#and maybe she’s right. I have to wait and see if some of the things I have planted will yield results and give them time to do so

[angelsforthenight]

screen babe, mean babe, guess who’s gonna cream babe! (pt 2)

camgirl!vi x reader (read pt 1 here)

summary: after an abysmal night, you know who PinkSage really is. you want to loathe her, yet you can’t seem to escape vi’s agonising game, especially underneath the guttural heat of your city’s sun.

pre a/n: yaaawl if ur expecting smut in this chapter then i’m sorry but not yet 🙁🙁 i want to drag s.m.g out longer than i did with my last ellie series so you’re gonna have to wait until the next chapter. sometimes a slow burn can be so much better and worth it in the end, i promise! hope you guys still enjoy <3

content: AAAANGST, vi is really mean, very slight slut-shaming, cursing, crying, playful!vi, teasing! this entire chapter is a huge tease, vi is extroverted, difficult goddamn lesbians, some painful yearning, some cute moments, vi’s got one point up in this chap but we’ll see how that’ll go…

“i know who you are.”

your eyes persist in hers: as if trying to burrow yourself inside them and make yourself known.

vi, irritated as is, raises her brows and shakes her head; urging for you to elaborate. you have no idea where your boldness came from, but you find yourself continuing.

“PinkSage. y-you’re PinkSage, i watch you all the time i—“ vi’s face does a whole u-turn, the colour draining from her face.

“hold on, shut the fucking door first!” she hisses frantically. you flinch into obeying her. when you turn back around, your heart sinks at the disgusted look on vi’s face. maybe you hadn’t thought this one through.

“the fuck were you thinking? saying that shit whilst your parents are sleeping right there?” she whisper-scolds, storming towards you. you back away until you’re up against your door. yeah… what exactly were you thinking was going to happen? for your favourite cam-girl to immediately get on her knees and start eating you out? of course this moment hadn’t gone as you expected.

“huh? you just gonna stand there like a dumbass after revealing that shit? you of all people?” vi continues, her voice raising. she’s so enraged! as if it’s your fault that the woman you’re supposed to idolise happened to stay in your house. it’s only a fucked-up coincidence. your lips quiver as you find your voice.

“you— you’re being too loud.” are the only words that you can think of to say. vi stares at you in disbelief.

“… my parents are sleeping after all, right?” you mutter, looking away. vi is scowling so much she may as well pop a vein.

“hah. you’re a sick fucking freak.” she laughs dryly, shaking her head incredulously. though your gaze flicks up to her; bewildered and hurt, you’re not just going to let her talk down on you like this. not when what vi does is worse.

“you spread your legs for, like, a million pervs online. i don’t think you have the right to talk.” you snap whilst your voice trembles. here’s to thinking the world of PinkSage…

“pervs including your dull ass.” vi scoffs.

“watch your mouth, unless you’d like to sleep in the streets.”

“oh yeah? and what would you explain to your parents?” vi’s lips twitch into a grin, “mommy, daddy! kick vi out because i jerk off to her online but she’s being mean to me in real life!” she mocks, her voice lilting into a higher-pitched tone. your instinct is to push her in order to shut her mouth. vi only stumbles a little, but she glares at you as if you’ve thrown tomato juice all over her white top.

“fuck you.” you’re about to leave until something comes over you, feeling compelled to say one last thing. let her sit with this shit.

“and for your information, last time you streamed? you orgasmed to my name. your_user? yeah, that was me.”

you relish in the way vi’s expression mellows into one of astonishment. she’s dumbfounded and silent.

“sleep with that, bitch.” you spit, hastily slipping back to your room. you would’ve slammed the door if it wasn’t going to wake your parents up. your mother sleeps with one eye open and any noise would have her rising from her bed as if she’s a vampire.

once you make it back to your room, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. you’re trembling: entire body buzzing from head to toe with adrenaline and fury.

two steps closer to your bed and you feel a glob of tears swell in your throat, shooting up to your eyes. they are quick to rivulet down your cheeks like a torrent, and you intake a shuddering breath, coated with phlegm. afraid of vi hearing you next door, you immediately cover your mouth.

you jump into your bed, too arrogant to admit that the reason why you’re sobbing in your pillow is because you’re upset. you’re fucking pissed is what you are, embarrassed that you even said anything — and that vi had the gall to respond like that. whereas a week ago you would’ve praised PinkSage as if she were a saint, you’re sitting here wondering who the fuck this woman thinks she is.

of course famous people are dickheads in real life. you should’ve expected this. you fiercely wipe your tears, yanking your covers over your head. at least you were able to have the last word. you think about the look on her face, hoping she feels just as stupid as you do.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

it’s the morning that’s downright awful. you woke up too early, and now you’re forced out of your will to sit with your family and vi to eat breakfast.

your parents are trying so hard to impress her and you hate it. they’ve even gone the extra length of setting a table in your backyard, spread neatly over the stone ground. you don’t remember there being this much food in your house, let alone the gingham cloth fanned over the table. as if this breakfast is a special occasion. they must think vi is a goddamn prodigy! they find it to be groundbreaking how can she be oh so sweet volunteering for animals and taking care of them, and how she works out a lot and that tattoo on her face…

you chew your food slowly, glaring daggers at her as she compliments your mother’s cooking with her mouth full. meanwhile you would’ve gotten scolded for doing that! you’re being petty and stifling: insanely moody in this delicate summer morning. how could you not? you were in tears because of her audacity last night!

you bet if your parents found out what vi really does, your dad wouldn’t suggest playing basketball with her, and your mother wouldn’t be asking her all these stupid, prodding questions. ones like, “vi, do you have a boyfriend? o-or a girlfriend! if that’s what you prefer?”

you two make eye contact then. a split second, but it was palpable like an electric current zipping up your spine. you’re the first to look away; suddenly interested in swirling your fried egg around, smearing the yolk.

“nah. not interested in that stuff.” she replies dismissively, cool as a cucumber, because everything about her is cool! peachy! you prick your bacon with your fork hard, bringing it up to your lips as you flicker a glance at vi once more. since she’s not paying attention anymore, your eyes decide to fixate on the slope of her nose, shimmering from the light mixed with shadows that are dancing from the leaves above.

vi mutters something indignantly to your father, something you don’t hear because she suddenly steps on your foot under the table. hard. you accidentally let out a gasp that’s a little too loud, obliging everyone else to stop what they’re doing to glance up at you. they definitely forgot that you were even here. you glare at vi, who’s looking away as if she hadn’t just done that on purpose. are we suddenly little kids now? did she wake up completely overturned? ready to be an upbeat ray of sunshine after rudely shutting you down last night?

“everything okay?” dad raises a brow. vi only pretends to be curious, furrowing her brows and pouting, a faint jeering expression for your eyes only. what is she trying to play at? this isn’t just mere playfulness. this is something else.

“yeah, fine.” you murmur. you’re ready to push your chair back and leave until you hear your mother.

“oh, y/n can take you. she knows her way around the area better than any of us.” you freeze.

“what?” you brow quirks into a look of foul disdain. especially because vi looks like a grinning dog at your mother’s suggestion.

“you guys can even take the bikes!” dad chimes in enthusiastically. you want the skies above to open up and take you away. right here, right now.

“but—“

“i would love to go with you.” vi beams. that wretched look on her face, full of mischief and lies. the sun on her face isn’t exactly helping either. it’s all a cruel taunt: the way it kisses her face, the way it highlights her plush lips curved into that sweet, deceitful smile. she could be the sun herself… if she wasn’t so obnoxious. yet you find yourself relenting, giving a speck of yourself away to the woman who gets under your skin. you force yourself to stare at the wooden ridges of the table instead of the sunlight dancing on vi’s features.

“…fine. where to?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

the lazy july sun is beating down on you mercilessly. vi’s wearing a baseball cap, but you? you were too pissed off and stubborn to listen to your mother’s advice on wearing a hat. so now you’re suffering.

you’re steering down the tree-lined dirt track with your bike. though it’s so damn hot, you really do appreciate the beauty that summer brings along: how everything appears so bright and awake. you won’t pretend that it can’t be suffocating however, especially when you have a certain pink-haired someone riding a bike behind you, distinctly aware of her eyes boring down your back.

vi slightly quickens so she’s right beside you, you side-eye her.

“who says that theres space for the both of us?” your words may as well have a double meaning. vi grins. there is actually enough space, you just don’t want her next to you.

“i did. you’re so sweaty you’re glowing by the way.”

“aw, thank you.” you sneer at her before picking up the pace.

“hey, wait! i was fucking around!” she chuckles, following you down the road.

you guys ride until you’re in the city: bustling with people and markets. mothers are dragging their screaming kids, men are oozing with sweat; grumbling as they push past people. you’re jealous of those passing by that are able to fan their faces. vi parks her bike, but you don’t.

“well, it has been lovely escorting you.” you mutter sarcastically, gripping the handlebars.

“what? you’re not staying? what makes you think i know my way around?” vi counters. she looks so puzzled, like a puppy. you swallow, seeming to crumble just a little more when you look at her face for too long.

“um, i didn’t know you wanted a tour… but fine.”

you two walk along the markets. vi has quite some time before she’s called in for work so she wanted to familiarise herself with the city beforehand. at first, you guys hardly talk, simply following vi as she wanders about instead: watching as her eyes glint at the vintage trinkets and antiques they sell in stalls.

you feel like a clamshell stalling quietly behind her, as she eagerly chats with quite literally anyone. she’s so extroverted! it’s begrudgingly interesting watching her communicate, her delivery of words smooth and clear, making anyone hang onto her words like rope.

there’s too many people in this narrow path, and too much pushing. you don’t want to lose yourself in the crowd, so you helplessly tug on vi’s sleeve. vi glances back.

“you good?” she keeps walking with you continuing to use her sleeve as leverage. it’d be a mess if you guys were to randomly stop now, with this sea of people that have clearly got places to be.

“yeah, i just don’t wanna lose you.” you reply, realising too late how weird that just sounded. vi, jovial as she already has been, only smiles wider. you quickly back-pedal.

“m-my parents would kill me if i were to lose our guest, you know?”

“here.” you all but expected for vi to lace her fingers into yours, holding your hand as you continue to slink through the masses of people. why is she being like this? was last night completely erased from her head, or does she just not care that much? you stare at the back of her head, as if that’ll give you answers. you secretly enjoy the warmth of her hand, subtly pressing your palm further into hers. vi doesn’t notice. good.

you guys find yourself in a music shop. this, after all the other markets and shops you’ve visited, finally has captured your keen interest. you come here all the time, the main source of all your cds in your room.

your eyes sparkle when your fingers stumble across one you’ve always wanted. limited edition, and it has a holographic cover too! how sick is that?

however, the excitement quickly fades when you remember that because you were stuck in your cloud of fitful anger, you ended up forgetting your wallet at home. you palm your pockets, making sure it miraculously doesn’t just so happen to be there… but nope. nothing.

“boo.” you feel the hotness of her mouth hard by your ear before you even register anything else. you squirm away, glowering at her only to be met with a cheeky smile back. vi’s already got a whole bag of stuff! how nice that must be.

“you gonna buy that?” vi points her gaze at the cd in your hands. you slot it back in the genre section. “i don’t have money, left it at home.” you mumble.

vi snorts, “you’re a real smart one, ain’t ya?”

“shut up. go pay for that and i’ll wait outside.” you grumble, practically storming out the door. you’ve never met anyone quite like vi. she’s so playful, and stupid and sweet, hot and mean all at the same time: getting under your skin in the worst way imaginable. the memory of PinkSage feels like it’s slipping from your fingers like sand.

vi comes back a moment later, smacking a cd down in your hands and walking ahead like nothing happened. you stare at her confusedly, but your eyebrows quickly rest in realisation as you gaze down at the cd. it’s the same one you wanted. your stomach betrays you by fluttering and then churning intensely.

“hey.” you call out, making vi stop.

“what’s your deal? why’d you buy this for me?” you grip the cd, heart beating like a live wire. vi turns around and walks closer to you. branches are singing from the breeze, seagulls are cawing, but you can’t hear anything. not when your full focus is on her. not when she’s walking so close it’s as if she’s going to step right through you.

“‘cause i saw how much you wanted it. you were gleaming.” she shrugs. how casual she must be, whilst your heart is pounding to the rhythm of her syllables. vi-o-let. why must you treat me this way?

“it’s no big deal.” she stares at you blankly up and down. you point your view downwards, focusing on the ladybug that’s started to crawl on your shoe. a kind respite from vi’s torturous gaze.

“why… why are you being so nice? after wh-what happened last night?” curse your sudden nervousness.

vi might as well close the gap between the pair of you, gentle fingers tilting your chin up to direct your gaze on her. oh, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

“because you’re my biggest fan.” vi stretches out her words, soft and punishing. this godforsaken woman… you could quite literally die on her feet. your brain short-circuits and then switches off. especially when you witness vi’s gaze flickering to your lips. your breathing quickens, and it feels like your body isn’t yours anymore. you may as well be a floating bubble.

until vi takes her hat off and puts it on your head instead, patting it. “come on, let’s skedaddle. you don’t think our bikes got stolen, do you?” she jogs ahead, whilst you stand here like a dumbass, the cd lying limply in your hands.

this is a brutal penance worser than last night. vi did that on purpose, to see your reaction, and now that she’s got her fill, she’s going back to pretending as if nothing happened. how unsparing. how cruel.

you force yourself to drag your feet, one feet after the other towards vi. your head is lagging behind, still stuck on her touch.

a/n: some of u might hate me for this 😅😅👅👅👅 but oh my god u guys are in a DOOZY for chapter three i’m literally trembling thinking about writing it ughhhfhdhhd once again lmk if u wanna be added to the taglist but also some of u guys need to check that ur mentions are on or else i can’t tag! :< anywhooo sorry that this chapter was a little shorter but did anyone else clock the cmbyn tea…

taglist: @marvelwomenarehot0 @ghgygd @jupitism @reneesub @cotrill09 @itzsky82 @elliesbabygirl @adora-moonshine @maxinephobia @ch3sire-blu3 @krilara @perrzs @thankynext @zaunite-516 @eren-luvr @cpt-prices-leftnipple @goticapomposa @lolitalovess @moonchildcovenxx @spicedcherrylolli @mystar-girl57 @mar1posita @avonnimimi @kirajess @caitvisgirl @heyy-lovey @antobooh @jajsnjz @beachaddict48 @aceywaycy @sleepingwasp @elliezlils11utt @vincinnamontoast @runawaybaby3 @h0n3yf0rlif3 @iluvwomensm

[missarchive]

motel six

spencer reid

cw; spencer reid x fem!reader, spencer gets caught jacking off, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, softdom!reader, sub!spencer, one bed troupe, oral (m. receiving), aftercare, unprotected p in v, spencer’s a little desperate and awkward (what’s new)

an; HIII ALLL!!! This is based on an ask I received earlier this month, but I have had a few similar ones so I finally made a fic for them. The truth is that I have been seeing a beautiful woman and she is taking up most of my time. BUT- I managed to sneak this one in. I will start posting more consistently again now that my writer’s block has finally disappeared. As always, please leave some feedback if you liked it (if you didn’t just know you’re stepping on my hopes and dreams). Love and miss u guys xoxo

wc; around 3k

Your stomach twists. A long day chasing leads and poring over case files has already left you drained, and now you have to share a room with someone? You glance around at your teammates, who are pairing off with little hesitation. Morgan claims a room with Rossi. Hotch and JJ take another. Emily and Garcia get the third. That leaves…

You turn your head just as Spencer Reid—resident genius, profiler extraordinaire, and your usual case partner—adjusts the strap of his bag with an unmistakable grimace. His hazel eyes dart to yours before flicking away, his jaw tightening.

Of course.

"Looks like it's you and me, Reid," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he nods stiffly and brushes past you toward the room number scribbled on the keycard sleeve. Your stomach sinks further, but you push down the unease and follow.

The room is as underwhelming as expected: beige walls, scratchy-looking blankets, and a single queen bed shoved against one side. A rickety wooden chair sits near the window, but otherwise, the space is cramped.

Spencer stops in the doorway, his whole body tensing. "You take the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair."

You frown. "Reid, that thing looks like it’ll collapse if you breathe on it too hard. We can just—"

"I said I’ll sleep in the chair," he snaps, dropping his go-bag by the door.

The sharpness in his voice catches you off guard. Spencer is always a little awkward, sometimes distant, but rarely outright rude. You watch as he rubs his temple, his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder if he might crack a tooth. He looks… angry. At you?

"Okay," you say slowly. "Did I do something?"

"No," he bites out. "Just drop it."

You exhale sharply, irritation flaring. "Spencer, we’re both exhausted. If something’s wrong, you can just—"

"Just leave it alone, Y/N."

His words are clipped, final. You stare at him for a moment, searching his face for an answer, but he won’t meet your gaze. The room suddenly feels suffocating.

Fine. If he wants to be an ass, let him.

"I’m going outside," you mutter, grabbing your jacket. "Maybe by the time I get back, you’ll have figured out how to use your words like an adult."

You don’t wait for a response before stepping out into the cool night air.

The motel parking lot is nearly empty, save for the team's vehicles and a couple of semi-trucks parked along the far end. You breathe in the crisp air, letting it wash away some of the frustration bubbling inside you.

Spencer’s behavior isn’t just annoying—it stings. You thought the two of you were friends. Sure, he can be awkward and distant, but he’s never been outright cruel before. Whatever is bothering him, he clearly doesn’t want to share it with you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the cold seeps through your thin jacket. After a few minutes, your irritation starts to wane, replaced by exhaustion. You don’t have the energy to stay mad, and honestly, all you want is to collapse into bed and sleep for at least twelve hours.

With a sigh, you make your way back toward the room. The hallway is silent, the only sound your footsteps against the aging carpet. You reach for the door handle but freeze as a muffled noise seeps through the thin walls.

A low, breathy moan.

Your heart stutters.

You strain to listen, barely breathing as another quiet sound follows—one you recognize immediately.

A strangled gasp, unmistakably Spencer’s.

Heat rushes to your face as your brain supplies every possible explanation, each one more embarrassing than the last. You should walk away. You should turn around and pretend you never heard anything. But your hand stays frozen on the doorknob, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Another moan drifts through the door, this one louder. You swallow against the sudden lump in your throat.

"Fuck," Spencer gasps. "O-oh god— please."

His voice is low, rough. Desperate.

You grip the doorknob tighter, debating for what feels like an eternity. Should you walk away? Or—

You ease the door open, pressing your hand against it as if to stop yourself from charging forward. Spencer’s back is to you, his head thrown back as he works himself over, his hand moving in rapid strokes.

You can’t help it—you step further into the room, drinking in the sight of him.

He’s sprawled on the bed, shirtless and pale in the moonlight filtering through the blinds. His arm muscles are tense, sweat dripping down the side of his face. The blanket is thrown back, revealing his naked lower half: his long legs, his perfect hands—

His cock, thick and wet between his fingers.

You feel a rush of arousal at the sight, your blood pulsing hot. This is so wrong. So inappropriate. He’s your teammate, for god’s sake, and yet—

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to walk away.

Spencer's hips jerk upwards, his body shuddering with pleasure. "Y/N," he gasps again, his head falling back against the pillow. His eyelids flutter shut, his brows drawn together.

"Y/N, fuck, please—" His hand moves faster, stroking himself with a rough desperation that makes your breath hitch. You can’t look away as he thrusts against his grip, his hips writhing, his spine arched.

"Ah- fuck," he gasps, his body tensing, his fist tightening around himself. His mouth falls open, his eyes squeezing shut as he comes with a strangled moan.

You press your hand over your mouth, holding back a whimper of your own as you watch him.

Spencer sags against the mattress, his chest heaving. He's so fucking beautiful, and—

And you’re still standing here, watching him.

Your eyes dart to his face, and your stomach plummets as he turns his head.

He opens his eyes, and you meet his gaze across the room.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

Then you both leap into action.

He scrambles upright, fumbling for the blanket to cover himself. You jump backward, tripping over the threshold and landing hard on your ass.

"Shit," you hiss, wincing at the pain that shoots up your tailbone. "Shit. I—fuck, I’m sorry. I should—"

"Y/N," Spencer says in a strangled voice. "I—I thought you were gone. I didn’t know you were—"

He trails off, looking anywhere but at you. You struggle to your feet, smoothing your clothes down self-consciously. This is awkward as hell.

"I thought you were asleep," you admit, wincing. "I didn’t mean to—"

Spencer draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He looks so fucking embarrassed, and you can't blame him.

You should say something. Apologize. You should put him at ease—

But the sight of him still has your pulse hammering.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down your racing thoughts. "I’m sorry, Spencer. I really am. I don’t mean—this is just—"

He raises his head, his eyes searching your face. "What were you doing, standing there?" he asks softly.

You swallow against the lump in your throat. "I don’t know," you whisper. "It was wrong, what I did. I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have watched you. I’m sorry."

Spencer lowers his gaze, his face still flushed. "What if I wanted you to?" he mumbles.

Your heart jumps. "What?"

"I wanted you to watch me," he says louder, his eyes darting up to meet yours. "I’ve been wanting you to for weeks, ever since you asked me to take over the case files."

"What?" you repeat stupidly.

Spencer shifts, his cheeks flushing a deep red. "I started—I started thinking about you. Fantasizing about you. You touching me, kissing me— everything."

Oh.

You stare at him, trying to process. "Reid," you say softly. "I—"

"Don’t apologize," he says quickly. "It’s not your fault, I just—I wanted you. So fucking bad. I thought that sleeping next to you would be—"

"What?" you prompt gently.

He exhales sharply. "That it would be uncomfortable," he says in a rough whisper. "That it would drive me crazy. That maybe you’d—maybe you’d feel it too."

His gaze flicks up to yours again, full of hope.

Your heart races. "Is that what you want?" you ask, stepping forward.

Spencer's breath hitches, his fingers tightening around his knees. "Yes," he rasps. "Oh fuck, yes. If you—Y/N, I’ll do anything you want. Just—just don’t leave me alone again. Please."

His words send a surge of pleasure through your veins. The sight of him, desperate and pleading, is almost too much to bear.

"Spencer," you whisper, taking another step forward. "Come here."

He scrambles to his feet, rushing toward you. You meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. He melts against you, pressing his face into the curve of your neck with a sigh.

"I can’t believe you saw that," he murmurs into your skin.

"I can’t believe I did either," you admit with a chuckle. "But I’m glad I did."

Spencer raises his head, his hazel eyes searching yours. "You are?"

You nod, smiling softly. "Yes."

His face flushes. "Do—do you want to watch me again?"

You smile wider. "Maybe later," you tease. "Right now, I think it’s my turn."

Spencer's eyes widen as you press him backwards, onto the bed. "I thought you were tired," he murmurs, his voice already thickening with arousal.

"I am," you agree, smiling. "But this is more important." You drop your jacket onto the floor, pulling off your shirt and jeans in quick motions. Spencer's eyes dart down to take in the sight of your naked body, and you flush at his hungry gaze.

He groans, throwing his head back against the pillow as you climb on top of him.

It takes a lot to shock Spencer Reid. But you're definitely up for the challenge. The look on his face is priceless as you take his cock in your mouth, not wasting any more time. His hips buck against the mattress, his hands threading into your hair.

"Fuck," he gasps. "Oh my god. Y/N."

He tangles his fingers in your hair, urging you on as you work him over. He's so responsive, moaning and gasping and whining—fuck, it's a beautiful sound.

You work him deeper, taking

Spencer moans loudly as you take him deeper, his thighs trembling. "Y/N, oh fuck, I—fuck—"

You press one hand against his hip, holding him steady as you swirl your tongue over the underside of his cock. Spencer bucks against your grip, his fingers tightening in your hair. He's still so sensitive from his previous release, but he's still getting harder—thicker—by the second.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock, teasing the spot behind the head.

"Oh fuck," Spencer gasps, his voice broken. "Y/N, please—please don’t stop. I’m going to— ah."

You press your other hand against his stomach, feeling the muscles contract. His whole body is straining upwards, his back arched and his eyes squeezed shut.

You take him all the way in, swallowing around his length as you work your lips over his shaft. Spencer comes with a cry, his hips jerking as he empties down your throat. You swallow every drop, holding his gaze as you slowly pull back.

"Touch," he rasps, his fingers searching for your own.

You swallow against the ache in your throat and smile up at him, lacing your fingers with his. "How are you feeling?" you ask, running your thumb over his hand, keeping your voice soft as to not disturb the air.

Spencer sighs, though not out of exhaustion, you assume he’s still taking everything in as you see his head rolling against the pillow. "It’s never felt like that before."

You grin. "Glad I could help."

He shifts, reaching for his discarded pants on the floor. "We should—we should clean up," he mumbles, his eyes darting to yours. He flushes when he sees your expression, and his face turns even redder as you realize what he’s doing.

"Reid," you laugh. "Are you really reaching for tissues right now?"

His ears turn bright red. "Well, what—what else am I supposed to do?"

You shift, straddling his hips as you lean down. "How about we do something else," you murmur. You kiss his jawline, working your way down his neck.

"Like what?" he asks in a breathy voice.

"Like this," you reply. You shift, taking his cock inside you. Spencer's breath hitches, and he groans at the feel of you surrounding him. You clasp his shoulders as you begin to move, his hands falling to your hips. He gasps with each thrust, his eyes falling shut as his head lolls back against the pillow.

"Y/N," he whimpers, his fingers digging into your skin. “I don’t know if I can-."

You ride him harder, sliding up and down his cock. “Yes you can, baby. I know you can give me one more,” Spencer's hips rock upwards to meet you, his breath coming in broken gasps.

His fingers tighten around your hips, holding you close as he thrusts upwards.

You’re both panting and gasping now as you chase the peak. You're so close. So fucking close.

"Please—" Spencer groans. "Y/N. I'm—fuck, I'm coming."

You feel him spasm inside you, his fingers tightening almost painfully around your hips. You groan, your movements slowing as you ride him through his orgasm. Spencer's eyes are closed, his mouth open as he gasps for air. His body trembles beneath you, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as you reach yours, too.

You slump forward, catching yourself on his shoulders as you press your forehead against his. He opens his eyes and smiles at you, a warm expression that makes your chest ache.

"Hi," he murmurs softly.

"Hi Spencer." You smile back.

You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the weight of each other’s bodies. Finally, you roll off him, stretching out next to him on the creaky motel bed.

You reach for him, pulling him into your arms as you smile. He nestles against you, his arm snaking around your waist as he presses his face against your chest.

You wrap your arm around him, whispering soft praise into his hair as you stroke his skin gently. He relaxes further, his body growing heavy with sleep.

The mattress is uncomfortable, the sheets too thin. But somehow, you feel more at ease than you have in weeks.

Spencer Reid is a brilliant man. But he’s also really fucking good at other things too. And you’re excited to find out what else he’s good at.

You smile to yourself, your chest warm with affection.

"Goodnight, Reid," you whisper into his hair.

He hums a soft reply, his breathing already slowing. You wrap your arm tighter around him, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift off into sleep. Tomorrow, the case will continue, and so will your job. But right now, you have Spencer in your arms.

And that’s more than enough. You smile again, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as you drift off to sleep. This room might not be perfect. But it’s home for the moment, and that’s all you need. You drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of Spencer's heartbeat against your chest.

[marscardigan]

hi!! thought i’d send through another request!! what about ellie williams hcs (or blurb) where you’re injured and she has to help you??

i miss the rage, e.w

summary: ellie loves you too much to stay by your side when you're hurt—because the only thing stronger than her love is her rage.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: thank u for the request!! i kind of invented most part of the plot after seeing this

The first thing Ellie hears when the patrol gates swing open is Tommy’s frantic yelling. The first thing she sees is you—slumped over in the saddle, barely conscious, your jacket soaked through with blood.

Everything else disappears then.

She doesn’t remember shoving past the guards. Doesn’t remember the way Maria tries to steady you, how Jesse reaches out for her, how her own legs nearly give out when she sees the gaping wound across your stomach.

But she does remember the sound that leaves your lips when she touches your face. A weak, ragged whisper, barely audible over the pounding in her ears.

"Ellie…" Her hands shake as she cups your cheek, brushing away the blood that drips from a gash at your hairline. "I’m here. I’m right here."

Your body drops against her, and for a second, she panics, pressing a hand to your wound, trying to hold you together.

Maria says something about getting you to the infirmary. Ellie barely hears her over the roaring in her head. All she sees is you—your trembling fingers clinging to her sleeve, your eyelids threatening to give up.

By the time they get you to the medical wing, Ellie feels like she’s suffocating. The room is too bright, too sterile, filled with the scent of alcohol and blood.

"Ellie, you gotta keep pressure," Maria tells her. "Help her."

Ellie’s hands are trembling. But she presses the cloth down, forcing herself to breathe as your face twists in pain.

"I got you," she whispers, voice cracking. "I’m here. You’re okay."

You’re not okay.

Your body jerks weakly under her touch. Your fingers grasp at her sleeve, trying to push her away. Panic flares in her chest.

"No, no, stay with me," Ellie pleads. She grips your hand, rubbing small circles against your knuckles, as if that’ll keep you tethered here, with her. "Come on, baby, stay with me. You’re gonna be fine. You have to be fine."

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Then, your body goes still.

Ellie nearly chokes on her own breath.

A medic nudges her aside, muttering something about getting more sutures, more gauze, more hands—but Ellie barely hears them. She’s being pushed back, Maria leading her out of the way, telling her she did good, that they’ll take it from here.

Ellie doesn’t move. Her hands are coated in your blood. Your blood.

She clenches her fists so tightly that her nails dig into her palms. She should have been there. If she had just—If she had just gone with you, maybe you wouldn’t be lying here, unconscious, fighting for your life.

Time warps in on itself. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, watching, waiting, without knowing if you'd wake up again. The thought itself made her sick.

At some point, someone places a hand on her shoulder. She jerks away on instinct, turning to find Joel and Tommy standing in the doorway. Ellie hadn’t even heard them come in.

Joel studies her, his face lined with concern. She looks away.

Silence stretches between them, filled only by the distant sounds of the medical team working. Ellie resumes her pacing, running a hand over her face, trying to breathe, trying to undo the knot building in her chest before it was too late.

Then she speaks.

"Who did this?" Her voice is low, dangerous.

Tommy exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. He doesn’t answer right away, but he doesn’t need to—Ellie already knows.

"Group of men," Tommy mutters. "Out in the east hills. We ran into ‘em, and... they were hunting, Ellie. They weren’t just passing through. They wanted her."

Ellie's stomach drops. She can feel Joel’s gaze on her, waiting, already knowing what she’s going to do. And he’s right.

Without a word, she turns toward the chair where she left her bag. Her guns.

Joel tenses. "Ellie," he warns, voice calm but firm.

She ignores him, grabbing the bag.

Joel steps closer. "You need to be here when she wakes up."

Ellie freezes. His words hit her like a hammer to the chest, sharp and heavy and unfair. She swallows, glancing back at you. Your face is still. Sweat beads along your hairline, and your fingers twitch slightly under the blankets, but you don’t wake.

Joel softens, trying to grab her hand to comfort her. "Kiddo… she might not—"

"Don’t," Ellie snaps. Her throat feels tight, and so does her chest.

She knows what he was about to say. She might not wake up. But Ellie refuses to hear it, as if hearing that may make it more real.

She looks at you one last time, remembering every detail—your face, the rise and fall of your chest, the cut on your forehead—before turning away. Her grip tightens around the bag strap.

"They don’t get to live."

And with that, she storms out. And Joel doesn't stop her. Neither does Tommy.

It's ridiculously easy for Ellie to find those bastards’ hideout. The snow is still red where they fought.

The bodies are gone, but the footprints remain. Ellie moves through the trees like a lonely wolf; silent, focused. Her fingers twitch on the trigger of her rifle.

She doesn’t feel the cold anymore. Doesn’t feel anything except the raw, burning rage in her veins. They’re camped by a river, hunched around a fire, talking in hushed voices.

One of them laughs, and Ellie sees your blood on his sleeve.

She pulls the trigger. The first one drops before the others even register the gunshot.

Then she’s moving. Running towards them as she aims again. A second shot cracks through the trees, and another one goes down, clutching his throat, gurgling on his own blood.

The rest scramble for their weapons, but she’s already there.

A man lunges at her, but she ducks, driving her knife into his gut and twisting until he collapses with a wet gasp.

Someone grabs her from behind. She smashes her head backward into his nose, then spins, firing a shot right into his chest.

The last one runs. Ellie lets him.

She follows at a slow, measured pace, letting him think he has a chance.

When he stumbles in the snow, gasping for breath, she steps forward, presses the barrel of her pistol to the back of his skull, and click.

He freezes. "Please," he chokes out. "I have a ki—"

Ellie doesn’t let him finish as the shot echoes through the trees.

Then, silence. Her breathing is ragged. Her heart is pounding. But it’s not enough.

She turns back toward Jackson, blood staining her hands, her clothes, her skin.

And by the time she reaches the infirmary, she’s shaking. She doesn't even bother to change her clothes.

She doesn’t know if it’s the cold or the sheer exhaustion weighing her down.

But none of it matters. Because you’re still alive.

Maria is pressing a damp cloth to your forehead, her brows furrowed. When she sees Ellie, her expression hardens. "Did you do it?"

Ellie swallows, stepping forward. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to. She can't even look at Maria's eyes when she passes right beside her. Ellie kneels beside you, fingers ghosting over the huge bandages wrapped around your stomach.

You stir. A soft, pained sound leaves your lips.

Then—

"Ellie?"

She lets out a shaky breath. "Yeah," she whispers. "I’m here."

Your hand twitches against the sheets. She takes it immediately, gripping it tight, grounding herself in the warmth of your skin.

And Ellie, for the first time in hours, lets herself breathe. She doesn’t tell you about the blood under her fingernails. She doesn’t tell you how she enjoyed it. The girl just stays by your side, hand wrapped around yours, waiting for you to wake up.

Because she almost lost you. And she’s never letting that happen again.

[zuhaism]

i saw you have a sophia fic brewing and i’d love to req for literally ANYTHING ELSE YOU HAVE OF HER. she’s such a perfect muse and i just love reading people’s thoughts on her 🥹🥹 any hcs?

pairing : sophialaforteza x brothersbff!reader

a/n : THIS IS LIKE A SPOILER FOR MY SOPHIA FIC COMJNG OTW. my it girl this month is sophia i love her face omg and her kindness on dream academy i cant. my angel.

• sophia who tries to convince her friends she’s not into you and it was just a silly childhood crush. "i don't like her like that," she insists, arms crossed, looking almost offended at the accusation. her friends, however, know better. they exchange glances, barely holding in their laughter.

• she gives herself away all the time. like when she immediately straightens up whenever you walk into the room. or how her gaze subconsciously follows you when you’re talking to someone else. manon smirks. “oh, and what about how you always go quiet when she’s around?” “i do not—” daniela cuts in, deadpan. “you literally stop mid-sentence.” and right on cue, you walk by—brushing past sophia with a casual “hey, soph.” sophia freezes. entirely. her friends just watch. they watch as she visibly tenses, eyes wide, jaw slightly clenched like she’s trying to not react. the moment you disappear down the hall, her friends burst into laughter. "SHUT UP," she groans, face burning.

• whenever you call her name unexpectedly, she turns around way too fast and then tries to act normal, like her heart isn’t racing. her stomach flips at the sound of your voice saying her name, but she plays it off by raising an eyebrow. “what?” she asks, trying to look like she doesn’t care, crossing her arms. you just smirk, shaking your head. “nothing, you just looked cute in my jacket.” her friends bursts into laughter at how fast she turns beet red. “i thought this was Basil’s,” she tries to brush it off, tugging at the sleeves like that’ll somehow make the situation less mortifying.but then you tilt your head, smirking, “well, maybe this should be yours.”

• her friends gave eachother knowing glances and teasing smiles to sophia. she’s trying so hard not to react, but she can’t even come up with a snarky response her face is burning, her heart is pounding, and she’s pretty sure she just forgot how to breathe. “whatever,” she mutters, turning away in an attempt to save face, but she doesn’t take the jacket off. in fact, she wears it the rest of the day, pulling the sleeves over her hands whenever no one’s looking. sometimes she wears it at home but no one knows that of course.

• if you ever ruffle her hair or flick her forehead playfully, she’ll grumble about it but secretly loves the attention. “y/n, stop it,” she huffs, swatting your hand away, even though her ears are already turning pink. but the second you turn around, she’s fixing her hair with a small, hidden smile. her friends definitely catch it. if you don’t do it for a few days, she wonders if she did something wrong. like, are you mad at her? did you get bored of messing with her? she tells herself she doesn’t care, but when she sees you approaching in the hall, she stands a little closer, waiting to be fake annoyed.

• and when you finally ruffle her hair again, she’s about to grumble like usual, but then “ugh, y/n—” “hold on,” you cut her off, and before she can process it, you’re smoothing her hair back into place, carefully fixing the strands you just messed up. her breath catches. she just stares up at you, wide-eyed, completely frozen as your fingers lightly graze her scalp. her face is burning. “there. much better,” you say casually, like you didn’t just ruin her entire day in the best way possible.

• and then, to make things worse you give her a light pat on the head. like she’s some flustered little puppy. “good girl.” sophia doesn’t even breathe. she just stands there, stunned, mouth slightly open like she’s about to say something but nothing comes out. she watches you walk away with her brother groaning at you. once you were out of earshot her friends lose their minds immediately.

• megan is the first to react, nearly choking. “GOOD GIRL??” she gapes at soph, then turns to the others. “did i hear that right?” manon leans in, smirking. “sophia… if you’re still not into her, i’ll gladly take your place.” daniela hums, side-eyeing you as you casually walk off. “honestly? if you’re serious you dont want her, it’s open season.” sophia finally snaps out of it, whirling around. “SHUT UP. ALL OF YOU.”her friends just laugh, shaking their heads, because she’s so obvious.

• when she’s walking in the cafeteria, she subtly checks if you’re already there. if you are, she pretends she didn’t see you, but if you wave, she instantly wave back. sometimes, she tries to act like she’s so busy looking at her phone, but the second you greet her, her focus snaps to you. her wave is always a little awkward too stiff but you smile anyway, which makes it worth it.

• if you casually drape your arm around her shoulders, she stiffens for a solid three seconds before melting into it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. the first time it happened, she froze like a deer in headlights. now, she tries to act unbothered, even tilting her head slightly against you but if anyone teases her about it, she immediately pushes you off with a glare (but she doesn’t really mean it).

• the first time it happened, it was so unexpected. you had just casually thrown an arm around sophia’s shoulders like it was second nature—like it was normal. but for her? she almost passed out. meanwhile, you? completely unbothered. just chatting away like this was the most natural thing in the world. and after a solid three seconds of internal chaos, she relaxed. melted, even—because your arm was warm, your presence was familiar, and if she leaned just a little into you.

• tilts her head slightly against you? sure. shifts a little closer? okay. lets herself enjoy it? absolutely not. because the second someone (usually megan or manon) raises an eyebrow as they walk down the hallway, she immediately stiffens, shoving you off with a glare. "get off, y/n." you just laugh, raising your hands in surrender. "okay, okay." then she goes off to regroup with her friends. ignoring the way her cheeks burn. megan grins as she comes over. "you literally didn't care five seconds ago." "i DIDN’T NOTICE," sophia argues, glaring at her. but later at home, when you do it again effortlessly slinging your arm around her like it belongs there. she doesn’t push you away. she just pretends not to hear her heart pounding.

• whenever your band plays at school events, sophia acts completely unbothered. arms crossed, face neutral, like she’s barely paying attention. but the second the song ends? she’s the first to cheer. loud. enthusiastic. maybe even a little too eager. she swears she’s just there for her brother. just supporting the school. not because you’re on stage looking stupidly good under the lights. definitely not that. but her friends aren’t blind. her eyes never leave you the entire performance.

• and when you’re learning a new song? she’s suspiciously invested. “you should play this one next,” she says, casually sliding her phone across the table with a playlist already queued up. “oh?” you smirk, leaning in a little too close. “you been thinking about my setlist, baby?” immediate regret. her ears turn red. "shut up. just listen to it." and it doesn’t stop there. she finds excuses to hang around when you’re practicing in her basement with Basil and the others. she says it’s ‘boring’ at home, but everyone knows better.

• Basil groans every time she shows up. "you don’t even care about band stuff." “i can’t hang out with my brother now?” she huffs, plopping onto the couch like she belongs there. but the way she sits up the second you pick up your guitar? the way she suddenly has opinions on which songs you should cover? yeah. Basil’s not buying it. "jesus, if you like her so much, just say that." “i do not.” but the giddy little smile she tries (and fails) to hide when you invite her to listen to the set. tells him otherwise.

• sometimes she texts you late at night, she spends at least five minutes rereading what she wrote before pressing send. and if you take more than a minute to reply, she convinces herself that she said something dumb and deletes it. the next morning she’s met by your text “??” “nothing”

• if you ever notice something small about her—like a new bracelet or how she tied her hair differently she thinks about it for the rest of the day. “nice bracelet, soph.” your voice is so casual, like you didn’t just send her entire nervous system into overdrive. she blinks down at her wrist, lips parting slightly, suddenly hyper-aware of the little beaded bracelet she put on that morning. “oh… thanks,” she mumbles, trying to play it cool, but the second you walk away, she’s staring at it like it’s the only thing in the world. her friends don’t miss the way she keeps glancing at it, fiddling with the beads between her fingers. “you’re so obvious,” lara snickers, nudging her side. “mind your business,” sophia hisses, face burning, but even as she says it, she tugs her sleeve down over her wrist. she suddenly wants to protect it from the world.

• when you laugh at one of her jokes, even if it’s dumb, she gets this little proud smile and immediately tries to think of another one to keep you laughing. sometimes she catches herself laughing when you laugh too. it’s like muscle memory. now, whenever she gets the rare chance to make you laugh, she feels this ridiculous sense of accomplishment, like she just won something.

• sometimes, even when she’s not trying, she still finds herself smiling just because you are. like earlier today when you were joking around with her brother. she had no idea what was even said, but you were laughing, and next thing she knew, she was already smiling. she’s not even focusing, but whenever she sees you smile, she smiles too.

• “what are you smiling at?” daniela teased, catching her in the act. sophia immediately wiped the smile off her face, turning away. “nothing.” but the both of them knew it wasnt nothing.

[writing-for-marvel]

I’m back on the hurt train ready to get absolutely railed again

I’m pretty sure I said this in my first read of the chapter but the fact that your amazing mind chose to start and end this chapter, a fic about time loops, in flashbacks is actually genius

There was something almost like bemusement that appeared in the curl of Natasha’s lip, but she didn’t kick you out, which you took as a sign that your little outburst might have been closer to the truth than you’d really expected. You leaned back ever so slightly.

Oh this just feels so Nat, you’re characterisation feels so spot on, even down to the detail of her just needing to stare reader down and reader just keeps rambling like shes justifying herself

Then, without warning, she threw her glass at you.

You obviously can’t see me but I literally flinched out of the way reading this like it was me she had done this to 😂 but I love this scene with Nat so much, it’s such a *her* thing to do, the details are just perfect

“Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to do that,” you said flatly.

Literally took the words out of my mouth

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

I love the inner monologue you have written, it’s honestly so refreshing and actually hilarious

It’s moments like these that make you miss Nat the most.

Stop it we can’t have more death and grief than we do already please

There was something about that woman that made everyone around her open up, whether they wanted to or not.

Literally flash back to what I said before about reader just rambling under her stare without her saying a single word

“Buck?” He huffs, even though he continues to wear his usual exasperated expression. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You raise your eyebrows in fake surprise. It’s so easy to fall back into your usual bickering, even with everything that’s going on. “You’re right, I don’t. Your cat probably got into my room again and let out her past week’s aggressions.”

“See, that’s exactly what she wants you to think.”

Eeeee they make me giddy 🥰🥰🥰

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

“Great,” you sigh, angling yourself away from him. “I’ll be sure to make a reservation next time.”

I’m literally just giggling and kicking my feet every time they interact

“Try the floor,” Bucky says as you’re almost out of the room. He doesn’t turn when you do, but he seems to feel your questioning gaze. “If you can’t sleep. It helps, sometimes.”

Oh my baby 😭 just the thought of him sleeping on the floor for comfort actually hurts my soul

With a sigh, you get settled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling until your eyes get too tired.

Oh she takes his advice 🥺🥺🥺

When you see your own body still lying in bed next to where you’re standing, you almost trip over your own feet.

See I knew this was coming this time and yet it still felt like a shock to the system!!!

It’s one of your favorite comfort novels. You take good care of your books for the most part, but this one is quite battered; you’ve been bringing it with you on missions for years. A bit of home that fits into your pocket and helps calming you down on countless quinjet rides better than pictures ever could.

If someone comes into my room and insults one of my favourite books you can best believe I am finally learning to throw a punch and clock them in the jaw

“It happened because you activated the time stone,” Strange sneers. “Your powers are a lot stronger than you even care to realize, and it was idiotic to keep them a secret.”

She cares so much about Bucky that she’s activated the time stone??? Nika your mind wtf 🤯🤯🤯

He must have hit his head on the side of the big table, but the shield had protected him from the sharp edge. He’s pressing a hand to his wound and he’s conscious and fine. He’s fine.

I’m just sat here waiting with bated breath for this whole sequence

You fling your knife as fast as you can, but his single moment of hesitation was long enough for the trigger to be pulled a second time. You turn just in time to see the realization on Bucky’s face, the shock and panic in his eyes as they meet yours.

You’re telling me he dies in every rendition of this god damn day Nika it’s too painfulllllllll

Bucky figuring out that somethings wrong 😭😭 they barely spend any time together and yet he’s already worked her out 😭😭 don’t mind me imma just sob over here

Things were finally starting to look up.

Right just the kick to the gut I needed at the end of this torture (affectionate; I love it)

Nika I love it, I am after two chapters already pulling my hair out every time we have to see Bucky die, but the story itself is exceptional!!

Your writing style is absolutely gorgeous, I always feel so present in the moment with all of their conversations, all the characters feel so *real*, I adore them all

And I honestly can’t say enough about the magic system in place and readers powers, like I’m bewildered by how your gorgeous mind came to that. I can’t wait to dive more into it and learn the backstory behind it all

time after time [2]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 8.2k

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, the angst continues, another reminder to read the fic premise; a couple of guest appearances; flashbacks are my establishing shots and i’m going to make it everyone’s problem

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: 2am updates are kind of my brand at this point. big shout-out to @barnesafterglow who read a good chunk of this yesterday and is still talking to me <3 thank you all for your patience and your love for chapter one!!

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

two: twice upon a time

The first time you met Natasha Romanoff in person, a few weeks after the Snap, she only had to look at you for a couple of seconds to be able to read you like a book.

They’d compiled a file, of course, filled with all the general academic credits and official family information that was still available to the public and definitely more than a few things you’d tried to bury, too. Even then, the folder was reassuringly slim.

She’d have to take you at your word about what you’d come to offer her, anyway.

“And why would we want to have you?” she asked. As if she were interviewing you for a job. Which, technically speaking, she was.

You were on edge and Natasha knew it, even though you tried to hide your ever twitching fingers in your lap under the table, picking at the skin around your nails until you felt it break. You took a deep breath.

“Look, I know that I’m not exactly a soldier, or a—a superhero type, but I … I don’t know, I would just like to use my … thing to do good, for once. You know, stuff that will help people.”

And do it on your own terms. It stayed unsaid, then. You didn’t admit that part until much later.

Natasha’s face stayed perfectly neutral through your rambling, and you weren’t sure whether that was calming you down or making you more anxious. You reached for your necklace, tugging at the chain.

“But I can’t really do that on my own,” you continued, “and you, well, all of you, you’ve done it for a while and you’re good at it. And I think I could help with that.”

She still didn’t say anything, just kept waiting while you sat awkwardly in that uncomfortable office chair, regretting your decision of ever following through with your crazy impulsive idea of coming here.

But where else would you have gone?

“Also,” you remarked in a sudden burst of boldness, “I think you could use every extra pair of hands you can get at the moment.”

There was something almost like bemusement that appeared in the curl of Natasha’s lip, but she didn’t kick you out, which you took as a sign that your little outburst might have been closer to the truth than you’d really expected. You leaned back ever so slightly.

You couldn’t be sure, then, if she’d pieced together what little information they’d had on you in your file or if she’d just figured you out while you were sitting in this office, but it didn’t make all that much of a difference. She didn’t have to ask why you’d decided to offer up your abilities to the Avengers now, after everything, when they’d been hidden away for most of your life.

“You’re lonely. And you need a purpose, like all of us,” she said, looking you up and down apprehensively.

Then, without warning, she threw her glass at you.

You flinched to the side and it shattered on the wall behind you. The leftover drink slowly sank into the carpet as you turned to stare at her in shock.

Natasha lifted one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows. “You wanna try that again?”

Really, you should’ve expected the test.

You closed your eyes and raised your hands.

It’s a strange experience, going back in time. No one had really asked you to describe what it was like, and you probably couldn’t have if you tried. It felt a little like retracing your own steps in your head, relocating your conscience to an earlier moment, second by second, in a rapid backwards motion. Like very vivid remembering. Only, it’s not just that.

“You’re lonely,” Natasha said, swirling the dregs of her glass, her green eyes tracing over you. “And you need a purpose, like all of us.”

You were expecting it this time, but the glass still slipped through your fingers and broke into tiny shards on the floor. Not good enough. You didn’t wait for her reaction this time, cursing under your breath and pulling yourself back again. As always, it took considerably more effort.

You tried your best not to stare at the glass while Natasha spoke, but you didn’t really listen anymore. This time, you caught it, even though its contents spilled over your hand.

Natasha smirked. “Not bad. First try?”

“This is when I lie to sound capable, right?” You shook the liquid off your fingers, sure she’d already noticed the sweat on your temples. No use in lying to a spy, anyway, you supposed, so you admitted, “Third.”

“We’ll work on that. But honesty’s a good start.” She held out her hand and you returned the glass. “Have you ever done combat training?”

You could barely stifle a nervous laugh. “Do I look like I’ve ever done combat training?”

“I don’t tend to judge people based on how they appear,” Natasha said, uncrossing her legs. “Come with me.”

You followed her back out of the office into the wide, empty hallway. You hadn’t seen anyone else around on the whole Compound, even though it could probably house hundreds of people on the ground floor alone. The clacking sound of your steps on the tiled floor seemed to echo all around you.

It felt like you were announcing yourself to everyone within a two-mile radius while Natasha moved around on her bare feet without a single sound.

A glass elevator took you down to the subterranean level of the building. Once the doors slid open, Natasha marched straight to a double door with square windows and large metal handlebars.

“Leave your shoes and bag by the door,” she told you. She waited for you to untie your laces and awkwardly wiggle out of your boots before she let you both in.

The Compound gym was even bigger than you’d expected. You weren’t sure if you were more surprised by that revelation or by the presence of a certain super soldier kicking the life out of a punching bag on the other side of the hall.

“Hey Rogers,” Natasha shouted as it got smacked to the ground. “Brought a new recruit!”

“Really?” he called back, unwrapping the bandages around his knuckles.

“Really?” you said. Sure, that was what you came here for, but even so, you were a little shocked it had been that simple.

“Like you said, we’re a little desperate at the moment,” she winked.

“I didn’t say that,” you muttered anxiously as Captain America jogged over to join you, a towel thrown over his shoulder. Despite his workout, he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, holding out his hand with a smile.

You shook it, slightly bewildered, and introduced yourself. He repeated your name back at you and you had to take a moment to think how strange this whole situation was, even in all the madness that’d been going on. How unreal.

“I’m sure it’ll be good to have ya,” he said, and you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Thankfully, you caught yourself in time.

Meanwhile, Natasha had dragged one of the thick foam mats away from the heavy equipment and rolled it out. Cracking her neck, she stepped onto it and pushed her hair out of her face.

“Okay. Show me how you’d throw a punch.”

She held out her hands flat in front of her and nodded her head for you to join her on the mat. You’d never felt so stupid in your life as you tried to rack your brains for whatever little you took from those self-defense lessons however long ago. At least Captain Goddamn America seemed to be politely ignoring you in favor of putting some weights away.

“Just move on instinct, you’re not getting graded,” Natasha said calmly.

Your instincts were telling you you were absolutely getting graded and this was your worst idea to date, but you tried your best. She had you aim at different heights a few times before she stopped you.

“Okay, your posture’s terrible. You have to straighten your back and bend your knees more, see?” She demonstrated the right stance, waiting for you to copy her. “There you go. That’s your standard pose.”

“Alright,” you said, testing it out with a little bounce. “And what do I do with that?”

“Depends on what you’re trying to do. With the right training, you can use your own weight to your advantage in a fight. Steve?”

“Oh, great, am I volunteering?” He joined you on the mat and you moved to give the two of them enough space.

“You love it. Now watch me,” she added, looking at you.

Before Steve could even properly raise up his arms, Natasha launched into a handflip and somehow managed to wrap her legs around his body. The sudden movement made him stumble backwards. He lurched his body forwards to get her off his shoulders, but she used the momentum of her fall to kick him off his feet onto the mat. She gracefully landed on all fours like a cat. It looked effortless.

“You’re right,” Steve groaned, “this is very fun for me.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to do that,” you said flatly.

“I don’t expect you to,” Natasha said, pulling her hair behind her ears again. “But you do have to be able to survive in a fight, even without your powers, if you want to join the team. We can’t babysit you.”

You pressed your lips together, slowly curling your hands into fists and opening them again.

“Alright,” you said, your voice strangely dry. “When do we start?”

*****

Your initial reaction is relief.

Relief, because it’s Friday again, which means nothing has actually happened, which means Bucky is still alive.

Then, the implications of that fact hit you all at once.

You must’ve blacked out for a second or two, because when you open your eyes again, you’re lying on the floor next to your bed, heart still pounding a mile an hour. Your breath comes out in short gasps, and you force it to slow just in time for the knock on the door.

“Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!”

“Just gimme a minute!” you shout back and stumble to the bathroom.

Your hands and face are speckled with blood and you wash it off furiously, biting your lip as the tiny cuts on your skin left by the glass shards burn under your touch. Turning off the faucet, you keep leaning onto the basin and stare at your hands.

You’re not sure what you expected. Your rings are still the blackest you’ve ever seen them, and the dimly glowing symbols keep slowly circling around your wrist. It doesn’t take you long to put two and two together, because once is a coincidence, a strange, fateful accident, but twice is a pattern. And of course you’ve heard about this kind of thing happening. Only not like this.

Life everlasting.

No. Definitely not like this.

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

“Did you get lost in there?” Sam remarks with a grin when you finally step out of your room, still looking slightly disheveled.

“I—” You stop yourself, blinking at him until he starts looking slightly concerned.

“You alright? You look …” His eyebrows raise even higher. “Shell-shocked.”

Well, this isn’t exactly an everyday occurence even for me, Samuel, you want to tell him. Instead, you say, “Don’t ever wake me up like that again.” It lacks yesterday’s punch.

“Sweet white teenage angst not your style?”

You hum, but don’t reply otherwise, still lost in thought as you climb the stairs, trying to assess your situation and come up with some sort of plan.

It’s fairly obvious you fucked up your reset the other day. So much for the precious space-time continuum; oh, you hate it when the wizard people are right every now and then.

You glance sideways at Sam while he stretches his back in the ring. He seems fine, completely normal, unaware of what’s going on with you, and of course he would be. Nothing unusual about that part of your powers. Or what’s left of them.

You raise your hands experimentally.

“I’m not high-fiving you until you get one kick in, at least.”

Not even the slightest hitch. It’s like your powers have just up and left you completely. A strange heaviness settles in your stomach. Fucking useless.

You avert your burning eyes from Sam’s gaze.

It’s not like you … talk.

None of you do, not really. Sure, you chat. You’re great at chatting. You’ve had years, countless tries of perfecting smalltalk, of knowing the things you can get away with saying to certain people. It’s made you reckless in the past, knowing you could probably replay entire conversations in the blink of an eye, the pressure of expectation gone completely.

Ever since you started coming out of hiding again, though, the fun has drizzled out of that more and more. It’s one thing to impress strangers and another to be several steps ahead of the people you’ve started to consider your friends.

Because even though sometimes it sure would be easier, having people un-live conversations they’ve had with you, particularly hard or emotional ones, is sort of a shitty move if you continue to spend your time around them afterwards. And you’ve grown determined to not intentionally hurt people with your powers. Not anymore.

So yes, you chat. You know Sam’s favorite color and the video games his nephews want for their birthdays. You know what kind of music Bucky listens to, mostly because he forgets to turn on the soundproofing in his room and Jazz trumpets are surprisingly loud. You know their habits, the foods they like, the movies they hate.

But you don’t … share. Nothing that goes deeper than the general stuff.

It’s moments like these that make you miss Nat the most.

There was something about that woman that made everyone around her open up, whether they wanted to or not. You’re almost resolved to call her as soon as you get back to your room before you remember.

You’re gonna have to do this on your own. Back to square one.

“What is up with you today?”

“I’m fine,” you grunt, but make no effort to get back up again. “Didn’t sleep well. Ow.” You narrow your eyes at Sam. “Did you just kick me?”

“I wanted to see if you’re still alive.”

“Horrible. I’m quitting. You can go spar with Bucky again.”

“At least he puts up a fight.” Sam crouches down next to you. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

Yes. You shake your head. He probably wouldn’t believe you, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, clapping you on the shoulder. You scrunch your nose. “I’m gonna hit the showers. But we’re doing a rain check for tomorrow, and you sort out your pea under the mattress situation.”

“Okay.”

You listen to Sam’s receding steps and the sound of the door opening and closing again. Then, there’s nothing but silence and the ticking of the clock on the far wall.

Even though you know you should probably just head out as well, you can’t help but linger again. Just in case.

“You look like shit.”

Your head rolls to the side. Fuck you, Barnes. “Hey, Buck.”

Same spot on the bench next to the ring, same hunched over position, same concentrated look on his face while he cleans up the shimmering golden nooks in his arm.

“Buck?” He huffs, even though he continues to wear his usual exasperated expression. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You don’t answer, just keep staring at his profile for a little while longer. Your eyes are drawn to the nape of his neck, to the center of his chest. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Bucky says lowly. You turn your gaze back to the ceiling.

“Nothing,” you answer, pulling an arm over your eyes. The sweatband rubs against your eyebrow.

Maybe, you think, just maybe, it could still be a fluke. Only one more time to get things right, and then all will just go back to normal. Maybe you’ll be fine today. He’ll be fine.

There’s a buzzing in your ears, and you’re not sure if it comes from the green symbols gyrating around your arm or if you’re just imagining it altogether.

“What happened to your face?” Bucky asks unexpectedly, casually, as if he were talking about the weather.

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you dove head-first into a rose bush.”

“Hah.” You slowly sit up, your muscles aching for a hot shower. Three days of training and fighting in a row are not agreeing with your body. “Must’ve scratched myself in my sleep.”

If he sees through your lie, he doesn’t call you out on it. “Didn’t know you have talons.”

You raise your eyebrows in fake surprise. It’s so easy to fall back into your usual bickering, even with everything that’s going on. “You’re right, I don’t. Your cat probably got into my room again and let out her past week’s aggressions.”

“My cat slept soundly, thank you very much,” Bucky says dryly.

“See, that’s exactly what she wants you to think.”

“Funny.” He stands up, hanging the piece of cloth over the side of the boxing ring to air out. “Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one.”

“Thanks, Buck,” you say with a smirk. He ignores you.

***

The shower is what brings your mood back down again. In the silence of the water hitting your back, there’s enough time for you to think about the upcoming day that you’ve already been through twice.

Up until the mission, it’s gone by fine, unremarkably so, which only makes the build-up to the evening even worse, in your opinion. You face the stream of hot water directly, trying to rid yourself of the image of Bucky lying on the floor, bleeding out in front of you.

You need to be rational about this.

First, you need to figure out what’s going on with your powers. Then, you have to make up your mind about lunch, because while you don’t exactly resent the thought of your third pizza in as many days, your stomach sadly doesn’t agree with that notion. And finally, you’re going to break this damn cycle you’re in. Easy as that.

You turn off the shower with your newfound resolve and grab the clean towel.

Your determination lasts up until you get back to your room and realize you don’t actually know how you are going to fix your powers. They’ve always been somewhat fickle, unpredictable even to you, acting up whenever it’s most inconvenient. Impossible.

No one has ever been able to tell you where they came from, nor how you could properly control them. Everything you know you had to figure out through trial and error, replaying the same scenario over and over again, and, more often than not, lucky coincidences.

Usually, when your rings are black and your powers are weakened, it helps to let your body regain its strength first. In other words, you need to sleep.

This is something you probably should have thought through before getting your morning coffee with an extra shot of espresso, out of habit, but that’s not something you can change right now.

The living room area wouldn’t usually be your first choice for a midday nap, but you’re not ready to face the bloodstains on your bedding quite yet, so you’ll have to make do with one of the suspiciously IKEA-looking throw pillows on the couch. The TV is chattering away in the background, just loud enough to somewhat distract you from your own thoughts.

It’s not enough to fall asleep, though.

You keep tossing and turning, half-listening to three or four episodes of some nineties sitcom, while your anxiety gnaws away at your insides. There’s a constant low pounding in your head that drives you up the wall, and again you swear you can hear the symbols looping around your wrist. You keep scratching at your sweatband, but it’s no use.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the pattering of small paws makes you sigh in disdain.

There’s an obnoxiously loud meowing close to your feet, followed by a sudden weight dropping on your stomach that almost invites your garlic bread back up for a double feature. You peer out at the white shape on top of you, innocently toying with the hem of your shirt.

In general, you like cats just fine, but something about Alpine has always unsettled you. Sure, she’s a cute-looking ball of fluff, but she’s also quick to scratch unsuspecting people bending down to pet her, and she seems to have a particular bone to pick with you.

“Maybe she’s just a good judge of character,” Sam jokes whenever you complain about it.

“She doesn’t like you any better.”

“Yeah, but I’m allergic to her,” Sam shrugs. “The farther she stays away, the more a favor it’s doing me.”

In truth, the only person Alpine likes is Bucky, and she loves to show it every chance she gets.

“You’re in her spot.”

Alpine graciously allows you to push up to your elbows with a groan. Bucky’s tall figure is looming over your head; there’s a bemused expression on his face. He must’ve just walked in through the door, because he’s still wearing his jacket.

“Why does the cat need a spot on the couch, exactly?” You try to shoo her off your lap, but Alpine digs her claws deeper into your shorts and you wince. “You really need to teach her manners.”

“You gotta be gentle with her,” Bucky says, pulling her off you without a hitch. “Move over.”

You swing your legs off the couch with a roll of your eyes. “Can’t you sit somewhere else?”

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

“Great,” you sigh, angling yourself away from him. “I’ll be sure to make a reservation next time.”

Alpine starts purring as Bucky scratches her under the chin. “You watchin’ that?”

“I was trying to nap,” you mumble, throwing him the remote with a little more force than necessary. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Thirteen twelve hours.”

“Please stop just saying numbers when I ask you that.”

Bucky smirks again and switches channels. “Quarter past one-ish.”

You blink at him tiredly, surprised to find out he’s been back so early. The past two days, you didn’t see him around again until the broadcast was about to start. Then again, you didn’t really pay attention at that point, either.

There’s that tick in his jaw that he always gets when something is bothering him, even as he’s distracted by a playful cat in his lap. You’d better relieve him of the burden of your presence.

“Well,” you say, standing up. Alpine whines indignantly at the sudden movement. “I’ll try to find a cat-free spot in this tower, then.”

“Try the floor,” Bucky says as you’re almost out of the room. He doesn’t turn when you do, but he seems to feel your questioning gaze. “If you can’t sleep. It helps, sometimes.”

You hide your hands in your pants pockets, even though it’s far too late by now. He’s already noticed your black rings.

With a short hum, you briskly walk back to your room, leaning against the door as it closes behind you. This is getting ridiculous, you think, worrying the ring on your pinkie finger with your thumb. As if you didn’t have enough reasons to get a hold of your powers again; you don’t know what you would do if Bucky really got suspicious of you now.

Taking a deep breath, you eye your bed. Compared to yesterday, the blood stains on your sheets are barely more than a few specks, because you weren’t as close to Bucky when it happened. Somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better.

“Fine,” you mutter in annoyance, grabbing one of your pillows and throwing it on the floor next to your bed. “FRIDAY, can you wake me in time for Sam’s speech?”

“Of course,” FRIDAY tells you. “Do you want me to use the same song as this morning?”

“Please don’t.” A little idea pipes up at the back of your head. “Do you have any record of playing that song before?”

“Last dates played. Friday, July 4th 2025, 07:50 a.m. Playtime: forty-five seconds. Thursday, March 13th 2014, 02:49 a.m. Playtime: one hour, twenty-seven minutes, eighteen seconds. End of record.”

Interesting night for Tony, then, but not exactly telling when it comes to your time loop situation. With a sigh, you get settled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling until your eyes get too tired.

You’ll think of something once you’ve had a bit of sleep. He’ll be fine.

And then, just as you’re finally about to drift off, you feel a sudden jolt go through you. It’s a bizarre sensation, like you’re falling and jumping at the same time, but your body isn’t actually moving with you. Like someone pulling at your very consciousness.

Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air.

You’re still in your room, which should be good news, but everything looks … weird. Not as out of focus as it would be if you were simply dreaming, but somehow crooked, the angles unusually pronounced. The colors are all off, the lights way lower than they should be this time of day, and when you reach out for the edge of your bed, your hands—

You take a sharp breath. Your fingers are bare, no trace of your rings anywhere, and even worse, your hands are partly transparent. Cautiously, you get up on your equally as see-through legs and turn around.

When you see your own body still lying in bed next to where you’re standing, you almost trip over your own feet.

You stare at yourself in disbelief. One of your body’s hands is tucked under the pillow, and it’s breathing regularly. Carefully, you take a step closer and reach out your noncorporeal hand. Your shoulder feels warm and solid underneath your fingertips.

Your body wrinkles its nose in its sleep and you jerk back again, losing your balance and falling to the floor. Your body doesn’t react at all, even though you pull part of the blanket with you as you go down.

“Okay. This is a dream,” you tell yourself, even though you feel your heart pounding. “Just some weird-ass dream, and I have to wake up.” Again, you can’t help but look at the sleeping body lying in your bed.

You press your hands over your eyes, willing yourself to slow your breathing. The edge of your nightstand jabs you painfully between the shoulder blades, too real to be nothing more than an act of your imagination.

“You’re not what I expected.”

The man’s voice makes you flinch slightly. Slowly, you peek through your fingers.

You either didn’t notice him while you were taking in your surroundings or he’s just blended in with them seamlessly, although you’re not sure how that last one could even be a possibility. His back is turned to you, his frame covered by a long, deep red cloak with intricate patterns stitched along the seams. He’s perusing your bookshelf, picking up old copies seemingly at random.

For some reason, your shock at the sight of him is outweighed by immediate irritation. Something about the man instantly irks you.

“Thanks, I think,” you tell him, throwing the edge of the blanket over your sleeping body again as you get up, never letting the man out of your sight.

He turns around, one of his eyebrows raised. Your eyes immediately fall on the amulet around his neck and your heart gives a stutter. You ignore it.

“Not a compliment.” He holds up a book. “This is how you spend your time, then?”

It’s one of your favorite comfort novels. You take good care of your books for the most part, but this one is quite battered; you’ve been bringing it with you on missions for years. A bit of home that fits into your pocket and helps calming you down on countless quinjet rides better than pictures ever could.

“Sue me for trying to relax in between saving the world,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Of course,” the man says wryly. “Because god forbid you use those powers of yours to their full extent, we wouldn’t want that.”

“And what’s it to you?” you snap.

The man calmly puts the book down again; not where he picked it up from, you notice in annoyance.

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange,” he says, watching your face for your reaction. “Ah, so you have heard of me.”

Of course you have. You know who he is, you must’ve seen his picture hundreds of times during the Blip, and even before that, you’d heard about his reputation. As one of the keepers of the time stone back when it still existed, he’s on your list of people you least want to see, ever.

You narrow your eyes at him. “How did you find me? What—” You take a quick look back at your own sleeping form. “What is this place?”

“The astral plane,” he says, swiping your bookshelf for dust and inspecting his fingertips contemptuously. They’re shaking ever so slightly. “Something you would know if you hadn’t spent the past decade avoiding every single chance to use your powers responsibly.”

“Wow,” you huff. “You don’t know anything about me or about my powers.”

“Don’t I, Y/N Y/L/N?” Strange’s cloak flaps slightly as if it were shrugging.

“I spent the last couple of years trying to save lives.”

“You’re riding on luck and pretend it’s control. You have no idea what this could do to the grand scheme of things.”

“Well, I never asked for these powers, okay?” you say defensively. “I just have them. What I don’t have is any interest in being a pawn in some grand scheme of things when I never wanted any of this.”

“People don’t generally get a choice in that matter.” His gaze drops to your wrist. “And now look where your resistance to accept your responsibilities got you.”

The green band of symbols is still leisurely circling around your arm. You bite your tongue. “I don’t know how that happened,” you say, your voice breaking slightly on the last word.

“It happened because you activated the time stone,” Strange sneers. “Your powers are a lot stronger than you even care to realize, and it was idiotic to keep them a secret.”

“Why, so you could use them for your own gain?”

“So I could prevent this exact kind of thing from happening.”

You throw your hands in the air in frustration. “So end it, then. Or did you drag me here just to berate me?”

Strange chuckles humorlessly. “This is not something others can just fix for you, Miss Y/L/N. You cast a very powerful spell in creating this loop, and you are the only one who can lift it again.”

“Great. I’m screwed, then, is that what you’re saying?” You might not be inside of your body at the moment, but you can still feel your cheeks heating up. “I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

“You need to calm down,” Stange says sharply.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, get out of my—head, or whatever this is. Get out!”

“Alright then. Continue to play stubborn. See how far it gets you.” He holds out his right hand and there’s a crack in the air behind him; almost like a doorway, or a mirror. “I’ll be here when you’re done acting like a child.”

You come to on your bedroom floor, feeling almost more tired than you did when you laid down earlier. It takes your bleary eyes a moment to adjust to your surroundings again. When you sit up, a thin throw blanket that you don’t remember pulling over your shoulders falls into your lap.

This really is just a whole bunch of disasters stacked on top of each other.

You don’t even have to look at your rings to know there’s still not the slightest green spec in sight. Your fingers find your necklace and you tug slightly to reassure yourself of its presence. How the hell did Strange even find you?

There’s no time to think about it for too long, because once again, there’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“We got a lead on that lab,” Sam shouts on the other side. “Jet’s leaving in half an hour, get ready.”

You blink at the clock on your wall in confusion. Even though you feel like you only spent a couple of minutes in this other dimension you were dragged into, several hours have passed in this one.

Time is seriously out of your hands, and it’s only getting worse.

***

“Don’t you think that maybe they have an alarm set or something?” you say, contemplating the explosives laid out in front of you.

Sam raises his eyebrows, adjusting the intercom chip in his ear. “Is that a hunch or are you telling me?”

“Both.” You flex your fingers. “It’s just that announcing ourselves probably isn’t in our best interest right now.”

“And you couldn’t have said that earlier? As in, before we landed?” Sam sighs.

Bucky snorts as you shrug your shoulders helplessly. Your body desperately needed the half hour of uneasy sleep the flight has afforded it, even though your powers seem to be unimpressed by it.

“Look, it’s gonna be fine,” Sam continues, squeezing your arm. “We’ve handled worse. Besides, if they do have an alarm set, they’re gonna come to us whether we knock down that wall or not.”

“I guess,” you mumble, grabbing the explosives. “Let’s play knock-knock with terrorists then, that oughtta be fun.”

“Reminds me of ‘44,” Bucky says, more to himself than to either of you.

When you follow Sam down the hallway once again, you can’t help but search for the cameras you know are hidden here somewhere, but it’s impossible to tell in the dingy light. You should bring a stronger flashlight next ti—no.

You blink, stopping that thought before it’s fully formed.

There won’t be a next time. This thing ends tonight, once and for all.

Third time’s the charm, right?

About as charming as a kick to the face, you think as you find yourself delivering just that.

Sam takes off. “We better get moving. If you take care of the drive and these idiots, I’ll clear the tunnels for a way out of here!”

Bucky catches Sam’s shield as you disarm the white jacket with the knife and duck as the shots ring out. You’re sweating in your kevlar vest.

“Two o’clock, Bucky,” you tell him, throwing another punch. You’re so sick of this white-coated asshole in particular; it’s like they think you’re in the rumble from West Side Story. “And whatever you do, don’t throw that shield, alright?”

“You’re bossy today,” Bucky huffs, taking out the one with the blaster.

“I think you mean thorough,” you reply as Riff finally goes out cold.

“You tell yourself that.” He reloads his gun instead, shield firmly locked around his right arm. “How much longer for the transfer?”

You glance at the monitors and try to remember. “About a minute, maybe two.”

“Sam, you copy?” The last white jacket goes down.

“Ready for take-off in five,” Sam confirms cheerfully. “Heads-up, there’s at least another dozen heading your way.”

“Got it.” Bucky bumps your shoulder as he starts back towards the computers, leaving you only a second to process the different turnout of events.

Shouldn’t he insist on leaving?

The only thing that differentiates this mission from the first one is that you haven’t had to jump back to know what to look out for, and therefore don’t suffer the immediate side effects a redo usually has on you. You suppose that’s what they initially expected your powers to be like; flawless, useful, magical.

It’s like a slap in the face, even though Bucky doesn’t realize he’s doing it. The fact that he really does think lesser of you because of your stupid, faulty powers stings more than you care to admit.

You shake yourself back to the present moment. “Take the drive and then get away from there!” you shout, trying to catch up with him. Your lungs are burning. “They’re gonna blow up the—”

The blast of the explosion throws you backwards and you land on one of the unconscious bodies on the ground. Coughing, you roll to your hands and knees.

“Wha—ppening?” Sam’s cut off voice comes through the broken comms.

“Bucky?” You stumble towards the flaming mess that was the lab corner.

He must have hit his head on the side of the big table, but the shield had protected him from the sharp edge. He’s pressing a hand to his wound and he’s conscious and fine. He’s fine.

You can’t stop a relieved laugh as you crouch down next to him. “Wanna get out of here or what?”

The reflection of the flames makes his eyes almost look green as he squints at you, groaning. “Geez, I hate you.”

“Come on, tough guy,” you say and he lets you pull him to his feet, almost toppling over at his unsteadiness. “Let’s get you home.”

You keep turning around as you make your way to the tunnels, keep looking back towards the staircase you came down, worrying about the reinforcements Sam told you about. Maybe that’s your mistake.

Because you haven’t made it this far before, you don’t think to check that the unconscious white jackets are all still unconscious.

You still have Bucky’s shield arm around your shoulder as he jerks, sensing the motion on his left before you do. He catches the first bullet with his metal arm as you twist out of your hold on him, grabbing your knife and whirling back around. He makes a side step, taking a big swing—

Only you told him not to throw the shield.

You fling your knife as fast as you can, but his single moment of hesitation was long enough for the trigger to be pulled a second time. You turn just in time to see the realization on Bucky’s face, the shock and panic in his eyes as they meet yours.

And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and–

“Okay, alright, turn it off, FRIDAY!”

By the time you wipe your mouth and flush the toilet with shaky knees, hair and face still caked with blood, you’re finally starting to understand how well and truly screwed you are.

***

You lean against the fridge, staring at Sam while he’s typing away at the kitchen island. He likes working standing up for some reason, particularly when he has to write some sort of statement.

“If I have to give the speech standing up, I’ve gotta write it standing up,” he’s explained it to you once. You can’t pretend to get it, but you suppose it’s also a perk to be within an arm’s length of snacks at all times while you’re getting stuff done.

“What do you want?” Sam says evenly. His gaze remains fixed on his laptop, his fingers never stopping to move.

You bite your lip. It’s a bad, very bad, terrible idea. You shouldn’t be bothering him with your fuck-up. You don’t even know how to go about it without having him laugh in your face.

“What if I told you that I’m stuck in a time loop?”

The question comes out weirdly flat, as if you’re joking. Fuck, what’s happening to you? You’ve always been fine with being the person who knows more than anyone else in the room. This situation though …

It’s different. It unrattles you in a way your powers never have, because even though it’s your own doing, it also seems so out of your control.

Sam raises an eyebrow, still not looking up. “I’d ask when you started drinking today and why you did it without me.”

Honestly, you should have expected something along these lines as long as you have no way of proving it to him.

“Well,” you say light-heartedly, as if you’re merely chitchatting. “What would you do if you were reliving the same day over and over again?”

“Enjoy my time off, probably,” Sam says, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“I’m serious.”

“And I’m starving. Shouldn’t the food be here by now?”

You check your phone. “About half a minute.”

It gives you an idea for the future.

Lo and behold. You startle the poor delivery guy, opening the front door right before he can knock. “Hi,” you smile, handing him a generous tip. “We don’t know each other, right?”

“Uhm. What?”

“Do you have like, two minutes?”

“Did you have to haggle for them, first?” Sam calls over when you finally make it back to the kitchen, closing his laptop and helping you put down the boxes and containers on the counter.

“Had to convert to Pastafarianism,” you say, getting out the cutlery. “Ready for blasphemy?”

Sam chuckles.

By the time lunch is done and Sam has left for Madison Square Garden, another wave of exhaustion catches up with you. You pull your rings off and leave them on the table before you lie down on the second couch in the living room area, hoping that maybe this time, you’ll get a little bit of rest.

Only once again, it’s no use. Every time you close your eyes, you’re back in the lab, watching Bucky get shot. The background buzz of the TV isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of your cursed memories.

Or the sound of the cat whining next to your ear.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Alpine settles on your chest this time, leaving long white hairs all over your shirt and hitting you in the face with her tail. You grimace, trying not to inhale any of her fur.

“You’re in her spot.”

You don’t bother turning your aching head. “I thought her spot was over there!” you say accusingly, gesturing vaguely to the other side of the living room.

“Who told you that?” Bucky says, a bemused tone in his voice as he scoops Alpine up in his gloved hands, careful not to touch you. “Move over.”

You blink at him. You did.

You feel his expectant glare on you and sigh.

“Really, you too? We have plenty of room, you know.” You pull your knees in.

“I do,” he says, sitting down next to you and reaching underneath the cushions. “But you’re always hoggin’ the remote.”

You put your cold feet on his thigh in retaliation. Bucky tenses.

“How are you so cold, it’s like ninety degrees outside.”

“Emphasis on outside,” you shrug. “I just run cold.”

“That you do.” He switches channels, then pulls his gloves off and puts them on the table next to your rings.

You bite the inside of your cheek and roll to the floor inelegantly. Alpine meows in disdain, like a knife scratching the whole diameter of a dinner plate.

“Please tell your cat to chill, geez,” you mumble, slumping down on the other couch and stretching your legs out again with a contented sigh.

Bucky doesn’t reply.

“My dear girl,” a thickly accented voice on the TV says, “you cannot keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there. The evidence was definite. We can’t remove it by wishing or crying.”

“He trusted me,” a female voice answers. “I led him into a trap, I convicted him. Is that real enough for you?”

“There is no one to blame,” the first voice continues. “The case was a little deeper than you figured. This often happens. You must realize now one thing, it is over for both of you.”

“What are you watching?” you ask.

There’s a short pause before Bucky answers. “Hitchcock. Spellbound.”

You can’t help your reaction.

“Why’d you just do that?” Bucky says.

You stare at the ceiling. “Do what?”

“You flinched.”

“Did not.” You can taste blood in your mouth.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

You turn to the side and demonstratively stare at him, even though it makes your insides twist. Bucky’s face doesn’t change at all as he gazes back at you, frown deepening between his eyebrows. It’s like he’s trying to drown you with the endless blue of his eyes.

You drop your gaze and shake your head.

“What’s your point, Bucky? Not everyone likes staring at people like you do.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird. And invasive.”

“It’s invasive to look at you?”

“Yes,” you say, “if you do it like that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!” You sit back up again in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Bucky?”

You look at his face this time, not his eyes. It still makes your cheeks burn, because his jaw sets that way again and he doesn’t immediately respond.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, finally, and you hide your face between your hands in what you can only hope looks like frustration. Then you realize that that’s only making your missing rings more obvious.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you snap, balling your hands into fists.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you!”

“You promised,” Bucky says coolly. “Remember?”

Your stomach plummets.

“Yes,” you say, forcing your voice to stay calm. “But I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to worry. I’ve got this.”

You feel his eyes on your back all the way to your room, and you’re not sure if you’re lying to him or to yourself, even as you slam the door behind you and look anywhere but your bed.

Your book is lying in the wrong place.

*****

“Honestly, Nat, you could’ve killed her.”

“Don’t be dramatic. She’s made of stronger stuff than that.”

There were yellow dots dancing across your vision when you opened your eyes, groaning at the bright neon lights hitting you in the face.

You were lying on the mat in the gym of the Compound and your nose had been ripped clean off; at least that was what it felt like. Judging by your red-soaked shirt, your guess wasn’t that far off, though.

“Hey,” Natasha said, kneeling down next to you. “Sorry, that must hurt like a bitch.”

“Your head is bery solid,” you replied, touching the blood still dribbling down your face. “Ow.”

“Thank you,” she said and handed you a wet towel. “Put that in your neck and lean your head back.”

“Di’ I faind?”

“You knocked yourself out, honey,” she said with a sly grin.

“It isn’t funny, Nat,” Steve shouted. You snorted, then winced in pain.

“Don’t worry,” Natasha winked. “You’re gonna be as pretty as before once you clean up. Already reset your nose while you were out.”

“Thangs.”

Surprisingly, this was the first serious injury you’d sustained in the past couple of weeks you’ve been living as a rookie Avenger; though in truth, that was mostly due to the fact that Natasha had only had you build up your stamina and agility up until today. Your first proper day in the ring was nothing short of humiliating.

“You could always go back to the moment before you decided to headbutt me,” Natasha said once the bleeding had finally stopped.

You wiped your nose carefully, taking a few breaths to clear your airways. “Sadly, that’s not how it works,” you said, letting her help you slowly come upright again. “I’m the one moving through time, so I stay exactly the same. I can help you guys avoid the punches, but I’ll still be the one receiving them.”

Cursed to stay the same, just like you’d always said.

Natasha tilted her head. “That seems like something you could work on with proper help.”

You grimaced. “I’ve tried that before. There’s no one who can help me, no one who can … fix me, or my powers.”

There was worry in her eyes, then, and you were taken aback by how genuine it seemed. It left a crack in your shell.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said quietly.

But it was. “I mean it,” you said, your lip twitching. “You can’t tell them that I’m here. For all they know, I got dusted just like everyone else.”

She knew; it had been the one condition you’d set in exchange for your help. That didn’t mean she had to like it.

There was a prolonged pause until Natasha nodded. “All the more reason to get you proper training,” she said, getting back to her feet and helping you up. “Let’s get you some ice cream. Good for the healing.”

You smiled when both she and Steve kept worrying about you the entire way to the kitchen, even though both of them tried hard not to make it obvious. It still filled you with a strange sense of warmth that almost had you forget about the pain.

You were safe here.

Things were finally starting to look up.

chapter three

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

[coco-loco-nut]

Bookworm

pairing: carlos x reader

summary: Carlos never expected to feel insecure about your book boyfriends, but maybe that’s part of dating an author

masterlist requests open

———————

It was a common occurrence for fans and media to find you in the corner of the garage with your laptop or a book. It makes for a great reading environment once noise canceling headphones are on. Fans are always eager to see what book you are reading during the weekend, and you talk about it on social media. It was a surprise to most people when you started dating Carlos, most authors don’t date famous athletes. Fate had other plans.

Carlos truly doesn’t mind that you don’t quite care for racing, he’s just happy that you tag along and don’t complain about it. He honestly respects that you have no interest in racing but still show up to support. You are always happy when he does well and empathetic when he doesn’t, but you couldn’t care less about other drivers.

“Baby,” Carlos stands in front of you, trying to get your attention to no avail. He doesn’t mess with your book, simply waiting for you to look up. You notice his shadow, but you have to finish the page to finish the chapter, he can wait a minute.

“Sorry, what’s up?” you slide one side of your headphones off to better hear Carlos.

“I’m going to go to the drivers parade, wanted to check in before I do,” he smiles, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“Have fun, and good luck,” your tender smile melts his heart. He can’t wait to surprise you after the race, he’s been researching some of your books and bought a couple for the flight home. Carlos even asked your brother about books you used to love.

“What book is Y/n reading?” Lando asks as Carlos settles beside him. Lando secretly loves your socials, getting to get to know you more. He also thinks it’s funny when you reply to fans who ask about what inspired certain scenes in your books.

“Iron Flame. The next book released few months ago and she finally got around to the first one and this one,” Carlos smiles, he loves his bookworm.

“I’ve heard a lot about that. Has she ever called you Xaden? You and him both have that dark fluffy hair,” Lando asks, pulling out his phone to look up fan art. Charles approaches his teammate, silently joining the conversation.

“No,” Carlos honestly never thought about the male characters in books. He’s heard of people having book boyfriends, but you never brought it up so he brushed it off. Carlos peers over Lando’s shoulder to take a look.

“I see like a semi resemblance. Oh, I remember her reading this one too,” Lando pulls up more pictures of popular book boyfriends. Carlos feels something spark in him, a twinge of jealousy.

“It’s a good thing she reads for the plot then,” Carlos looks away, plastering on a fake smile and a wave for the fans. Lando barely contains his laughter as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“The plot? That’s what she said? She enjoys the smut,” Lando shakes his head, waving to a group of fans yelling for him.

“But she doesn’t write that,” you are a young adult fantasy and adventure author, sure there is an element of romance, but that doesn’t mean anything, right?

“So? She’s an adult, she can enjoy it. Don’t you notice when she gets really quiet and nonchalant when reading? Like no reactions or not even a smile?” Charles asks, watching Carlos nod. “That’s a smut scene she is enjoying, do yourself a favor and read it,” Charles suggests.

The color drains from Carlos’ face.

“Logan,” Carlos calls to the unsuspecting American. Logan approaches, unsure why he is needed and a little concerned. “Do you know what your sister is reading?”

“Yeah, some popular book. What about it?”

“It has,” Carlos lowers his voice, glancing around to make sure no one else is listening in, “smut.”

“And?” Logan arches his eyebrow, not seeing the problem with the inclusion of sex in books.

“I don’t know,” Carlos is at a loss for words. What if you like what you read better than him? What if he is suddenly inadequate?

“Look, it’s just a book. She writes romance books and I am ninety percent sure you are what she bases it off of. Especially since every male love interest has your hair,” Logan points out causing Carlos to blush.

“Right, thanks,” Lando snickers at Carlos’ sudden shyness and Logan’s clear discomfort talking about his sister’s relationship.

“I’ll, um, send you a list of books she loved growing up. She left them at home and always talks about rereading them eventually,” Logan exits the conversation. As soon as the parade is over, Carlos orders the books and a new bookshelf for next day delivery so he can surprise you.

Back in the garage, your hair tie has found a home as a bookmark and your computer rests on your lap. Carlos watches you furiously typing away, undoubtedly working on your next hit.

“Are you going to say anything or just stand there watching me like a creep?” you tease, not looking up from your computer.

“I love watching you work. Sometimes you do this cute thing where you bite your lip when working on something really intense, and how you have to hold yourself back from telling me about it because you insist on not sharing until you finish the book. Even when it drives both of us crazy,” Carlos steps closer, wedging himself beside you to get a peak of your book.

“No peeking,” you laugh, throwing a hand out to cover the screen. “I’ll give you a hint,” you smile as Carlos perks up. “It’s a highly requested sequel to a book that was very much inspired by you.”

“Logan was right,” Carlos muses.

“What does my brother have to do with this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carlos shrugs, placing a kiss on your head. You are, in fact, a little worried about it.

“That’s not ominous at all,” with a shake of your head you set the computer off to the side and put your full attention onto your boyfriend.

Carlos wraps his arms around you, enjoying the bit of peace before the race. When his fans are confused why you even go to races when you aren’t a fan of the sport, it’s these moments that you answer with. You enjoy your time with Carlos, supporting his passion like he supports yours, and sneaking off to annoy your brother.

“How sweet, it’s time to go, Carlos,” Charles takes a photo of the two of you almost asleep. It had only been two minutes. Carlos sighs, untangling himself from you as he begrudgingly stands up.

“The quicker you drive, the faster you can cuddle again,” you remind him, standing with him. It’s time for a coffee refill anyway and to visit Logan before he heads to his car.

“Or I can DNF early and get my press out of the way,” Carlos’ joke falls flat as you and Charles give him a displeased look.

“Have a good race, I’ll be here waiting for you,” you give Carlos a quick kiss.

“Where’s mine?” Charles jokes.

“Mate, no,” Carlos glares at his teammate.

“Good luck,” you disappear from the garage. Sneaking into Williams, you grab Logan’s gloves and stand inconspicuously on Alex’s side. Despite spending a lot of time in the Ferrari garage now, you make sure that your brother is still supported.

“Y/n!” Logan yells, and you try to stifle your laugh. In that moment, you not notice Logan sneak up on you and then it’s too late. He snatches the gloves back and stares at you.

“What?” you giggle.

“I can’t believe you write books for adults, you are literally a child,” Logan sighs, somehow he is the youngest.

“Shut up,” you stick your tongue out at him. Logan pinches your tongue, unamused at your antics.

“Doesn’t Carlos need you to bother him?” he asks, letting go and crossing his arms.

“No, I just wanted to see my brother, but I know when I’m not wanted,” you pout, pulling the card that always wins.

“Okay, okay. Thank you for seeing me before the race. Yes, I’ll be safe. No, I won’t reconsider my career,” Logan softens. He doesn’t take your presence for granted, it’s nice having family around.

“You’ll do great, maybe you’ll even beat Carlos,” you nudge him, feeling the clock tick down.

“Thanks,” you have half a mind to ask him to elaborate on what Carlos said, but that can wait until after the race.

“Bye, Lo,” you wave goodbye, heading back to your designated spot in the Ferrari garage.

“What are you reading today?” one of the engineers asks. You run a mini library with some of the team, loaning out books for them to read on flights.

“It’s called Onyx Storm, it’s the third book in this series. How are you enjoying the book I gave you?” you ask eagerly in return.

“Haven’t started it yet, picked up one of your books at the airport,” he says, making you feel a little embarrassed.

“Really? Which one,”

“Starlight,” it takes ever ounce of will in you to not die of embarrassment. That is one you wrote at the beginning of your relationship with Carlos, and he was the biggest influence on the book.

“That’s a great choice, I love that one,”

“You love all of your books,”

“That is true, it’s like picking a favorite child,” you chuckle.

“I do have one question about it,”

“It has nothing to do with Carlos and me, the manuscript was mostly finished when we met,” you lie, one that you’ve held to since publication. You wrote the book in a week, the fastest you ever wrote before. The publication turnaround makes the lie believable.

“You get asked that a lot?”

“Yeah, it was the first romance I published after meeting him so it is a natural question,” you shrug it off.

“Well, I really enjoy it. I’ve got to go, but I can’t wait for the book you are working on now,” the engineer gestures to the computer waiting for you. You grab your dedicated pair of headphones so you can listen to the race as you type away.

Carlos is practically bouncing when you return to his apartment after the weekend.

“Is everything okay?” you ask warily. He didn’t win the race so you slightly confused why he is eager to get home. Especially with what Logan told you. You spent the flight thinking of how to confront Carlos about his insecurities and how to help him about it.

He got a friend to set up your new bookcase in your office-slash-reading-room before you returned home. Carlos is really proud of his work.

“Close your eyes,” Carlos instructs as you step inside, carefully setting down your luggage. His hand covers your eyes as the other keeps a gentle-yet-firm grip on your waist to guide you.

“Why am I scared,” your nervous laughs accompanies the shuffles of your feet walking through your home.

“Don’t be, almost there,” a door clicks open and you are led inside. “Surprise,” the warm hand covering your eyes disappears and your eyes open, scanning the room. They immediately land on the bookshelf and you run over to it.

“Oh my god, when did you do this?” you gasp, running your fingers across the spines before you pluck a book from the shelf. You loved these books in elementary and middle school. You role played them during recess before you had any idea what role playing was. It’s honestly a little embarrassing looking back on it.

“Yesterday, Logan told me you loved them growing up,” Carlos smiles warmly as you act like a kid on Christmas.

“He told me you were feeling a little insecure when comparing yourself to the male characters of the books I’ve read,” you broach the subject tentatively, searching his reaction before choosing how to proceed.

“I was, but your brother reminded me that you write me into everything you’ve written since meeting me. I also know that I’m the real thing,” Carlos sounds sure of himself.

“So it’s nothing to do with the books I read having sexual elements to them?” you raise your eyebrow, trying to sus him out.

“Nope,” he pops the p, acting nonchalant.

“Well, in that case I should probably warn you that I had a huge crush on Prince Maxon Schreave and Firestar back in the day, like, a huge crush. You know, I think Maxon was my introduction to writing. My first fanfiction revolved around him,” your voice may have a teasing lilt to it, but you are dead serious.

“Seriously, mi amor? Maybe I should return those then,” the anxious undertones in his voice support your theory as he moves to take the books.

“Touch them and you die,” you threaten and Carlos immediately backs off. “I have you now anyway, you are who I write my fanfiction about now,” you do a complete turnaround, leaving a speechless Carlos alone in the room as you walk into the living room, book in hand.

“Wait!” he chases you, needing to find out what you meant.

“I meant what I publish, obviously,” you tell half of the truth. You will DIE before Carlos finds your burner accounts that are so well hidden it takes three secret email accounts to reach the one you use to login and post.

“Right. Well, maybe I will read one of the books I got you,” Carlos retreats to grab a book before laying beside you on the couch and promptly falling asleep on your lap.

“Goodnight, Carlos. Hello, Maxon.”

[mischievousmoony]

I’m blushing so hard at frat boy James!! What about the first time she comes over and meets the guys outside a party

hope i've done your idea justice! ty for requesting

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.9k ⟢ warnings/tags: references to drinking, technically american!james potter and american!marauders

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"It'll just take a minute," James promises. "We'll be in and out."

With his hand in yours, he leads you through the door, passing under the large Greek letters as you cross the threshold.

You have been seeing James for a month and a half. You never thought you'd be interested in a frat guy—you've never even step foot in one of their houses until now—but James has proven to be the opposite of what you thought a frat guy would be like.

James is a total sweetheart. Possibly the most thoughtful and genuine guy you've ever dated. He makes you feel special, always remembering the little things like your favorite flower or your drink orders at all your favorite places. He's attentive without ever being overbearing. But honestly, you don't think you could see him that way if you tried, always loving every bit of attention he gives you.

Today, he's taking you on a study date. He remembered that you were complaining about an upcoming exam in a class he's already taken, so he's grabbing his old notes and sitting you down in a quiet corner of the library so that he can help you study.

James would already have you set up in the library on the coziest chair with your favorite hot drink from the cafe if he didn't forget his old notebook in his room—which he felt rather sheepish about leaving behind.

So, here you are. James asked if you wanted to wait in the car, but you were curious to see the inside of one of these things. You half expected to see solo cups littering the floor, a pong table in place of a coffee table, and maybe even a few hungover frat guys strewn about the living room still sobering up from last nights antics.

You were a little surprised to find out that it was rather clean. You know from James that there was indeed a party here last night, but apparently they clean up nicely.

Although, you’re right about there being a pong table. But it is folded up and leaning against a wall for future use.

James guides you towards the stairs, but before he can even mount the first step someone appears in the foyer from a hall that you can see leads to the kitchen.

"Jamesie! Back so soon?" the boy cheers when his eyes land on his friend first. His eyes dart to you a second later, and something like recognition flashes in his expression. "Is this who I think it is?"

The boy has long, black hair that cascades just to his shoulders in soft waves, the kind that look effortless but too perfect to not be styled in some way. He stares at you with piercing blue eyes, making you feel oddly self-conscious, which might also have to do with the big smirk on his lips.

James squeezes your hand, sensing your nerves, but he'd bet money that they pale in comparison to his own. He's been nervous about bringing you around here. It doesn't have anything to do with you, or them (well, maybe he's a little worried they'll scare you off). You're really important to him, and so are they, and he's been putting a lot of pressure on introducing you to them. So, this unplanned visit has his palms sweating, which he's hoping you haven't noticed.

"Sirius," James greets his friend. "Yeah, this is Y/N."

Your eyes widen a fraction when Sirius immediately steps forward, taking your free hand to press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. "Hi, sweetheart, I've heard a lot about you. Truly, a lot. James has talked my ear off about you so I really feel like I'm meeting an old friend. I'm Sirius."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks but you're not alone, as James' own face turns rosy as he mutters a scolding "dude!" at his friend.

"Don't tell me you were just gonna sneak in without so much as a proper introduction." Sirius places a hand over his heart, a dramatic look of utter disbelief painting his face.

"We're just stopping by to get my notes. We have a very important study sesh to get to, didn't want to delay us too much," James explains, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"I promise it'll only be a short detour then. Pete and Remus are the only ones here anyway," Sirius says. His eyes dart to you again, something mischievous swimming within them. "We've all been dying to meet the girl that has our James so smitten. I mean, he's been going on and on and on. It's nice to finally have a pretty face to the name."

At Sirius’ words, you can’t help but crack a smirk as you peer up at James.

“Don’t look at me like that,” James murmurs, now rubbing his thumb across your knuckles the way he does when he gets anxious. James is sure the tips of his ears are bright red. Sirius will go to no end to embarrass him, but despite the fact that his heart might jump out of his chest at any second, James really only cares how you feel about the situation. James tilts his head toward you, lowering his voice to ask, "Are you up for meeting some of the guys?"

"Yeah," you say with a warm smile. "I'd love to meet your friends." And you really would. James talks a lot about them, too. Always reciting some story about all the shenanigans they've gotten into over the years.

You've been able to tell he's been overthinking bringing you to meet them. You get it—you're secure in James' feelings for you, so you know it's nothing personal. Plus, you were really nervous when James met your friends. To be honest, even though they were jokes, you're friends have made digs at frat guys before because of the stigma. You really wanted James and your friends to like each other, and thankfully, they really do and you had nothing to be worried about.

You hope that meeting his friends will have the same outcome and ease some of James' worries.

Sirius provides a generous introduction as you enter the kitchen. "Boys, it seems we have a very special guest in our midst this morning."

There are two guys sitting on kitchen stools who swivel around to greet you.

There's a lanky boy with mousy brown hair whose eyes dart back and forth between you and James before he directs a kind smile in your direction.

The other boy spins around mid-spoonful of a bowl of cereal. He abandons the utensil in his mouth to wave at you, his other hand occupied by the bowl resting in his palm.

Your eyes trail around the kitchen as James introduces you to them. It's rather large, as it would have to be to accommodate the large number of guys you assume live here.

You've also discovered the mess you thought you'd be stepping into. It seems that all of the discarded solo cups and beer cans have already been shoveled into a few trash bags, which are just about ready to burst at the seams as they wait by the back door to be taken out.

"I'm Peter," the boy with the cereal pipes up after returning his spoon to his bowl.

"Remus," the tall one introduces himself. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," you say. "You know, I've never been in a frat house before. I take it you all live here?"

Remus is the only one who shakes his head. "Not a brother," he clarifies. "Just unlucky enough to have them as my best friends."

"Oh, you know you'd be lost without us," Sirius says, rolling his eyes playfully. "And it's not a frat house, it's a frat home," Sirius says very earnestly. Too add to his dramatics, he pulls Peter into a hug (which nearly makes him fall off his stool) and raps his fist against his back as he pretends to get emotional.

Peter's laughing as he shoves, Sirius off. "Alright, man," he says, swatting Sirius' hand away as he ruffles his hair.

"Sirius had beer for breakfast," Remus informs you to excuse Sirius' behavior.

"Hey, I only had two and I know you're not suggesting I'm a lightweight," Sirius points at Remus accusingly. "Anyway, I was just telling Y/N how often Jamesie muses about her."

Remus clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Don't tease him too badly, Sirius.”

"It's not like it's not true," Peter shrugs, earning himself a glare from James.

You look up at James. His cheeks have deepened a few shades now as he glowers at Peter. You give his hand a squeeze to attract his attention, the expression on his face immediately softening when he looks at you.

“I think it’s sweet,” you say, encouraging a smile onto James’ lips. He drops your hand, only to wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side. You nuzzle your nose against his shoulder, looking at him with expectant eyes. He knows what you’re asking for, and would rather hand his friends more ammo to tease him with than deny you, so he gladly plants a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“You two are sickening.” Sirius leans over the counter, propping his chin up with his hand as he sighs dramatically. “It’s adorable,” he adds.

“Wrapped around her finger, are ya?” Peter joins in on the teasing.

James keeps his eyes on you as he responds. “You bet I am.”

You tear your eyes away from James’ sweet gaze to address his smirking friends. “You know, I've heard a lot about you guys too," you say.

Sirius lights up with intrigue. "Oh, do tell."

"Well, Peter must be the guy to go to if you want to have a laugh. Every time James asks ‘Wanna hear a story Peter told me’ I know I’m gonna have to sit through several fits of laughter before he gets to the end of it," you say, nudging James with your elbow who nods along to confirm your story.

Peter puffs up his chest, proud to be known as the funny one.

"Remus," you continue, "I should've known you weren't a brother. James always tells me about how they drag you into things that you have to get them out of. If he hasn't told you before, he's very thankful for you. And Sirius. I think I've heard the most interesting stories about you."

"This should be good," Sirius says, a cocky grin on his face. "I've given James a whole catalog of legendary stories to tell about me."

"My favorite is the one that started with you trying to impress a girl by jumping into the pool from the roof and ended with you in the bushes after you tripped on the gutter,” you say, an air of sweetness in your tone and a smile on your lips.

The confident smirk drops from Sirius’ face and James snorts a laugh beside you. Peter cracks up, and even Remus snickers at the look on Sirius’ face.

"I think you’ve just won over Sirius," Remus says, watching as his grin returns.

“You got me, I can appreciate that,” Sirius says. “Why have you been hiding her from us for so long, James? I like her.”

"Yeah, I like her too,” James replies, squeezing you a little closer into his side. He doesn't bother trying to hide the broad grin overtaking his features. As he looks down at your giggling face, he can't remember what he was so nervous about.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[starrdream]

Save a horse ride a cowboy

farmboy!Anakin x f!reader summary: Spending the summer at your grandparents' ranch doesn't seem so bad after meeting the boy who works for them. includes: SMUT!!, reverse cowgirl, kinda enemies to lovers, dirty talk

The first thing you notice when you step out of the car is the heat. Thick and heavy, like it's trying to press you into the dirt road beneath your shoes.

The second thing is the ranch itself, all picture-perfect under the sunset. White fences, rolling fields, the sound of horses snorting somewhere in the distance.

The house is way too perfect. Sunlight spills through lace-trimmed curtains, casting golden light over polished wooden floors.

“There’s my grandbaby!” Your grandmother fusses over you the second you step inside, pulling you into a hug before you can escape.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so much taller than the last time we saw you! Look at you!” She coos.

"Nice to see you too grandma" You laugh softly, putting your bag down.

"Oh we couldn't wait to have you!" She beamed as she walked further into the house.

You followed her and as you two approached the dining room you could hear muffled noises coming from the TV.

"Dear," She calls out. "Y/n's here!" She chuckles, walking inside.

You walk into the room a few seconds, expecting to see your granddad sitting around somewhere.

That's when you notice.

A young man in one of the other chairs. He couldn't be that much older than you. 3-4 years maybe?

His legs were spread slightly and he happened to be adjusting his hips as you walked in.

You weren't being honest with yourself but that with his looks made your stomach flip thourghly.

He had longer brownish hair that curled at the ends, his skin was tan and it contrasted his blue eyes that were staring right at you.

You couldn't deny the awkwardness that consumed you. You were wearing shorts and a short crop top, basically half naked in front of some random guy.

"Well, y/n," Your grandma started. "This is Anakin. Anakin, this is y/n" She nodded.

"Nice to finally meet you." Anakin gave you a shallow nod.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too.." You forced a smile.

"Anakin, darling, would you take her stuff up to the guest bedroom?" The elderly lad asked nicely.

Oh dear God.

"Of course." He smiled. A real smile. The kind that went all the way to his eyes.

"Thank you." Your grandma ran her hand over his cheek as he stood up. "Isn't he just so handsome?" She teased.

Handsome indeed.

"So..." You start as he takes your bags. "You're like a secret grandkid or something." Awful joke.

"Pft no" He huffed out a soft laugh "I help your grandparents out here during summer."

"So, a cowboy then?"

Anakin huffed at your stupid question. "No," He shook his head, annoyance starting to build up. "I just help around."

"Right, sorry.." You say, taking another step on the stairs.

"All you city girls are the same." He chuckled. "Annoying and out of touch." Anakin half joked.

You made a mocking face as you walked up the stairs, not saying anything to make your relationship with him worse.

The idea of having him hate you wasn't really appealing. Especially not when he was gonna be around every day.

"Enjoy your stay" He kicked open the door and lowered your bag down to the floor, leaving before you could thank him.

Over the next week you adjusted to the new environment. You also noticed Anakin was around the ranch all of the time. You also realized he, despite his looks, was a pain in the ass.

One evening, you were taking some pictures for your social media. An important detail was that you left the bathroom connected to your room a hot mess while doing your make up.

Considering you were done, you decided to clean it up.

Hurrying up the stairs to the bathroom, you open the door only to be met with a steamy room and...Anakin.

Thankfully, he had a towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. And his back was facing you.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" You mumbled, closing the door shut in your face.

It could always be worse. You convinced yourself as you paced up and down your room, waiting for him to finish.

The door opened and Anakin left the bathroom. He was stil very much shirtless, only wearing a pair of sweatpants.

In this weather?

"Knock next time." He shrugged, leaning on the wall next to the door.

"Yeah, right-sorry" You mumbled, walking into the bathroom and gathering some of your stuff.

"I hope you won't mind me borrowing this." He stated out from the door.

"What?" You mumble, turning your head.

There he was, standing casually at the door holding up a small metallic wrapper.

Oh hell no. How'd he even find that?

"Did you go through my stuff?" You immediately accuse him, ignoring the heat spreading through your face.

"Went through it?" He chuckles "It was all over the place." He gestures toward the sink.

True. But still.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes. "Could've just asked." You shrug, trying to sound indifferent even though you were secretly seething with jealousy.

"Okay, I'm asking now. Can I have it?" He was surprisingly polite.

"What do you need it for?" No way you were letting him out of this room before finding out at least something about this mysterious hook up.

"What do I need a condom for? To make water balloons"

"Okay then, you can't have it" You reply back snarkyly.

He sighs heavily. "I'm having dinner with this girl tonight and I was hoping-" You interrupt him.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. Just get out." You usher him out of the bathroom, closing the door.

"Well I owe you one!" He laughs and a few seconds later you hear the door of your room slam shut.

A knock interrupted your moping over Anakin. It was your grandma informing you that dinner was ready.

Your breath hitches as you reach the end of the stairs and see Anakin laughing with your grandfather.

Was he talking about me, or am I going crazy?

Dinner is even more awkward after your grandma announces that she and her husband are going to visit some neighboours.

The smile faded from your face the second you closed the door behind the elderly couple.

"I thought you'd at least look relieved."

"Get over yourself." You huff as you walk past him.

"Oh so you know exactly what I'm talking about. Good to know." He teases, grabbing your arm and pulling you back. He pushes you back against the counter.

"Oh my gosh" You roll your eyes.

"You desperately need an attitude fix, young lady."

You take a small step back, narrowing your eyes. “You’re full of yourself.”

He tilts his head, eyes flicking over you—lazily, like he has all the time in the world.

“And you’re in denial.”

You’re so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, smell the faint traces of cologne on his skin.

It’s infuriating, intoxicating.

And when you move to turn away—he stops you with a hand at your waist. Firm and steady

You should shove him off, but you don’t.

Instead, you look up, meeting his gaze. And what's there? Want, need. Raw, unfiltered, overwhelming.

The next breath you take is shaky. And Anakin notices.

His hand slides down to your hip, fingers pressing just enough to make your stomach flutter.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs. "And I will."

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Because you don’t want him to stop. And that’s all the confirmation he needs.

The second his lips crash against yours, it’s over.

"I knew I should.." He mumbles between sloppy kisses, chuckling softly. "..get my hopes up.."

Before long you're locked away in your room. Anakin's hands help you straddle him with your back to his chest. He spreads his legs slightly, erection pressing firmly against your ass.

His hands roam your curves, pulling down your jean shorts to reveal your red lacy panties.

"Dirty girl..all pretty and dressed up f'me.."

He takes those off with ease.

You desperately rub yourself against him, begging for any kind of friction.

"Easy pretty girl.." He murmurs against your neck, one hand holding your hips and the other one sliding to your front, toying with your clit.

"Please.." You breathe out.

He kisses your neck soothingly, hand pulling back and finding its way down too your hole. He pushes 2 fingers inside of you, moving them around skillfully and causing you to moan.

"Right there?" He coos.

"Right there." You confirm with a quick nod, voice shaky.

He pushes you forward slightly, fiddling with his own belt and pulling his pants down together with his black boxers and freeing his hard length.

He reaches for one of his pockets and pulls out the condom the took from you just hours earlier.

Not wasting a second, he slides it down with ease before pulling you down on his cock as well.

The movement draws a sharp breath from you.

"Shirt off baby.." He mumbles as he helps you ride him, guiding your hips up and down.

You comply, sliding your shirt and bra off at the same time,

"Oh yes.." You moan as his hands travel up your waist, massaging your breasts sensually.

Your hips keep working through the slight burn of Anakin's thick cock stretching you out.

"You can take it.." He prompts.

Both of you chase your high, wet noises and whimpers filling the room.

Anakin's hips start thrusting up into you, tip kissing your cervix with ease.

"Right there.." You encourage him. "Don't stop Anakin, please.."

He chuckles at your desperate pleas. "Don't worry angel, I'm not stopping until you cum on my cock."

"Right.." You gasp. Arching your back, you press him against your spot, drawing out a desperate whimper.

Anakin goes livid. "Keep making those pretty noises yeah?" He says as he rubs himself against your spot repeatedly.

Walls fluttering, face contorting in pleasure-you cum, the orgasm sending shivers down your spine.

Anakin is quick to notice.

"Oh" He chuckles. "That good huh?" His hands grip your hips tighter as you start grinding against him.

"Yeah.. y-yes" You moan.

He finishes too, wrapping his arms tightly against your waist and burying his face in your shoulder as you both ride out the high.

Holy shit I spent at least 3h writing this..Also why is it so unnecessarily long😭😭

Lmk if you guys want me to make a series out of this!!

[the-winter-spider]

The Archer | Steve Harrington

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Angst, fluff.

A/N: Found this in my drafts loo enjoy

----

You’ve never been the kind of person people stay for.

Your parents taught you that early on, love is temporary, conditional, fleeting. Your father left when you were nine. Your mother stayed, but she never really wanted to. She was always looking for an out, always halfway gone. You liked it better that way at first being alone, not truly having anyone so when they left it didn’t hurt as much, it was just another no one coming in and out of your lives. You learned that people only stick around until they find something better.

So you made sure to never need anyone. You let people in just enough to keep them close, but not enough for them to see you. You laughed when you were supposed to, played the part of the girl who was fine, always fine, even when you weren’t.

Because if you let people see what’s underneath, if you let them know how broken you really are, they leave and that’s why Steve Harrington is the worst thing that ever happened to you.

Because he sees you, even when you try to hide, even when you deflect and brush him off, even when you keep him at arm’s length…he still sees you.

And y’know what's worse? He stays. You don’t know what to do with that, because Steve is not supposed to stay. No one ever does and that’s why you don’t let yourself believe this could be real.

Because if you do? If you let yourself reach for him, if you let yourself want him the way you already do….you might lose the only person who’s ever tried to love you anyway.

Steve doesn’t know when he started noticing you like that.

You were always there. First in the way all Hawkins kids inevitably are, crossing paths in school hallways and at parties. Then through Nancy, through Jonathan, through all the bullshit with the Upside Down. You weren’t just another face in the crowd. You were watching, always sharp-edged, always standing on the outside like you were waiting for something to go wrong. Because well everything always did. But Starcourt happened and after that, you stopped just watching.

But no matter how close you got, there was always a wall.

That stupid, beautiful, impenetrable wall.

Steve tried to climb it. He tried again and again, reaching, pushing, pressing against the cracks, but you never let him in and man, it was frustrating because he knew you were holding something back.

It was in the way your eyes flickered when conversations veered too close to the truth. The way your laugh got a little too loud when someone asked how you were doing. The way you kept people just close enough to feel real but never close enough to matter.

Steve didn’t know why he kept trying, maybe because he saw himself in you. Maybe because he knew what it was like to be left behind, maybe because he cared more for you then he ever intended, maybe it was because his feelings for you were overwhelming and that was the problem. Because the more he cared, the more you pulled away.

You were right there but you weren’t, something just out of reach. Something like fear in your eyes whenever the conversation got too real, whenever Steve tried to lean in past whatever self-protective armor you had wrapped so tightly around yourself.

It’s late when he finally calls you out on it. Robin and Dustin had already passed out on the couch, snoring softly under a tangle of blankets. The TV flickers in the background, playing some terrible late-night infomercial neither of you are paying attention to.

You’re in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, legs dangling, spinning a spoon absently between your fingers. Steve is standing across from you, arms crossed, leaning against the fridge like he’s working up to something.

He exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You glance up at him, startled by the sudden weight in his voice. You try to play it off with a small, teasing smirk. “I do talk to you.”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Not about the things that matter.”

Something flickers across your face, too fast for him to catch, but not fast enough to completely hide.

“Not everything has to matter, Steve.”

He watches you for a second, really watches you, and it frustrates the hell out of him, the way you do this. The way you let him in just enough to keep him close, but never enough to let him have you.

“Yeah, it kinda does.”

Your fingers are still against the metal spoon. “Why?”

Steve lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Because I feel like I’m talking to a version of you that only exists on the surface. Like there’s this whole other part of you, and I’m just—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanna know you for real.”

Your stomach twists. “You do know me.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He takes a slow step forward, voice softer now, more careful. “Do I?”

You swallow, shifting uncomfortably. “Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I—” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, suddenly looking so fucking tired. “Because I care, okay? Because I keep trying to get close to you, and every time I do, it’s like you—”

He stops himself, shaking his head.

You feel something in your chest tighten, something sharp and dangerous.

“Like I what?” you challenge, voice quieter now.

Steve meets your gaze, and for the first time in a long time, you can’t read him. “Like you’re afraid of letting me in.”

The air between you goes thick and still. Your fingers tighten around the spoon, the metal cold against your skin. You should say something, laugh it off, shrug..change the subject, run.

But you don’t, you don’t know how.

Steve watches you, waiting, hoping you’ll finally let him in.

You take a breath, force a smirk, flick the spoon between your fingers. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “And here I thought you just liked the chase, Harrington.”

His face falls. Disappointment flickers through his eyes, just for a second before he masks it with a sigh. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend this is some kind of game.”

Your stomach twists violently.

“Steve—”

“Forget it.” His voice is tired now, frustrated, resigned. He pushes off the fridge, shaking his head. “You’re not gonna let me in. You never do, it doesn't matter.”

You watch him walk away, and for one fleeting second, you almost call him back. But then the moment is gone and so is he.

---

It happened in small moments. All the almosts. Little cracks in the armor, fleeting glimpses of something real before you slammed the door shut again.

Like the time you were sitting in his car after a shift at Family Video, both of you were too lazy to go inside. You had the windows rolled down, music playing low, the humid summer air wrapping around you like a second skin.

“You ever feel like this town is just… waiting to swallow you whole?” Steve asked, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

You had gone still. Not laughing it off, not dodging. Just silent.

“Yeah,” you had murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve had turned to look at you. “Yeah?” he echoed, like he wasn’t expecting you to agree.

You hesitated and for just a second, he saw something in your eyes. Something unguarded, raw, real. But then you blinked, shook your head, and it was gone.

“Never mind,” you had said quickly, forcing a smirk. “I think that was just your deep poetic soul talking, Harrington.”

He sighed, tilting his head back against the seat. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“And yet, you still hang out with me.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I do.”

Or the time you had been walking back from the arcade with Max, Steve trailing behind.

It had been one of those perfect summer nights, warm but not suffocating, the cicadas humming in the distance. Max had been rambling about some stupid bet she had with Lucas, and you had been laughing, head tilted back, eyes bright in the glow of the streetlights.

And Steve, well he had been watching you something he found himself doing for a while now. Noticing the way you seemed lighter when you weren’t thinking too hard. The way you let yourself exist without overanalyzing it.

He had leaned in, bumped his shoulder against yours, and said, “You should let yourself be happy more often.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he saw it. The way you stiffened. The way your smile faltered, the way your fingers curled into fists at your sides. He didn’t mean it the way he realized after how it sounded, he meant it like you should smile more. It was the more beautiful thing he ever saw, and that you should laugh more because man, it was music to his ears.

“I am happy.”

Steve stopped walking. “No, you’re not.”

You turned to face him, eyes dark and guarded. “What the hell do you know about it?”

“I see you.” The air between you had stretched thin, tight as a wire. Max had awkwardly cleared her throat, clearly wanting to be anywhere else.

“You don’t see shit, Harrington,” you had muttered before walking ahead.

Steve let you go.

But then came the night you slipped and this time you couldn’t take it back, it was real, too real.

It had been a rough day. Too much Hawkins, too much silence, too much weight pressing down on your ribs. You had snapped at Robin, ignored Dustin’s calls, spent the whole day pretending you were fine until it nearly cracked you in half.

So you did what you always did, you went to Steve. Not because you meant to talk but because he made it easy to exist.

Steve never asked for more than you were willing to give or at least you thought he didn’t.

You had climbed into his passenger seat without a word, legs pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself.

Steve didn’t ask why you were there, he just drove.

Out of Hawkins, past the flickering streetlights, past the places that felt too full of memories. He parked at some random spot near the woods, turned off the car, and just waited.

You could feel him watching you, could feel him waiting for you to speak and for a while, you didn’t.

Then you did. “I don’t think I know how to be loved.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, the second they left your mouth, your breath caught in your throat, panic clawing up your ribs. Shit. Shit. You weren’t supposed to say that.

Steve, who had gone completely still.

Steve, whose face didn’t change, whose hands didn’t move, whose voice didn’t tremble when he said, “Why would you think that?”

You had shaken your head quickly, fingers curling into your sleeves. “I…forget it. I didn’t mean—”

“Hey.” His voice was gentle but firm.

Steve reached out, carefully….slowly. Giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t, his fingers found yours, warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You don’t have to know how,” he murmured. “You just have to let someone try.” His fingers softly rubbed your hand. “And believe me someone will.”

That was the moment you realized he wasn’t going to leave, that Steve Harrington had been choosing you this whole time and maybe you could choose him back.

---

The sun is setting by the time Steve pulls the car into the gravel lot at the park. The air is thick with summer heat, the smell of grass and pavement still warm from the afternoon.

Robin is complaining loudly about having to be here, Dustin is talking way too fast, Max is rolling her eyes at something Lucas said, and you… you’re laughing. Like, really laughing, Steve’s known you long enough to know the difference.

There’s the laugh you use when someone expects it from you, quick, practiced, sharp at the edges like you don’t actually feel it.

There’s the one you use when you’re dodging something, louder than necessary, exaggerated, filling in the gaps so no one realizes you’re avoiding something real.

And then there’s this one, light, unrestrained..real.

You’re on the swings with El, kicking your feet, trying to get higher, grinning over at her like you’re daring her to catch up. Max is watching, smirking, shouting something about how she can go higher than both of you. Dustin and Lucas are arguing about whether this counts as a real competition.

Steve leans against the car, arms crossed, watching you.

Robin nudges his side. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not..” He stops, scowling when she raises an eyebrow. “Shut up.”

Robin snorts, looking at you again. You’re still laughing, still smiling, still unguarded in a way you never are. “You should tell her, you know.”

“Tell her what?”

Robin scoffs, shoving his shoulder. “That you’re in love with her, dumbass.”

Steve rolls his eyes, muttering something about how she’s so annoying, but he doesn’t actually deny it.

Because, yeah…maybe he is.

It happens fast. One second, you’re happy.

Genuine, effortless, real.

Then something shifts.

Steve doesn’t know what triggers it. Maybe it’s the way the sun catches on the trees just right, and the shadows look off. Maybe it’s the sound of the cicadas humming in the background. Maybe it’s nothing at all.

But he sees it, because you're all he sees. Your laughter falters. The way your eyes flicker with something heavy, distant, haunted.

The way your shoulders tense, like you’re suddenly remembering where you are, who you are, what you’ve been through.

It’s gone almost instantly. Your mask snaps back into place, and you’re smiling again, laughing again, playing along like nothing happened.

But Steve sees it, he sees all of it. That’s when it happens. That’s when he realizes he’s in love with you, truly in love with you. Because he doesn’t just love the version of you that you let everyone see.

He doesn’t just love the girl who makes fun of him, teases him, kicks his feet off counters.

He loves the whole thing.

The girl who smiles like she means it but sometimes doesn’t.

The girl who holds everything so tightly inside herself because she’s too scared to let anyone else carry the weight.

The girl who is so good at pretending she’s okay, she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it anymore.

“You good?” Steve’s voice is soft, meant just for you.

You blink at him, startled, like you weren’t expecting anyone to notice, like you weren’t expecting him to notice.

That kills him a little because he's done nothing but show you he sees you, he notices you.

But instead of answering, you plaster on that same damn smirk and say, “You worried about me, Steve?”

Steve, he doesn’t buy it. Not even a little. But he lets you have it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t go falling off that swing and breaking something, okay?”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches, just slightly.

Steve just knows. That someday, he’s going to get past those walls. Someday, you’re going to let him in and when you do? He’ll be right there. He’ll always be here.

----

It’s late. Too late for someone to be knocking on his door.

Steve is already awake, though. He hadn’t fallen asleep, not really. He had just been lying there, staring at the ceiling, stuck in that awful in-between place where his body was exhausted but his mind wouldn’t shut off.

He wasn’t expecting anyone. But the second he hears the knock, sharp, urgent, desperate his heart kicks up.

Because what if it’s one of the kids? What if it’s Dustin? Max? Lucas? What if something happened? What if it's back? What if it's something worse?

He yanks the door open without thinking and it’s you.

Standing there, arms wrapped around yourself, tears streaked down your face, chest rising and falling like you ran all the way here.

Steve feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest. “Jesus, what happened?” His voice is urgent, rough, and panicked.

You just shake your head, breathing uneven. “I—” Your voice catches, like you can’t get the words out, like if you say them, they’ll be real.

“Hey, hey, come here.” Steve doesn’t even hesitate.

He grabs you, yanks you inside, pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms tight around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on hard enough.

You collapse into him, fists gripping the fabric of his t-shirt, burying your face into his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Steve murmurs, his lips against your hair, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back. “I’ve got you. Whatever it is, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shake your head against him, breath hitching. “I, I had this dream, and it felt so real—”

Steve stills. “What kind of dream?”

You swallow hard. Your whole body trembles. “You were gone, y-you died and it got you, I just it was so real..”

Steve feels something deep in his chest fracture. You grip him tighter, like you need to physically make sure he’s here, that he’s solid, that he’s real.

“You were just..” Your voice shakes. “I don’t know, I just, I woke up and I couldn’t breathe, and I had this awful feeling and I had to make sure—” You stop, your voice breaks. “I just had to see you.”

Steve doesn’t say anything.

He just pulls you even closer. “I’m here.” His voice is softer now, steadier, full of something heavy and unspoken. “I’m right here and I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still don’t let go. So neither does he, he never wants to let go of you again.

Because if this is what you need to be held, to be grounded, to be reminded that he’s not going anywhere then Steve will hold you all night. He would hold you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

---

It starts small, something stupid, insignificant, something that shouldn’t even matter.

You don’t even remember what sets it off. Maybe it’s the way Steve keeps pushing, keeps asking, keeps trying to dig past the walls you’ve spent years perfecting.

Maybe it’s the way you deflect, dodge, pretend you don’t care when you care so fucking much it’s suffocating.

Maybe it’s all of it. But suddenly, you’re both yelling.

Loud, sharp, raw.

Like neither of you can stop. Like this isn’t just about this moment it’s about everything you’ve both been avoiding.

“Why do you do this?” Steve demands, running a hand through his hair, pacing like he physically can’t stand still.

“Do what, Steve?” Your voice is sharp, your chest heaving.

“Act like none of this fucking matters!” He whirls on you, eyes burning, voice full of something angry and desperate. “Like I don’t fucking matter!”

Your stomach twists. “I never said that!”

“You don’t have to!” Steve throws his arms out, exhaling hard. “You just keep running, keep pushing me away every time I try to get close to you!”

“I’m not running!”

“Bullshit!”

Silence.

The word hangs in the air, thick and heavy and undeniable. Your fingers curl into fists, your chest aches.

“Why do you even care?” you snap, voice shaking now, uneven. “Why the fuck do you keep trying to fix me, Steve? Huh! I didn’t ask for this, I-I didnt ask to be fixed!”

Steve stares at you, breathing hard, shaking his head like he can’t fucking believe you just said that. “Because I fucking love you, that’s why!”

The words explode into the space between you, loud and sharp and so, so real.

Your breath haults.

You don’t move.

You don’t speak.

Because this is what you were afraid of. Because if he loves you, if he really fucking loves you, then that means he can leave and take everything you have left with him when he does.

Steve, he sees the way your face crumples for just a second before you shove it all down again. He sees all of it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, shaking his head, “that’s what I thought.”

He turns away and for the first time he’s the one walking away from you.

----

You don’t know what breaks first.

Maybe it’s the silence. The unbearable weight of it, the nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why the hell you keep doing this, to yourself, to him, to both of you.

Maybe it’s the fight. The way Steve walked away from you, the way his voice cracked when he told you he loved you, the way you let him go anyway or maybe it’s just everything.

All of it. The exhaustion, the longing, the fear. The realization that you’re ruining this. That you’ve spent so much time pushing Steve away that you never stopped to think about what would happen if he actually left and you can’t do it anymore. Because you don’t want him to leave, you want him to stay. You finally want someone to stay, not just anyone but Steve Harrington.

Fuck this.

You grab your jacket. Your hands are shaking as you shove your feet into your shoes. You don’t even think, you just move.

You need to tell him. Now.

Before you lose your nerve. Before you talk yourself out of it. Before it’s too late.

You step out into the cool night air, heart pounding. The streetlights cast long shadows along the pavement, stretching toward Steve’s house, toward him.

That’s when you see him…walking, laughing.

With some girl you’ve probably seen before but never with him. She’s pretty, dark hair, bright eyes, smiling up at him like he’s the best thing in the world and Steve is smiling back. Laughing, carefree, easy. Never the way he is with you.

Then he sees you and his face falls. Like he wasn’t expecting you, like he somehow knows exactly what you were about to do because no matter how hard you try to stop it no one sees through you the way he does and like he's realizing it's already too late.

Something inside you shatters, you don’t wait for him to say anything.

You turn around and you leave. You don’t know where you’re going.

Your vision is blurring, breath shaky, uneven, hands curled into fists.

You don’t stop walking. You don’t look back. You don’t let yourself feel it because if you do, if you really let yourself feel it, you’ll fucking break and you can’t. Not here, not in the middle of the street. Not where he can still see you.

You don’t realize where you’re going until you’re standing in front of Robin’s house. You knock fast, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to hold it all in.

Robin opens the door, half-asleep, blinking. “Jesus Christ, do you know what time it—”

She stops. Her whole face softens. “What happened?”

You step inside, barely breathing, barely holding it together, then you break. “It’s my fault,” you whisper, voice shaking. “It’s all my fucking fault.”

Robin pulls you in instantly, arms wrapping around you solid, warm, safe. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing feels safe right now. Nothing feels real except the way your chest is collapsing in on itself, breath coming too fast, fingers gripping her sweater like you might fall apart completely if you let go.

“Hey, hey, slow down…what happened?”

Robin’s voice is soft but urgent, her hands moving up and down your back like she’s trying to steady you, like she knows if she lets go you’ll shatter completely.

Your throat is so fucking tight it hurts to speak, hurts to breathe, but you force it out anyway. “I was gonna tell him.”

Robin’s whole body goes still.

You suck in a sharp breath, chest heaving, forcing yourself to keep talking because if you stop, you’ll never say it. “I was finally gonna fucking tell him.”

Robin pulls back just enough to look at you. And the look on her face, the pure disbelief, the realization, the holy-shit-you-were-actually-going-to-do-it, holy-shit-i-fucking-knew-it, makes something in your stomach twist.

“Steve?” she asks, like she has to be sure. Like there’s even another answer.

You nod quickly, breath shaking, trying to keep it together. But you can’t. Because suddenly you’re back there, standing in the middle of the street, heart racing, hands sweating, ready to tell him everything.

Then the girl, he laugh, the way Steve had looked at her.

Your stomach clenches. You shake your head, biting back a sob. “And then I saw him.”

Robin’s eyes widen. “Saw him where?”

Your mouth opens, but the words don’t want to come out. Because if you say it, it’s real.

If you say it, then it happened. “With some girl.”

The second the words leave your lips, your throat tightens, hot and painful. You try to push the image away, but it’s seared into you. Steve walking beside her, easy and happy, like he wasn’t carrying around the same weight you were, like he had already moved on while you were still stuck trying to figure out how to hold him in your hands.

You force yourself to finish the thought.

“And he was…”

Your voice catches.

Robin’s fingers squeeze your arms. “Hey, look at me.”

But you can’t.

You squeeze your eyes shut, like if you don’t see her face, you won’t have to see his.

“He was laughing.”

The words feel so small. So stupid in comparison to the way they’re tearing you apart.

“He was… happy.”

Robin swears under her breath, pulling you in tighter, gripping you like she can physically hold you together.

“Okay, okay, just—” She exhales sharply, like she’s trying to find the right words, like she’s trying to fix this.

But she can’t, because you did this, because this is your fault.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper again, and this time, you feel something inside you break completely.

Robin shakes her head, fast, frantic. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this—”

“But it is!” Your voice rises, sharp, angry, desperate. Not at her, at yourself.

Because you did this, you pushed him away. You made him think he was never going to be enough for you. You waited too fucking long.

“I’ve been doing this for months, Robin!” Your breath is ragged, hands trembling so badly you have to curl them into fists. “I’ve been fucking running, and he, he finally had enough and now it’s—”

“He told me y’know? He told me he loves me and I—” Your voice breaks completely.

Because you can’t even finish the sentence, because the end of it is too fucking final.

Robin pulls you against her again, arms tight around you, whispering something soft and steady against your hair, but you barely hear it over the roaring in your head.

“It’s not too late,” she murmurs. “Trust me, It’s not.”

But you just shake your head. Because it is and you hate yourself for it. You hate yourself for so many things.

For being a coward, for waiting until it was too late. For loving him at all and then it comes out. The thing you’ve been choking on for months.

“I love him, Robin.”

Robin stiffens.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a choked sob ripping from your throat.

“I love Steve.”

Your voice is wrecked, broken, shattered beyond repair.

“I love him.”

And saying it doesn’t fix anything, It just makes it hurt worse. Robin’s hands tighten around you and you finally just let yourself cry.

---

Steve is already at Family Video when Robin walks in, half-asleep and nursing a coffee the size of her head.

“We have a problem. A big problem.”

Steve barely looks up from where he’s crouched behind the counter, digging through a box of VHS tapes with a deep scowl.

“Yeah, I know.” He groans, tossing a cassette aside. “They sent us two boxes of the wrong movies. Keith’s gonna have a fucking aneurysm if we don’t..”

“No, you idiot,” Robin cuts in.

Steve pauses. Looks up, frowning. ”…What?”

Robin crosses her arms, expression dead serious. “Y/N.”

Steve freezes. The tape in his hand slips from his fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

“What happened?” His voice is suddenly tight, sharp, urgent. “Is she okay?”

Robin exhales deeply, already exhausted. “She saw you.”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

Robin glares. “Don’t play dumb, Harrington.”

That’s when it clicks, his face falls. “How do you know about that?” he asks slowly, voice almost hesitant, like he’s bracing himself.

Robin throws her hands in the air. “Because she came to my house at ten PM last night…crying!”

Steve’s stomach drops. “Wait, what?” He shakes his head. “Why? Why was she crying?”

Robin gives him the most exasperated look he’s ever seen.

“What do you mean why?! She saw you walking with some girl! She thinks you were on a date, dingus!”

Steve’s entire body locks up.

“What? No, no! That wasn’t—” He drags a hand down his face, heart pounding. “Wait, let’s, fuck, let’s take it back a minute.”

Robin stares at him expectantly.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to make sense of the mess in his head.

“I was walking Mindy home. You know, Mindy, the one who works at the café next door? She got in that car accident last month, remember? She didn’t want to drive at night, and her boyfriend was working late, so I said I’d walk her home. Because I’m not an asshole.”

Robin’s eyes narrow. “So you weren’t on a date?”

“No!” Steve groans. “I told you, I was taking Keith’s closing shift! Why the fuck would I go on a date when I’ve been pining after the same girl for a year?”

Robin freezes andthen, it hits her. “Oh my God,” she whispers.

Steve rubs his temples, still processing.

“But Y/N, she was there, Robin and she looked, fuck, she looked so determined and then her face just fell. I thought—” He exhales sharply, voice wrecked. “I thought that was from seeing me because, God, I told her I was in love with her, and then I just fucking left. I did the thing she was most scared of, I left. I didn’t even give her a chance to speak.”

His hands are shaking. “Fuck,” he whispers, horrified. “I made her cry?”

Robin nods slowly. “Steve,” she says carefully, watching the realization slam into him all at once. “She was gonna tell you something.”

Steve’s mouth opens, ready to ask what…But then, he sees it.

He sees it on Robin’s face, the way she doesn’t say it but doesn’t have to. It crashes into him like a fucking freight train.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, eyes going huge. “No way. No….no way.”

Robin nods. “Go.”

Steve doesn’t even think, he doesn’t need to. He just grabs his keys and runs.

-

Steve is out of breath.

His heart is pounding, sweat dripping down his back, his hair a mess from running his hands through it over and over again.

But he doesn’t care, because he can’t find you and he has to.

You weren’t at your house, you weren’t at the library, you weren’t at the cafe and every second he can’t find you, the panic in his chest gets worse.

He almost gives up, but then he sees them, the kids

They’re at the arcade on the bench, arguing over something stupid, but Steve doesn’t care.

He rushes over. “Have any of you seen Y/N?”

They all stop, turning to look at him.

“No,” Max says, frowning. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“None of your business.”

“Why are you sweating?” Mikes noses scrunches

Dustin's eyes widened, as he reads Steve’s face. His mouth drops open. “Holy shit, it’s happening!”

Mike blinks. “What’s happening?”

Lucas grins, nudging Dustin. “No way.”

Mike scowls. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Dustin points at Steve like he’s just uncovered the greatest mystery of all time. “He’s gonna go get the girl!!!”

Steve groans. “Oh my God.”

“Finally, fuck!” Lucus yells.

Steve scoffs, flipping him off as he turns back toward his car.

“You guys are the worst.”

“YOU’RE WELCOME!” Dustin shouts after him.

But Steve isn’t listening anymore, because he thinks he knows where you are.

Steve finds you at Lover’s Lake. Sitting on the dock, feet dangling over the water, staring out at nothing.

And when he sees you, when he finally fucking sees you, he lets out a breath of pure relief. His whole chest unclenches. You don’t even look at him when he sits beside you. You don’t startle, don’t ask how he found you, don’t even acknowledge his presence at first.

You both just sit there. The sound of the water lapping against the wood. The distant hum of crickets, the soft rustling of the trees.

Steve doesn’t know how to start this.

But you do.

Your voice is small, barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’m sinking.”

Steve’s whole body goes still, because this is it he thinks, the walls are coming down.

“Like I can barely breathe,” you continue, staring straight ahead. “Like I’m barely above water and sometimes I just… I just want it to stop. I want to stay at the bottom, where it’s dark, where there’s no air, where it’s quiet.”

Steve’s heart fucking breaks.

“And I feel horrible thinking like that,” you whisper, voice wavering, hands trembling. “Because those kids? They’re handling this better than I ever could and I don’t know why I’m like this, Steve.”

“Hey.” Steve leans forward, eyes locked on you. “Hey, look at me.”

You don’t, you just keep going because if you don’t you might lose the courage.

“I don’t like to get close to people,” you say, voice flat now, like you’ve rehearsed this, like you’ve convinced yourself that this is just the way it is. “Because everyone leaves.”

Steve’s chest tightens.

“My dad was supposed to love my mom and he did—” You pause, let out a bitter breath. “Until I came. Then he left and once he left, my mom didn’t want me anymore. Because I was—”

Your throat closes up.

Steve is listening so hard it hurts.

“Because I’m unlovable.”

Steve inhales sharply, like he’s about to interrupt, about to argue, about to tell you you’re wrong, you’re so wrong.

But you keep going. “Being alone? There’s less feeling involved. Less chance of getting hurt. Less disappointment. It’s just… easier.”

You exhale, shaking your head, “But you, Steve…”

His breath catches.

“You make me want to swim.”

Steve sucks in a breath.

“You’re the sun,” you say, voice shaking now. “Shining on the top of the water, lighting the way up and it’s so fucking scary, because—”

You finally turn to face him, tears clinging to your lashes. Eyes so open, so raw, so full of everything you’ve been holding in for so goddamn long.

“Because I love you, Steve Harrington.”

Steve feels like he can’t breathe.

“I love you.”

His heart is slamming against his ribs, his hands are shaking.

Because this is it, this is everything.

You clench your jaw, arms tightening around yourself, like you’re trying to brace for impact and Steve hates it.

Hates that you expect love to hurt.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he says, softer now. “I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”

Your breath catches. “I don’t know how to be what you need,” you whisper.

Steve exhales. “You already are.”

Steve finally pulls you in, pressing his forehead against yours, holding onto you like he’s never going to let go, his thumbs brushing away your tears.

“Say it again.”

You blink, surprised. “Steve…”

“Please.” His hands are on your face now, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears. “Say it again.”

You let out a breath, a broken, shaky, beautiful breath.

“I love you.”

Then he kisses you and it’s not soft.

It’s everything.

It’s months of tension snapping like a rubber band.

It’s his hands shaking against your skin, your fingers tangling in his hair, both of you holding on like you’re afraid this moment might slip through your fingers.

It’s the realization that neither of you have to be alone anymore.

That you’re finally, finally getting it right, when you finally pull away, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, hearts racing.

Steve smiles. “I love you too.”

[kazuko-stuff]

The Things You Didn’t Notice

Synopsis : You thought back about your feelings and look back at the past. You wonder how many things you didn’t notice about Caleb back then and how it matters in the present and the future ahead

Warning: This takes place after Homecoming Wings Chapter and will have spoilers from Caleb’s myth, Hidden Waves and Painful Signal

Notes: This is my take of the aftermath of Homecoming Wings chapter. MC reevaluating her childhood with Caleb and understanding on what she is feeling. She is not only learning to accept the changes of Caleb but realizing the little things see may overlook in her younger years with her growing up with Caleb. This can be seen as some sort of character analysis as well.

“I am done playing the role of being the ‘loving older brother,” Caleb confesses as he faces you, holding you tighter, unwilling to let go of you.

The words have echoed in your mind ever since your return to Linkon from Skyhaven.

A lot of things have happened since then.

Mia, Kevi… and Caleb affiliated with EVER in some way.

You were eventually given a few days off from the Association from Jenna, seeing you overworking due to the stress of the sudden events.

‘Is this really Caleb?’ you thought to yourself.

No.

You didn’t really know his real self.

You didn’t understand him.

Because you didn’t bother to

You realized that you subconsciously play the role of the sweet little sister who sees her brother, who is kinder and more fun than anyone else. Out of fear of what he truly sees you as, as well as the circumstances behind them.

Just like why he played the role of the kind older brother.

And how he wondered if you realized if you knew how he felt, as his feelings for you had gotten stronger over the years. He didn’t say a word back then because of those fears.You hurt him without realizing it, and that is what hurts you even more. The same turmoil he is feeling right now.

You depended on him too much because he was always there for you, just like any younger sibling does.

But did you really see him as a brother?

Truthfully, you weren’t sure.

Like why you didn’t want him to have a girlfriend when you two went to high school and how he promised he wouldn’t get one.

And why you eagerly played his girlfriend in college, unknowingly making him wish that this were to be true.

You wanted to run from these feelings, but for some reason you can’t.

It’s a truth about yourself that you have to face.

A shocking revelation of the real, true, hidden feelings of his and yours.

Temptation, guilt, yearning, and sin.

And he shouldered all these burdens and feelings alone for God knows how many years.

It’s because you felt the same way.

You were in love with him.

In some twisted way, you wished this wasn’t true.

As you confront these feelings at last, tears start to fall. You accepted the truth of the feelings that had piled up in your heart and how long you had kept thinking of Caleb when he supposedly died.

You were as responsible for his pain and suffering because of your ignorance.

Maybe because of the sudden separation, he couldn’t be as open as he was in the past and the events in Skyhaven. You started to see things that you didn’t notice in him before.

—

When you went back to Skyhaven to meet with some high school friends, Caleb was already there in the rain at night to take you back to his place.

The first thing you didn’t notice before is how much your needs come before his. He should have waited in the cafe and texted you a message, but he didn’t.

He waited in the cold, rainy night just for you due to Skyhaven’s patrol issues at night. Because of that, he ended up sick with a cold.

This was the first time he was sick in bed with a cold with you. Yes, he was sick before, but Grandma always took care of it.

When you were sick, he was the first to take care of you and made sure you weren’t lonely. Oh, how he sang off-key when you were young, but that didn’t really mind you. You knew he was attempting to cheer you up.

Despite Caleb’s protests, you decided to take care of him. He was always ready to put your needs first; now you want to do the same.

As you cooked some porridge, you thought back on all the things he did for you when you were sick.

You took care of him and gave him porridge in hopes he would recover soon.

“You enjoy taking care of sick people, huh?” He looks at you as he points to the bowl.

You were confused by the statement he made.

‘You’re taking care of him because you care for him. Why can’t he see that?’ as you thought to yourself, as you set the bowl on the side.

As you decide to go back to your room to give him time to rest, he grabs your arm, “Don’t go,” he pleads weakly.

“Uhh”

“You can sleep here,” he suggests, as he moves a bit to create room for you.

It was like old times, where he sleeps with you whenever you're sick. You lay on the bed with him and rest on his right arm.

As the two of you looked back on fond memories, you couldn’t help but check his temperature again. He touched his right cheek with your hand and gave a slight smile that his fever is going down a bit.

You then got up on the mattress and cupped his cheek with both hands.

“You still want to confirm it? You’re even copying what I do when you’re sick,” he sighs as you bring his forehead to yours to reassure him.

You let go as he rests on the bed board with a cough, still sullen from the fever.

You looked at him worried, “Caleb, what can I do to make you feel better?” you asked in concern.

“When you were sick, you never wanted to be alone. You made me sing for you. Then you complained, saying I sucked and covered my mouth,” as he smiled at the memory fondly.

“Then I’ll sing for you,” you respond with a soft smile, as you sing a lullaby from the past.

“Many summers ago”

“A little base”

“That secret that only belongs to two”

“Hidden in a lush place”

You finished the lullaby as he looked at you with longing in deep violet eyes. You blushed in response, “Was it bad?” you asked shyly.

“Not at all,” he responded softly. To him, your singing always provides comfort to him and makes him feel at ease. He raises his hand and barely touches the bottom of your lips with his fingers and looks away, as if he is hiding something.

“Caleb, you’re still messing around. You’re not letting me see your weakness,” slightly annoyed that he is still reckless when he’s sick, causing you to attempt to leave the bed only for Caleb to pull you back to his chest.

“… Don’t go,” he pleaded weakly.

“I never kept anything from you. The same can’t be said about you, though.”You huffed.

“I can’t have any weaknesses. Then you’ll feel safe relying on me.” He looks away in guilt.

Was this why he initially refused you for help earlier? Is this what he thinks if he sees him like this?

“But I don’t want to stand behind you. I want to stand by your side,” you answered back in a softer tone.

Caleb looks at you with soft eyes and places your hand on his heart. “Do you feel it? This is my weakness,” feeling his heart race on your hand. “She’s here.”.

“For a long time, she’s been here,” he confessed when you lay on his side, as you two embraced each other.

Another sacrifice he made was hiding his burdens away from you just to take care of you.

You just want to tell him it’s okay for you to take care of him because you felt the same way about wanting him to feel and be safe.

——

Once more, you and Caleb spent time together, this time in Lincoln. Caleb was wearing a disguise due to him still being legally dead to those who knew him in Linkon.

You two went to the cemetery to visit Grandma’s grave. You also ended up encountering Gideon in the process, leading to having him tag along to catch up at a nearby cafe.

The day went fast, leaving little room for the two of you to spend time alone together, much to your disappointment. When Caleb is about to go back to Skyhaven, you two make a promise to spend time together alone another time, whenever you two are off from work.

Later at night, after having dinner, you heard a chime from a nearby radio.

“Three hours ago, the Coelum Express, bound for Skyhaven, experienced unexpected Protocore energy fluctuations. The cause remains unknown.”

Caleb was on that express three hours ago, causing you to slightly panic in worry. You attempted to contact Caleb but were only sent to voicemail. You contact Gideon in an attempt to find out about Caleb’s current whereabouts, but the only thing you get is that Caleb had a serious arm injury in the accident and didn’t go to the hospital afterward.

This made you even more worried, and you went straight to Skyhaven to check on Caleb at his residence.

You look around the apartment for him and notice his clothes and phone on the sofa and nearby coffee table.

As you were about to look up nearby hospitals within the area, you felt a breeze within the complex and noticed the wall had a hole that wasn’t there before. You tentatively entered in hopes of finding clues, and there he was, sitting on some sort of medical chair, grunting in pain.

Caleb notices you behind him. “Stay back,” he warns, causing you to halt in place.

“Repair Complete” as the two of you look at the computer screen. You then notice that his left arm is a bionic arm; remember that Gideon informed you about Caleb having his arm injured in the accident earlier.

You tentatively continue to step towards him with his back towards you. “I almost forgot…You never listen to me during times like these.” He huffs in response.

You touch his shoulder to get him to look at you and grunt in pain.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just didn’t expect you to find out like this.” He looks at the floor in shame as you come closer to him.

“I barely feel any pain. Unless it’s under repair,” he explains as he raises his bionic arm to hold the hand that reaches out to him.

“I …can’t even feel you anymore” as his bionic clutches your hand.

With the same hand, you hold the bionic hand to comfort him.

“Caleb… Sometimes, I wish you were always in pain,” you admitted, not knowing what to say as tears started to form.

Hearing and seeing your tears, he raises his real arm to hold yours in an attempt to feel the warmth from hands.

“If that’s what it takes to feel you, I’ll accept it.” He looks at you with guilt in his eyes.

“But most of the time, I wish your pain could be lessened” as you let go of his bionic hand to feel the rest of the steel arm of his.

“Is this the Fleet’s doing…? They won’t get away with this.”You turn in anger, but only for Caleb to restrain his arms in pain.

His heavy breathing increases as he stands to hold you back with his real hand. “You think you can just…come and go as you please?” clutching his bionic hand.

“Is that so?” you retaliated and suddenly jumped to hug him tightly.

“Then hold me, Caleb. Do it tightly,” you begged as you looked at him in the eyes with tears, clutching his bionic hand. “Use your right hand.”.

“You’re the only one…who can ease my pain,” he murmurs softly to you, hugging you tight.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but for one thing, you know whatever EVER is doing, though the fleet isn't good.

Whatever EVER wants from you and the aether core, Caleb paid the ultimate price to keep you from temporarily harm’s way.

But how long would this last for? You know Caleb would just be a pawn in EVER’s game and would discard him eventually once they achieve something through him.

What did they do to him during the past few months after the explosions? You didn’t know, and frankly you don’t, since the answer is already there.

“After the explosion, I spent a long time recovering in a hospital.” Caleb reveals as he lessens his grip on you, “At the time, this arm could still feel another’s touch. It could still feel warmth, the cold, anything and everything, but…” Seeing his expression sullen. “After the modifications, all that vanished. Only extreme pain could be felt, feeling his weight pressing down on your shoulder, but you didn’t mind.

“Is that why you asked me to pinch you harder…?”recalling the events from earlier of him wanting you to pinch him.

“It was the only way this arm could feel you. Even if it’s pain… As long as it’s from you, I want it.”

A frown comes on your face; you didn’t want him to be in pain because of you. How much does he have to suffer for?

Over the first few weeks after the events at Skyhaven, you begin looking back at your childhood with Caleb. Analyzing those memories for things you had missed back then due to ignorance. You want to help him with his burdens, and now knowing what he is going through, all you want to do is be his source of comfort for once.

“But… I don’t want to hurt you,” wrapping your hands around Caleb’s back and welcoming his embrace. You press your forehead against his trembling shoulder. “I also don’t want you to be numb to my presence,” you murmured.

“In that case, you can’t call it hurt.” He gives you a small smile in an attempt to make a joke. “You always find a way to sway my mind…” you kissed him on the lips to shut him up, shocking him in the process.

It took him a few seconds for the kiss to register in his mind, but he returned your kiss, this time with more passion, yearning, and longing.

The kiss between you two heated up even more. Your bodies are pressed together, breathing heavily as your lips press together. Caleb envelops you in a hug in the same motion, and you fall deeper into him.

You felt the slightly chapped lips against yours. Just like how he felt your own soft, silken lips pressed against his.

You briefly recalled your first kiss with him a few months back. You only wished it wasn’t under those circumstances. Once again you hurt him without realizing it. But this kiss, however, felt different. Caleb feels it too. No holding back, and no secrets are being kept.

Caleb feels some of the weight off of him lifted as he holds you tighter into his embrace. You felt warmth blossoming in your chest, sparks igniting as the kiss deepens, with more devotion than Caleb thinks he deserves.

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

For @bucktommyfluffebruary day 14: valentines day

A/N: Yes this is super late and I know it's not February anymore, but my mind wasn't cooperating much in Feb and I do have partially written, waiting to be finished fics/ficlets for all of the days, so this year we're *extending* February. How long for though - nobody knows.

---

Secret Valentine (AO3)

Probie!Buck x 118!Tommy

---

You think you're invisible but you're not. I see you and I think you're wonderful. Love, your valentine.

Tommy looked around, trying to make sense of it all.

"Did you do this?" he asked Sal, holding up the card.

"Do what?"

"This!" he shoved the card in Sal's face.

He pulled a face as he read the message and looked at the puppy holding a rose and "be my valentine" in the front.

"Why would I send you a valentines day card?"

"I don't know, to fuck with me? Make me think there's someone out there who wants to date me and then laugh at me when I fall for it?"

"That's a good one actually. I should remember that for next year." Sal said, flicking the card back at Tommy and closing his locker. "But it wasn't me."

"Who was it then?"

"How should I know? Maybe it was Howie? Or one of the girls? Maybe someone from B-shift? Maybe a member of the public dropped it off for you?"

"Then how did it end up in my locker?"

Sal shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess someone could have put it in there for them?"

"Without telling me?"

"You'd find it eventually, wouldn't you?" Sal shrugged again. "Hey probie, do you know anything about the card in Tommy's locker?" he asked Buck who had just walked into the locker room too to change at the end of their shift.

"What card?"

"That's a no then."

Tommy held up the card.

"This was in my locker. Did you see anyone put it in?"

Buck shook his head.

"I've been busy all day. I haven't been in here since the start of shift."

Tommy sighed and looked at the card again.

"It's kind of cute. With the puppy." Buck commented, nodding at the card. "Or don't you like dogs?"

"Uh no I do... I like dogs just fine. I just don't like pranks like this."

"Maybe it's not a prank? Maybe someone actually likes you and they're too shy to say it."

Tommy snorted.

"Yeah right."

"The kid is a romantic, Tom, not a cynical asshole like you." Sal joked and swung his duffel over his shoulder. "I am going to spend my 48 off with my wife. It's our last valentines day before the baby arrives and we're going to make the most of it. And I'm not going to think about any of you until the minute our next shift begins." he gave Tommy a mock salute as he walked past him out of the locker room.

"It's him. I know it's him." Tommy told Buck. "Maybe he got Gina to do it... But I know he's playing a prank on me."

"Why are you so convinced it's a prank? I think someone out there actually really likes you."

"Those things only happen in movies probie." Tommy said, shoving the card into his bag and closing his locker. "Real life doesn't work that way."

He walked out of the station to his car, mostly annoyed at Sal for not owning up to his prank.

It wasn't like they hadn't played pranks on each other before, and Sal was his best friend, he could take a fake valentine's card from him.

If only he'd just admit it.

He debated calling Gina to see if she knew about Sal's prank (and get her on his side and pressure Sal into coming clean. She was six months pregnant, Sal wouldn't dare argue with her) but when he got to his truck there was some kind of paper stuck under the windshield wiper.

For a moment he thought it was a ticket and he tried to figure out what possible laws he could have broken while parked outside a fire station, but upon closer inspection it turned out to be an envelope. One with his name on it at that.

He opened the envelope and inside was another card.

It was a simple card with a teddy bear holding a love heart saying happy valentine's day on the front.

Drive safe, the roads can be dangerous and I like you in one piece. Love, your valentine.

It was cute but he was also getting more annoyed with Sal. One card in his locker was enough.

He looked at the message in the card again. He had to admit it didn't look anything like Sal's handwriting. Or Gina's.

Maybe they got someone else to write it for them. And unsuspecting neighbour maybe.

He put the card in his bag with the other one, and drove home, planning on ignoring both the cards and the upcoming holiday.

His 48 off might as well have been a full shift with how busy he'd been catching up on chores around the house, as well as drinks with his brother and his team to celebrate his divorce going through.

And yeah maybe he'd had a few too many and was still recovering when he clocked into work at the start of his next shift.

Though he was nothing if not a professional so he forced some breakfast down and got on with his work.

Thankfully the 911 gods were on his side and no calls had come in all morning, and by midday he had finished most of his jobs around the station and figured he deserved a nap.

The alarm would wake him if any calls came in.

He dragged himself to the bunk room and crashed onto his bunk without looking or even bothering to take his boots off.

He tried to get comfortable but there was something under his pillow bothering him.

He shoved a hand underneath to get rid of whatever it was, whatever the guys had put under there, but frowned when he felt something plastic. It crinkled and it felt like a bag of sorts.

He sat up and pulled it out. In his hand was a small gift bag with a tiny card hanging from the ribbon tying it shut.

Here are some sweet hearts for a sweetheart. Love, your valentine.

"What the fuck Deluca..." Tommy muttered under his breath. He turned the bag over in his hands. It seemed like a regular gift bag just about every store sold around this time of year, and didn't look like it had been tampered with.

He opened the bag and shook the candy hearts out into his hand. They looked like every candy heart he'd ever seen. Just plain pastel coloured hard candy hearts with "Be Mine" on them.

He popped one in his mouth and hoped not even Sal was cruel enough to give him candy with laxatives in them.

After what felt like only five minutes the station alarm woke Tommy up and he rushed down to the truck bay on auto pilot. He stepped into his turnout pants and boots on muscle memory and yanked on the coat while all but throwing himself into the truck.

He was the last one in but hardly late.

"Nice of you to join us, Thomas." Sal joked.

Tommy rolled his eyes and put his headset on.

"Fuck you Deluca." He shot back and Sal laughed. "Just drive this thing and tell me where we're going."

"Structure fire on the east side of town. The abandoned warehouses."

He got assigned to work with the probie when they arrived on scene, which suited him just fine. The kid had good instincts.

The whole crew worked together to clear the warehouse that turned out not to be so abandoned after all.

A group of homeless people had set up camp in the place and it was filled with blankets, cardboard, and all kinds of trash. The whole thing was about as far from fire safe as it could get.

Thankfully there were no casualties and only a few people with minor smoke inhalation.

They were doing a final sweep of the building to make sure they hadn't missed anything and all fires were definitely out.

"This is probably what started the fire." Buck commented, putting out a small fire in the makeshift kitchen with the foam extinguisher he'd brought along.

"Yeah the whole place is a death trap." Tommy agreed. "It's a miracle everyone made it out alive." he looked around, satisfied there didn't seem to be any spot fires or anything smouldering. "I think we're done here, let's go." he turned around and took a step and the second he put his foot down, he knew he was in trouble. The floorboards gave out and he felt himself fall. Only the expected crash onto the floor below never came.

"I've got you, I've got you." Buck groaned while trying to drag Tommy out of the hole in the floor. "Almost there."

When Tommy's brain registered what was going on, he did his best to help Buck pull him up.

With one last big effort, Buck hauled him onto solid ground and the two of them collapsed into each other.

"You ok? Are you hurt?" Buck panted.

"I don't think so. Thanks to you." Tommy pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Nice reflexes." he patted Buck's shoulder.

"T-thanks." the other man stammered. "I didn't think... I just... did."

"I'm glad. It would've been a long way down if you hadn't." Tommy said and gave Buck's shoulder a squeeze before letting go.

Buck blushed slightly and ducked his head and Tommy couldn't help but think he looked absolutely adorable.

He was as out and proud as he could be at work, and he wasn't blind. He'd always thought Buck, Evan he reminded himself, was a good looking guy, but he wasn't going to make a move on a coworker, especially not one he wasn't sure was actually into men.

He'd resigned himself to just admiring the guy from afar.

They made it back to the truck without any more trouble and the ride back to the station was quiet. Everyone was tired, and when Tommy checked his watch he realised they'd been working the call for most of the afternoon.

"Well done everyone. I'm taking us offline for an hour." Bobby announced over the comms. "So we have some time to clean up and power up for the next call."

A murmur of appreciation came through the comms as reply.

As soon as Sal had parked the truck, the crew piled out. They kicked their gear off in the bay, ready to step back into for the next call.

"I need a shower." Tommy announced to nobody in particular.

"Do you want me to wash your back, dear?" Sal teased.

"Not today sweetcheeks, I have a headache." Tommy replied with a grin and headed to his locker to grab his shampoo and a clean towel.

There was nobody else in the showers so he enjoyed the fact that he didn't have to share the water pressure with the rest of the crew and scrubbed the soot off his skin.

He cleaned himself up wrapping a towel around his waist when he was done and making his way back to the lockers to get dressed.

Only when he walked in there, he almost ran right into Buck.

"Oh... s-sorry." he stammered. "Di-did you have a nice shower?"

"Sure. Had the whole thing to myself." Tommy replied. He felt the other man's eyes trail over his body and for a second he wondered if he'd missed the signs and Evan Buckley was into men after all.

"T-that's nice. I uh... was looking for laundry. Do you uh want me to take your towel?" he held out his hand.

"Give me a minute to get dressed." Tommy grinned. "I wouldn't want to flash you. Not at work anyway."

"Oh. Oh. Right. Yes. Of course. Sorry. I'll uh... I can turn around."

"It's alright. It's only been used once. I'll just hang it up to dry."

"Oh yeah. Ok. Sure. Sure thing. Yes. I'll... I'll just... go... and let you get dressed."

Tommy smiled as Buck ducked out the locker room.

Maybe he'd ask him out some time. Take him to a club and see if he could make him blush on the dance floor too.

He grabbed the bag with his toiletries to put his stuff away and frowned when he saw a note that definitely hadn't been in there before.

It was just a simple page from a department issued notebook, torn out and folded in half.

I know valentine's day is all about secretly admiring someone and anonymously telling them how you feel, but I want you to know who I am. Just for that tiny chance that you might actually feel the same. That you see me too. That you like me too.

I made reservations at Micelis under your name for this Friday at 8. I hope I'll see you there.

I'll be the one with a red rose.

Love, your valentine

"Jesus Deluca." Tommy muttered. "That's a lot of effort for a prank."

That Friday, he arrived at the restaurant almost 15 minutes late. He'd talked himself in and out of going more than once, but in the end decided a free (because there was no way in hell he was paying to get pranked) dinner with his best friend wasn't a bad way to spend an evening. And maybe he'd go to a bar or a club afterwards. Maybe Sal would want to come along. He could be an asshole sometimes, but he was a good wingman and could usually help him get rid of idiots and get with the guy he did like.

They had a routine that had worked for them since the academy, back when Sal was the only one who knew Tommy was gay, and they only went to gay bars in other cities so they wouldn't risk running into any familiar faces.

"Hi, reservation for Kinard. I don't think my friend is here yet." he told the waitress when he walked in as he looked around for Sal.

"Oh you're here!" she said happily. "We were starting to think he'd been stood up. He's been here since 7.30"

Tommy frowned, wondering why Sal would be there that early when he'd said the reservation was at 8.

He followed the waitress to a table and audibly gasped when he saw not Sal but Evan Buckley sitting at the table, fidgeting with a red plastic rose.

He stood up and smiled when he saw Tommy.

"Hey, you came."

"Just fashionably late." the waitress joked and put two menus on the table. "I'll be back in a minute when you've made your choice, can I get you a drink in the meantime?"

"Uhm just water for me, thanks." Buck told her.

She nodded and gave Tommy an expectant look.

"Oh uh... Just a beer. Whatever is on tap."

"Coming right up." she said happily and all but skipped back to the kitchen.

"You... you left the card in my locker?" Tommy asked as he sat down at the table.

"Y-yeah... uh ... surprise..." Buck said and blushed. "I uh... didn't know how else to get your attention."

"You... wanted my... attention?"

"Yeah... I... I... I like you. Everything I wrote in those cards is true. I just... I didn't know if you were interested and... I uh... was kind of... afraid of asking you out. But then... I thought we had a... uhm... a moment... On that call a few days ago."

"When you saved me in the warehouse."

"Y-yeah... so I just... kind of... stole a notepad from Bobby's office and wrote you that note while you were in the shower. And hoped you'd show up tonight."

"I thought it was Sal playing a prank on me."

Buck bit his lip.

"No. It was me. And it's not a prank."

"I didn't know you were into guys." Tommy said, still trying to process the information.

"It's... new... I guess. I didn't know either. Or... realise. I thought I was checking you out in the gym because of your work out routine... But then I talked to my roommate and he uh... made me think about some things. Like that most straight guys don't check out another guy's ass. " Buck confessed and he was bright red.

"You've been checking me out?"

"Sorry. I'm making it weird. I always do that. I'm sorry. Just... forget I said anything."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Wha-what?"

"I didn't expect to see you here... But I'm not complaining."

"Y-you're not?"

"Evan look at yourself. You're hot, you're adorable... for some reason you like me... If I'd known you liked men I would have asked you out ages ago."

"Really?"

"Well... I don't know if I would have had the nerve to ask you out... but... maybe I would have pushed myself to be brave for a change.

"Y-yeah?"

"Yeah." Tommy confirmed and smiled when Buck put his hand on the table, clearly hoping Tommy would reach out and take it, which he did and rubbed his thumb over the knuckles.

"I was so scared you would turn me down... Since... since we work together and I'm still in my probie year and..." Buck trailed off, not knowing what he was going to say.

"The LAFD doesn't have to know everything." Tommy said after a beat. "We can just... keep this between us for now can't we? Just... enjoy each other's company and see where things go."

Buck smiled.

"Yeah... Yeah ok. That... that sounds nice." he licked his lips and took a deep breath to say something, just when the waitress came back with their drinks.

"Have you come to a decision yet?" she asked in the same happy tone of voice as before.

"Yeah." Tommy said and got up and he saw the brief flicker of panic spread over Evan's face and he realised the other man thought he was leaving. He stepped round the table, leaned down, put two fingers under Evan's chin and gently tilted his face up so he could kiss him. "Was that ok?" he asked after and Evan could only smile and nod. "Good. Because I'd like to do that again."

"I... I would like that." Evan stammered.

"God you're adorable." Tommy murmured and leaned down for another kiss

[minoulapin]

Chapter Three: Weight of Watching - Between Giving & Taking - Y. JW

Pairing: Demon!Jungwon x Angel!Reader

Genre: Forbidden Love, Fantasy, Romance, Mystery

Wc: 6.8k

Synopsis: A love unspoken, a fate unwritten, An angel and demon, forever forbidden. Bound by the laws of heaven and hell, A story of longing they dare not tell. At the Academy of the Occult, angels and demons coexist under a fragile truce. But when a celestial heir is assassinated, war looms, secrets unravel, and forbidden desires ignite. In a world where their love is a crime, will they defy fate or be consumed by it?

A/N: Coucou!! Now bear with me guys, there is a love story involving Jungwon, I promise. But I’m way too much of an angst and slow-burn fan to make them all kissy-kissy this early. It’s going to take time and maybe a little suffering, but it will happen eventually. Just hoping the wait will be worth it 😮‍💨 - Joe

Tag list: open!! (Comment to be added) @stormy1408 @whateveridontcaresheesh @indigoez @riribelle @iifrui @m3l4nchol @bamguetismee @w1dyvnn

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

Angels were not born. They were made.

Forged from celestial fire, shaped by divine hands, their existence was dictated by purpose. There was no uncertainty, no deviation, only order. Unlike demons, who were shaped from chaos, angels were given clarity, obedience woven into the very core of their being. They existed to serve, to uphold, to maintain balance as the Dominion commanded.

At least, that is what they were told.

The Dominion saw their creation as proof of their divine right to rule. Angels were the children of light, the enforcers of harmony. They had no need for questions. No need for doubt. There was no space for uncertainty in the celestial hierarchy.

But what happens to angels who begin to doubt?

The ones who question, who rebel, who seek their own truth, they are exiled.

Some fall to the Infernal Court. Some vanish without a trace. And some, the ones who refuse to choose a side, are erased from history altogether.

The Dominion does not speak of them. The records do not remember them. They are not mourned. It is said that to question is to fall. That those who wander too far from the path will never return. And yet, throughout history, there have always been whispers.

Angels who disappeared. Names that faded into nothing. Unfinished stories left to rot in forbidden archives.

Some say they were unmade.

Others say they fell.

But one thing remained certain:

Angels who strayed too far never came back.

Dust coats the worn leather of the book's cover, its ancient spine barely holding together as Y/n turns another fragile page. The dim candlelight flickers against the towering bookshelves surrounding her, casting long shadows in the farthest corner of the library. Here, beneath the weight of history, the air is thick with silence, watchful, suffocating, like a presence lingering just beyond her reach.

She closes the book, fingers tightening around the edges of the page. Her pulse is steady, but there's a quiet unease creeping beneath her skin.

She knew, deep down, that she shouldn't be reading this. But she couldn't stop. Because this wasn't just history. This was a warning. And she was doing exactly what angels were never meant to do.

She moves carefully, slipping between lessons and training sessions, her eyes skimming over the world around her, but never truly seeing it. If anyone asked, she was just another student walking the halls, fulfilling her duties. But her thoughts were elsewhere.

She was collecting details, threading together half-truths and inconsistencies, piecing together fragments of a story no one wanted told. The deeper she dug, the more the cracks in history widened. Records contradicted each other, timelines blurred. Events that should have been monumental were barely documented at all. Some things, things that should have been impossible, were missing entirely.

No one seemed to notice. Or at least, she thought no one noticed.

But then there was that feeling.

A pressure against the back of her neck, the subtle weight of something unseen, someone just out of sight. It followed her between classes, through empty corridors, into the dim corners of the library where dust clung to forgotten books. A ghost in the periphery, vanishing the second she turned to look.

She ignored it. Because if she started questioning everything, she'd never get anywhere. She kept her head down and continued digging, knowing she was running out of time before someone did notice.

But what she didn't realize, Someone already had.

Jungwon never meant to follow her.

Not at first.

The first time had been an accident. A late-night walk through the academy grounds, his mind heavy with thoughts. He had seen her then, shoulders hunched slightly forward, footsteps deliberate, lips pressed together in quiet determination. Alone, moving like she belonged in the shadows rather than among the celestial.

He should have left. But he didn't.

Instead, he had lingered, just long enough to see the way she hovered outside the restricted archives, fingers grazing over the locked door as if she could will it open. She had stayed there for a long moment, unmoving, and then disappeared down the hallway, silent as a ghost.

Jungwon told himself it was nothing.

But then it happened again.

And again.

The same pattern. The same movements. Late at night, early in the morning, whenever she thought no one was looking.

But he was looking. He didn't know when curiosity became habit. When watching became something he needed to do.

At first, it was logical. Practical. Someone had to keep an eye on her before she got herself killed. That was all.

But then there was that moment in the training hall. He had felt her presence before he had even seen her, the way the air shifted when she entered. It wasn't her magic, it wasn't anything celestial. It was her. Like a disturbance in an otherwise perfect system. A sharp edge where there should have been smoothness.

She was chaos. She didn't belong. And yet, she was still here. And that made him angry.

Jungwon never acted on impulse. Never lost control. He was methodical, disciplined, unwavering. He followed the rules. He enforced them. But she made him hesitate. She made him linger. She made him care. And he hated that. She was a problem, loud, stubborn, reckless. She didn't know when to stop. She didn't know how close she was to getting herself erased. And now, somehow, that was his problem. He should stop. He knows he should stop. But he doesn't.

He won't.

Because now, he's not just watching her. He's waiting. Waiting for the moment she pushes too far. And when she does. He'll be there. Not to save her. Not to stop her. But to see what happens next.

The celestial training grounds were vast, an open expanse of polished marble, ringed by towering columns and enchanted runes that pulsed faintly with energy. Overhead, golden light filtered through the arched ceilings, casting an almost holy glow over the sparring matches taking place.

But Y/n wasn't thinking about the beauty of it. She was focused on the fight.

She grinned. "You sure you can handle me, blondie?"

Jake circled her, his steps slow, calculated. His stance was relaxed, but she knew better than to let her guard down. He had that glint in his eye, the one that meant he was about to pull something unfair.

Jake smirked, tossing a dagger between his hands. "I don't know, Y/n. You look a little tense. Something on your mind?"

Yes.

But she wasn't about to tell him that. Instead, she rolled her eyes. "You talk too much."

"And yet you keep listening." She didn't respond, she was already moving.

Their classmates sparred around them, blades clashing, bursts of celestial energy cracking through the air. Some students fought with elegant, controlled precision, their magic weaving effortlessly into their movements. Others relied solely on their spells, letting power do the work.

Y/n?

Y/n fought with instinct.

She struck first, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. No hesitation. Her footwork was sharp, her movements instinctive, honed by years of knowing that magic would never be her strong suit. She relied on speed. Precision. Strategy.

Jake dodged, barely. Then he grinned. "Too slow."

She didn't let the taunt get to her. Instead, she pivoted, feinting left before lunging right. It was a trick that worked on most people, except Jake wasn't most people.

He saw it coming. He always did.

Jake ducked under her strike, his arm shooting out. Y/n barely managed to twist out of reach before his dagger could land against her ribs. She gritted her teeth. Too close.

"Come on," Jake teased, twirling his blade lazily. "You're gonna have to do better than that."

They had sparred together for years. He knew how she moved, how she thought. And more importantly, He knew her weaknesses. She didn't answer. She just moved. She was fast. Faster than most. She darted behind him, slamming the heel of her boot against the back of his knee, forcing him off balance. He recovered quickly, twisting around to block her next attack, but she was already two steps ahead.

This time, she was winning. She could feel it.

Jake had no opening. She kept him moving, forcing him to dodge instead of counter. She struck again, faster, sharper, forcing him back.

One more move. One more second. And she had him.

Then—it happened. A pulse of energy surged through her veins, sharp and electric, like static crackling beneath her skin. It burned, cold and searing all at once, and for a split second, her vision blurred. Her magic flickered.

A brief lapse. A force she couldn't control, couldn't even predict. The air around her wavered, shifting unnaturally, just enough to break her momentum.

Jake saw it instantly. And he took full advantage.

Before Y/n could recover, he knocked her off her feet. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back, staring up at the sky as Jake stood over her, victorious. Again.

She clenched her jaw, frustration boiling under her skin. "Damn it."

Jake grinned down at her. "You're getting predictable."

Y/n scowled. "You're getting annoying."

She took the hand he offered and let him pull her up with a huff. Except, this time, Jake didn't let go immediately. He was still holding her wrist, studying her.

"You hesitated," he said, quieter now.

She stiffened. "No, I didn't."

Jake tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Your magic—"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

He held her gaze for a beat longer before sighing. "Fine."

But she could tell by his expression, he wasn't convinced.

She ignored his smug look and let him pull her up. "I had you."

Jake laughed. "Almost had me."

Almost.

She scowled, brushing dust off her uniform.

"Again?" Jake asked.

Y/n rolled her shoulders, ignoring the sting of her pride. "Again."

She couldn't let this go.

Her magic had always been her greatest flaw. Uncontrolled. Volatile. Flickering at the worst moments.

Most angels were proud of their celestial gifts, wielding them with precision and ease. Magic was second nature to them, effortless. Even the weakest students had more control than she did.

Y/n?

She relied on something else.

Speed. Strategy. Reflexes.

She was fast, faster than most. Agile. Sharp. Dangerous in close combat. If magic wasn't involved, she could take down anyone in her class. But celestial society didn't value physical combat.

Magic was everything.

And she had never been enough.

Her grip tightened around the hilt of her blade.

She should be getting better. She should be learning control.

But recently?

Recently, it had been getting worse.

Her magic had always been difficult.

Now, it felt like it was fighting her.

And she had no idea why.

But she wanted to find out.

Sparring was just another reminder of that.

The training grounds were still buzzing with energy, students filtering out in groups, laughing, stretching, going over their matches.

She barely heard any of it.

Her frustration still clung to her skin, thick and suffocating, a mix of annoyance, exhaustion, and something deeper she didn't want to name. She should have won that match. She would have won if her magic hadn't betrayed her at the last second.

Beside her, Jake walked in easy silence, rolling his shoulders like he wasn't bothered by the fight at all. He didn't seem mad, just watchful, as if he were waiting for her to say something first.

She was just about to, when a voice cut through the air instead.

"Tough loss, angel."

She stopped walking.

Jake, already on edge, immediately stiffened beside her. His jaw ticked before he even turned around.

Because, of course, it was Heeseung.

He leaned against one of the stone pillars, looking far too amused for someone who had done absolutely nothing all day. His uniform was as careless as ever, tie undone, sleeves rolled up, like he hadn't even bothered with the formality of dressing properly. He looked effortlessly untouchable, and he knew it.

She exhaled sharply. Not now.

"What do you want, Heeseung?" she said, already tired.

He grinned. "Now, now. Is that any way to talk to a friend?"

Jake scoffed. "You're not her friend."

Heeseung chuckled, slow and deliberate, like he found Jake's irritation entertaining. "Maybe not. But that doesn't mean I'm not friendly."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Heeseung—"

He moved closer, the shift subtle but noticeable. "I was just admiring your technique."

Jake let out a low breath, rubbing the back of his neck like he was actively holding himself back from punching him.

Y/n, meanwhile, wasn't buying it. She arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Didn't realize you were watching."

Heeseung smirked. "You make it hard not to."

Jake's patience snapped. "Cut the bullshit, Heeseung."

Heeseung sighed dramatically. "You celestials are always so high-strung. No wonder you're all so miserable."

Then, his eyes flicked back to her.

And his amusement shifted into something else.

Something calculating.

"Or maybe..." Heeseung's voice dipped, soft, smooth, dangerous. "You're just more interesting when you're not playing by the rules."

She froze.

The words felt too sharp, too precise to be casual.

Jake noticed her hesitation instantly.

His head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing. "What the hell does that mean?"

Then, loud enough for Jake to hear— "You're doing something you shouldn't be doing, aren't you?"

Y/n quickly glared at Heeseung. "Shut up."

But it was too late.

Jake was already looking at her like he knew.

Like he knew something was off.

His voice was lower this time. Calm. Controlled.

Too controlled.

"Y/n."

She swallowed. "Jake—"

"You told me you wouldn't."

Her stomach twisted. She had told him that.

And she had lied.

"Heeseung is just messing with you," she tried, grasping for something, anything to get Jake off her case.

"Oh, am I?" Heeseung's smirk widened. "Funny. Because I don't remember lying."

Jake clenched his jaw. "Y/n."

She hated how his voice sounded just then.

Like he was disappointed.

Like he actually expected better from her.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to—"

"Because you didn't want me to what?" Jake snapped. "Stop you? Keep you from getting yourself killed?"

She winced. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

She had no answer for that.

And Jake knew it.

For the first time in the conversation, Heeseung actually looked pleased.

He took a slow step forward, lowering his voice, leaning in toward her.

She stiffened as he dipped his head closer.

Then, right at her ear, he murmured, "I might know something that could help."

His breath was warm against her skin, a deliberate act of intrusion, making the space between them feel suffocating.

Jake immediately moved.

Before she could react, Jake was in front of her, stepping between them, his shoulders squared, his presence sharp and tense.

"Back. Off."

His voice wasn't loud.

But it was dangerous.

Heeseung laughed. "Relax, celestial. I was just saying—"

"Yeah, yeah," Jake snapped. "You were just saying something you shouldn't."

She didn't stop him.

Because she knew Jake was right.

Heeseung was bad news.

But she was still intrigued.

Because when Heeseung smirked and leaned back, he wasn't done.

"But if you ever want to know what I know..." He tapped his temple. "You know where to find me."

She clenched her jaw.

She didn't trust him.

But she couldn't ignore him either.

The moment Heeseung disappeared, Jake turned on her.

"Later," he said, voice tight. "Our dorm."

"You're telling me everything, " he said, quiet but firm.

She crossed her arms. "And if I'm busy?"

"You're not."

She narrowed her eyes.

She bristled. "Jake, I—"

"No." His voice was sharp. "Not this time."

Jake continued, tone leaving no room for argument. "This time, you don't get a choice."

She blinked, thrown off by how serious he looked.

Y/n hated that she couldn't argue. Because he was right.

She sighed. "Fine."

Jake didn't move. He just watched her for a moment, like he was debating whether to say something else.

Jake ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Think you can stay out of trouble for a few hours, or do I need to babysit you?"

She frowned. "What?"

"I'm leaving."

She stared at him. "You're, what?"

He let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, because if I stay, I'm just going to say something I regret."

Her stomach twisted. "Jake, don't be like that—"

"Like what?" He let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. "Like someone who actually gives a shit? Because I do, Y/n. That's the problem."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Jake's jaw clenched. He took a step back, shaking his head again.

"I'll see you at the dorm."

And then, he walked away.

Y/n stood there, still, silent, hating everything about this conversation.

Because for the first time in a long time, Jake was truly mad at her.

Jake was pissed.

And honestly? He had every right to be.

But that wasn't what annoyed her the most.

What annoyed her the most... was that she had no one to blame but herself.

The hallway was quiet.

Too quiet.

The usual hum of students moving between dorms had faded, leaving only the distant flicker of torchlight and the soft echo of Y/n's footsteps.

She moved quickly, her mind tangled in frustration.

Jake was pissed at her.

Heeseung had thrown her under the bus just for his own entertainment.

And now, she was alone with nothing but the weight of her own decisions pressing down on her.

She needed a moment. A breath. A second to clear her thoughts before heading back to the dorm where she'd have to deal with Jake's inevitable lecture.

But the universe, apparently, had other plans.

Y/n rounded the corner.

And collided into someone.

She stumbled back, already irritated. "For fuck's sake—"

Then she saw who it was.

Jungwon.

Her stomach twisted.

Not in fear.

Not in shock.

But in something else, something sharp and hot, something that made her fingers twitch with the sudden urge to push past him and not look back.

Because the way he was looking at her.

Like he had been waiting.

Like he knew something.

Y/n exhaled sharply, straightening. "Move."

Jungwon didn't.

His lips twitched, but it wasn't quite a smirk. It was something colder. "You're in a bad mood."

She scoffed. "You're observant. Congratulations."

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, gaze steady, arms still lazily tucked in his pockets, like blocking her path was nothing more than an afterthought.

Y/n took a step forward, fully intending to brush past him without another word.

But then,

"You should be more careful."

His voice was quiet. Controlled.

But it stopped her.

She frowned, slowly turning back.

"What?"

Jungwon blinked at her, slow and unreadable. "I said, you should be more careful."

Her irritation flared hotter.

"I can take care of myself," she snapped.

"If you actually cared about yourself, you wouldn't be involved with Heeseung."

Y/n froze.

Her irritation flared hotter.

"I'm not involved with Heeseung," she snapped.

Jungwon clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Could've fooled me."

She scowled. "Oh, I'm sorry, was there a rule about who I can and can't talk to?"

Jungwon let out a slow breath, controlled but sharp. "There's a difference between talking to Heeseung and whatever it is you're doing."

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "And what exactly am I doing?"

"You tell me."

She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "Oh my god. If you're going to be a cryptic asshole, can you at least get to the point?"

Jungwon's expression didn't shift, but something in his gaze sharpened.

"What did Heeseung say to you?"

She stiffened.

It was so quick, so subtle, she almost convinced herself she hadn't reacted at all.

But Jungwon noticed.

He always noticed.

She forced a scoff. "Since when do you care?"

Jungwon's jaw tightened. "I don't."

Y/n arched an eyebrow. "Right. That's why you're stopping me in the middle of a hallway."

Jungwon exhaled sharply, tilting his head slightly like he was sizing her up. Then, finally—

"Heeseung plays games," he murmured, voice dropping lower. "You're not as good at them as you think."

Y/n's breath hitched before she could stop it.

She bristled, narrowing her eyes. "And you are?"

Jungwon didn't answer.

He just watched her, gaze steady, unreadable, long enough for the air between them to feel thick, suffocating.

Then, in one smooth movement, he stepped closer.

Too close.

She hated the way her breath caught.

"You should go." His voice was quiet, unreadable. "Dark places aren't meant for an angel like you."

She had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. The space between them shrank, and for the first time, she felt the weight of his presence in a way she hadn't before. There was something unsettling about it, about him. He was sharp edges and quiet intensity, and right now, all of it was directed at her.

Her breath hitched before she could stop it.

Jungwon saw it.

His lips curled, amusement flickering across his face. "So you can get scared."

Y/n stiffened, irritation quickly replacing the fleeting hesitation she had let slip. "Go to hell," she muttered, voice tight.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening. "I'd love to go back home."

Y/n's jaw clenched. His arrogant, untouchable demeanor was grating, and she was beyond done with his cryptic bullshit.

She moved first, stepping past him deliberately, her shoulder brushing against his.

Jungwon didn't stop her.

Then she scoffed, shaking her head as she walked away. "You're an ass," she threw over her shoulder. "Leave me alone."

Jungwon didn't move.

He stayed rooted in place, jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides.

He had been watching her for days, lurking in the edges of her world, waiting for an opportunity to pull her away from the mess she was running toward.

But somewhere along the way, she became the problem.

She was supposed to be another reckless idiot, another celestial too blind to see the bigger picture. Someone he could dismiss.

But Y/n wasn't that.

And it infuriated him.

She had a habit of getting under his skin, making him notice things he shouldn't. Like the way she never backed down, even when she should. The way she looked at him, not with the blind admiration or quiet fear he was used to, but with something challenging.

And worse, he liked it.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He needed to stop.

He wouldn't.

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, a mess of papers, books, and hastily scribbled notes spread around her like fragments of a puzzle she couldn't quite piece together. Ink-stained fingertips tapped anxiously against the margins as she skimmed through her findings, if she could even call them that.

Because, in reality, she had nothing.

Jake sat at the edge of his own bed, watching her in silence. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, not with anger anymore, but something quieter.

She sighed, rubbing at her temples. "This is useless."

Jake didn't answer right away. Then, after a beat, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Walk me through it."

She hesitated. "Jake—"

"Just do it." His tone left no room for argument.

She exhaled sharply, sorting through the mess of parchment. "Okay. So, I started with the official records, but the further back I go, the more inconsistencies I find. Nothing outright missing, but... altered."

Jake frowned. "Altered how?"

"Dates that don't match up. Events that contradict other records. And then there's this" She flipped a particular page toward him. "Mentions of missing angels, but only in fragmented footnotes. Never by name. Just vague references to those who 'strayed from the path.'"

Jake's expression darkened as he studied the text. "And you think this connects to the heir's murder?"

She leaned back against her headboard, shaking her head. "That's just it, I don't know. But something isn't right. The way history's been rewritten... it's like someone doesn't want the full truth to be known."

Jake's grip on the paper tightened. "And you think digging through this mess is gonna get you anywhere?"

She glanced at him. "You don't believe me."

Jake sighed. "I believe something is off. But that's exactly why I don't like this, Y/n. You don't just stop when things get dangerous, you dig deeper."

His words hit harder than she expected.

Because he was right.

She flipped through the pages, her fingers moving with sharp, restless energy. Notes, records, scattered fragments of information that led nowhere. It felt like trying to hold water in cupped hands, every answer slipping through before she could grasp it.

When she finally exhaled, pushing one of the books aside, he leaned forward. "Okay," he said. "Tell me why this is worth driving yourself insane over."

She glanced at him. "I told you already. The heir's murder doesn't make sense."

Jake shook his head. "No, I mean, why do you care so much?"

Y/n hesitated.

For a second, she considered brushing him off. Giving him a half-truth, something easy.

But Jake wasn't asking to annoy her.

He was asking because he knew there was more.

She leaned back against the headboard, fingers drumming idly against the parchment in her lap. "Because it shouldn't have been possible."

Jake didn't respond, waiting for her to continue.

She frowned, looking down at the notes scattered around her. "I mean, think about it. You know how strict the celestial laws are. We're literally created with obedience woven into us. No angel has ever truly rebelled and gotten away with it, not without facing immediate consequence. So how the hell did someone break the laws, successfully? And not just any law, but the most sacred one?"

Jake's expression shifted slightly, his gaze sharpening.

Y/n exhaled, pushing a hand through her hair. "It's not just about the murder, Jake. If someone was able to break the laws so completely, then what does that mean? About the laws themselves? About us?" She hesitated before adding, quieter, "About me?"

Jake's grip on the paper tightened.

She let out a breath. "Maybe it's stupid. Maybe I just want an explanation for why I've never felt like I belong here." She shrugged, but it was forced. "Or maybe I just want proof that we're not as controlled as we think we are."

Jake studied her for a long moment.

He had known Y/n for years. Known that she never let things go once they got under her skin. But this wasn't just stubborn curiosity.

This was something deeper.

And for the first time, he understood why.

She wasn't searching for an answer about the heir.

She was searching for an answer about herself.

Silence.

Jake's jaw clenched.

Had seen the way she stood out, not because she tried to, but because she simply didn't fit. In a world that prided itself on order, on tradition, on sameness, Y/n was an anomaly.

She had always been different. Not in a way that made her weak. In a way that made her untamable.

Jake had never once thought of her as a mistake.

But he knew that she did.

She let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down her face. "Shit. I'm being dramatic."

Jake rolled his eyes and stood, moving beside her to sit at the edge of her bed. "Yeah, well. You've earned it."

She let out a weak laugh.

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally pulling back. He didn't look happy about this. Not even a little.

But when he spoke, his voice was steady. Resigned.

"Alright," he muttered. "I'll let you keep digging."

She blinked. "You... will?"

"Yeah." He exhaled sharply. "But under conditions."

She groaned. "Of course there are conditions."

Jake shot her a look. "You're the one getting tangled up in some conspiracy shit, Y/n. You're lucky I don't chain you to this bed and call it a day."

She smirked. "Kinky."

Jake scowled. "I'm serious."

Y/n snorted but bit back a real response, settling for a nod instead. "Fine. Let's hear it."

Jake leveled her with a look before holding up a finger. "One. You tell me everything. No more sneaking around."

She rolled her eyes but nodded. "Fine."

"Two." Another finger. "The second you get a solid answer, you stop. No 'one more clue,' no excuses."

Y/n hesitated. "Define solid answer."

Jake gave her a deadpan stare. "Don't test me."

She sighed. "Alright, alright. Keep going."

Jake held up a third finger. "No recklessness. No going off alone. No doing stupid shit just because you're feeling bold."

She exhaled, dragging a hand down her face. "You're sucking all the fun out of this."

"Good," Jake said dryly. Then, more seriously, "Four. Be careful who you trust. Not everyone is your friend."

She didn't argue that one.

She didn't need to.

Jake hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. "And five."

His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "Under no circumstances do you get yourself killed and leave me in this boring-ass place without you."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, just for a second.

Jake wasn't joking.

There was no teasing, no sarcasm, no hint of lightness in his tone. Just something sharp and heavy, something that made her stomach twist.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

Jake exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. "Says the one digging through centuries-old lies like she's going to find a neat little answer tucked between the pages."

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't argue with him.

He was right.

She snorted, but the amusement faded quickly. This was serious.

He was serious.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders like she could shake off the weight pressing on her. "I'll be careful."

Jake didn't look convinced. "You better."

Jake studied her for a moment, he held her gaze for another long second before sighing. Then, without another word, he leaned over and flicked her forehead.

She flinched. "Ow—what the fuck?"

Jake smirked. "For being an idiot."

She scowled. "You're such an ass."

Jake just shrugged, standing up and stretching like this entire conversation hadn't just aged him ten years. "Yeah, well. Someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something lighter in her chest now, something less suffocating. She watched as Jake grabbed a book from his own desk, tossing it onto his bed before turning back toward her.

He nodded toward her mess of notes. "If you're gonna keep obsessing, at least do it quietly." She smirked, leaning back against her pillows. "No promises."

Jake muttered something under his breath, something suspiciously close to pain in my ass, before finally collapsing onto his own bed with a groan.

And just like that, the tension eased. She still didn't have answers. But at least, for now, she had this.

Y/n's dreams are not dreams.

They are something else.

Something worse.

A sensation, sharp and intrusive, coils around her mind like a whisper she can't quite hear. Cold fingers of static trace down her spine, slipping beneath her skin, clawing at her ribs, dragging her toward something she doesn't understand. The darkness behind her eyelids shifts, too heavy, too real, curling at the edges like ink spreading through water. Shapes flicker in the void, just out of reach, fragmented whispers scraping against the inside of her skull.

A voice, no, not a voice. A pull. It isn't gentle. It isn't kind. It demands.

She jolts awake with a sharp inhale, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Her skin prickles, every nerve on edge, charged with something she can't name.

Her room is dark, but something is wrong. The sensation doesn't fade. It lingers, pressing down against her like a weight, like a summons, like something clawing at the edge of her consciousness, refusing to let go. Her pulse pounds against her ribs. She glances at Jake. He's still asleep, curled on his side, breathing steady. Peaceful. Y/n swallows hard. She should wake him. She should. But she doesn't. Because the pull is still there, electric beneath her skin, humming through her veins, dragging her toward something beyond this room, beyond reason.

Y/n swings her legs over the edge of the bed. And she follows it.

The Academy is different at night. She had never noticed it before, not like this. The air is thick, charged with something she can't name. The grand hallways, so rigid and pristine under daylight, stretch endlessly into the dark, their towering stone pillars twisting into shadows.

Everything is too quiet.

Not just because the students are asleep, but because the Academy itself feels different. Like it's holding its breath. Like it knows.

Y/n moves soundlessly, her pulse steady, her breath shallow. She doesn't know why she's here, only that she has to be. The pull is stronger now. A silent, unrelenting pressure behind her ribs, something winding around her lungs, her spine, tugging at her veins like invisible strings.

She turns a corner, And stops. At the end of the hall, framed by two towering columns, is a door. A door she has never seen before. That shouldn't be possible. She knows this school. She's spent years memorizing its corridors, walking these halls, mapping every shortcut and hidden corner.

But this, This is wrong. Or maybe... Maybe it was always here. Waiting. The pull pulses, sharper now, pressing against her temples like a heartbeat inside her skull.

She steps closer. Her fingers twitch at her sides. She shouldn't be here. But she has to know. Y/n reaches for the handle—

"You shouldn't be here."

The voice slices through the silence like a blade. She freezes. A sharp chill crawls down her spine as she whirls around, Professor Aldric stands a few feet away.

He isn't angry. But his eyes are steady, sharp, cutting through the darkness like he sees something she doesn't.

She forces herself to breathe. Her pulse is steady. She smooths her expression.

"Professor."

Aldric doesn't move. His gaze flickers to the door behind her before settling back on her. The silence stretches. "You felt it, didn't you?"

She stiffens.

Aldric's voice is quieter this time, almost contemplative. He studies her, his head tilting slightly, like she is a puzzle he is trying to solve.

She exhales slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Aldric hums, but the sound is unreadable.

Y/n's fingers curl at her sides. She tilts her chin up, feigning confidence. "I was just walking."

Aldric doesn't blink. "And yet you ended up here."

She doesn't answer. The moment stretches between them, heavy, suffocating.

"Curiosity is dangerous in this Academy," Aldric murmurs.

She exhales sharply. "So I've been told."

Aldric's expression doesn't change, but something flickers behind his gaze, something old, something knowing.

A pause. Then— "I had a student like you once."

She stills.

Aldric glances at the door again. His posture is still, unnervingly calm, but the weight of his words settles deep into her bones.

"Restless," he continues. "Always looking for something they weren't meant to find."

A slow, creeping unease curls inside her. She swallows. "What happened to them?"

Aldric's silence is an answer. Then, finally "They stopped looking." Y/n's stomach twists.

Aldric exhales, like he has already said too much. "Go back to your dorm, Y/n."

She clenches her jaw. "Why?"

The air shifts. For the first time, Aldric's voice is quiet. Steady.

"Because the Academy isn't as safe as it used to be."

Something in she stills. Not because of what he said. But because of how he said it. Not a warning. A fact. The weight of it lingers between them. Aldric studies her for another moment, then steps back, inclining his head slightly.

"Good night."

Y/n hesitates for half a second, but there's nothing left to say. Nothing he will say. She exhales sharply, turns on her heel, and walks away. Her footsteps echo against the stone, steady but clipped. She doesn't stop. Doesn't glance back. She forces herself forward, past the columns, past the shadows, ignoring the way the air still feels too heavy around her. She won't get answers here. Not tonight. She disappears down the hallway, her silhouette swallowed by the dim torchlight.

Aldric didn't move. His gaze remained fixed on the empty space beside him, on the shadows pooled along the farthest corner of the hall. And when she is finally out of reach, Aldric exhales.

without turning, without raising his voice, he speaks into the darkness.

"You too, Jungwon."

The shadows shift. A figure steps forward. Jungwon stepped forward, expression unreadable, hands tucked casually into his pockets like he hadn't just been standing there, lurking. Watching.

Y/n was already gone. But the weight of her presence still clung to the air, thick and lingering. Jungwon met Aldric's gaze without hesitation. "I was bored."

Aldric merely observed him, his face impassive. "Strange," he mused. "I didn't take you for someone who enjoyed standing in the dark, listening to things that aren't meant for you."

Jungwon's expression remained unreadable. "Isn't that what you do?"

Aldric hummed, unimpressed. "I listen when necessary. The difference is, I don't hover."

The silence between them stretched, heavy and deliberate. Jungwon should leave. He should turn and walk away like none of this had ever happened. Like he hadn't been standing there, watching Y/n, following her every move.

But he didn't. Instead, he spoke.

"She's going to get herself killed."

Aldric didn't react. No flicker of surprise. No concern. Instead, he sighed, a quiet, almost thoughtful sound. "Perhaps," he admitted. "This is often the fate of those who ask the wrong questions. But that depends entirely on how much she's willing to know."

Jungwon's fingers curled into fists. That answer irritated him more than it should have. For a moment, his thoughts tangled into something sharp, something reckless.

But then he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to step back, to distance himself from whatever this was. He wasn't here to discuss her. He didn't care what Aldric chose to do about her. And yet, his voice came out lower, rougher than before.

"She's reckless."

Aldric merely glanced at him. "And yet, you're the one standing here."

Jungwon's expression didn't change, but something inside him twisted.

Aldric wasn't wrong. Y/n was the reckless one. Y/n was the one stepping into dangerous territory. But the problem wasn't just her. It was him, too. Because while he wasn't bound by celestial law, she was. He was the one trailing after her like a fool. And if anyone found out how often he had been watching her, how often he had been following her, Y/n would be the one to suffer for it. Not him.

She was the one bound by celestial law, the one whose loyalty would be questioned if the wrong people started noticing their paths crossing too often. Celestial protocol may have been new, but its purpose was clear. The law had been put in place to prevent another war from breaking out between angels and demons. There were rules. Boundaries. Lines that weren't meant to be crossed. And yet, he kept crossing them.

Jungwon exhaled sharply, fingers curling at his sides.

It wasn't that he cared if she got caught.

It wasn't that he cared if she was reckless.

So why the hell was he still here?

Jungwon scoffed, low and humorless. "Celestial laws are bullshit."

Aldric raised a brow, but he didn't argue. "They are absolute."

Jungwon huffed, shaking his head. "Nothing is absolute."

Aldric's eyes darkened slightly. "Then I suggest you be careful where your thoughts lead you, Jungwon."

Jungwon didn't reply. His thoughts had already led him too far.

Aldric studied him for another moment before finally stepping back, turning away. He disappeared down the corridor, robes whispering against the stone.

Jungwon didn't move. Y/n was reckless. Y/n was dangerous. But he was the one who kept looking for her. He was the one who couldn't seem to let it go. Jungwon exhaled sharply, forcing his fingers to unclench.

He should stop.

He would stop.

And yet,

Jungwon turned sharply on his heel, heading down the opposite hallway. He told himself he wasn't following her.

But deep down, he already knew,

He would never be far.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

[vshiftsss]

DREBOURNE, THE KINGDOM OF DREAMS - (ROYALTY DR)

LET’S SET THE SCENE. . .

you are a weary traveler, your shoulders heavy with fatigue while your horse trudges along a dirt road. with how badly your eyes want to close, you can only hope to find some semblance of a resting place for the night. this journey you’re on to finally find the kingdom of dreams, the place where all your desires come true in a snap—it wasn’t easy. with steep mountains framing the outskirts of the land and paths so windy one could easily end right back where they started, it’s clear whoever founded this city didn’t want it to be discovered.

it would be naïve to put everyone’s dreams come true in the open, wouldn’t it?

drebourne is only meant to be found if you are meant to be there. and as your horse reaches the end of the dry soil leading you forward, you realize that you’re one of the chosen. the pristine cobblestone roads and ethereal landscape sitting before you beckon you in, welcoming you into a kingdom that seemed nearly unreal.

this is drebourne, and you’re about to have the best time of your life here.

it’s a shame the joy will be short-lived.

a certain newsletter aims to tear down every idea of serenity the kingdom holds—and they’re starting with the royal family. the people who built this kingdom from the very earth your steed stands on.

all you can really do is wait and see what happens. maybe you’ll get a kick out of some of the gossip that’ll come about…

VESTELE CHARBONNEAU. . .

the last thing vestele expects to see on her 20th birthday is a gossip column claiming she’s “mingling with the rival kingdom”. her mother brings it up over breakfast that morning, hiding prodding questions underneath the veil of chipper small talk.

of course, vestele clocks it immediately. her mother isn’t known for being subtle, after all.

“please. show me this newsletter. if this is some sort of joke, you did a horrible job of entertaining me, mother.”

in big, bold letters, the title of today’s segment read:

“charbonneau heir fraternizing with the enemy? princess vestele caught locking lips with prince cassius of the windermere family”

when she first glances down at the slim slip of paper, she almost laughs at the absurdity of the baseless claim. who would even dare to tarnish the charbonneau name like that, especially when vestele will be inheriting the crown in only a few years? it’s a bold move—a move one would only take when their identity isn’t known.

“mother, how can you believe something so…juvenile? i wouldn’t step near that prince if the crown depended on it, and you know this. i’ll speak with the head of security to figure out if we can resolve this issue.”

vestele’s calm expression doesn’t falter, though her fingertips crease the paper from how tight she’s gripping onto it. she shouldn’t be perturbed; this is just some failing journalist trying to get a juicy headline at the end of the day. no one is going to genuinely believe it.

except her mother did believe it for a minute. as if vestele would do something so…rash. so careless. so unbecoming.

she can’t believe this. what will the public think?

who is behind this newsletter?

and how the hell did they find out about her secret lover?

divider / divider

[sincere1ystar]

i’ve been adoring protective billy lately like maybe you guys went out and some other gang members recognized billy and used you as leverage against him 👀

Only you My Girl

billy the kid x fem! reader

authors note: sorry this is a little short 😭 but thank u for requesting this emsy i had fun writing it <3

Billy knew a treasure when he saw one. He saw the lengths men would go to find gold and jewels, the way how easily greed bled into the picture when treasure was involved. That’s why he vowed to protect you with everything he had, after all you were his most precious treasure being far more valuable than any block of gold.

Your gentleness was easily snatched away by the harsh world you were brought up into. Billy had known all about it and determined that you had gone through enough suffering for one lifetime. He brought your gentle spirit back, you were allowed to take off your armor of steel around him. The world forced you into becoming rough and hard-headed, but Billy allowed your soft roots to flourish and blossom.

When you would go on trips to town, Billy would be right by your side to help you out with your errands by carrying your bags and offering an ear to listen to your little rants. He didn’t mind following you around endlessly, if that’s what made you happy.

As long as it makes you happy. The phrase rang through his head when he allowed you to drag him off to some party hosted by a friend of yours. He was never exactly fond of these types of events, but you were. He was hesitant when you first proposed the idea of going to the party, but the way your smile slowly shifted into a smaller one when he tried to reject the idea made him quickly guarantee his attendance at the gathering.

He recognized a few people during the festivity, but still remained glued to your side the whole time while you chatted excitedly with your friends. One of them joked that Billy was like one of your accessories, and he couldn’t help but smile at the comparison. He stayed close to you for most of the evening until you accompanied one of your friends to go outside to get some fresh air since she was feeling sick.

“Really I’m fine going out on my own”, your friend Charlotte said as if you weren’t already helping her to her feet.

“I know you’ll be fine, I just thought you wouldn’t mind some company”, you say cheerfully offering her your shoulder for support as you help her outside.

Without you by his side, the only thing Billy was left with was the glass of water in his hand. He wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, and the few people he did know all seemed occupied by their own distractions. He was perfectly fine with being aside by himself as he waited for your return, but of course that doesn't stop one of the men of the House from approaching him.

“Well well, I didn’t expect to see Billy the Kid at a function like this”, the man snarls as he fails to gain any sort of acknowledgement from Billy.

“And I noticed you brought your girl with you”, the man continues carrying a threatening tone. At the mention of you, Billy turns to the man but keeps his expression unreadable.

“Oh I see that gets a reaction out of ya hm? Where did she trail off to… I thought I saw her somewhere around here… all alone”.

“Leave her out of this”, Billy hisses immediately. He wasn’t dumb, the man was from the House and Billy was a part of the Seven Rivers.

The man laughs menacingly ignoring Billy’s words. “Oh there she is!!”, he says enthusiastically but fakely as he points to you conversing with one of the party guests. The man quickly excuses himself from the conversation in his attempts to approach you, but Billy quickly grabs him by the collar and drags him away to a more secluded area outside.

“Now you listen here”, he spits as he pushes the man unforgivingly against the wall, “If ya have a problem with me, you take it up with me. Not with her, leave her out of this. I swear if I find out you’ve done so much as to lay a finger on her–”

“You’ll what?’, the man taunts.

“I’ll make your life a living hell an’ you’ll regret the first second you even looked her way. ‘F course ya know I’m more than capable of doin’ that, why don’t you ask a few of your friends about it. I’m sure they got a story or two to share”. Billy's words seemed to have squeezed the life out of the man from the House. “Now… we should be headin’ on back shouldn't we? Wouldn’t want anyone to notice that we’re missin’ for too long”, he sneered abruptly before letting the man go.

He comes back to the party to find you looking for him. “Oh Billy there you are!! Where were you? I was looking all over for you”.

He grins and places a kiss on the top of your head while wrapping his arm around you, “Jus’ taking care of business, nothing to worry your pretty little head about honey”.

You absentmindedly took his hand in yours, noticing the faint bruises on his hands, Unknowingly to you, the marks came from the harsh grip Billy had on the man. You choose not to question the sight, and instead solely rub your thumb over the aching spots to provide some sort of comfort. Billy held you closer to him for the gesture, the way he held you so delicately contradicting his previous violent actions.

[destinysbounty]

Ramadan Fasting Headcanons because I said so:

You're probably expecting me to say Zane spends hours putting together a big, elaborate iftar spread. And you're right, he does, he's a one-man potluck and its fantastic. BUT. He is also a diehard believer in the importance of breakfast, so he puts in just as much effort - if not more - into making delectable suhoors for everyone. He'll wake up hours in advance to make a full meal with carefully measured out health proportions to make sure they all get enough protein, fiber, etc to sustain them through the day.

....unfortunately, half of the team doesn't even eat it.

Cole and Wu are probably the only people who fully appreciate and eat Zane's fancy suhoors. Wu because he usually wakes up that early anyways and sometimes helps Zane out with it, and Cole because he has a healthy respect for all things food.

Kai, however, rebukes the fancy suhoor that was specially crafted to maximize health and energy, because he insists he knows a Better Way. Is convinced all he needs is a protein shake to get him through the day. Inevitably burns out by Asr and has to sleep the rest of the day, but is unwilling to swallow his pride and admit that maybe his method isn't working.

Jay is constantly oversleeping and ends up missing suhoor. Like, almost every morning. Even when they wake him up, he still winds up falling back asleep a few minutes later. Yes, he's a big baby about it.

Nya also forgets suhoor a lot, but not because she slept through it. She's usually working on some project or other and accidentally skips it unless Pixal comes down and reminds her. You would never know she missed suhoor by how she acts though - or really that she's fasting at all.

To that matter, you would never know she had broken her fast for her period. She completely stealths it.

Lloyd sometimes hides in his room eating junk food and sugar (and an absurd amount of candy) for suhoor instead of anything healthy. Zane inevitably catches him about half the time and drags him down to the kitchen for something more substantial.

Lloyd forgets and accidentally slips up a lot. But he always feels really bad about it, so everyone just pretends they didn't see anything.

Wu also forgets a lot, usually by accidentally drinking tea out of habit, but they know better than to tease him about it.

Wu also goes easy on them during this month, letting up on training aside from some early-morning warmups to keep them in shape.

Cole is the King of Naps. He is constantly nagging everyone to take naps, slow down, go easy, and lay down for a while. Once he's down for his afternoon nap, you Will Not see any trace of him until Iftar - at which point he will mysteriously spawn in the kitchen the very second the adthan goes off.

They manage their crime-fighting schedule around who has the best energy at what time of day. Kai and Jay are always the first to crash so they take a shift earlier in the day. Cole and Zane both go in the afternoon, right before Cole's nap. And then Nya and Lloyd are on patrol right before iftar, because they feel like having food around the corner motivates them to give that extra little push.

Jay, meanwhile, was already in the kitchen half an hour ago, impatiently waiting for it to be time for iftar - and complaining to Zane every few minutes that it smells so good, why can't he just eat it nowwwww

Pixal often helps Zane with iftar, and will make all sorts of passive aggressive comments to Jay until he "offers" to set the table. These comments all go over Zane's head, of course, so he's just pleasantly surprised to see one of his friends taking extra initiative with meal prep.

Kai usually gets a second wind right before iftar, and will go on a nice little evening jog right before. Zane insists he pack dates and water with him in case he's not back in time to break his fast, but he almost always is.

The question of whether being a nindroid technically counts as a medical exemption is the source of frequent theological debate around the dinner table. They eventually concluded it is, since nindroids do not synthesize food into energy and therefore fasting doesn't really have any point to it - but Pixal took this as a challenge and has since been trying to find a way to re-engineer herself with the ability to eat.

[revserrayyu]

3.1 Amphoreus thoughts [part 1]

***Spoilers ahead*** for everything covering the first trial, the fight at the grove and the quick bathhouse scene after, so don’t read any further if you haven’t finished. At the time of writing this I’ve completed the full story quest so be wary if I mention any details that may happen later.

Having us start off with Mydei’s pov and allowing us to use him in a couple fights was so cruel, if only because I spent quite a while getting distracted by his presence and simply admiring his.. everything. His voice actor did such a fabulous job this patch too.

I think it’s kinda endearing how fond his is of his mother and so ready to defend her at any moment. His father on the other hand, not so much.

So, it turns out it really was him that Phainon went ahead and “stabbed.” I figured it was during the trail, but the silhouette threw me off a bit so there were times I thought he was maybe just fighting himself instead.

No harm done however, not because Mydei is immortal or this whole fight is dreamlike, but because Phainon didn’t really hit him.. or Mydei blocked it off to the side. Either way, it’s something I didn’t while watching but yeah, it’s clear that sword didn’t even slice him.

I know people have their concerns when it comes to Aglaea, but the more plotting we hear of her off to the side, the more I enjoy her. I mean, it’s not entirely bad to believe that Phainon would fail his trail sense it just makes more sense for Mydei to own the coreflame of Strife given his lore.

On a less serious note, seeing him chat with some of the kids at the bathhouse and sorta scolding them from being away from their parents was cute. Who knew our tough king could be good with kids? This makes the whole situation of the 3.1 banners kinda funny since we got this tall, strong and handsome as heck man running alongside being Tribbie, Yunli & Huohuo, who are all on the smaller side.

I gotta say that whomever was voicing Mydei’s mother totally nailed it. The anger in her voice was spot on.

No offense to Castorice, but if I woke up and had literal death staring right back at me, I’d be terrified and probably pass out again right there. But huzzah, the notorious Penacony question makes its return.

ot gonna lie, but I’m actually quite pleased with Hyacine’s model. I didn’t have any strong opinions from the few teasers we saw of her previously, but she’s real cute in-game. She’s 100% gonna be an Abundance unit though, yeah? There’s no way a nurse could be anything else.

The amount of hate I see for Mem simply because the thing is pink is wild. I’m starting to enjoy them more and more and I always love catching whenever they’re able to actually speak words.

I can’t wait to learn more about whatever kind of history there is between Aglaea and Anaxa. We see them interact very briefly towards the end of the patch, where he forgets she’s even around and her thinking of him as an annoying child, so the tension is definitely there. I can only imagine how many times she threatened to end him if she treats Anaxa worse than us.

Well, too bad! Rules are made to be broken, ANAXA.

The way they worded this moment of disappointment was funnier to me than I could’ve anticipated.

It must be because the scholarly type of vibe I get with Dr. Ratio, but I originally thought Anaxa was going to be this self-centered guy, but at least he cares enough to put himself at risk for everyone else at the grove. With the mention of alchemy before and “equivalent exchange” now, I can’t help but think of FMA.

So we saw this image last patch too but it’s clearer now that Cyrene was killed by the Flame Reaver. It’s fair to assume she was a Chrysos Heir because of the golden blood, yea?

I know death is Castorice’s whole gimmick and her primary weapon is a scythe, so I wasn’t really expecting some ooze/poison/whatever we’re calling this stuff to appear. If it was shown in a previous trailer, then I don’t remember. Also love how we cycle through all our weapons. We saw the lance earlier while fighting alongside Mydei, we see us pulling out the feather-pen and Mem later on, and now we have our trusty bat back with us.

The Flame Reaver takes no time sending some powerful slashes our way, knocking everyone back in pain and we somehow manage to get those close to Castorice, even holding her up, without triggering her deadly curse? That’s concerning.

I’ve seen her combat, I’ve heard about the passive and I know Castorice is gonna be such a broken unit.. but I just don’t have it in me to pull when her banner drops next patch. She just.. doesn’t appeal to me at all? I enjoyed her more this patch than in 3.0, but that’s it. I see all the purple, the butterflies and the scythe and it just makes me miss Seele more, so to heck with meta, I wanna pull for my favorites! (I regret not pulling for her back in 1.4 each and every darn day.)

I know Cerces was sorta controlling Anaxa here and giving him some extra power to damage the Flame Reaver, but this arrogant smirk is doing something to me. Although Erudition units are probably my favorite, do I really need another wind dps if my E3 Feixiao exists? Who knows.

I remember last patch they said that Trianne only had enough power to launch a couple more century gates, so you bet I got hella nervous whenever a new one was opened. She really came in clutch to save us though.

Returning to the holy city and informing people that their relatives perished during the attacks at the grove was rough, but I’m like 95% sure this old man was voiced by the same dude who did Tiernan back in Penacony.

I like that they do mention the contact we made, but it’s a shame we don’t delve much into how we managed to survive holding death’s favorite daughter in our arms. I suppose there’s plenty time to learn more about this girl next patch when her banner drops. It’s bound to happen again anyway, so long as that one scene of Castorice coming to shield us with open arms in the Nameless Faces trailer actually happens.

Well, I’m so incredibly glad you had some quiet time to yourself without any life threatening chaos to deal with, Dan Heng.. how about next time you take the lead hm?? I volunteer you to be the protagonist next patch.

To think they would hold a silly challenge to see who would stay in the hot baths the longest right after returning from Phainon’s failed trial. It’s even better hearing how he claims Mydei only won because the guy is wearing less clothing.

Sorry to say this but I haven’t a clue on what y’all see with Aventurine and Ratio, but this is a guy pairing that I can get behind. The bickering these two constantly have going on and their endless competitive rivalry is fantastic.

And we’re gonna stop here for now. I think I’m good for only two more posts. Thankfully this parch seemed shorter than 3.0 and I can get a head start on jotting everything down sooner since I actually took a day off of work. (yes it’s because I was excited for Pokemon Day.)