush the plastic cup in your hand when you let your eyes roam his body. He somehow got even taller, his arms look stronger and his shoulders wider, his hair got longer too, a spitcurl hanging over his forehead, his cheeks are rosy, a stubble covering his jaw and chin, your eyes move down his arm, stopping at the black hair tie around his wrist that momentarily steals your breath away and fills your chest with hope. You lick your lips and swallow as you stare at the veins in his hands. 

There he stands with his stupid, still perfectly styled hair and his Levi’s that are always way too tight around his crotch, looking down at you and reminding you of how much taller he is and always was. 

“Hey,” he breathes, nervously, happily. 

“Steve,” you say with a smile on your lips, “hi.”

Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know what to say, your heart is beating so hard, he can feel it in his throat, he feels so nervous, you make him nervous. His charm, his flirtatious side still fades into nothing when he is around you and the world around him still disappears when he is with you, some things truly never change. 

He wants to take a step closer and wrap his arms around you, he wants to hug you and never let go again but he doesn’t want to overstep so he forces himself to stay in place. 

“Y-You’re back,” he smiles, trying to hide his excitement. 

You nod, probably a little too quickly. 

“Yeah, I’m back,” you nod again, feeling awkward and tense standing here before him after all the countless nights you spent thinking, dreaming about him. 

He breathes heavily and fidgets with the hair tie around his wrist, “for the summer or…?”

You shake your head, unable to look away from his beautiful eyes. 

“No, I-I transferred to uh the community college here…” You scrunch your face up when you see the surprised look on his face. “I know, lame right? Moving away from Chicago and back to your hometown is uh not the.. move.” 

Not the move? He repeats in his head. 

This might be the best day of his life – the day he had been waiting for, for your return. 

Steve’s eyes widen, he purses his lips as he starts shaking his head, raising his hand a little, he steps closer to you. 

“No! No, I’m just surprised, that’s all, I didn’t think you’d ever come back… honestly,” he chuckles nervously and brings his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. “But I’m happy to see you back here again.” 

Happy is an understatement, the feelings in him can’t be put into words, they do not exist. 

Your eyes soften at his words, your smile transforming into a soft one, hope swirling inside of you. 

Did he miss you like you missed him? 

“I’m happy to see you,” he adds, his cheeks heating up at his admission and your beauty doesn’t help his case, his eyes roam your body, your pretty features, your soft skin, the chain around your neck that looks oh so familiar, his heart starts beating faster, his hands shaking from the giddiness lingering in him. “Y-You look…” Stunning, mesmerizing, gorgeous, sexy, adorable, like an angel or a goddess. “Amazing.” He breathes, blushing red.

Your eyebrows pull together as your wide eyes fill with emotion. 

You see the way he looks at you, you see the redness in his cheeks, the shyness in his eyes that surprises you the most. 

You take a shaky breath, cursing at the way your cheeks heat up and glow so hotly. 

“Thank you,” you say without stutter, to your own surprise. “You don’t look bad yourself, Harrington,” you smirk at him, smugness taking over your blushing features when you see him looking down in nervousness. 

Did you just make Steve blush? 

You open your mouth again, feeling the urge to compliment him again when a whistle interrupts you and wipes the smirk off your face, instead a look of disgust takes over your features when you turn your head to see Tommy Hagan looking you up and down with a perverted smile on his face. 

He pushes his way between you, earning a glare from Steve, whose face turned stone cold and angry. Tommy grabs a red solo cup and pours himself some of the punch while he continues to give you nasty looks, chuckling when looks at your cleavage, “shit, now I get why Harrington always kept his favorite toy to himself,” he smirks and takes a sip of his drink before he steps back to wink at Steve, wiping his chin and looking back to you, “you really grew up.” 

Your lips curl downwards, your brows pull together in a frown. 

“Dude, what the fuck,” Steve frowns at him, giving him a disapproving look. 

Tommy always made you feel uncomfortable with his comments and his weird looks, but it was something else back then. This is new, this is disgusting. 

“If I knew back then that you were hiding these behind your sweaters, I would’ve definitely hit it,” he chuckles darkly as he stares at your boobs. 

Bile rises in your throat and your grip tightens on your cup, the urge to throw your punch into his face growing strong. 

Steve rolls his eyes, a frustrated sigh falls from his lips and he steps towards his former friend, he places his hand on his chest and pushes him back as he takes a protective stance in front of you, protecting you from Tommy’s prying eyes. 

“Alright, that’s enough, asshole,” Steve mumbles angrily. “Leave her alone or I swear to–”

“You swear to what, man? You and I both know you can’t do shit,” Tommy laughs at Steve, his eyes crinkle in amusement, irritating Steve further. 

Steve might’ve lost most of his fights, but he wouldn’t lose one if it came to you. 

He clenches his jaw and glares down at him, feeling rage burn within him. 

“Seriously dude, get lost, alright?” He demands, his voice sounding deeper, more serious than before. 

You look over Steve’s shoulder, feeling safe and protected by him, the way you always did, just even more now. Your stomach flutters with warmth, your heart swelling in your chest. 

To your surprise, Tommy steps away without another word, continuing to chuckle at Steve and the glare on his face. He gives you another look. 

“Call me if you–”

“Fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says through gritted teeth, feeling hot rage flushing through him. 

Tommy takes another sip as he walks backwards, winking at you before he finally turns around and leaves the kitchen, allowing you to finally breathe. 

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and huffs, turning back to you, his features instantly soften. 

“I’m sorry about him.” 

You shake your head, your smile reappearing again, “it’s not your fault,” you shrug, “some people just never change.” 

“Yeah…” He mumbles, wondering if you changed at all, “did you?”

Did you change? You ask yourself. Maybe, surely college has shaped you in some way, being away from home, being independent and all alone, meeting new people and being pushed into situations you would have never allowed as a teenager, did change something in you. 

You got more confident, a little bolder too, you tried new things and did them without shame, something that was once impossible when you were still here and an insecure teen. 

You tilt your head to the side and give him a sly smirk, “why don’t you find out?” 

The anger Tommy left him with fades away, the flirtatious tone in your voice catching him by surprise and you take it even further when you take a step closer to him after placing your drink on the counter, you look up at him with your big eyes that still drive him crazy. 

He doesn’t remember you to be this flirty… this bold but he can’t complain, it makes the fluttering in his stomach feel so much more intense. 

Steve’s lips curl back into a smile, he blinks at you, looking into your eyes intensely, with want and need – nothing changed, if anything, the magnetic force between you has intensified, even when there was mostly only radio silence between you both in these past months. 

Steve licks his lips, a sliver of his confidence slipping back in when he sees the way you look at him, eyes roaming his face and his body. Though his cheeks are still burning and his heart is still racing, no matter how much confidence he can find within himself, you are still you, you are still the girl that holds his heart in the palm of her hand, the one who has him captivated in every way possible, the one who has had him wrapped around her finger, from a very young age. You aren’t just a girl to woo and impress for a single date, you aren’t someone he would forget if a conversation or a date went wrong, you are the one he always wanted to grow old with, to experience everything with, to spend a life with the one who is his everything – one wrong move and he loses it all… again. 

He doesn’t bother to ask if you are with someone, if you are dating and taken, the thought is disturbing to his heart. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks as he slowly reaches for your hand and you allow him to take it when you slip your palm against his and give his hand a squeeze.

He nearly crumbles to his knees when he feels your soft touch again, it’s been too long. Your hand always fit into his so perfectly, like it was made to be held by him. 

You nod, whispering a sweet ‘yes, please’. That’s all he needs to hear before he pulls you closer to his body, pushing you in front of him slightly, keeping a protective stance right behind you as he never lets go of your hand, basking in the feeling of having you so close again, of being able to smell your perfume again and the sweet scent of your body wash. 

He rubs circles on the top of your hand, pressing his other hand on the small of your back as he pushes through the crowds of people. He leads you to Robin first, needing to make sure that she will get home safe without him. He finds her playing beer pong with Vickie and a few of their former bandmates from high school. He taps on her shoulder and when she turns around, Steve grows more nervous than before, because her eyes grow wide when she sees you next to him, excitement flashing in them and a big grin appearing on her face after a long moment of staring at you. 

She knows all about you. 

She knows all about his feelings and his regrets. 

She knows how much he missed you. 

She was there when he cried and never stopped talking about you. 

So after greeting you, probably a little too enthusiastically, she moves closer to Steve, raising her eyebrows at him and giving him a teasing, yet pointed look. 

“Go and don’t worry about me, Vickie can drive, she’s not drinking tonight.”

“You sure?” 

She nods, her waves bouncing as she moves her head a little too quickly. 

“Steve I’m fine, go and get your girl,” she winks at him, squeezing his shoulder before she moves back, giving him another look that says nothing but ‘i mean it, don’t fuck it up this time, this is your chance.’ 

Steve nods at her, smiling and feeling reassured by her. He holds your hand tighter and pulls you away before you can properly say goodbye to his friend that you only know from your days in high school. You look back at her to find her staring at the two of you, grinning from ear to ear, she raises her eyebrows at you, eyes glowing as she gives you a smirk and a small wave of her hand. 

You feel a little confused by the teasing look on her face but smile and wave back at her nonetheless before Steve whisks you away and out of the room.

It isn’t weird to hold each other’s hand, to be back together in his car like nothing ever happened, like you never stopped doing this, like things are still normal between you. He makes small talk, it’s not awkward or weird, it’s… nice, anything is as long as you’re with him, even the silly jokes makes or how he tries to quote Shakespeare but fails miserably, he makes you laugh and you… you make him smile. 

You stop by the gas station to grab a six pack and some snacks to share before you drive to the lookout, to the place you always went to when you wanted to be alone together. 

You get comfortable on the hood of his car, as comfortable as you can get on the rough surface. It’s a little chillier out here in the woods, the wind that blows through the trees makes goosebumps arise on your skin. Steve, of course, has to use the opportunity to throw his jacket around your shoulders, rubbing your arms to warm you up as he moves close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin. 

You feel something stir within you, something only ever he could make you feel. 

You grab the denim and pull it tighter around you, glancing at him through your lashes, you feel your cheeks heat up when you find him staring at you already, a soft smile playing on his lips that you can see, even in this darkness. 

“Thanks Stevie.” A grin tugs at your lips when his smile moves into a flustered one. 

Steve licks his lips, he removes his hands from your body and busies himself with opening the beer bottles for you and him, “you’re welcome, honey,” he whispers, winking at you. 

You look away from him with blushing cheeks, hiding the smile on your face as you tilt your head down but nothing goes unnoticed by him, he sees the flustered expression in your features, the cute smile you’re trying to hold back. 

He scoots closer to you until his shoulder is pressed against yours, he offers you the opened bottle. You glance at his hand, taking in the size of it, how big it is, how his veins pop, how long his fingers are – it makes you squirm and clench your thighs together and he notices it, he looks down and he almost regrets it, almost. Your skirt has ridden up, it nearly covers nothing, at this point. Your skin looks so smooth, thighs so soft, he wants to touch them, kiss them, feel them wrapped around his head. 

His skin heats up, his lower stomach tingles, he craves you, in every way possible, he just wants to… feel you, he wants to feel you close, he wants your skin on his, he needs to know that you are truly back. 

Your touch sends shivers down his spine, it makes his stomach flip. 

He blinks, looking down at the bottle he is still holding, watching the way your hand curls around it, fingers grazing his own. Your hand is so much smaller than his, the urge to compare the size of his own to yours growing strong. 

“Steve?” 

Your soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he blushes, cheeks burning maroon. He shakes his head a little, squeezing his eyes shut as he furrows his eyebrows, he removes his hand from your bottle, already missing the touch of your hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers through his hair, “I got a little uh… distracted.” 

He instantly regrets it when his eyes fall back on your lap again, your giggle makes him blush even deeper, he eyes you from the side, watching the way you press your lips against the bottle, you take a sip, trying to hide the smirk on your lips. 

He feels a sudden sense of nervousness rushing through him – here he is, in the presence of the girl of his dreams, the girl that slipped through his fingers, the girl that should be his and he is messing up. He begins to stutter, trying to distract himself once again, this time from your legs, from your soft skin, from how much he wants to touch and kiss you, from how beautiful you are but you make him stutter, you make it difficult for him to talk, you make it impossible for him to be smooth, to flirt with you the way he always did with other girls and suddenly, he is reminded of why he was always so scared of revealings his feelings to you, there was too much at stake, he didn’t want to lose you. 

He always felt so pathetic around you, like a stupid kid in love, one that can’t talk to his crush without blushing, without stuttering. 

And this is exactly what you always adored about him. 

But he doesn't know it, he doesn’t even realize it, he doesn’t even see the way your eyes always light up, the way they soften as you look at him, the way you admire him. 

Before he even takes a sip of his beer, he already feels like he is drunk, his skin is hot, his mind hazy, he feels happy, at ease, like he is floating, all because of you, you make him feel so… light. 

He is drunk on you, without having touched you properly, your presence is enough. 

He wonders how you are holding up, what emotions linger inside of you — you look so calm, relaxed. 

You fall into a comfortable conversation, catching up on the things you have missed in each other's lives, since being separated. And while your eyes stay glued on the night sky, only glancing at him every once in a while, he watches you, with a fluttering feeling in his chest and a smile on his lips. 

You laugh with each other, getting lost in the memories that you both start bringing up, joking and slapping each other’s shoulders softly as you start to tease one another about the stupid things that you both have done in the past. 

You have changed, not only physically did you get even more beautiful, you got something that you didn’t have before, a boldness that you always admired others for. You used to be so shy, anxious to ask the simplest questions, too nervous to hold eye contact for longer than two seconds, even with him, sometimes. But now, despite you choosing to look at the sky instead of him, he can tell that you are not that shy girl anymore, who was afraid to look into his eyes. You are confident, comfortable in your own skin, not afraid to be you, not afraid to gaze into his eyes when you tilt your head to look at him. 

He wonders what or… who caused it, the change in you. 

Was it just the circumstances? The big city that pushed you out of your comfort zone? 

New friends? Being on your own? Or… was it the experiences you have made in these past few months that have shaped you from an innocent, shy teenager into a confident, young woman? 

His stomach churns at the thought of the things you have done while being away from home, or better yet, who you have done them with. He has no right to be upset about it, he knows it, yet he can’t stop the sinking feeling inside of him as he thinks of the hands that have touched your body or the lips that kissed yours, if you had dated someone, if you are someone else’s right now. 

The question tumbles from his lips before he can even stop himself. 

“Do you have anyone?” 

The storm that was just raging in his mind, the string of questions that followed now silenced as he stares at you, waiting for your answer with a racing heart and clammy hands. 

The sound of crickets and the rustling of the trees are the only sounds now filling the space around you.

“You mean… a boyfriend?” 

He nods and you shake your head at that. You bring the bottle up to your lips, taking a much needed sip. 

“No, I don’t,” you murmur as your eyes roam his face, “why?”

You notice the frown on his face, the way his lips are curled down and his eyebrows are tightly scrunched together. 

“Just wondering… someone like you still single?” 

“What do you mean…?” You ask slowly.

Steve huffs, shaking his head with a smile on his face. 

“I mean… Come on, honey. You’re funny, you’re smart and you’re just… you’re amazing,” he sighs adoringly, hazel eyes running up down and your face and your body. “You’re beautiful, a fucking catch.”

You almost want to scoff at his words, you want to roll your eyes and look the other way. A catch, right. A catch he never wanted. Your heart betrays you when it flutters and prompts a girlish giggle to fall from your lips. 

“Stop.”

He nudges his shoulder against yours, grinning at your flustered face, “it’s the truth.”

Steve feels relieved to know that you don’t have anyone waiting on you, that there isn’t some guy out there that got the girl he always wanted. 

“You have to say that,” you shake your head and drink the last drop of your beer before you throw the bottle down on the grass, making a mental note to pick it up later. 

Because he is your best friend, because he was always your best friend, no matter what – so of course, he has to say these words to you. 

He rolls his eyes at you, huffing, “I’m not just saying that.” 

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, the way his words can make you feel like that shy teenage girl again, you try to steer the attention away from you. 

You press your palm against the cold, almost icy hood, leaning back, you tilt your head to the side and gaze at him, loving how long his hair grew, how his features are more… manly now, though the boyish grin still lingers. 

“What about you?” You whisper, swallowing the bitterness on your tongue. “Got anybody, Stevie?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost frowning at your question. 

“Me? No… no one really… felt right.” He says with a look of longing in his eyes, the one that is only reserved for you. 

The tension in your chest disappears, almost instantly, you have an idea of what you would feel like had the answer been a different one. 

“I was seeing a girl… for a while but uh… like I said, it… she didn’t feel right,” he admits with a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

You nod, swallowing harshly. 

“Why didn’t she feel right?” You’re aware of how small, how shaky your voice sounds. 

You wait, wait and wait for him to answer your question, the answer he tries to find in your eyes as it seems because he won’t stop looking at you, it’s like he is searching for something, like he is trying to figure you out, like he is trying to make sense of the question you just asked. 

He doesn’t give you what you want, as always, Steve Harrington pretends like nothing happened, like nothing had been asked. 

But you know what he means, you know exactly what he means, you had someone too, back in Chicago. 

He was nice, he was good to you, in more ways than just one but no matter how much you tried not to think of him, you always failed. He was always there, always in the back of your mind, always ready to haunt you and remind you that he is and will always be the only one that your heart will belong to. 

Your relationship was only short lived, and you left him the moment you realized how unfair it was to stay with him when your heart was somewhere else, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. 

Something rustles in the bushes, something echoes loudly through the woods, something that would have normally made you flinch, doesn’t even faze you now because he is here. You feel safe in his presence, you always did, not even the darkest night or the loudest storm could make you feel afraid as long as he was by your side. 

And yet, you scoot closer to him, not even noticing that you do until his fingers brush against yours and sparks shoot through your entire body. 

And through his. 

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, “yeah… I had someone… but he didn’t feel right either.” You say softly, vulnerably as you meet his eyes again. 

A soft ‘oh’ leaves his mouth and he nods, looking down at the bottle in his hand, he brings it up to his lips and downs the rest of it. He feels his stomach churning, his insides crawling at the mere thought of you with someone who isn’t him and it makes him feel awful, it makes him feel ridiculous because wasn’t that his own fault? He blew his chances with you. He let you go, hell, he didn’t even fight for you. 

He puts the bottle down, wipes his mouth and runs his fingers through his hair before he turns back to you to find you staring at him just the way you always did, with your big doe eyes, those pleading and begging looks you never stopped throwing at him. 

He’d have to be blind to not see it – he always did, he just never allowed himself to admit it, not even to himself, not even when you were all he ever wanted. 

“Why didn’t he feel right?” 

Steve watches the way your lips curl downwards, the way you squint your eyes at him, the softness fleeing as you glare at him instead.

And suddenly, the air around you feels different, tense for another reason, heavy and filled with something neither of you ever addressed before. 

While you take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself – Steve tries to mend the aching in his chest, the hammering that feels just too strong. 

“Why didn’t she feel right, huh?” You ask, scooting away from him and getting off the hood, placing your feet back on the ground, you don’t even bother to smooth down your skirt. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in front of him, demanding the answer you tried to ask softly before. 

Steve sighs, growing fearful and anxious, feeling like he is messing up yet again, like he is about to lose again. 

But you are close, so goddamn close, even through the anger in your eyes, you still stand in reach, your knees now brush against his. He straightens his back, fighting the urge to reach for your hands and just pull you into him, showing you why no one ever felt right. 

He promised Robin, he promised her that if you ever came back, he would go and get you, he would come clean about it all, he would make it all right again. 

“This goes both ways, Steve. You can’t just ask me and then–”

“Because no one is you.”

He won’t fail this again, no matter how scared he is, he just can’t. 

Your lips part in surprise, a painful look crosses your eyes, though the anger doesn’t fade away just yet. You uncross your arms, and shake your head at him. 

His words should bring you joy, shouldn’t they? 

But as you stand here before him, his knees brushing your own, his golden brown eyes staring at you with nothing but love, you can’t help but feel your heart aching because why now? Why not then? 

“So… it took me to leave town… go to college… for you to say this?” You whisper, holding back a choke as your eyes well up with unwanted tears. 

His own eyes panic when he sees just how much pain there is inside of you, how much you hid it. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, he sighs in relief when you don’t push him away like he thought you would. 

“It was always there. Before our first kiss, before our first time, and then it never stopped. But you were… you were scary. Feeling love that strong at such a young age– it wasn’t in my plans. I was scared… I was scared of loving you and losing you. It happened before.” 

His parents. 

He loved them unconditionally, he loved them no matter what they did and didn’t do, he loved them and he lost them – they abandoned him and then they forgot about him. 

Your eyes show nothing but pain, your heart breaks, all over again, for him. 

And you’re stunned, so goddamn shocked because that word fell from his lips. Love. He loved you. 

You curl your hand around his, squeezing them tightly as he gets off his car, standing tall before you again. 

“You… still could have–”

“Risked it?” Steve interrupts you, furrowing his brows as he looks down at you. “No… I wasn’t going to risk it. Risk losing you…” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself, “now I see how stupid that was because I lost you anyways.” 

His eyes well up with tears, his voice almost cracks and you finally… finally get to see a glimpse into his heart, how much pain he was always hiding.

“No… I don’t think you lost me.”

“Honey, we haven’t talked in–”

“What you felt for me… Is it… Is it past tense?” 

Steve should see the hope in your eyes, he should hear it in your voice too, but he is so scared, so nervous at this moment. 

Everything he had always been afraid of was losing you because of his feelings and he can’t help but wonder, what if he confesses his love to you now and his saddest fear creeps in and he will lose you for good, forever? 

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, shakily. 

You hold his hands tighter, taking another step closer until you are chest to chest. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, you look up at him, begging with your eyes, yet again. “Because I deserve to know, Steve, do you still have feelings for me?”

He takes a long pause, feeling like his heart might explode, feeling like the ground might disappear beneath him if he doesn’t finally give you the whole truth. 

His eyes flicker down to your lips, the ones he craved to feel on his own for years, his body aches for you just the way his heart does, desire running deep but love taking full control, driving both his heart and his mind insane over you. He feels the pounding from his chest to his throat, his eyes glossy with tears he shed so many times over you, over his regrets. 

“Yes,” he whispers, already feeling his chest deflating as the pressure slowly sinks away, “like I said, they never stopped.”

Tears spill down yours and his cheeks, his shoulders slump in relief and you, you finally breathe. You sniffle and a giggle falls from your lips, one that makes him furrow his brows but smile because now he can see the happiness in your eyes, the joy from hearing this from him. 

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper and throw your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest, you hug him tightly, catching him off guard. 

It takes him a moment, it takes him a very long moment. 

His glassy eyes are wide, his heart is threatening to break free from his chest. He wanted this, he wanted you for so long, he feels like this is too good to be true but when he feels your tears seeping through his shirt and how you cling to his body, like you are afraid that he might disappear if you let go, he finally relaxes. His eyes close gently, tears spilling down his cheeks, he melts into your touch and curls his arms around you, cupping the back of your head, he holds you closely, tightly. 

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head, he gives a first kiss again. 

“I missed you, Stevie,” you murmur into his chest, holding onto his shirt. 

He moves even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you rise to your tippy toes, wanting to feel more of him, as though he isn’t close enough already, not even when your chest to chest. 

Steve breathes in your scent, the one he used to sink his face into when it still lingered on his pillows, when he longed to feel you in his arms, when he craved you so badly but felt too cowardly to make the move he just made now. 

You cling to one another, like you never have before, not even when he held you during nights you needed him the most, when you were both so convinced that you were nothing more than friends… when just friendship was never something possible between you. 

Steve’s eyes are shut tightly, he is so lost in the feeling of you, feeling so warm, so safe, so loved in your embrace. 

How can his heart race so fast yet feel so… calm? 

You don’t know how much time passes as you stand there in each other’s arms, you are so lost in the moment, you couldn’t care less about anything around you, about the time, about your surroundings, about the world – only you and him matter, nothing more. 

He cups the side of your face when you begin to pull away to look at one another, glossy eyes gazing into each other, lips begging to be connected. His fingers brush through your hair, he tucks your front pieces behind your ears and caresses your cheeks. His hazel eyes flash with adoration. You are so beautiful. It makes his heart clench in his chest.  

You slide your hands up his chest, moving up to his neck and cupping his cheeks, your stomach growing with anticipation the closer you both move to each other. 

No words are spoken, there is no need for them, your eyes tell everything, just like your touch when your lips finally connect. 

Your hearts stop beating, time stops ticking, the world stops moving. 

Everything around you stops. 

Just absolutely everything. 

Your eyes flutter shut, just like his. 

A kiss you both never stopped craving finally happening, not only in your minds, but in reality. 

Steve sighs in contentment, a whimper following close behind, your lips move slowly, softly with each other, you savor each and every second, even when you know that this is only the beginning of it all. 

Nothing and no one could ever compare to this, no one could ever come between you, you are two puzzle pieces, ones that were made for only each other, no one else to match you both. It’s only you and him. Your hearts know, you know, he knows. 

The way he kisses you so gently, so sensually, makes your stomach flip in ways it never did before, not even back then when you shared first and second kisses. 

And Steve, he feels like he is in a dream that he never wants to wake from again, he is too scared to open his eyes and find himself in his lonely bed, surrounded by the scent of you that he only imagines, that forever lingers like a kiss upon his skin. 

But your whimper is real, your lips are real, you are real, your lips taste just like they did before, sweet and peachy, like home. 

You only pull away to catch your breath, smiling when Steve chases your lips with his own, nuzzling his nose against yours as a soft giggle falls from his puffy lips, “god… I missed you, princess.” He murmurs against your lips, knowing that he will keep repeating these words, over and over again, he feels like he has been blessed by the universe. 

Your best friend’s eyes shine so brightly, the love in them that you always craved to see, is so evident, it’s all out in the open now, all in reach, all there for the taking – when not even a few hours ago, you didn’t even know where he was, if he still thought of you, if he still cared for you… 

Tears escape your eyes and he wastes not second to catch them, to wipe them away and kiss your wet cheek. 

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers, feeling like his heart might break, knowing that you have suffered just the way he did, when he thought that you moved on, that you had forgotten all about him just like everyone else did when that was never even the case, when all you did was long for him, love him, even from afar. 

“I love you,” he whispers in relief, feeling like the weight of the world is off his shoulders, “I love you so fucking much, you’re my–”

You cup his cheeks and pull him down once again, kissing him deeply. “You.” Kiss. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Know.” Kiss. “How.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Dreamed.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “This.” Kiss. “Moment.” 

Steve's heart flutters the way it never did before, butterflies go wild in his stomach, his eyes crinkle and he smiles so brightly, his cheeks hurt. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington, you have no idea how much–”

His lips are on yours, pressed against them so strongly as he pulls you into another deep, passionate kiss before you can even finish your sentence. He kisses you in a way no one ever did before. 

His thumbs linger on your cheekbones, his tongue parts your lips so effortlessly, your own clashing against his as the softness of your feelings disappears and transforms into something needy, hungry. This kiss is much faster, much rougher, much more passionate than the first, you get lost in it so quickly. 

When he takes a step back and he sits back down on the hood of his car, he moves his hands down to your waist, pulling you in between his legs. 

Your arms move around his shoulders, your hands get lost in his hair, fingers gripping it tightly as moans escape you. The kiss makes you feel so hot, your stomach burns, your skin feels like it’s on fire as his hands move up and down your back, slipping underneath his jacket that is still around your shoulders, under your shirt and then, he touches your soft skin with his cold hand, something that makes you shiver yet lean closer against him. 

He moans against your lips, he is so intoxicated by you, needing more and more, like you’re his own personal drug. He could keep doing this, he could take you right here, right now. He could taste you, unravel you with his tongue, with his fingers, he could hold your hands and make love to you like he always wanted to, like he hoped he’d get to tonight – because he thought that this might be all he would get, a night with you, only that and no more, because how could you ever want anything more than this with him after all the times he messed up with you? After he let you slip through his fingers like it was nothing?

But this won’t stay a single night, this won’t be one that will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This will turn into more, so much more. 

He doesn’t want to mess it up again, he wants to take it slow, he wants to give you everything you deserve, everything he craved to give you, all these years, everything he dreamed about, during the day and the night. 

So as much as he wants this, you, your bare skin on his and your whimpers blessing his ears, you deserve more, you deserve to be taken on a date first. 

“Hang on,” he whispers against your lips, cupping your cheeks again, his lips curl into an amused smile when he opens his eyes to see your smudged lipstick that is no doubt on his face now too, your hair a mess just like his own, “I want to… fuck… I want you so bad, I couldn’t stop thinking about this, about you. But I want to take it slow, I-I want to do it right this time, I want to take you on a date and–”

You cut him off with a kiss, once more. Pressing your lips against his plush ones, over and over again until it makes you both giggle. He grabs your waist and pulls you down on his lap, grabbing your cheeks, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Slow is good,” you whisper, caressing his cheek as his fingers run up and down your spine underneath the denim jacket. “I like slow.”

“Yeah?” He smiles.

You nod, though an almost sad smile makes its way on your lips, “you know, I kinda thought you forgot about me until all of this.” You wave your hand around, wiping at your wet cheek as a soft laugh tumbles from your lips. 

You weren’t the only one who stopped calling, who stopped sending letters, he did too, but not for the reasons you thought, clearly. 

A deep frown appears on his face, he tightens his hold on you, raising his hand up towards your face, he cups your cheek. Despite everything he just said, despite the kiss, you still don’t understand just how deep his feelings for you are, how his heart isn’t even his own because it is completely, devotedly yours. 

“I could never forget you,” he whispers with a sad smile on his face, “you’re all I ever think about, now and then, even when we were kids, even when I was… King Steve,” he rolls his eyes at the nickname he used to be so proud of. “You never once left my mind, not once.” 

The smile that makes his way to your lips makes his heart skip a beat, he kisses your cheek, letting his lips linger for a moment. 

“So please, let me make it right, let me fix everything… go on a date with me?” He asks with nothing but hope in giddiness in his voice. 

You squint your eyes and tilt your head, giving him a teasing smile as you pretend to think but his soft eyes make your teasing an impossible task at this moment, you wipe the lipstick off his mouth and nuzzle your nose back against his. 

“I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie,” you whisper, feeling your heart burst from joy and love. 

The one thing you always wanted, you always craved now finally happening, at a moment when you least expected it. 

Coming back home made you so nervous, knowing that you would see him again after all this time of being apart, knowing that your feelings will only continue to grow, no matter the tie between you, filled you with a sense of… dread, because you couldn’t help but wonder – does he even want to see you? 

But, to find out that he had spent every passing moment, thinking about you, about your past, wanting you back and willing you to come running back into his arms lights up everything inside you again – flames you have tried to put out, burning stronger than ever. 

Steve’s eyes well up with tears of joy again, he cups the back of your neck, his lips brush against yours, he can’t even describe his feelings with words, so he doesn’t even try, but he shows you the happiness you brought back into his life, the happiness that was just gone when you were… gone. He kisses you, once, twice… He keeps kissing you, over and over again, unable to stop himself from going back in for more, consumed by love, by gratitude and happiness to know that you came back. 

To know that you won’t haunt his what if’s. 

He won’t chase your shadows wherever he will go. 

Your scent won’t linger from just his memory alone. 

He waited and waited, and he let the lamp burn and now… now you are here, you came back, you came back to him. 

Here, at the lookout where you used to sit on your saddest days, you find your way back to one another again. 

As you embrace the future written for you, you know that the rings on your fingers won't only be imaginary ones like the ones from your childhood. 

[asilentsongbird]

Neuvillette pines for you.

Furina learns to avoid him simply so she doesn't have to hear about whatever thing you've done lately that Neuvillette is obsessed with.

The ache is so deep in his soul it almost hurts.

The rain comes in a downpour sometimes. To match the wetness on his cheeks. Though sometimes he can't tell if it's the rain or his tears on his face.

You find him like this one evening. An umbrella tucked under your arm as you find the Chief Justice on the shore, head bowed and completely soaked.

"Monsieur Neuvillette?" you ask softly, coming up behind him. Your umbrella is just big enough to protect him from the rain. "Are you alright?"

He turns to you with shock on his face, tears still running down his face. A thousand thoughts race through his head, everything from did you see him crying to why in the world are you out in the rain?

A soft, gentle hand touches his cheek. It takes him a moment to realize it's your hand, the softest thing he's felt. Instinctively, he wants to lean into the touch. So he does.

"Are you crying?" your voice is soft, concerned, without the barest hint of judgement he so easily passes on to the players of his court.

The umbrella is shoved into the crook of his arm, and another hand reaches up to join the other. You cup both of his cheeks, though he has to bend slightly to allow you to do so, which he does so easily.

"There," you murmur, brushing your thumbs under his eyes. Your smile is so soft, even softer than your touch. "You have beautiful eyes, Monsieur Neuvillette. I hate to see you so sad."

The rain stops suddenly, as though someone has turned off a switch in the sky itself. His cheeks are dry and the sky is clear, and before he can say a word, you're looking up at it instead of him, still smiling.

"The rain stopped." You sound so happy about it, he almost feels bad for making it rain. You press the umbrella further against his hand.

Your touch feels warm. Inviting, and soft. Everything about you feels soft to him.

"Keep it for next time, okay? I'd hate to stumble upon you wandering through the rain again. You could catch a cold!"

He clears his throat softly, trying to figure out words. He's pretty sure words didn't exist before you started talking to him, and now he's floundering over them like a child.

"Allow me to walk you home," he finally manages, as though he didn't stumble over words for the first time in his life.

You smile, and link your arm through his own when he offers it. The sky above you two hasn't been this clear and blue in ages.

Perhaps, after he finishes walking you home, he can figure out how to finally ask you to dinner.

But who knows, really. After all, if he cries again, will you touch him as softly as before?

There's only one way to find out.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Last Call

Calling the LADS Men to say goodbye because you weren't going to be making it home to them. A/N: MC isn't reincarnating this time sorry. Artist @/am_soul_art on insta [Requested by: nocturnaoasis]

It was supposed to be a quick mission. The intentions were good and the plan was perfect. At least thats what the higher ups thought at the Hunter's Association. The plan was to take back Hat Island, the small island right off the coast of linkon overrun with wanderers. The Hunter's Association believed that their strength in not only numbers, but also Evols and skills had improved enough to take back the small island.

They were wrong. So very wrong.

It was a suicide mission from the start; the wanderers were too smart there was never a chance. You panted as you ran from the onslaught of wanderers that had evolved over time inhabiting this island. You watched as comrade after comrade was slaughtered right in front of you. The number of Hunters was decresing quickly and there was no help coming. You held your side for dear life as blood gushed from your wound. You accepted your fate right then and there. You weren't making it back to Linkon.

You managed to find a small cave on the side of a mountain where you could make one last call.

Zayne

The phone seems to ring forever you were afraid you weren't going to hear his voice in your last moments. Just as you thought it would go to voicemail he picked up.

Zayne: Hello MC: Zayne.... Zayne: Yes I'm here

You couldn't help the grin that overtook your face.

MC: Remember our trip to find 'old popsicles'? Zayne: Of course I do MC: Remember when you swept me away from my friends to go read in a secluded park? Zayne: Yes ... where is this coming from?

You took a deep breath before coughing and grunting form the pain.

MC: I just want you to always think of our good memories ... I don't think we'll be making anymore after today Zayne: What are you saying? MC: They're gone ... they're all gone ... and I don't have much time left.

You finally broke down and sobbed into the phone as reality truly set in.

Zayne: Wh- MC: Promise me you'll move on ... I want you to find something or someone to bring the same vivacity that I brought you ... don't shut yourself off from the world ... I want you to be happy ... remember me in a good light because just know I died doing what I love Zayne: ....dont leave me behind MC: I love you Dr. Zayne......

Zayne didn't hang up he stayed on the line until he could no longer hear your stuttering breaths. He couldn't keep that promise of moving on. He threw himself into his work to keep his mind busy. He was afraid if he slowed down for one second he'd never be able to recover.

Rafayel

He picked up on the first ring as if he'd been waiting by the phone just for your call.

Rafayel: Hey Cutie!

He sounded so happy at the fact that you called it was already killing you that you'd be breaking his heart with this call.

MC: You know you create the most beautiful art Rafayel: You're making me blush stop it MC: I'm going to be painting pretty sunsets and sunrises for you Raf Rafayel: huh?

You swallowed hard trying to keep your voice from wavering.

MC: The next time you're on the beach and you see a beautiful sunset or sunrise ... that's me ... painting the sky just for you Rafayel: No no no you're-

His words became panicked as you quickly cut him off

MC: I wish I would have hugged you tighter before I left ... I'm not making it back to Linkon ... I'm sorry Rafayel: I can come to you just tell me where you are

Tears streamed down your face as your voice broke at the sound of him falling apart on the other end

MC: Im running on borrowed time right now Rafayel I just wanted to tell you that I love you ... so much Rafayel: I love you too

Your head was already swimming you didn't even realize you muttered.

MC: Good ... good.......

Rafayel never missed a single sunrise or sunset after that. Thomas would always find him sitting on the beach with red eyes and a camera to capture the sky that you painted for him.

Xavier

He picked up on the third ring w/ a groggy voice; he'd been asleep.

Xavier: My little star

His voice brought you a kind of comfort that no words could describe.

MC: You made a good call getting sick this week you know that?

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation.

Xavier: What are you going on about? MC: Remember how pretty the stars were that night we danced in the forest? Xavier: Yea they were almost as beautiful as you

He always knew how to make you feel like the prettiest girl to ever exist.

MC: Well next time you gaze at the stars the one star that seems to twinkle and dance just for you ... that'll be me

A brief moment of silence....

Xavier: You're not saying what I think you're saying

You could hear rustling on the other end knowing he just sat up.

MC: I'm sorry Xav ... I'm so sorry ... I promised I would make it back to you, but thats a promise I can't keep anymore ... I'm losing blood fast I can already feel myself losing consciousness Xavier: Hang on I'll be right there

And there it was the choked sob that finally slipped out of you as you responded.

MC: It's too late Xav ... do you love me?

He was quiet for a moment before you heard his low raspy voice respond.

Xavier: Yes. Of course I love you with everything that I am

Those words brought one last smile to your face and you finally let your eyes drift closed.

MC: thats all I wanted to hear ... I love you Xavier..........

Xavier was never the same after that. He spent his days training to get stronger to the point where his hands were bloody. No one could get through to him not even Jeremiah. At night he swore he could hear your voice as he gazed at the stars.

Sylus

Sylus: Hi sweetie MC: I love you!

You heard his breath hitch and then silence. You had rendered Sylus speechless with the three words he always wanted to hear.

Sylus: Why so sudden? MC: I never got the chance to say it to you, but I couldn't go without letting you know Sylus: where-

You quickly cut him off because there wasn't much time left. You could quite literally feel your life slipping through your fingers.

MC: this mission was doomed from the start ... I'm not making it home to you tonight ... I'm sorry ... there’s no pain though so I must be dying Sylus: Stay right where you are I’ll come find you MC: Don't .... it's no use ... thank you for everything I was always happiest with you

You smiled as you admitted that to him; it felt good.

Sylus: Stop you're not dying on that island

You sniffled as tears began to sting the back of your eyes.

MC: it's too late ... just ... just tell me you love me Sylus: but- MC: Sylus please Sylus: I love you My Queen MC: Music to my ears........

Sylus still tried to look for you, but could never make it onto the island for the wanderers were too strong....even for him. Mephisto did however manage to find you and brought back the necklace Sylus had given you. It now sits on a mantle in a glass case.

[dreaisgrayte]

Half Blood | Muzan Kibutsuji x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, TW! YN does get assaulted, mentions of blood, drinking blood, gore, how many times do I mention claws? Oral fem!receiving, fingering, kissing, breeding kink, virgin sex, creampie, and overstimulation.

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: guys this started off as a quick break from a Sanemi fic I'm working on (keep in mind I think short fics are no longer than 3k) and here I am... with a way longer fic than I intended and something I actually want to expand on in the future. It was a lot of fun to write this so I hope you enjoy it <3

“You,” His pink irises are illuminated by the moon high in the night sky. The blood within your body cools as you stare back at the man who stored your fate. His inky black hair flows down his shoulder in waves. A deep blue yukata loosely hung on his frame. “I’ve been watching you.” Muzan growls, edging ever closer to where you stood. His pointed canines glinted in the light, his nails sharp and ready to claw at your jugular. The demon king rolls his tongue along the tips of his teeth, studying you carefully. Was he deciding whether or not to feast upon your flesh?

He had never seen such a creature as yourself. Your skin was glowing, soft, and supple. The lavender color yukata covered most of your body, a delicate pattern of white flowers spanning the kosode fabric. Your obi was white with purple vines flowing around it. You wear simple white tabies paired with purple strapped zori. Elegance and grace radiated from you. He could smell the wisteria perfume in your hair. 

It was strange, you were a confrontation to the world he wanted to live in – yet something he could not tear his eyes away from. Here you were, standing in front of him without fear. He rather thought it would be better fun if you were afraid, he did so enjoy the chase. Though, there was – of course – a reason you relented in running away from him. Your eyes were stormy, eclipsed by thousands of emotions. That’s when a different smell, that had not yet hit him, tickled his nose. Blood, and not just any blood. You had the blood of a demon in you. Your stern, furrowed brows, with the revolting smell of wisteria burning his nose. You confused him. “What are you?” He purs out, not sure if what would come out of your mouth would be a lie or truth. He could always figure it out for himself one way or another. 

Your lip ticks, a show of annoyance you’d yet to master. The man in front of you knew, he could smell it, of that you were sure. Yet, he dared ask. What are you? You’d been told many times what you were. An abomination. A curse. A monster. “Are you not the demon king?” You spit back, growing angry. Would the other half of you reject your existence as well? You had hoped at least the demons would have the scarce bit of comradery running through their systems. Muzan’s brows lift, then knit together. Did he need to answer you? After all, he could easily swipe at your neck to kill you for being so insolent. The eager need to hear what you had to say captivated him though. 

When the man does not answer you tut, crossing your arms over your chest. “Here I thought the mighty demon king would be able to tell me apart from the rest.” You shake your head, laughing stiffly into the night. In a flash Muzan has you pinned to the trunk of a tree. Splinters etch toward your face from the very force of his hand. His muscular body cages you in and it takes you a moment to realize how your body aches to be near him. 

“I can smell you,” He mutters, squinting his beautiful eyes like he couldn’t quite distinguish what he was looking at. “You assault my senses, it’s driving me mad. There’s something different about you.” Muzan had first observed you walking in your village one evening, the way people sneered and cowered at your presence intrigued him. He found himself looking for you every night, wondering what your story was. These villagers were shunning you. He wished to know why such a pretty thing as yourself would be outcasted in her own village. “You smell like me, yet you are not. So I ask you again, what are you?” His voice is low, edging on the precipice of anger. 

You do not yield in holding his gaze. “I am you, yet I am not. Born of the sun and moon. A half-blood.” 20 years ago your mother found herself in the entertainment district, serving the pleasures of others. A man came to visit her on multiple occasions. Eventually, the two ran away together. Sharing in love and secrets. Your mother was a demon and your father a local carpenter. How you were able to be conceived was a mystery, even to them. They lived in peace, until one night. The villagers had finally seen through your father’s lies, storming their house. They slaughtered both of them and assuming you were a child taken captive, they whisked you away to a widowed mother. As you grew it was obvious where your origins lay, yet no one in the village dared to lay a hand on you. 

Muzan lets his gaze drop to where your heart pulsed, bouncing the skin of your jugular. “You are human and demon?” Something pulled tight in his chest. Could you walk in the sun? Did you regenerate? Were you the answer to his plight? “You are radiant.” He cannot stop the words from falling past his lips. Your eyes light up with recognition, acceptance, and for a moment your past falls away. He had the ever-growing urge to sweep you away. Your very existence was tantalizing to him in the least. He tilts his head, wrinkling his nose at the obscure way you smelt. 

Your eyes settle on the way he reacts to you, wondering if he’ll take you away someplace. Some place away from these villagers who had slaughtered your parents who just wanted to live in harmony. They did not deserve to die and you did not want to live one more second with their murderers. Muzan wanted to take you, but he couldn’t. Not yet. You were so fragile. If he were to touch you he would fear you would break on the spot. “Are you going to take me away from this place?” You whisper, hopeful tones floating to Muzan. He swallows something deep and thick. 

Muzan backs away from you, eyes tensing. “No.” He replies softly. He could not take you into his den, the other demons were too stupid to realize how precious you were. You would be dead within seconds. The line between your brows hardens again as his words hit you. 

“No? Why not? Am I not good enough for you?” Your voice is rising. You sound like a whining child who hasn’t gotten their way. Muzan winces at the obvious pain seeping into your voice. You were nothing like he’d ever seen before. Something beautiful, a miracle in his eyes. Therefore, he did not answer you. He simply faded back into the shadows. With his disappearance, your hopes and dreams faded as well.

—

The next time you see Muzan is two years later. His hair is shorter than you last saw it, the curls kissing the nape of his neck. This neat look couldn’t contain the loose curls that framed his face. A starched white collar shirt was tucked into an ornate waistcoat. He looked utterly different, yet he was your Muzan. He had the same eyes, the same far-off look, and on top of that, you could practically taste his scent. It was overwhelming, crushing even, but in a way, you enjoyed the rush. 

It was also a fact that you had escaped your village after one of the men tried to see how strong a half-blood was. He told you he was turned on by how revolting you were and he would take you as his wife in duty only. Until then you had never seriously thought about killing a human. The realization was both terrifying and freeing. So you fled to the entertainment district, living off of what you could at the Kyogoku House. There were so many smells here. Food, humans, sex, and demons. 

You worked under a beautiful oiran, and you could tell… she wasn’t human. Part of you wanted to become friends with her, but if she hadn’t reached out for the sake of commonality, you didn’t think there was a chance of any other relationship than servant. 

Muzan’s brows furrowed. He had come to visit Daki and yet your scent prosecuted his brain. Ever since he left you in the forest that day he had been thinking of a way to retrieve you. You were too precious to let out of his sight again. This time he would secure you. He could feel his blood boil at the thought of you living in the Ukiyo. Kyogoku House was well protected, but anywhere without him wasn’t safe for you. Were you being used by men far beneath you? Muzan had never felt such rage toward the thought of men touching a woman. He often indulged in watching, humans were ever so entertaining – but you weren’t human. You were one of his and he swallowed harshly at the fact that you weren’t only his. 

He brushes past some of the lower-ranking courtesans, his eye twitching at their giggles. You watch from afar, the familiarity of his back etching a cold ache into your heart. He would leave again, of that you were sure. You hug the fresh sheets to your chest, making your way to the linen closet down the hall. “Ah, YN, I’ve been looking for you.” The Okaasan Omitsu stands before you. She has a cunning sneer behind the kind smile she wears. 

You bow, storing the sheets away before turning your full attention to her. “Yes Okaasan?” You can smell the evil intent behind this woman, it makes your stomach sink. 

“You wouldn’t mind doing me a favor would you?” She uses the word favor like you’d have a choice. She is the Okaasan after all. It’s like she thinks you’re some stupid girl that will follow whatever she says. Using the word favor is a manipulation tactic and if you were a naive girl, you would be eating out of the palm of her hand. 

You tilt your head to the left, plastering a fake smile of your own onto your lips. You knew anything out of your mouth except ‘yes Okaasan’ would make things harder for yourself. So with all your better judgment pushed aside, you say exactly that. 

Her eyes gleam. “Thank you, my dear. If you will kindly follow me.” She walks back up the hall, toward one of the private Ozashiki rooms. You glance around, nerves settling into your bones. You couldn’t be headed into one of these rooms, you weren’t even a kamuro. You were just an older shinzō. 

She stops in front of the panel, a cruel smile lifting the corners of her mouth. No, please, not this. “You are very blessed my dear, one of our chūsan is interested in you.” She slides the door aside and sitting against a wall smoking a pipe is a middle-aged man. Cushions are scattered around the floor and a twisted smirk plays with his mouth when he sees you. Okaasan bows then slides the door shut behind you. 

The room was stifling, the smoke choking out any of the senses you had. It was dizzying. “Mmm, you’re a lot older than I thought.” The man sneers, setting his pipe down. The fog of opium seemingly wraps around your throat, making it hard to breathe. “But you’ll do.” He laughs, patting the cushion next to him. “Why don’t you come a little closer?” He offers. Your body tenses. You were in danger, of that you were sure. You were not willing to give your virginity up to such a man but if you denied him the right to your own body, there would be outrage. You swallow, tentatively kneeling on the cushion next to him. 

He leans over you, sniffing the area around your shoulder. You stiffen. “You smell so good, better than all those flora bitches.” He growls. “I like your natural…musk.” Oh Gods did this man – who probably has a wife and children – just compliment how you smell when you’ve been working all day? “What do you like about me?” What a loaded question. 

You smile, one that shuts your eyes – if he saw the look in your eyes he’d be sure to know you were lying when you said, “I appreciate your generosity.” You bow your head and the man laughs heartily. 

His tongue darts out to coat his lips. “I can be more generous if you’d like?” He moves himself closer to you. “I was blessed with wealth, good looks, and a tool to make women scream.” Please let the tool be an ice pick so you can lobotomize yourself. “Whad’ya say, darling?” He coos, going in for what appears to be a kiss even though you hadn’t been given the time to answer him. 

You grimace away from his advance, shoving at his chest. The eerie playful tone in the room suddenly seems to vacuum out. The fog is still thick from the burning opium, but you don’t miss the way the man before you lunges for you. He’s panting above you with a charming pointy sneer. “Ah ah ah, not so fast. You haven’t serviced me, whore.” He digs his nails into your shoulder, pinning you to the wooden floor. “Look at you, begging for my cock with your eyes, ooohh you want it that bad you slut?” He hisses, fumbling with the buckle of his Western-style pants. You squirm wildly under his grasp but it’s like he’s infused with superhuman strength. “I’m gonna fuck you and then, as your reward,” His face is next to yours now, eyes glowing an electric yellow, pupils in slits. “I’m going to kill you.” His hand is on your throat, crushing your windpipe. You choke on what little air you were able to breathe earlier. 

A demon, this man was a demon. One of your kind. No… he wasn’t. He was something else. He was driven by the carnal desire to fuck and kill. You were too weak to push him off, your internal forces constantly warring against each other. You had always presented as human, meek, malleable, and obedient. What you would give to have your demon side come forth, bite this fucker’s head off. You want to scream – but on account of his claws sinking into the back of your neck – if you even moved that would surely be the end of your life. 

He tears your yukata to shreds, ripping the soft skin of your stomach open as well. Your mouth opens the pressure of a scream pushing against his hand. Blood mixes with the tattered cloth, the cotton dying red.

Muzan pauses, Daki grumbling about some inferior human drama. His eyes search the room, this time Daki taking notice from her self-indulged rant. Where was that smell coming from? He stands, silencing Daki before she can start whining again. The potent smell of blood was swirling to the top floor, but not just…any blood. “YN,” He hisses, the annoyance, rage, and blood-boiling sensations he felt earlier returning tenfold. Why were you bleeding? This was fresh cut blood, not from the dues women endured every month. He needed to find you, or he feared the worst. “I need to go.” He barely says to the demon next to him. Her face morphs into one of anger, and before she can hurl anything at him, Muzan slips out of her room. Where were you? He follows the pungent scent, clambering down the stairs and rushing down the hall until he’s in front of a private room. He’s sweating, for once fear is humming in his ear. He shoves the door to the side, witnessing a demon hunched over your body. 

Your blood is pooling around you dying the wonderfully blue yukata you wore earlier a sickly brown color. The demon doesn’t have time to look up because Muzan is already crushing its head, slashing its throat to shreds of what it once was. 

The room is covered in blood but the demon is dead. Muzan slides to the floor, cradling you in his lap. “YN, no, no please don’t die.” You were his miracle. You were his hope. If anything could save his damned soul it would be you. His arms are trembling as your stomach bleeds out, the skin marred, and…God the smell of your blood was driving him mad. It was something he shouldn’t be thinking about as you bleed out under him. You needed to regenerate. He wasn’t sure if you could so maybe your demon just needed a little push?

With his free hand, Muzan tears the flesh from his arm, bringing it down to your mouth. His blood trickles onto your lips, sliding into your mouth. After a few silent beats, your eyes shoot open. Muzan has never felt such joy as this very moment. Your arms wrap around his, bringing it into your mouth. Muzan hisses at the way your tongue dances around his wound, lapping up the blood he shed for you. You’re panting, gasping for more. Your eyes glow as you drag your tongue up the muscle of his forearm. His blood flows through you like your own life force, strengthening your nerves, hardening your muscles. He has made you stronger. 

It sends a pinch of desire through Muzan. He hadn’t felt the heat of wanting to sink his cock into the warmth of a cunt in decades. You were mouthing at his arm, wounds healed on both ends, but now that you were moving the once whole yukata falls off your shoulders. Blood trails from your lips down your chest, between your breasts. Muzan was never one to fend off his desire to want. He took whatever he wanted, without a care. He wanted to take you without a care. Fuck you senseless into the floorboards, claw at you, feed on your blood while you fed on his. It was ecstasy just imagining driving his cock into your pretty tight pussy. 

“I should’ve never left you.” He whispers and it sends a rolling wave of want through you. You move to straddle his lap. 

“Then don’t leave me now.” You could both smell it, the heat and arousal in the air. “Take me, my Lord.” He smirks, holding onto your thighs. 

He hums, enjoying the way you’re bare in front of him. You were a sight to behold. “Mmm, such a smart girl.” A portal opens underneath him, the wooden floor sinking into an expanse of rooms, platforms, doors, lights, and endless corridors. The sheer speed whips your hair around your face until – it doesn’t. You’ve stopped in the middle of whatever this place was. “Welcome home,” Muzan’s pink eyes darken to a deep crimson as he sits up straighter, pressing himself into you. You moan in delight as his hands work their way up your hips, sitting you down on the stiff part of his lap. 

You tilt your head, peeking at him. “I’ve never liked pants,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his. He chuckles his smirk growing. 

“And why is that?” He inquires, moving his tongue to lick up the blood that has traveled toward your navel. You choke out a moan as he makes his way between your breasts. You can feel his teeth against your skin and it’s a wretched thought. “Aheh,” He swipes at the crest of your breast. 

“H-hard to get off.” Muzan hums against your skin in agreement, but he’s too preoccupied with the way you tremble with untapped pleasure. 

He wants to tear into your flesh, mark you as his, burn only his name onto your tongue. “Such an eager kitten,” He licks his lips, capturing the back of your neck in his hands. “You want me bare that badly?” All you can manage is a small nod as he gingerly moves you so that you’re laying down. Your hips are still lined up with his as he gazes at you. “I can promise you I have a similar urgency.” He grins, pulling the belt from his breeches with a smooth movement. He tosses it to the side, but doesn’t make any more movements to pull his pants down. Muzan notices your heated gaze pointed toward his hardened groin. 

Did you know nothing about the workings between a man and woman? His eyes trail down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs. He wraps his arms around the bend of your knee, smirking when your eyes widen in surprise. He tugs you upwards, to where your legs are over his shoulders. Being this close to your glistening pink cunt made his groin stiffen even more, if that was possible. The smell of you was intoxicating. He couldn’t help himself. “What a fucking view.” He growls. 

Muzan buries his head between your thighs, latching his mouth onto your swelling clit. You gasp in pleasure, breaths turning into ragged moans as he plunges his tongue deeper into you. “O-oh my God, f’ck, ngh.” With the way his tongue his twisting and sucking inside of you, breathing seemed impossible. His claws dig into your outer thigh, scratching red trails to your knees. He devours every bit of you he can reach, crazed by the tangy sweetness of your arousal. Your walls were squeezing around his tongue, heat running through your body. 

Your own hands find your stiff nipples, rolling them around in your fingers. You couldn’t get enough, it was the same feeling you received from drinking his blood. Heat rolling around in your veins as his eyes take in your puffy cunt and how your eyes roll to the back of your head. He maneuvers one hand from under your knee to the one place that was being ignored on you – your entrance. It was like the gate to a shrine and he wanted to worship there for eternity. “Look at how fucking wet your cunt is.” His pointed nails shape into shorter rounder ones, he dare not damage this holy place. Then, without warning, he presses two fingers into you. A yelp echoes across the void of the infinity castle. “Ahhh, shit,” You huff, tensing from the sensation of your pussy being stretched. 

Muzan knew you were a virgin, he would be lying if the fact didn’t make him grow more feral to have you sit on his cock and take his seed deep within you. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you. That was all he could think about while lapping up your wetness. 

The slick from your cunt was sucking his fingers in, a growl rumbling around your clit. This makes you scream out as a shockwave shoots through you. Your thighs are shaking and every once and a while – as Muzan still selfishly fingers you through your climax, sucking on your clit – your body will twitch. Heavy and heady moans fall from your lips, breaking into whines as you come down from your high. 

“You did such a good job my sweet,” Muzan lowers you gently back to the floor. Your neck is sore from being at an awkward angle for so long, but you would give anything to see the disheveled man before you with your arousal still on his lips. “That’s it. Prefect. You’re so perfect.” He mutters, licking his lips and watching you still play with your nipples. 

Though you feel like you’ve just ascended, you crave more. You want Muzan to breed you like his own personal slut. “M-more,” You gasp. “I feel so empty my Lord.” You huff, the edges of your voice bleeding to a whine. Muzan’s eyes widen. He hadn’t intended to fuck you just yet. Give you some time to grow accustomed to sexual things so it wasn’t rushed, but your eyes are pleading him to continue. He’s… nervous, which isn’t like the demon king. He’s so eager to please you. Make sure you’re comfortable. He wants to give you hell, heaven, and the earth. 

“You’re practically begging me.” He chuckles, unsure if you really knew what you were asking. There was no way that once Muzan slid into your heady cunt that he would not ravish you. There was no way to tell time in the infinity castle, so there was no way for him to know when to stop until he was satisfied. You squirm to get closer to him, spreading your legs wide for him. His gaze drops from yours to your center, whatever shred of humanity that was left in him suddenly flying away. “Such a filthy slut. You’re already hungry for more? You want me to fill you up? Then beg for it.” His eyes narrow into slits, the magma growing in his belly. 

Your body cools with a shiver of excitement, as you reach down in between your thighs. You purse your lips and then spread your labia apart. The cool air tickles the sticky wetness but you can tell it’s doing something for him. “Please, my King, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t think. I want you to take my virgin pussy and make it yours.” 

The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “As you wish my Queen.” He frees his cock and you have to take a moment to gulp at the sheer size of it. The head is leaking precum and bruised a red color from the lack of release. The shaft is a pale pink, a thick vein running down the underside. The muscles of his hips also catch your attention. They were unlike the drawings some of the courtesans had shown you. His were muscular, ready to thrust into you for hours. 

Muzan lines himself up at your entrance, this time with the head of his cock. The idea was thrilling, finally pushing into your pussy and breaking the barrier of your womanhood. He hisses as your slick coats him, making it easy enough to start entering you. Your face contorts with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Shhh, you can take it.” You want to wiggle away from him, the pain of his member stretching you out is enough to break you. “Ah ah ah, you’re not going anywhere pretty girl. Remember you asked for this.” Muzan leans over you seizing your mouth with his own. You share a leisurely kiss as he swallows your moans. 

He feels the head of his cock hit your hymen and with a wince he thrusts past it. He can feel the rush of silky blood around his cock, but he tries his best to divert your attention with heated kisses. You break free, a long drawn out moan gasping out of you. “Ahhh, oh my, hngh nngh yes!” 

Muzan nuzzles into your neck, the feeling of your walls clenching around him driving him practically insane. “Yeah? Tell me how good I am. Tell me how good I am at fucking you.” He hisses out, desperate for your compliments and approval. 

“Nnnggh, s’good, f’ckin’ me s’good.” You slur, drunk on how he guided a new path into you. You pant and writhe under him, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Not yet my love, I want you to watch.” He starts to move his hips and you wince in burning pleasure. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.” He grunts, snapping his hips back into you. The wet slap of skin hitting skin sends shivers down your back. 

You’re straining against the build up in your stomach, a pit of coils wanting to spring forth. “Mmm, harder.” You huff, reach out to grab the back of his neck. He shakes his head, a playful smirk on his swollen lips. 

“Use your manners.” He teases, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Please fuck me harder.” You mewl just as he starts to thrust into you with a quickened rhythm. Your breath is sucked away by the pure bliss aching from the friction. 

Muzan bites down on his lip, brushing a few curls that had come free from behind his ear. “You like it when I do that?” He quizzes, fucking you harder. You can only manage a nod.

Your voice has grown hoarse from moans breaking into screams and whines. You buck your hips along with his as you arch your back, tumbling over your peak. “F’ck, haa haa hnngh,” You squeeze his cock and release his neck, breathless from your second orgasm. 

“Cum all over my cock, fuck,” Muzan growls, the feeling of your slick cum coating his length. He was gliding into you with such ease. He would apologize to you later for this. He pounds into your sensitive cunt, overstimulating you as you cry out. He rams himself into you and stays deep within your pussy. Panting heavily Muzan finally crashes over his own wave of pleasure. Splurting his cum around the walls of your pussy. He doesn’t want to pull out – for one fact he wanted all of his cum to stay within you – and for another fact, you were all the salvation he needed. He could find redemption with you. He rolls you both onto your side, hiking your leg over his hip to make sure he can stay inside of you. 

This was it, you had driven him to the edge and he would make sure to never let anything else touch you. As he gazes upon your soft features drifting off to a satisfied slumber he feels what once was his heart ache. “We should get married.” He blurts out.

[sixosix]

wanderer can fly; you cannot. he makes it his problem.

“What? Giving up already?”

“Shut—” heaving, you barely have the energy to flip him off, “shut the fuck up. Fuck off.”

Wanderer chuckles, all low and mean, as if his entire purpose in life is to ridicule you. He continues ascending overhead, moving and looking like an angel, but the words that come out of his mouth are far from angelic. “Careful, now. I know you overestimate yourself, but I won’t save you if you continue to scale a mountain with one hand.”

“Stop agitating me on purpose then!” You nearly slip from the intensity of your yell, but thankfully, it isn’t your time yet.

“How can I? You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Grumbling, you focus back on the mountain. Cute when mad. He must think he’s goddamn adorable, then.

You’re starting to lose sight of dents or protruding surfaces to get a hold of, and the mountain is getting steeper. You curse under your breath. If only you had Geo or Dendro—that’d help a lot much more. Maybe even Anemo, but that would be admitting defeat to the man who’s currently watching you intently.

Wanderer scoffs when your breath hitches, the surface you’re holding onto crumbling. He descends until you’re eye level. “Idiot, I told you that it’d be safer if we didn’t climb this all the way.”

“I know my limit.” Maybe. You may or may not have gotten a little over-competitive and jumped a few times, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

“Not more than I do,” he says.

“Don’t say it like that, weirdo.” You appraise the mountain overhead and, with a sunken stomach, realize that he’s right. There’s still a long way to go, and it’s a long fall back.

“Damn,” you say. You turn to Wanderer and blink up at him with wide eyes, hoping he would take the hint without having to say it outright.

Wanderer sighs, holding out his arms. “Jump.”

“Are you serious?”

“I won’t let you fall—of course I’m fucking serious.”

You grit your teeth, wondering if it’s easier to humiliate yourself and jump into his arms or to let gravity do its work.

“Hey,” Wanderer says, gliding closer and hovering an arm behind your waist. “No stupid ideas. Just jump and hold onto me.”

It’s always unsettling when Wanderer is not acting all bratty, like you’re not quite sure if you should goad him back to being mean or watch him bristle when you point it out. It’s been happening too often recently. That must be saying something about him if his soft moments are scarier than his jabs.

Wordlessly, you reach out for his shoulder with one hand and hold back a yelp when the lack of balance causes you to slip. You hold on tight around his neck, eyes wide and heart jittery. Wanderer secures his arms, moving in one swift motion. Before you even know it, he has one arm on your back and the other under your knees.

“How convenient it must be to have a ride as your companion,” Wanderer mutters in amusement at your relieved face.

“Yeah. That’s why I keep you around,” you say as he glides upward, barely straining from your weight. He looks as unaffected as ever.

He looks as infuriatingly and devastatingly beautiful as ever.

“Ha,” his smile is all sharp, “and not because you have a little crush on me?”

“You follow me around because you do. Don’t get it twisted.”

He snorts, tipping on something a little more genuine. You wisely decide to stop ogling at his face and enjoy the view of the sky instead. The blue of his clothes and the shade of his eyes are much prettier, but you’d rather lose that than start squirming in his arms. Not when he’s carrying you bridal style and all.

Finally, he descends, hardly disturbing the grass with his grace. He sets you down, arms crossed, as you pat yourself off from dirt and stuff.

“Well?”

You eye him warily. “What do you want?”

“Some semblance of manners will do,” he says, then leans close as if he’s baring his face for you. He’s been less and less subtle recently, too.

Nonetheless, you find yourself smiling. The things he’d do just to get a kiss—it nearly makes you laugh out loud. But then he’d start getting all irritated like a cat, and you much prefer when he’s sweet like this. Sweet in his very Wanderer way, you mean.

You kiss him on the cheek. He puffs up like some proud peacock. He calls you adorable all the time, but he’s the one who’s acting like this. It’s no wonder you keep him around.

[2knightt]

— YOU SHOWED ME LOVE .

—IN WHICH, the greasers realize they’re truly, and honestly, in love.

tags/warnings: gn!reader possible OOC, story-focused rather than comedic headcanons, fluff and nothing else(lie), comforting steve, swearing, soda’s part is rushed cuz i ran out of ideas.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ wow shocker i leave for awhile and come back with a new theme. anyways, hi angels! i love you all sm and i forgot how much i loved being here🥹..! i missed u guys so much!

—

Johnny Cade

cars zoomed by the lot at concerning speeds, the sound of wind being broken up by the obnoxious cop sirens or a drunkard yelling down the street.

though, to you and johnny, all of that fell to deaf ears. it was like the world didn’t matter to you—as long as johnny sat beside you.

the stars seemed to only shine above you two, twinkling and gleaming in ways that you’d never seen before. the moon was your sunlight, with johnny giving you the warmth.

his head rested on top of yours that was against his shoulder, his arm draped loosely around your waist. your thigh was pressed against his, making him more than a little nervous.

sitting in the lot with you made him nervous, despite you and him dating for a long while now. you made him..giddy. that’s the word.

you made him feel like a child again; the child he never got to be.

johnny had his head tilted upward toward the stars and the sky, matching what you were doing so he didn’t look like a clueless idiot.

your hand left your lap, your eyes flickering downward for just a moment that went unnoticed to johnny. you gently grabbed his scarred hand, holding his hand in yours. you held him like he was glass.

johnny felt his face get hot. like, really hot. you were so gentle with him, the type of gentle that he had never been treated with.

he looked down at you, your head still on his shoulder. your hair was so shiny, you were so beautiful and such a perfect fit for him with the way your body mended with his in a time like this.

perfect.

his lips were quickly pressed against the crown of your head, pulling away before he got too nervous to talk.

“i love you, y’know.”

Dallas Winston

“you’ll be fine.”

“i feel like ‘m bleedin’ out.”

dallas complained as he sat on your couch, his legs spread so that you could properly stand between them. you continued to dab the wet cloth against his cheek to get the dried blood off.

there seemed to be just as much of dried blood as there was fresh, his arms and hands coverer in gauze and bandaids.

you gently held his chin to turn his head every which way you needed, because he allowed you to. he liked you so much, he allowed you to move him around like a doll.

though, he liked slyvia a lot, too and she couldn’t do stuff like that. stuff like this with slyvia was weird, even if he did like her.

so, why was it different with you? what made you, of all people, so special?

his eyes were locked onto yours, taking extra note to how focused you look on cleaning his face up. you were pretty. like, real pretty.

dallas was quick to avert his eyes when he realized just how sappy his internal monologue sounded.

“what?”

you asked, taking note to how hyper-aware dallas suddenly looked. his jaw was clenched slightly as he seemingly refused to look at you.

how you always knew when something was up with him, he may never know.

“nothin’. the cuts jus’ hurt,”

he lied right out of his teeth.

dallas’ eyes met yours once more, trying to act tough once again. he asked himself once more, what made you so different?

“are you sure?”

you dropped the wet cloth slightly, the rag no longer against his cheek. you looked worried, and you sounded just as nervous.

you cared.

you cared for dallas winston. that’s what made you different.

dallas knew you were different from his other flings.

he liked his other flings. he loved you. he loved that you cared for him, genuinely.

he extended his hands out, grabbing your waist to pull you closer with a firm tug, your knee supporting you up as it was pressed against the edge of the couch.

“oh, ‘m real sure, pretty.”

“dally, please.”

“please, what?”

“don’t start with me now, winston.”

Ponyboy Curtis

you were golden.

completely and utterly golden. the sunset reflected off your skin like you were an angel, your eyes shimmering like the stars above, the flush across your face making you look beyond innocent.

ponyboy was the one to drag you out into the cold oklahoma winter in the first place. he just wanted to watch the sunset with you, the person he liked.

he protested against your arguments of, ‘it’s so cold out, though! it’s so warm inside, pony. don’t make me go out there!’ with, ‘it’s just a sunset. it’ll be for a few minutes! i jus’ wanna watch it with you. please, y/n?’

‘watch the sunset,’ his ass. he looked at the setting sun maybe twice in the span of 3 minutes. you were too beautiful to not look at.

of course, and thankfully, you were oblivious to his staring.

“it’s really pretty,”

you muttered. your eyes were locked onto the horizon, and his were locked onto his future.

his future.

the more he thought about it, he really liked you. like, to the point where whenever he envisioned a mile stone in his life, you were always there.

when he imagined graduating, you’d be there. when he imagined going to college, you’d be there. when he imagined getting married, you’d be standing at the alter with him.

he loved his future.

he loved you.

“real pretty.”

ponyboy agreed, but for a different reason.

Sodapop Curtis

the moonlight seeped through the curtains of his room, illuminating the lines that it managed to sneak it’s way through. the midnight sky was bright, yet the moon seemed to be the only focus for the stars.

soda held you in his arms loosely, your head resting gently on his chest. he traced imaginary shapes on the lower part of your back.

the sound of his fan whirling rang out through his room, your breathing falling into a rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.

soda always seemed to notice when you were about to fall asleep, and you didn’t know how he did. you were starting to suspect he might be a wizard.

he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, letting his lips linger there for a moment.

his life was hectic. it really was. he was a dropout who works a full time job to help his older brother keep a roof over their head, and he worked as a middle man in arguments.

but you, you were a breath of fresh air.

he needed you like he needed water.

he needs you.

he loves needing something, and he loves needing you.

he loves you. soda loves you so, so, so much.

“good night, baby. i love you.”

Darry Curtis

“oh, y/n,”

darry sighed as he entered the kitchen. the smell of freshly cooked dinner wafted through the air, leaving a comforting taste in everyone’s mouth.

he walked up behind you, your back turned to him as your focus was on scrubbing the last bit of dishes. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling himself closer to you as if he needed to be as close as possible.

he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes looking down at your hands in the sink. you turned your head to look back at him, your faces a mere centimetres away.

you couldn’t necessarily help the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips at seeing darry look so grateful.

darry was a busy, hardworking man. that's who he was, and who he will always be as long as he lives. he provides with no one to provide for him.

until you came into the photo.

darry was cooking dinner out of fear that soda'd burn the roasted potatoes he said he'd make, and ponyboy was just..not that good with anything other than eggs.

he was cooking, cleaning, and working. he had no time to himself, it seemed. but you, the angel you are, takes it off his hands. maybe it was to just have him all to yourself after work, he didn’t care.

you were the angel that he prayed for day and night.

and god knows how darry loves angels.

you ruffed his hair, not bothering to dry off the water that stuck to your skin. darry chuckled, lightly shaking his head in a poor attempt to dry his loose curls.

in his own retaliation, he pulls you impossibly close, attacking your face with as many kisses he could. giggles filled the room as you attempted to push yourself away from him, only for his grip to tighten.

he pulled away at his expense, pressing one last kiss on the crown of your head.

“love you, doll. i really do,”

Steve Randle

“you’re always welcomed here, steve. you know that,”

you lightly scolded him as he sat on the edge of your bed. he’d been couch hopping before he came to you, a broken and embarrassed man.

you were rummaging around in your closest for another old blanket he could use, since from prior experience, you learned that steve has a tendency to hog the blanket you two shared.

“i know, i know.”

he begrudgingly grumbled, hurriedly avoiding eye contact with you with his head down, looking at his hands on his lap.

you looked over your shoulder, seeing just how embarrassed he looked asking for help tugged on your heart strings a little.

steve was never one to ask for help, no. he thought he was too prideful, too good, for help. he thought that he was superman with the way he thought he could help himself 24/7.

you sighed, taking a few steps toward him. you squatted down in front of him, lightly grabbing his hand and holding in it yours. he finally looked back at you with lowered brows, his eyes making him look way more innocent than he actually is.

“i hope you aren’t lying to me.”

“what?”

“do you actually know that i’m always here for you, or are you sayin’ that to shut me up?”

you questioned, allowing yourself to be straightforward since it seemed like that was the only language he knew.

steve shifted his eyes away from yours for a moment, a small huff leaving his lips.

“maybe.”

“steve,”

you started, the disappointment emanate in your tone. you stood up, letting go of his rough hand to cup his face. you forced him to look back at you.

“you know you aren’t ever a burden. i love having you around. i love you, okay? i wouldn’t ever push you away.”

you stated in the most soothing voice you could muster, looking him right in the eyes to really drive your point forward.

steve took awhile to react. he just looked back at you, letting your words process in his head. after a moment, he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you close.

he buried his face in the nape of your neck, his breaths coming out shaky as he tried to calm himself.

he loved home, he really did.

and, look, steve isn’t stupid. he’s heard and understood the saying that, ‘home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.’ but he always thought it was stupid.

how do you feel at home?

well, now he gets it.

with you in his arms, you comforting him and talking to him like he was a human, and he’s never felt more at home.

and holy shit, he loves this feeling.

“love you. love you so, so, so much.”

Two-Bit Mathews

laughter rang out through your empty living room, the television being completely drowned out.

you gasped for more air as you and two-bit laughed at an inside joke that seemed to only make sense to you two. you hand your hand on his shoulder, the other on your stomach. two-bit was leaning toward you unconsciously.

“holy hell, two-bit! that’s so messed up!”

you feigned innocence, pretending like you didn’t play into the jokes that slipped off his tongue.

“well, shit! then i guess we’re both messed up since you were jus’ talkin’ about-“

“hey, wait!”

you were quick to cut him off, leaning toward him to cover his mouth with your hand.

“don’t go snitchin’ on me!”

two-bit snickered to the best of his ability, grabbing your wrist lightly to pull you toward him closer. you stumbled toward him, two-bit catching you by putting his hands firmly on your hips.

looking back at you with a sloppy smile across your face, your eyes having a certain mischievous shine to them made it hard for two-bit to look away.

you were so beautiful when you were happy. you were always beautiful.

how someone like you was able to understand his type of humour is beyond him. he just knows that he’s lucky, and that he’d be a fool to let you slip through his fingers.

he didn’t want to lose this moment, ever.

he loved moments like this.

though, he only ever experienced these moments with you. so, is it weird to say that he only loves moments that involve you? does that mean something?

does he love you?

yes, yes he does.

he’d let the whole world know that, too.

“god, i love you, pretty.”

[ivyues]

Someday - Bang Chan

Under the Australian sunset, Bang Chan stands in front of his first and current love, one he wants forever.

The sea stretched endlessly before you, waves rolling in a steady rhythm as the salty breeze carried the crisp scent of the ocean. The sky was painted in various hues of orange and pink, a breathtaking view that you desperately wanted to capture.

You adjusted your camera, took a shot, frowned, and adjusted again. The light shifted too quickly. The waves weren’t hitting the shore quite right. You wanted the shot, the one that truly captured how breathtaking this moment was.

Chris stood a few meters away, watching you with a soft smile. He had initially thought you would take a quick snap and be done with it, but here you were, still completely immersed in your craft, completely unaware of the way you fit so effortlessly into the scenery.

He didn’t mind waiting.

If anything, watching you like this – lost in your own world, bathed in the soft glow of the sunset – was enough to make his heart ache in the best way possible.

His eyes traced over your silhouette, the way the golden light kissed your skin, how your hair caught the evening breeze. He had always loved the sea; it was his first love, his childhood. But seeing you here, blending so naturally into a place that meant everything to him, made something settle deep inside him.

A conversation from earlier replayed in his mind.

"She’s good for you, Christopher," his mother had said, her voice warm yet certain. "You bring each other home in ways I don’t think you even realize yet."

He had chuckled then, brushing off the way her words settled deep in his chest, but she hadn’t stopped there.

"Some moments in life… they just tell you when something is right. When it’s time." She had smiled knowingly, eyes twinkling with something unspoken.

At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it. But now, standing here, watching you passionately take a picture of something that had been part of his soul since childhood, he understood.

Because right now, his heart was telling him something loud and clear – when the time came, when he asked you to be with him forever, he wanted it to be a moment like this, right here. Just the two of you, the sea, the sunset, and a love so certain it didn’t need grand gestures to prove itself.

He exhaled softly, shaking his head at the way his heart started to beat a little faster.

You turned then, catching him staring, and grinned. “What’s with you?” you teased, tilting your head.

Chris let out a chuckle, stepping closer. “Can’t I admire my beautiful girlfriend?”

But before you could answer, a mischievous glint sparked in your eyes. You raised your camera again, aiming it straight at his face. “Hold still,” you said playfully, zooming in dramatically and taking a few shots.

He groaned, but he couldn't surpress the grin on his lips. “Oh no, not the close-ups,” he muttered before lunging forward, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug to stop you.

You laughed, your camera lowering as you melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart. He held you close, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head as he pressed a soft kiss against your hair.

After a beat of silence, you murmured, "Okay, but seriously… what’s up?"

Chris smiled, tightening his hold on you for just a second. "Nothing," he mumbled, though his heart screamed otherwise.

Because if he opened his mouth now, he might just end up telling you exactly what he was thinking – that he loved you more than words, that you fit so seamlessly into his world, and that one day, he was going to ask you to stay in it forever, right here.

Well he could do that now, technically. He definitely wanted to... But not today.

Someday he will, definetly.

Before the moment could get too sentimental, a mischievous grin tugged at his lips. Without warning, he bent down and effortlessly threw you over his shoulder.

"Chris!" you squealed, laughing as you lightly smacked his back. "What are you doing?! I wasn't done!"

He chuckled, spinning you around slightly before carrying you farther away from shoreline. "You were taking too long. My parents were gonna file a missing report if I didn’t do something!"

"Put me down, you’re ridiculous!" You laughed, kicking your feet playfully as he held you securely.

He grinned, his heart full as he listened to your laughter mix with the sound of the waves. Yeah. Someday, he was going to make you his forever.

masterlist

[s0ulsniper]

lingering touches | bucky barnes

bucky and his lingering touches. how could you not notice? at first it was brief, every now and then like a tease. that's what you thought, and it passed through your mind once and that was all.

it started as an early morning. you woke significantly earlier than the others and you knew it. you couldn't hear the footsteps in the hallway, or the TV's on, nor anyone cooking as we usually did in the morning.

you tried to figure out what woke you and to your demise it was the aching pain in your muscles and joints. you called it after yesterdays rough mission, but you still had hope it would pass through the night while you were sleeping.

it took an extra second for your legs to respond and swing over the side of your bed. the groan that escaped your lips was the toughest you've heard from yourself in a while, you knew you were in for a harsh day.

once you feel the cool flooring of the compound on your feet you contract all of your muscles to pull you out of bed. it was cold, almost too cold without your fluffy blankets hugging you.

you needed something to hydrate your dry throat, and wake up your tired eyes. you knew you weren't getting back to bed.

your eyes focused on the light ambient of your clock, seeing it was indeed very early in the morning, 4:47 am.

not as bad as you thought, but the sky hasn't slowed with the beautiful sunrise as it would when you were awoken especially in the dead of winter. you cursed yourself for kicking your slippers underneath your bed the previous night, too eager to get to bed to even care.

the only thing keeping your body relatively warm was the giant t-shirt you wore, and the small loose shorts you threw on as you eased open your door, rubbing your eyes.

you were thankful of the faintly lit lamps that decorated the outside of the compound that lit up the hallways just enough to keep your path visible.

you navigated yourself to the kitchen, shivering a bit as it seemed to get a little colder.

you knew exactly what you wanted, a warm coffee. it will wake you up, and warm you up.

you made it to the kitchen and went straight to the coffee maker and cabinet, starting your coffee.

"up this early, doll?" you hear a tired husky voice behind you ask, causing your senses to jump a little, but it eased with realizing it was just bucky.

you turn around slowly, not wanting to cause anymore aching in your muscles.

"couldn't sleep." you shrug.

he studies you for a moment, the way you expression was slightly contorted in pain and exhaustion and how awkwardly you leaned against the counter to ease the pain.

he gets up from the island without a word spoken and walks over to you, that's when you really could see him, more of what he was wearing.

it flustered you a little, but the amount of pain you were in muted it more than it usually would.

as he walked closer you could see the bare skin of his chest, the dog tags that hung on his thin chain, and the low hanging pajama pants that gripped his hips that just barely covered the hem of his boxers.

you could feel the blood rising to your cheeks when he stood in front of you, taking the coffee flavor from your hands, his hand held yours for a second more than normal.

"sit down, doll." his voice is so soothing and gentle that it becomes persuasive, as if you would ever say no to him anyways.

your eyes softly shut for a moment, reopening seeing the same man in front of you, you could see his reassuring smile so you listen.

you turn on your feet, going to sit at one of the islands long stools.

before you could even think about the fact you were stumbling, you felt the contrast of his warm hand and the coldness of his metal one gently grip the sides of your waist.

your hands dart to hold against his, stabilizing yourself and trying to figure out what just happened.

"I've got you." he chuckles a bit.

"thanks, buck." you manage to grumble out as you slowly walk over to the stool, his hand lingers on the small of your back.

when you are comfortably sat down and he is sure you wouldn't fall again, he walks back over to the coffee pot.

you just stare at him while he brews you both coffee, wondering how crazy the coincidence was that he was in the same room at the same time when you needed him. your eyes traced over the ways in which his muscles contorted, his hands crafting the coffee, the way the dog tags dangled and swung with his movements, and the way he would do discretely glace back at you as if to make sure you were still there.

you wanted to ask him why he was helping you, but you were too tired to question him. maybe tomorrow would be better.

"thank you, buck." you mumbled, your head resting against your hand as you stare at him.

you could see his cheeks slightly indent with a smile.

"of course, sweetheart."

the next time you had noticed his lingering touches was an hour later, you both settled on watching tv in the living room after he helped you struggle through drinking your coffee and getting you medicine, a warm heating pad and plenty of water.

his hands seemed even more confident this time. as you both walked through the hallway to the giant living room, his hand lingered on the small of your back, and his other gently gripping your forearm.

you yawn, despite having the warm cup of coffee the exhaustion did not go away. you managed to keep your grip on your water bottle and heating pad, ready to lay down and rest it against your muscles for some relief.

he sits down on the couch in front of you, the remote in one of his hands that rests on the arm of the sofa.

he pats his lap to invite you to lay your head against it, seeing no pillows in sight.

with no hesitation you make yourself comfortable with your head in his lap. bucky lays a blanket over you and takes your glass of water to set it on the coffee table in front of you.

with the remote he turns on a show you love, but swear you've never mentioned before, but you're too lazy to even think more of it.

you didn't notice it right away, but he notices everything about you. it doesn't matter how small you may think it is.

and with bucky's hand running through your hair and the soft ambiance of your favorite show playing in the dark hours of the morning, you drowse off to sleep.

another time you noticed his lingering touch was on the quinjet after a rough mission with the team.

it was eerily quiet, everyone worn and torn from fighting and working. they were each tending to their own wounds, sleeping, or seeking help or quiet conversation among the other teammates.

you hadn't got the chance to ask Tony a question about something that happened during the mission before bucky rushed towards you.

none of the injuries you had were terrible, but you had cuts and bruises and scrapes along your face, hands and body. one particular one on your cheekbone where your head was shoved into a wall by a guard who got a cheap shot on you when you tried to help Steve retrieve his shield.

"what the hell happened?" bucky asks sternly yet quietly as he takes your jaw in his hands to analyze it.

"it's kinda funny actually-" your lips curl up a bit at the thought of it, not any longer mad at the guard given that he was very injured himself after it.

bucky's eyebrows quirk up in a disapproving look.

you open your mouth to speak but close it again, thinking.

"well, cap's shield was kicked away from him so I ran over to throw it back to him and a millisecond later a guard caught me and slammed me against a wall. very petty. he isn't doing so good himself now, either. so you should probably tend to his wounds, huh?" you wink jokingly at him and smile, making light out of the situation.

"whatever." he grumbles, still holding your face so many seconds later.

"got a good look at me yet, buck?"

"stop."

"sir yes sir." you laugh brightly, cursing yourself a moment later with the pain that shoots up to your face, a frown uncovering itself.

you glance at bucky, a slight smile on his face with the first aide kit already in his hands.

the final time you noticed his lingering touches was the day he mustered up the courage to ask you out.

it was late. he knew it. but it had been boiling up inside of him until he couldn’t handle it anymore, his feelings for you are boiling over. he can’t even function right without feeling the need to be with you. everything he does, he thinks of you and doing it with you. it has been eating away at him.

so there he was, standing outside of your bedroom door long after everyone had gone asleep. he guessed it was around 1am. he hoped you were still awake.

his hand lingers over the door, his knuckles grazing over it. he hesitates, thinks of every reason not to do this. but it all doesn’t matter if he has a chance with you. to already have been in your room laying with you in deep slumber.

he knocks. three times. he thought of knocking again after many moments passing without any noise being heard. maybe he should leave. he stops himself when he hears you move in your bed, standing and the soft patter of your feet walking towards the door.

it opens, revealing your tired form. he watched you rub a hand over your eye and run your fingers through you hair.

“bucky? what’s wrong?” your voice shakes him from his trance, realizing he had just been staring and saying nothing.

“could you please let me take you on a date, sweetheart?” he asks quickly, his voice more hoarse than he had expected.

he could see the way it woke you straight up, your eyes widening at his question.

“what?” you question, as if you wanted to hear him ask it again. maybe you were daydreaming.

“would you let me take you out on a date?” he answers again, and he will a million times back for you.

you shake your head, not in a way of saying no but as to shake your thoughts into order.

“are you-?” he watches you pause, laughing and resting your head in one of your hands for a moment, then looking back at him “sorry… this is very unexpected. yes, of course i will.”

your response sends a wave of relief through him and he lets out the air he didn’t know he was trapping in his lungs.

“you won’t regret it.” he smiles. “i promise, doll.”

he watched you, the reaction you had. savoring each moment, because even though you had both been thinking of each other for a while, this was the true beginning of it all.

[thebestsetter]

He was born to be by your side. It was his greatest desire, what he was meant to do. It's like being next to you came naturally to him, and he can't even remember how his life was before he met you. But what he can remember are the days you both spent together. Ridiculous conversations that, somehow, made so much sense to the both of you. So random, but yet holding so much meaning.

You were both laughing so hard. Walking by the shore, hand in hand. The sunset painting the sky with red and orange. Beautiful. So, so beautiful.

"When we grow up, we'll have a house by the beach" you said, swinging your arms together

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

He grabs your sun hat and puts it on his head, earning a small "Hey!" from you.

"And then we'll buy a cotton candy machine and make lots of cotton candies." He completes your thought while taking the final bite of his popsickle. You clean the side of his mouth (which was all smudged from the cold treat) and smile.

"Yeah, we can do that too."

You used to talk about your future a lot. More than the average couple, actually. Sometimes, you both reunited at your favorite cafeteria just to talk about life. How it was gonna be. How was gonna be your life together.

"A caramello cappucino with apple pie and a mint and chocolate milkshake, please" you said, and just hearing his typical order coming out of your mouth made him smile. Somehow, knowing you memorized his order made him happier than he could put into words.

After he paid (of course, he can't let you pay for your snacks. What kind of man would he be?) you both went to sit on a table right beside a window (you always loved looking out a window while talking, and he knew that. He knew you like the back of his hand). And like you couldn't handle the sound of silence, you started talking (and he'd never complain about it: he loved hearing you talk)

"We can have 3 kids, how about that?"

"I don't like odd numbers. Why not 4?"

"4 is too much" you said, sticking your tongue out and frowning your eyebrows (you looked so cute) "We can have 2, if the problem is odd numbers"

"2 is too little" he argued, and then sighed jokingly "Okay, fine, we can have 3"

You smiled, taking a sip from your milkshake

"Maybe after the third one, we can consider having a fourth, if you'd like"

And you knew he wanted to. Of course he did. He wanted to form a big, happy family with you. He wanted his future to be by your side. He couldn't picture a future without you. Which is why it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

"What's your favorite color? Mines yellow"

It hurts. He hates this. He hates this shit so freaking much. His heart feels like it's breaking, and his lungs are gasping for air. He can't look at his date without feelong absolutely sick, like he could literally throw up at the very moment. He can't help but think of you. How you were already talking about how many kids you'd like, and now he's back on the "knowing each other stage". It was so strange not seeing you.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me"

He can't spend a single minute here anymore. He's on the verge of dying, he's sure. And as if his body already knows exactly what makes him feel better, his feet take him to your house without him realizing.

His hand hovers upon the door, ready to knock on it. Life without you is meaningless. He needs you. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much.

"HHAHAHA Stop it!! Love, I swear, tickle me one more time and I will... HAHAHAHA"

He lowers his hand and walks away.

He loves you, that's why he's letting you go. He needs to let you go for your own good. You need to get over him (even though he's sure he'll never get over you)

He can't do this to you. Not when your new boyfriend treats you so well. Not when he fucked everything up. Not when he was the reason why you two broke up. He doesn't deserve you. He always knew you were too good for him. But now, he's doing you this favour to repay you for all the times you helped him. He's not going to disturb you.

Well, back to the talking stage, it seems.

GOJO SATORU, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, CHOSO KAMO, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, TSUKISHIMA KEI, Kageyama Tobio, Oikawa Tooru, KUROO TETSURO, TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa Shota (kinda???), SHINSOU HITOSHI, RIN ITOSHI, SAE ITOSHI, BACHIRA MEGURU, Chigiri Hyoma, KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, REO MIKAGE + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: not proofread!!

Masterlist

[navybrat817]

I wish I had a smitten Bucky. Just sees me and wants me. 🥺

I know the feeling, nonnie.

Check Yes or No

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky instantly falls for you, but waits to ask you out.

Word Count: Over 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff, could be seen as instalove on Bucky's side, attraction, slight insecurities, minor time jump, Alpine being the best, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I can't send Bucky your way, lovelies, so I hope you enjoy this short, surprise fic! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't looking for love the day he met you, but it found him anyway.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted from his seat when he walked into the conference rooms and nodded to the spot beside him that you occupied. “I’d like you to meet our newest transfer. She’s also moving into the Tower.”

He was a changed man the moment your eyes met. Breathtaking was a word to describe you given how he had forgotten to breathe. He had witnessed many sunrises and sunsets in his life, a kaleidoscope of colors painted in the sky to both soothe and awaken the soul. They paled in comparison to the beauty before him.

One glance and he belonged to you completely.

“Hi, Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”

While he wasn't sure if Heaven existed, you speaking his name was like hearing the voice of an angel.

“I’m Bucky.”

Of all the things he could've said, reiterating his name was what his mouth went with.

Instead of giving him a weird look or brushing him off when he scowled at himself, you smiled. “I look forward to us working together.”

Bucky couldn't tell you what the meeting was about that day, but he remembered the details about you. The way you leaned forward in your seat to pay extra attention when someone else spoke, also giving him an ample view of your chest before he reminded himself not to stare. The slight crease in your forehead when you jotted down an important note. And the soft giggle you let out when Steve cracked a joke.

He suddenly wished he was funnier.

“Have a good rest of the day, Bucky,” you said when the meeting ended.

Bucky didn't have to try to smile with you. It just came naturally. When you smiled back, it was easy to imagine what it would be like if you were his girl.

“You, too,” he replied, giving himself a mental victory for not screwing up his words this time. “Wait!”

You paused and looked at him expectantly. “Yeah?”

Bucky realized he had no reason to keep you from leaving. He just didn't want you to go. “Do you need help moving your stuff in?”

“I actually got my things moved in late last night, but thanks for the offer,” you replied, checking the time with wide eyes. “I'm so sorry. I have to go. I’m in 2L if you need anything!”

“Bye,” he called after you, turning in his chair to watch you go.

How did he miss you already?

Though Steve had a knowing look in his eyes, he graciously kept his mouth shut as he left the room. He reminded him an hour later that he wouldn't break any bylaws by asking you out. The punk somehow knew that you weren't seeing anyone.

Which made him happy.

While he appreciated Steve looking out for happiness, he still had to get his head on straight.

“Once I completely trust my own mind, maybe I will,” Bucky said, even though the stuff was already out of his head. He owed it to himself to take his time. And you.

Imagine his surprise when he found a note from you on his door the next day.

Hey, Bucky! Lunch on me today? Check YES or NO.

The lopsided grin on his face wouldn't go away when he read it again. You must've been interested in him enough to ask about him. How else did you know his apartment number? Why else would you ask him to lunch?

He nearly shouted “YES” in the hall before he came to his senses and simply checked the option before he returned the note to your apartment door.

When he met up with you later, he told himself it wasn't a date. It couldn't be, right? It didn't keep his heart from stopping when you answered your door. Dressed down and casual, you looked like an angel went to Earth just for him.

“Hey, Bucky,” you smiled. “Ready to go?”

He hadn't said much on the way to the cafe since he was too busy hanging on to your every word, but it was like he had known you for ages as you carried on the conversation. Your questions weren't invasive and you didn't seem to mind the occasional short answers. It was also the shortest meal of his life, over too soon for his liking, and he also refused to let you pay for his meal.

He wanted to show you that gentlemen still existed.

“Lunch again next week?” You offered.

“Sure,” he answered, his head spinning from giddiness.

But it wasn't a date.

It was time to change that.

Today was the day. Six months from the day he met you. Six months of chatting with you between missions and slowly getting to know you over weekly lunches. Six months of falling for you more and more each day and he finally worked up the courage to ask you out.

But falling was the easy part. Confessing was an entirely different story. He would either crash to the ground and hope his wounds would later heal or you’d catch him as he fell. No matter what, he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Just like we practiced, okay?” Bucky asked.

“Meow.”

Alpine nuzzled her head against Bucky’s with a gentle purr when he huffed. She was his little partner-in-crime through and through. Like you, even though you didn't realize it, the little white ball of fur helped save him. He was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to bring her to this floor, but any reprimand would be worth it.

Besides, the Tower, office, anywhere they operated should allow them to have their pets with them, especially for emotional support.

“I'm counting on you,” he teased, placing the folded up piece of paper in her mouth. “Go.”

He peeked around the corner when he set Alpine down. The sun illuminated you from where you sat in the lounge, curled up in your normal spot on the sofa. You liked to relax there occasionally to read. He wondered what book you had with you today.

Thankfully, no one was around to disturb you.

Except for him.

“Alpine, is that you?” You asked when you looked up, closing the book as the cat approached you. While the feline was cautious of some, she warmed up to you immediately when you met and solidified that you were the one for him. “Whatcha got there? Where’s Bucky?”

His name spilling from your lips was still one of his favorite sounds.

He held his breath when Alpine jumped up beside you, opened her mouth, and dropped the paper in your lap. He immediately began to second guess himself when you unfolded it with a furrowed brow. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why didn't he just ask you like a normal guy?

To be fair, he hadn't been normal for some time.

“Will you go out with me? Check YES or NO. Love, Bucky,” you read out loud with a huge smile, which was enough to make his heart race. You giggled a moment later when Alpine bumped your hand, the soft noise making his stomach do a funny sort of flip. “Okay, okay. Let me get my pen out of my bag.”

Bucky exhaled a little as he moved to stand in the doorway. You didn't toss the paper away, so that had to be a good sign. He carefully kept himself from showing any outward emotion when you met his gaze, but his knees nearly gave out. His palms also began to sweat when you gave him a half smile.

Just when he thought you couldn't look more beautiful than you had the day before, you proved him wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair and hoped he looked halfway decent since he hadn't brushed it. But you commented a few weeks back that you liked it long when you saw an old photo, so he wanted to grow it out. He lost count of how many times he imagined your fingers in his hair

Maybe one day.

Watching you grab your pen, it was like he was drowning. The tide pulled him under as you made a mark on the sheet. His lungs burned when you handed it back to Alpine. He couldn't come up for air. He couldn't breathe.

Until you smiled again.

“Thanks, Alpine,” you said.

His cat gracefully walked back to Bucky and he swore he caught you trying not to giggle as she climbed up his leg. His heart hammered in his chest when he took the slip of paper from her mouth. Meeting your tender gaze, he couldn't bring himself to open it though.

After he told himself he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Not going to see what my answer is?” You asked as he carried Alpine into the lounge.

“I want to,” he replied, sighing as he took a seat beside you. His cat was perfectly content to lay in his lap. “But I’m questioning if I did this the right way.”

The note you gave him for a simple lunch request may have been a small gesture in your eyes, but it meant the world to him. He thought by asking you out this way that he could give you something meaningful in return. Something that only the two of you shared.

That was all he wanted.

You turned toward him, your knee touching his. The small touch sent heat down his spine. “Open it and you’ll find out.”

He nodded, thankful that his vibranium hand didn't shake as he lifted the sheet. “Wait, let me say something before I do.”

The corner of your lip tugged as you tried not to smile. “Bucky-”

“I like you. I really like you. I have since the day we met. And I'm going to like you tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that,” he admitted in a rush, catching your sharp inhale as he looked into your eyes. “But I know my past isn't easy to deal with. If you just want to be a teammate or colleague, that’s okay. Just. Being a part of your life in some way is more than enough.”

Alpine lifted her head and looked between the two of you, as if she was waiting with baited breath to see what would happen next.

Bucky felt a crack in his heart when you didn't speak or react, his body slumping slightly into the couch. It was okay. He took a chance and told you how he felt. He wouldn't force you to reciprocate.

“Bucky?” You asked above a whisper, reaching over to help him unfold the paper. He gasped when he saw the checkmark beside “YES”, blinking rapidly to make sure you picked that box. “I really like you, too.”

“You do?” He exhaled, grasping your hand with renewed joy. He was careful not to squeeze too hard. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Yeah. Pretty much since the day I met you,” you admitted, glancing in your lap before you met his gaze again. He saw stars in your eyes. “And your past isn't your fault, Bucky. You aren't something to ‘deal with’, okay? You’re a good man. I can give you a whole list of reasons if you need it.”

Physically, Bucky’s body was in peak condition. Your confession, however, caused all of the air to leave his lungs and made him weak in the best possible way. A familiar warmth moved through Bucky’s veins as he breathed again and it dawned on him at that moment that he hadn't felt cold since you walked into his life.

Not once.

Your faith in him gave him strength. Your mere existence gave him the courage to try. And he didn't have to go it alone.

“Wow,” he breathed, relieved and elated as he gave you a small smile. “How about tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date,” you smiled.

“Great,” he smiled back. A date. He couldn't wait to see the look on Steve's face when he told him that he finally asked you out.

“And I think the note was purrfect,” you teased at Alpine before you scrunched up your face. “I ruined the moment, didn't I?”

Bucky brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it as gently as he possibly could. He could hear your heart race. So was his. “Not at all.”

He knew it was too soon to say he loved you and it was likely too soon for you to feel that way about him, but he felt hope in your smile that you would one day.

For now, he had a date to plan all because you checked “yes”.

We know it'll be the best date ever, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[uniquexusposts]

Jumping into assumptions | C. Leclerc

Summary: Charles had always considered Y/n his best friend, never imagining anything beyond their close bond. But one evening, when he realized he had fallen in love with her, he finally asked her out, and to his surprise, Y/n agreed.

The world knew Y/n as the heart of their friend group; the one everyone protected, the one who never raised her voice, the one who somehow made every place feel like home. She was the kind of girl who brought people together, the glue of their chaotic little friend group. And for as long as Charles had known her, people just assumed she was taken.

It was a running joke among their friends, really. Every time a guy showed interest in Y/n, someone would pipe up with a playful, "Oh, sorry, but she’s definitely taken," or, "Her boyfriend wouldn’t like that." The irony? She never actually had a boyfriend. And she never corrected them.

Charles had never given it much thought before. Not when they were younger, and certainly not when they fell into this unspoken rhythm of being each other’s constant. It was always Y/n beside him, laughing at his terrible jokes, rolling her eyes at his dramatics, nudging his shoulder when he got too arrogant. And, without realising it, Charles had started falling. Hard.

He’d known for a while that she was special to him, more than just a friend, but he'd convinced himself that it didn’t matter. She was Y/n. They were best friends. Nothing more. Besides, if he started thinking about her like that, who would he turn to when things were tough? Who would keep him grounded and remind him not to take himself too seriously? Who would be there to laugh with him through all the absurdities life threw their way?

It hit him one evening in Monaco, when they were all gathered at a rooftop bar, the sky burning in hues of orange and pink. Y/n was sitting across from him, laughing, properly laughing, at something a friend of theirs had said. Her head tilted back, her eyes shining, her joy so contagious that even Charles found himself grinning.

She was beautiful, of course, but it wasn’t just her looks that made his heart skip a beat. It was the way her laugh filled the air, the way she made everything seem brighter. She was magic, pure and simple.

And then it hit him.

They told him that to make her fall in love, they had to make her laugh. But every time she laughed, he was the one who fell in love.

His stomach twisted. How had he not seen it before? The way he always looked for her first in a crowded room. The way he cared a little too much when someone flirted with her. The way his world felt lighter when she was around. He was in love with his best friend.

He must've been staring, because suddenly, Y/n's gaze flickered to his, her smile faltering just slightly. "What's up?" she asked, her voice full of curiosity, the way she always sounded when she caught him in the act of thinking too much.

Charles hesitated. He could brush it off, make a joke, pretend he wasn’t on the verge of losing his mind over her. But then she smiled; soft, questioning, beautiful, and he knew he couldn't keep pretending.

“Nothing,” he said at first, then exhaled a quiet laugh. "Just… wondering if anyone’s ever actually asked you."

Her brows furrowed. "Asked me what?"

He opened his mouth, ready to say something casual, like always, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he found himself leaning in slightly, suddenly aware of how close they were. The noise around them faded, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.

"If you had a boyfriend," he said softly, his voice quieter than usual, almost a whisper. "Instead of assuming."

Y/n blinked, lips parting slightly. The rest of their friends were still talking, still laughing, but in this moment, it was just the two of them, suspended in some kind of strange limbo.

"No," she admitted, her voice barely above the noise around them. "No one ever has."

Charles’ heart pounded in his chest. It was a simple answer, but it was the most profound thing he’d heard in a long time. He felt the weight of it settle over him, like something had shifted in the air between them. She’d never been asked. Not once. Not seriously. And that realisation hit him harder than anything.

There was a brief silence between them, the kind that spoke volumes. Charles could feel the tension building, a knot forming in his stomach. The alcohol in his veins buzzed through him, making everything seem sharper, clearer. His thoughts, usually muddled, were now crystallised. This wasn’t just a casual conversation. This was the moment, the one he didn’t even know he was waiting for.

He leaned forward, closer, his gaze locking onto hers, steady and unwavering. "Then let me be the first," he said, his voice low, almost tentative. "Let me take you out. Properly. No assumptions, no misunderstandings. I will show you how it works, so you at least can say that you have been on a proper date once."

Y/n’s breath caught, her eyes wide with surprise. Charles could see the wheels turning in her head, the questions, the hesitation. But what struck him was how the uncertainty melted away, replaced by something softer, something more open. And then she smiled, a smile he had never seen before; not the playful, teasing one he was so used to, but something different, something just for him.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the bar.

Charles’ heart leapt in his chest. "Yeah?" he asked, just to make sure. His voice was barely more than a breath, a mix of hope and disbelief.

"Yeah," she said again, her lips curling into that same soft smile. "Okay."

And just like that, everything changed. The boy who had spent years making her laugh, who had always been her constant, realised he never wanted to stop. He never wanted to be just friends.

—

The next day, Charles was practically bouncing with excitement. He couldn’t believe it. Y/n had said yes. They had both been floating in the same space for so long, so close to something more, but neither of them had ever crossed that line. Until now.

He texted her almost immediately, already planning their date in his mind. He couldn’t wait to see her, to spend time with her, and to finally, finally, be more than just the guy who made her laugh. He wanted to be the guy who made her heart race, too.

They met later that evening at a small, cosy restaurant in Monaco, one that Charles had carefully chosen for its intimacy, its quiet charm. When Y/n walked in, her smile instantly lit up the room, and Charles felt that familiar warmth spread through his chest. It was different now, though. There was an air of anticipation, a new energy between them that neither could ignore.

"You look amazing," Charles said, genuinely taken aback by how beautiful she looked, her hair cascading in loose waves around her shoulders, her dress simple but elegant.

Y/n blushed, clearly flustered by the compliment. "You clean up well yourself," she teased, sitting down across from him.

Charles chuckled, the nerves melting away the longer they talked. It was like they were slipping into their old routine, but with something new and exciting beneath the surface. Every joke felt more meaningful. Every smile felt more significant.

"You know," Charles said after a while, as they shared a dessert, "I’ve been meaning to ask you something."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"Why haven’t you ever corrected people when they say you have a boyfriend?" he asked, his tone light but with a hint of curiosity. "I mean, you’re obviously not dating anyone, so… why let people assume?"

Y/n looked down at her dessert, her fingers tracing the edge of her plate as she thought for a moment. "I guess… I never really saw the point. It was not like, if I would say anything about it, that I would be heard,” she said finally, lifting her eyes to meet his. "It was easier to let them assume than explain it at some point. Plus, I wasn’t sure anyone would even ask me, you know? I mean, no one asked me before so then I mustn’t be in the game to date, I guess.”

Charles felt a pang of guilt, realising how long he’d let things go without stepping up. Without seeing her as more than just his best friend. “Don’t say that,” he replied. 

She shrugged.  “At some point, you will assume it is your own fault, or that you are the issue. I grew up with that. I don’t know any better. I have accepted it.”

“I should’ve asked you sooner," he admitted, his voice soft, almost apologetic.

Y/n smiled again, a small, knowing smile. "Well, you’ve finally asked," she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "And I’m glad you did."

They weren’t just best friends anymore. They were something more. And for the first time, Charles couldn’t wait to see where this new chapter would take them.

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