#heres the thing the night i tried it was also the night i had way to many tequila shots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seitmai · 3 days ago

Text

Many thoughts

“Better now that I’m taking you back to our place,” he said. There was that spring in his step again, like he was allowed to be happy since he knew you were really okay after walking home alone.

His happiness very much depends on her, and little too much if you ask me 🥴

When someone like Bucky had the kind of money he did, you imagined he’d drop just about anything to spend time with you and it wouldn’t make a dent in his pocketbook. Even if he lost everything tomorrow, it would be the same. Somehow you’d come first.

For sure

“Steve insisted on talking to you about that double date.” Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and refused to let his friend take the bags from his hands. He really didn’t want anyone else carrying your things or opening doors for you. “He’s stubborn, but you get used to it after a while.” “I’m stubborn?” Steve chuckled. “Pot meet kettle.”

Lol for real

“Well, we can talk about how excited Bucky is that you’re spending the night,” Steve teased. “I think she knows,” Bucky smirked, your cheeks hot. Did the whole gang feed into his delusion of what would happen if you stayed over?

I'm sure they do 🫠

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Bucky assured you, cupping your cheeks. “She’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.” “For now, she is,” Steve muttered under his breath.

Geez 🥴

“We still don’t know the angle.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “He could be doing it to show that can get to people close to you.” “Like you with Addison and Brady?” you asked. Nick was Brady’s boss now, and it was clear that it wasn’t a coincidence.

Nice call out lol

“How about I find a way to relax and still go out tomorrow?” you suggested. “You’re really determined to go. And here I thought Steve and I were the stubborn ones,” he smirked, guiding you into the penthouse. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room and I’ll put your stuff in the bedroom?”

She sure is and she should stay like that!

“Because you like being near me,” he said, your eyes rounding. “You slept beside me last night and you want to experience that again. Either that or being near me makes you feel safer than you want to admit.” You scoffed. “No, that’s…” You shook your head. “I mean, no. That’s just-” He gently smiled. “It's okay to admit. It'll be our secret.”

Oop👀

You tried not to choke up. It felt romantic, but you appreciated how thoughtful it was. “I…” You had to clear your throat. “I brought pajamas.” “I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” he smiled. “They’re your size and I think you’ll like them.”

That is actually very thoughtful

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched. “Of course I won’t. This is your relaxing time,” he promised, kissing your forehead again as you breathed easier. “And like I said, I have a few things to do.” You felt a little sheepish at his expression. “I’m sorry. I just…” “Nothing to apologize for. I don't blame you for double checking.” He patted your backside with a gentle hand. “Just enjoy your time.”

I mean is brought this distrust on himself 🤷🏻‍♀️

“Bucky, you didn’t have to-” “I don't have to do anything, but I wanted to. Do you like it?”

That's the spirit 🤭

“This is all thoughtful, but aren't I supposed to be making it up to you?” He frowned a little at your expression. “You being here is more than enough.” His fingers barely grazed your cheek. “Are you okay?”

👀

You avoided his gaze when you opened your eyes. “That’s all you want?” you asked. He hadn’t dragged you to bed once you arrived, but he also didn’t say that he didn’t want something. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip. “Well, I won’t lie to you. I want you, but I'm not pushing you. This is the first time you came to me willingly, and I want to cherish it.” You shivered at his touch. “Yeah, I did come here willingly,” you said. Sort of.

True...

“Stay home with me tomorrow,” he whispered, sitting up with you in his lap still. “We don’t have to go anywhere. We can spend the whole day together.” “No,” you said firmly. You were going out with your friends and that was final. “Send Ray or someone to watch over me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

You tensed and tried to push yourself up, but he grabbed you and situated you over one of his massive thighs. He had a firm hold on you and it made your heart pound. “I don't want you to be scared. I'll take such good care of you.” “I just… I’m not…” If he took you to bed, there’d be no turning back, and you had to maintain some control. “You’re not ready for that,” he stated, his eyes still dark. Shaking your head, it worried you how he’d take it. But he suddenly started moving you over his thigh, hard and slow. “Okay, Kotyonok. I won't put my tongue or fingers in you just yet, but I still want to make you feel good.”

I totally get that she wants to have at least a little bit control..

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, rocking you over his thigh again and sitting up, desperately pressing his lips to your neck. “You'll never have to beg for anything you want. Just ask or tell me and it's yours.”

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

And breathing hard, you surprised both of you by leaning in and kissing him. He let out a deep moan, kissing you back with everything he had as he held you closer. You were still shaking from your orgasm, and you could blame that for the reason why you kissed him. And he behaved, not letting his hands wander as his tongue moved with yours.

Ohh 👀

His smile confused you. “But… you didn’t…” you trailed off. He was hard in his pants, and you hadn’t gotten him off. You selfishly got yourself off on his thigh with his encouragement. “That doesn't matter,” he assured you, kissing the tip of your nose. “You trusted me enough to make you feel good.”

Ngl that's kinda hot 🤭

He tucked your head under his chin and wrapped one of the blankets around you. “I know you're still a bit scared and you don’t want to trust me, and that’s okay. It’s scary to let someone like me in after everything.”

That's actually really sweet 🥹

He rubbed your back and you noticed how relaxed he was. He was content to just hold you. Like an actual couple. Exactly what he wanted. And if he noticed a tear streaming down your cheek when you eventually fell asleep in his arms, he thoughtfully kept that to himself.

Uff what an ending 🥴

Hold You Tight: Part 17

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 16 | Series Masterlist | Part 18

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.9k

Chapter Summary: You take a step further in your relationship with Bucky.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon elements, dirty talk, thigh riding, tension, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tried to occupy yourself as you waited for Bucky to pick you up. You made sure you had your outfit for tomorrow and sent Addison a text to confirm when and where you were meeting. God, what if Bucky insisted on dropping you off? He likely would. There was no way he’d let you head over on your own, unless Ray or someone dropped you off.

“What am I doing?” you muttered.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you frowned. You had changed out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. He would think you looked sexy no matter what you wore, even if you didn’t try. What was he going to expect or demand from you? There was no way you’d go through the entire evening in his home without him touching you or something.

You weren’t sure if the anticipation was worse or knowing he’d probably make your body enjoy whatever he’d do to you, and use that as a weapon against you.

The knock on your door made you jump. Had two hours passed already? You checked the peephole and saw Bucky on the other side, shifting from one foot to the other. At least he didn’t break his way inside like he could’ve easily done.

“Hi.” You slowly opened the door to let him in. “I-”

Bucky had you against the wall before you could finish, his lips insistently pressing against yours. The kiss only lasted seconds, but it felt like hours when he pulled away. “Don’t walk home alone again,” he whispered with a brief flash of fear in his eyes.

You nodded after a moment. The conversation from earlier was still on his mind, clearly. “I won’t.”

“You look beautiful by the way.” Taking a breath, he ran both hands through his hair and straightened up. He looked like his normal self again, and you knew it. No matter what he’d find you attractive. “Is this everything?” he asked, picking up the overnight bag and garment bag that you had left by the door.

“Yeah, it should be,” you said, making sure you had your phone and purse, too.

“Was the rest of your day okay?” he asked, watching carefully as you locked the door.

“It was fine,” you replied. You were so busy thinking about Bucky that you hadn’t thought much about Clark. “Was yours?”

“You don’t have to go to the club tonight?” you asked.

“Only if there’s an emergency. There’s no special event tonight, no reason to make an appearance, and my staff knows how to take care of the place,” he assured you. “Time with you is much more important than that.”

Once you were outside, you were surprised to find Steve standing by Bucky’s car instead of Ray. “Hi,” the blonde smiled with a row of perfect teeth.

“Hi,” you replied, stepping a bit closer to Bucky. Steve was his best friend, but you still didn’t know him well. What you did know was that he had his own woman he was stalking.

“I’m stubborn?” Steve chuckled. “Pot meet kettle.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bucky smiled, helping you into the car.

The interaction between the two of them was so natural and easy. You imagined that in another life they were decent men who fought for others instead of trapping them. “So, what exactly did you want to talk about?” you asked once you took off.

“Well, we can talk about how excited Bucky is that you’re spending the night,” Steve teased.

“I think she knows,” Bucky smirked, your cheeks hot. Did the whole gang feed into his delusion of what would happen if you stayed over?

“Did you want to talk about the double date?” you asked, hoping the topic switch would help.

“Well, my girl likes art and Bucky mentioned how you sometimes like to relax with a glass of wine,” Steve began, smiling at you in the mirror. “So, I was thinking, we could do one of those wine and painting classes. Just the four of us.”

“But if you didn’t want to do a painting, they do something similar with pottery where everyone can pick their own piece to paint,” Bucky said, slipping an arm over your shoulders.

“Dinner before the painting, too. It would be really nice for you two to talk,” Steve continued, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. “She’s a sweet girl with a big heart, but she doesn’t have many friends nearby like you do.”

“I mean, I’m fine with painting a canvas or pottery. I think we should let her choose since art is one of her passions.” Your heart went out to the girl. Was that why Steve set his sights on her? Did he feel like he was rescuing her in some sense? “And does she have a preference on wine? White or red? Sweet or dry? Maybe I can pick a bottle for her while I’m at the vineyard tomorrow.”

Steve glanced at you again in the mirror, impressed. “That’s very considerate of you,” he said, sharing a quick look with Bucky, too. “And she likes sparkling sweet wine.”

“I have a very considerate girl,” Bucky boasted, kissing your temple. “You really are thoughtful.”

“I try to be,” you whispered, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “I’m sure Bucky will give me the details once it’s set up,” you said, not finding it in you to argue since you were outnumbered.

“He will,” Steve smiled, clearing his throat. “And now that we have that out of the way…”

“Really, punk?” Bucky asked, tightening his hand on our shoulder.

You sat up a little. All the warmth had left his voice, and he tensed up beside you. “What’s going on?”

“Tell her, Buck,” Steve urged.

You held your breath. Was this about earlier in the day when Ray spoke with Bucky? “Yes, please, tell me.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Mrs. Crandle wasn’t at work today, was she?” he asked as if he already knew the answer.

“No, she…” Your eyes widened. Kate said she called out for some business reason. “Oh, my god. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Bucky assured you, cupping your cheeks. “She’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“For now, she is,” Steve muttered under his breath.

“Just shut up and drive,” Bucky ordered when you gasped. “The reason she was suddenly out of work today was because of Zemo.”

Your heart sank. What the hell would Zemo want with Mrs. Crandle? “What do you mean?”

“From what we’ve gathered, he met up with her to tell her that she won an all expenses paid trip to a flower expo. She was shocked since she didn’t remember even entering the contest, but he told her someone anonymously registered her,” he explained. “He asked questions about some of her employees in case she wanted to bring anyone from her shop along and your name came up.”

“But why?” you asked. Why would Zemo make a contest just to talk to your boss?

“We still don’t know the angle.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “He could be doing it to show that can get to people close to you.”

“Like you with Addison and Brady?” you asked. Nick was Brady’s boss now, and it was clear that it wasn’t a coincidence.

“Bucky doesn’t have his hand in the shop out of respect for you, and Zemo knows that,” Steve chimed in before Bucky could argue. “So it’s possible that he may be trying to butter Mrs. Crandle up before he makes an offer, whether it’s to offer some kind of protection or to buy out her shop completely.”

The thought of Zemo owning the shop where you worked or having his hand in it made your stomach turn. “She loves her shop, and she’s honest when it comes to business. She wouldn’t want someone stepping in or buying it,” you said, your breathing a bit heavier. “Is she in danger? Is something going to happen to her because of me?”

If something happened to Mrs. Crandle, you’d never forgive yourself.

“It isn’t because of you, Kotyonok. It’s his actions,” Bucky answered. Just like Bucky’s actions put you in the line of fire. “I hesitated telling you because we still need answers, but she’s safe. We also have someone keeping an eye on her, just to exercise caution.”

You exhaled. If Zemo was trying to scare you, it was working. “Please, don’t keep me in the dark,” you said. Even if it scared you, you had to know. “And Mrs. Crandle is one of the most harmless people in the city and the shop is all she has. If he-”

“We won’t let anything happen to her,” Bucky promised. It was a lot to promise. “And I’m sorry I didn’t say something this morning. I just wanted you to have a normal day.”

You understood part of Bucky’s reasoning. Telling you even when she wasn't in immediate danger would've thrown your whole day off. But what was a normal day now? “We deal with ups and downs every day. So just tell me next time something’s going on, especially if it involves someone important to me.” Ignorance isn't bliss in the world Bucky lived in.

He regarded you with a soft smile. “I will.”

You stayed quiet for the remainder of the ride while Bucky and Steve discussed dinner options for the double date night. It would’ve been endearing with how excited they were, had it not been for the fact that you and Steve’s girl didn’t exactly have a choice. What was going to happen at Thor’s party?

And what about your loved ones? Were they safe? You thought being by Bucky’s side would keep them safe from his wrath, but what if Zemo went after them? You had to trust that Bucky and his men wouldn't allow that to happen.

“You two have fun tonight,” Steve winked. “Try not to get too handsy, jerk.”

“What?” you asked, your throat dry once you realized you were at Bucky’s place. God, you were really there. There was no backing out.

“Just get in your car and go, punk,” Bucky chuckled, helping you out and grabbing your things. “He really is excited for you and his girl to become friends.”

“I’ll bet,” you said, giving Steve a small wave for his benefit.

You counted the number of steps from the car to the elevator. This was similar to when he brought you here the first time because you didn’t know what to expect. You weren’t sure if it was better or worse though knowing what you knew now.

“Where’s Ray?” you asked.

“He’s busy,” Bucky answered cryptically, sweeping his gaze over you. “You seem nervous. If you’d rather skip your day out tomorrow, I can help you find a few ways to relax.”

“How about I find a way to relax and still go out tomorrow?” you suggested.

“You’re really determined to go. And here I thought Steve and I were the stubborn ones,” he smirked, guiding you into the penthouse. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room and I’ll put your stuff in the bedroom?”

“Okay,” you breathed, hoping he didn’t notice you trembling as you walked through the place. It felt warmer than the last time you were there, more like the temperature that you kept at your place. And as dangerous as Bucky was, you somehow felt safe being there. Someone like Zemo wasn’t going to get in there. Clark wouldn’t either.

Rubbing your arms, you took a seat on the sofa. It was a beautiful room, but nothing like your living room. It wasn't just the difference in size, but you noticed once again that there were no nicknacks or homey touches. Maybe you could add a pop or color or even some flowers to… Oh, God. You were really thinking of how you’d decorate the place.

“You still look nervous,” Bucky said once he joined you, giving you absolutely no space as he took a seat. “You don’t have to be.”

“I’m not nervous,” you lied, biting your lip. “Okay, I am a little.”

He hummed. “Were you expecting me to drag you to bed?”

You nodded slowly. He behaved himself in the car with Steve there, but now the two of you were alone and you had no idea where Ray was. There was nothing to stop him from taking what he thought belonged to him.

“You thought sex would make it up to me because you walked home alone?”

“No,” you said immediately. You shouldn’t have to give him sex to say you’re sorry, especially when he had a much longer list of things he needed to apologize for. “I just thought this was a natural step in a relationship, you know? Spending the night together.”

A natural step would’ve been him staying at your place, too, but he was certain you would live at his place. And having him in your space, it didn’t feel the same. It was something you wanted to keep sacred.

“It is a natural step, but I don’t think you offered to stay here to make it up to me.”

His statement surprised you. That was part of the reason. If you made it up to him, he wouldn’t object to you going out with your friends. You weren’t going to bring up Clark or that the thought of being alone at your place made you nervous. “Then why else do you think I’m here?” you asked.

You scoffed. “No, that’s…” You shook your head. “I mean, no. That’s just-”

He gently smiled. “It's okay to admit. It'll be our secret.”

You shook your head again. Admitting that being in his arms wasn’t terrible and that his place did feel safer than yours at the moment would give him another win. “I'm not admitting anything.”

The smile on his face widened. “Is it because I'm right and you don't want me to be right?”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said, standing and crossing your arms. “I should just go.”

“No, no, no. I’ll stop teasing. Please stay,” he nearly begged, getting to his feet, too. “How about I run you a bath and you can relax?”

“...A bath?” you asked. It wasn’t fair. He knew how much you loved taking baths.

He nodded. “A warm bath and a glass of wine, too.”

You uncrossed your arms, avoiding his hopeful gaze. It was a bit of a rough day, on top of a rough week. You deserved to relax. “Okay, that actually sounds really nice.”

He smiled and offered his hand. “I have bath bombs or salts if you want those, too. Anything to help you relax.”

“You have bath bombs?” you asked, your curiosity peaked. “What kind?”

“I have honeysuckle, lavender, vanilla,” he smiled softly. Each scent sounded like something that would help make the stress leave your body. “Let me show you.”

You let him lead the way you were pretty sure most of your apartment could fit inside the luxurious bathroom. The inviting tub almost made you burst into happy tears. It was nothing like your builder's grade tub. This was an honest to goodness clawfoot tub of your dreams.

“You like it?” Bucky smiled.

Blinking, you remembered Bucky saying how he wanted to fuck you in his tub. Would it be tonight? “I love it,” you admitted.

His smile stretched from ear to ear. “I’ll grab a tray and I can bring you a book if you want. Or you can just relax and enjoy your wine.”

“Well.” You thought it over. “I wouldn’t mind a book.”

Bucky nodded and brought the bath bombs out for you to choose from before he ushered you into the bedroom. “Why don't you stay here and pick one out while I'll get everything else you need?”

“Okay,” you said, holding your breath as you stared at the king sized bed. You avoided looking at it when he led you into the bathroom, but now you couldn’t help yourself. That was the bed he expected you to sleep with him in… the bed he’d fuck you and make love to you in. The satin sheets were a dark promise that he’d get everything he wanted and more.

Shaking your head, you carefully picked up each bath bomb and gave them a sniff. Each one smelled better than the last, and your eyes nearly rolled back at the one you selected. You wondered if he had these before you met or if he bought them specifically for you to have available.

Bucky came back after a minute and took your hand, guiding you back into the bathroom. “I’ve got everything all set.” The tub was steaming, candles were lit, and there was a generous glass of wine waiting on the tray with a book. “There's a robe on the back of the door, and I'll make sure fresh pajamas are ready for when you get out.”

You tried not to choke up. It felt romantic, but you appreciated how thoughtful it was. “I…” You had to clear your throat. “I brought pajamas.”

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” he smiled. “They’re your size and I think you’ll like them.”

“Thanks.” What other clothes did he have waiting for you? “What will you do while I'm in the tub?”

“I have a couple of calls to make.” He kissed your forehead. “And there's something else I want to set up for you.”

You shook your head. “I think this is more than enough,” you said honestly. He didn’t have to go to the trouble of setting this up. “But…” You fidgeted a little. “You promise you won’t just… barge in, right?”

This was still his home. He could easily make an excuse to go into his bathroom for whatever reason. And being naked in the bathtub, you’d be more vulnerable than normal.

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched. “Of course I won’t. This is your relaxing time,” he promised, kissing your forehead again as you breathed easier. “And like I said, I have a few things to do.”

You felt a little sheepish at his expression. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Nothing to apologize for. I don't blame you for double checking.” He patted your backside with a gentle hand. “Just enjoy your time.”

With a small smile, he shut the door behind him. You waited a full minute after hearing his footsteps fade before you undressed and added the bath bomb to the tub. The scent brought a smile to your face before you tested the water temperature with your hand. It felt perfect, evident by your sigh once you got in.

You took your time sipping your wine as you began to read. Was this really going to be your bathroom now? Would you relax here after a rough shift or just because you felt like it? How many nights would Bucky insist on joining you?

But the man was, surprisingly, true to his word. He hadn’t disturbed you once. Even after you finished your glass and added more warm water to the tub, he didn’t knock or barge in. Even when you grudgingly got out of the tub and dried off before you pulled the plush robe on, he wasn’t sitting there waiting. Was he actually respecting your boundaries?

Peeking out into the bedroom, Bucky had laid out a pair of soft pajamas like he promised and was still nowhere to be seen. You were still quick to change so he couldn’t sneak a look at you. But where was he?

You thought of calling out when you went to search for him since the lights were dimmed all over the penthouse. Your fingers touched one of the walls. Would he ever hang a picture of his mom up or was it too painful?

Tiptoeing over to the balcony when you saw the door open, you spotted Bucky reading a book, too, and sipping whiskey from a tumbler. He looked completely at ease, lost in his own lonely world, and you weren’t sure if you should disturb him. Turning around, you wondered where you should go. Maybe you could curl up on the couch or something before he could-

“All finished in the bath?”

You froze and turned back toward him, his hair gently blowing in the breeze. “Yeah, sorry. I didn't know what to do when I was done, so I was going to wander around.”

He downed the rest of his glass and smiled. “You're welcome to wander, except into the den which is being redone.” He offered his hand again when he stood. “Did you enjoy your bath?”

“I did. That bath bomb was incredible,” you said. There was no reason to lie. “So was the wine.”

You gulped a little. Oh, god. You didn’t see him pour the glass. Why did you accept that from him? He could’ve put something in it. No, he wouldn’t. He wanted you to want him without that sort of influence.

“I'll get you more. The bath bomb and the wine.” he smiled, leading you back to the living room where he had pillows and blankets set up.

“Bucky, you didn’t have to-”

“I don't have to do anything, but I wanted to. Do you like it?”

You looked at the lush blankets and fluffy pillows. Like the bathroom, it looked like a dream. Looking back at him, you smiled softly at his once again hopeful expression. He carried himself with such confidence and didn't seem to care if he impressed others except for you. “I do. Thank you.”

He smiled, too, his whole face bright. “I thought it would be another good way to relax.”

The memory of Clark walking you home popped in your mind for some reason before you pushed it away. “This is all thoughtful, but aren't I supposed to be making it up to you?”

He frowned a little at your expression. “You being here is more than enough.” His fingers barely grazed your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You blinked and nodded. “I’m fine.”

Bucky considered you and you couldn’t help but fidget again when he pinned you with his gaze. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek and closed your eyes. “I just don't understand why you’re doing all of this.”

He could’ve been manipulating you again, but it actually seemed like he was trying to be a doting boyfriend without expecting anything in return. Your guard was down enough for him to worm his way in, and you all too easily accepted the kind gestures. Why were you making it easy for him?

“You mean setting up the blankets and pillows? I thought we could lay together and watch a movie. Or talk.” His fingers touched your cheek again. “Whatever you want.”

You avoided his gaze when you opened your eyes. “That’s all you want?” you asked. He hadn’t dragged you to bed once you arrived, but he also didn’t say that he didn’t want something.

He ran a thumb over your bottom lip. “Well, I won’t lie to you. I want you, but I'm not pushing you. This is the first time you came to me willingly, and I want to cherish it.”

You shivered at his touch. “Yeah, I did come here willingly,” you said. Sort of.

“And how do you feel being here compared to the first time?”

“Better,” you admitted. You weren’t completely terrified this time, and you also felt like you had some control over. Maybe not much, but some.

“Good. Now, shall we?”

You nodded and allowed Bucky to help you settle into the comfort of the pillows. He pulled you close, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been before. This felt more gentle. More… right.

It should’ve felt wrong.

The room was so quiet and all you could hear for a minute was the gentle sound of his breathing and his heart beating. “What's your favorite color?” you asked. “I don't think you've told me.”

You weren’t sure if you had taken the time to ask because, well, it hadn’t been a real relationship in your eyes. But you needed to know him. Call it acceptance or ammunition. Maybe both.

“Blue,” he answered, his hand absentmindedly moving along your side.

“And your birthday?”

“March 10th.”

“Wait, you're a Pisces?” you smiled a little. “That explains so much.”

He smiled down at you and chuckled. “Oh, does it now?”

You laughed lightly. “Well, yeah. I mean, you’re just… you know…” He raised an eyebrow and waited for you to finish. “Emotional.”

“I can't argue with that,” he smiled, leaning in a bit. “Does it explain anything else?”

“Well, you're…” You were a little distracted as he kept rubbing your side. “Intense. Passionate. You want to be close to the person you fall for.”

He fit that to a tee.

His darkened eyes made you lose your breath. “I can’t argue with that either,” he whispered, pulling you close without hesitation and fusing your mouths together.

Bucky held you tight and rolled you over so you were on top of him, his hands skimming your thighs as he made you straddle him. A small sound escaped when he brushed against you, your heart pounding in your ears. “Bucky-”

“Stay home with me tomorrow,” he whispered, sitting up with you in his lap still. “We don’t have to go anywhere. We can spend the whole day together.”

“No,” you said firmly. You were going out with your friends and that was final. “Send Ray or someone to watch over me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Please?” he asked, thrusting his hips up. “I’ll make it worth your while if you skip.”

Natasha’s words crossed your mind, reminding you that you had power. But a sinking feeling washed over you because that power had to come from your body, right? You shouldn’t be expected to give him sex, but you could give him something to hold him over. Pushing the dread away, you could hate yourself later for it. “You can spend time with me when I get back,” you offered, grinding your hips against his. “I’ll be all yours.”

The sickening feeling you expected when he moaned didn’t come. “You promise?” he murmured.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, grinding your hips again. “You can even drop me off at Addison’s, and I’ll let you know when I get back to my place. I promise.”

“Okay, Kotyonok,” he groaned, his hands grabbing your waist. Your triumph didn’t last long. “Keep doing that and I’ll pay for all the bottles of wine you want, too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Let me touch you. Please, just let me make you feel good,” he half begged, half demanding between kissing you again. He truly hungered for you. “I'll make you feel amazing if you just let me touch you.”

You took a deep, shaky breath. How far would he take it if he touched you? No, you had to stay in control. “You are touching me.”

“Let me take you to bed. I'll eat your pussy so good you'll cry.”

“I just… I’m not…” If he took you to bed, there’d be no turning back, and you had to maintain some control.

“You’re not ready for that,” he stated, his eyes still dark. Shaking your head, it worried you how he’d take it. But he suddenly started moving you over his thigh, hard and slow. “Okay, Kotyonok. I won't put my tongue or fingers in you just yet, but I still want to make you feel good.”

You made a small sound, trying to get your body to relax. You had never ridden anyone’s thigh before and you hadn’t pictured it like this. But the blissful look on his face, he looked like he was in heaven.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you? Especially like this,” he praised.

“I…” you whimpered. “I’m not-”

“Yes, you are,” he growled, tightening his grip. “And you deserve to feel good. My girl deserves whatever she wants.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders when he flexed his thigh, sending an unexpected shock through your entire body. “Oh, my God,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

“That felt good, right?” he asked, watching you with lidded eyes. “You want me to keep going? Make you come all over my pants?”

You whimpered when he held you still, unsure it was his dirty talk or the slight edging that had you trembling. “Bucky…”

“Tell me, Kotyonok,” he ordered, licking his lips and relaxing back into the blankets and pillows. “Tell me you want me to keep going and I will.”

You looked deep into his eyes. There was so much fire in them and it was burning for you. Your breath caught as he flexed his thigh again and you found yourself nodding. “Please, Bucky. Keep going.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I said,” he whispered, sliding his tongue along your lips. “Tell me.”

You swallowed hard, your core throbbing. “I want you to keep going,” you breathed.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as your nails dug into his shoulders, feeling his thigh getting wetter beneath you. “Please…” you whispered, unsure of what exactly you were asking for. Mercy? To be put out of your misery? You could ask for anything except for freedom.

“Still begging when you don't have to.” He chuckled affectionately. “You’re so sweet.”

The pleasure building inside you was bittersweet. Sexual acts were, in your eyes, something to bring you closer together. What would he want next? What would you want next?

“Fucking yourself on my thigh. Wait ‘til you fuck yourself on my cock,” he gruffly spoke, your walls clenching around nothing when he lightly nipped over your pulse. “Just let go if you want. Make a mess for me.”

You were breathless from how close you were. “Do… that again,” you said, unable to let yourself feel embarrassed in the moment.

Bucky nipped your neck again and smiled when you moaned. “Fuck, that’s my beautiful girl. Doing so good for me, telling me what you want,” he said gruffly, dragging you faster along his thigh. “Now I want you to come for me.”

Your mouth fell open when he rocked you faster and bit down once more, hard enough that something inside you snapped. It didn’t just snap, you shattered. You saw stars. You couldn't stop it.

“There you go. Coming just for me,” he smiled, burying his face in your neck. “Fuck, you got my thigh all wet. Just ride it out. Good girl.”

Your face burned and you wanted to hide once you slowed down, but he wouldn’t let you when he lifted his head. He looked so happy, like a cat who got the cream. Your release dripped from your pussy and soaked your pajamas and his pants. You let him get you off.

And breathing hard, you surprised both of you by leaning in and kissing him.

He let out a deep moan, kissing you back with everything he had as he held you closer. You were still shaking from your orgasm, and you could blame that for the reason why you kissed him. And he behaved, not letting his hands wander as his tongue moved with yours.

He kept his mouth close to yours when you pulled back. The orgasm surprisingly helped you relax, but it worried you, too. Had you pushed too far with what you just did? Would he want more? You couldn’t let him in, and you weren’t ready to let yourself fall for him after everything. Not yet.

“Um, thanks,” you said, unsure of what to say to break the tension.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

His smile confused you. “But… you didn’t…” you trailed off. He was hard in his pants, and you hadn’t gotten him off. You selfishly got yourself off on his thigh with his encouragement.

“That doesn't matter,” he assured you, kissing the tip of your nose. “You trusted me enough to make you feel good.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “But that’s… No. I…” You just wanted a bit of time with your friends, it wasn’t about trust. Was it? How could you trust this man?

You shut your eyes to hold back tears. He had scared you from the moment you met, but you wouldn’t say you were completely scared of him right now. Not really. You didn’t know how you felt.

That was what scared you.

“Will someone keep an eye on my place while I’m out tomorrow?” you asked curiously, hoping the question didn't sound weird. You just didn't want Clark snooping around, and you didn't want Bucky worked up if you mentioned him.

“I have safety measures in place,” he replied. “Do you feel safe here?” he asked above a whisper.

“Yes,” you replied. You felt safe and in danger all at once. It was a strange feeling.

“Good,” he whispered. “Hey. Maybe you can spend the night tomorrow, too? We’ll do a movie night.”

“Maybe,” you whispered, your heart finally starting to slow to a steady rate. “And pizza.”

“Pizza and a movie? It’s a date,” he smiled. “We can talk about redecorating the place, too. Make it a real home for us.”

“A real home,” you whispered, knowing full well you were home for Bucky.

He rubbed your back and you noticed how relaxed he was. He was content to just hold you. Like an actual couple. Exactly what he wanted.

And if he noticed a tear streaming down your cheek when you eventually fell asleep in his arms, he thoughtfully kept that to himself.

So, that happened. It could've been... worse? He's wearing his girl down, isn't he? How are things going to be in the morning? Will he leave you be when you're with your friends? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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andvys · 15 hours ago

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The edges of your soul (I haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter three

⭐︎ You're the greatest thing we've lost

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comofort (I guess?), mentions of death, grief, grumpy/mean!Steve

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve allows you to see a glimpse of who he really is, and not only do you get that, you also find out some sad truths.

Word count: 12.1k

Author's note: One of the chapters I was excited for the most was this one, you'll know why when you read it hehe. @hellfire--cult worked on this one with me, and she added a lot (don't listen to her when she will say she didn't, cause she did !) give her some love (or all of it cause she deserves it ♡)

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

Steam fogs the mirror in the bathroom, drops of water fall from your hair and down your shoulders, the smell of vanilla and lavender lingers in the room, you are rubbing moisturizer into your skin, enjoying the luxury of it all, a luxury you won’t have much longer the moment you are back on the road again. It’s impossible to find functioning showers nowadays, let alone hot running water. Something that used to be so normal, is something special now and you enjoy every second here in Hawkins, every hot shower, every good night’s sleep, every warm meal, the feeling of safety.

You put a pair of sweatpants on and a sweater to keep you warm, a pair of wool socks that Nancy knitted herself. You brush your wet hair and clip it back.

When you step out into the hallway, silence greets you. Eddie is in his room, he was complaining about a headache after you finished patrolling together after he worked on the RV all morning, you both got caught in the rain and after taking a shower to warm up, he excused himself to lie down. The door to Nancy’s bedroom is closed as well, she must be reading, she always closes the door when she does. The rainy weather allows you all to take everything a bit slower, to rest a little more than usual.

The wind howls outside, thunder striking somewhere far, red bolts of lightning curse through the sky, an image you still haven’t gotten used to.

You make your way down the stairs, it isn’t dark out yet but the grey clouds make it seem like it’s evening already, the golden light from the fireplace in the living room is very inviting in contrast to the darkness outside. You step inside and notice Steve moving around in the kitchen, taking out bowls from the cardboard. A towel is slung over his shoulder, his features are relaxed, no sign of a frown appearing on his face… yet.

You watch him for a moment, not moving away or towards him. You don’t want to disturb him or his peace. He seems to be content by himself and you know that facial expression will change the moment he notices you.

Things have been tense between you after your one and only time patrolling together. He didn’t ask you to join him in anything and you didn’t make the mistake of trailing after him again. You also didn’t make much more conversation with him and he seemed happy about it for he didn’t try either. The only interactions you both have are ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’, maybe a ‘can you pass me the salt’ or an ‘excuse me’ here and there but that’s all.

It’s been eleven days since your arrival here, and you both are still where you started. It saddens you. You tried to get to know him, and you still want to but he makes it hard to.

Maybe if things had been different, you would have gotten the chance to get to know the Steve you have seen in the pictures Nancy had shown you. The guy he once was seemed sweet and welcoming, the one before you is the opposite of it.

You know something must’ve happened to him. Maybe it’s got to do with the scars on his skin, maybe he lost someone you don’t know about, maybe it’s because of Robin but whatever it was that took away the light in his eyes has turned him into this – mistrusting and mean.

A silent sigh falls from your lips, you force your eyes away from his form and turn away, ready to make your way back up the stairs but his voice makes you halt in your tracks.

“Hey…”

A lump grows in your throat, a nervous feeling settles in your chest, you swallow and take a deep breath before you turn around, facing him again.

He is looking right at you, an awkward attempt at a smile pulling at his lips.

“Hi… I uh, Nancy and Eddie are in their rooms and I didn’t want to disrupt their peace but uh I also don’t want to disrupt yours so–”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts you, not even letting you finish your sentence. “Would you like to help me?”

You blink.

Did you hear him correctly?

He presses his palms against the counter, raising his eyebrows at you, like he waits for you to say yes.

Steve notices your uncertainty, the knit between your brows, the pursed lips, the confused look in your eyes. You are pulling at your sleeves, looking a little lost, looking a little intimidated. You are not like this with Nancy and Eddie, you are comfortable with them – but not with him, and he can’t blame you for that.

“I could use a hand.”

You nod slowly, licking your lips, “yeah, I uh, sure!”

You can’t help but feel a giddiness inside of you. He never asked you to join him before, he never asked for your help.

“What do you need me to do?” You ask as you make your way over to him, standing across from him now, on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Butter for now.”

“Butter?” You tilt your head.

He hates it when you do that, every time you ask a question, every time you are confused about something, you tilt your head to the side.

“We received a ton of milk, but we have to make our own butters and cream,” he explains as he gestures to the cans of milk on the table.

“Oh…”

“Wanna give me a hand? It’s a lot of stirring.”

You nod, following him to the small, round kitchen table.

“Here,” he murmurs, gesturing to the wooden jar, “this is a butter churn.”

“This is what they look like?”

Steve nods, “yeah, what’d you think they looked like?”

You shrug, picking up the stick, “I dunno, this thing looks like something straight out of the 1500s.”

Steve snorts, “maybe it is, we found it in Miss Keller’s house, she’s basically from the 1500s with the dresses she always wore.”

You fake a gasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth, “you stole Miss Keller’s butter churn? Bad Steve.”

He rolls his eyes at you and turns away, but you see the way his lips curl upwards, even if only a little. – A small victory on your part.

“So… how do I use this thing?”

He pours some milk into the jar and takes the stick from your hands, putting inside the jar before he covers the sides with a towel so the milk doesn’t splatter over you both.

“Here, you just… do these motions,” he explains, twisting the stick from side to side as he raises it up and down slowly, “you churn it slowly, you don’t want the milk to get all over you, it may take some time until you see some progress, you just gotta be patient.”

You hum, moving a little closer to him, invading his space, you smell his shampoo, his body wash, a hint of oranges and apricot, the sweet and soft scents surprise you, most men opt for masculine scents, strong and overpowering ones. You prefer this. You like this, you like this a little more than you should. You watch the way his hands move as he shows you the motions, you focus on his voice when he gives you the instructions and then you take over when he hands you the stick before he steps away from you rather quickly.

Unbeknownst to you, he too liked the scent that lingers on your skin a little too much. The sweetness of it, the softness of your hand when it touched his own, the closeness and the heat of your body – he doesn’t like you, how could he? His body reacts to your scent, feminine and soft. It’s been a long time since he felt the touch of a woman, and you are the first to graze his skin, that’s all. He wouldn’t think anything of it, he wouldn’t react to it had there been other women around.

To his surprise you stay quiet, focused on the task before you, you don’t speak or ask any questions for a while, it’s almost odd to him, you are talkative, never missing the opportunity to open your mouth and ramble about something completely random and unimportant. Then again, things have been tense between you both. He knows it’s his fault, he also knows that it’s for the better, yet he can’t help but dislike this silence right now, he doesn’t know why.

He tries to focus on his own task, pouring milk into a pot to make cream.

The crackle of the fire, and the sound from the butter churn fill the silence between you both. A few minutes pass before you finally speak up.

“What are we using the butter for?” You ask, feeling the soreness in your wrist already.

“For the meat. I use it to make it tender. The meats are not as good now that the cows are not properly cared for. They’re just cows from the wild and the few from the barn here.”

“Oh, so they don’t get all the needed supplements and stuff?”

“Exactly,” Steve nods, reaching for a spatula, he starts stirring the milk, “I mean, we do our best but you know…”

You look over at him, surprised to find him looking back at you already, you didn’t realize his eyes were on you. You nod your head slowly, not moving your eyes away from his, you don’t break the contact just yet, looking into his hazel eyes that are always blazing with anger or annoyance, right now it’s neither of those emotions, it’s something else, something you can’t read, something you can’t make out, something you haven’t seen in his eyes yet, a look yet to be unlocked.

He blinks, shaking his head, he furrows his eyebrows and looks down at your hand, “how does it look?”

You breathe out and force your eyes away from his as well, you stop your movements and lift the towel off the jar, “uh, I think it’s solid now.”

“Great, now pour it into the bowl,” he gestures to the bowl with the cheesecloth inside.

You fall quiet again and follow his instructions, his voice fills the space between you as he gives you a step by step on what to do but when you’re as good as done, the silence between you is almost deafening, almost awkward, especially to him, the need to fill it is so strong.

He swore to himself that he wouldn’t talk to you if not necessary, that he wouldn’t ask questions. He doesn’t want to know anything about you, he doesn’t need that in his life, but this moment right now is killing him. He is done cooking the cream, and he is now working on making dinner, cutting vegetables. He tries to distract himself with that but to no avail.

He glances at you. It’s dark out now, the only source of light coming from the fireplace and all the candles set up because he likes to save up on electricity by keeping the lights off. The golden light touches your skin so softly, your hair shining from it, the smell of your body wash lingers in the room. You look relaxed, you look content despite being here with him. The sweater you are wearing is too big and it slipped down your shoulder from all the movements, exposing the scar that has formed on your shoulder. It was fresh when you came here, and he never found out how you got it.

He clears his throat, swallowing the lump that grew from nervousness, he speaks your name, which it’s almost foreign on his tongue.

You look up at him, “yeah..?”

“What uh,” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly before he points to your shoulder, “what happened?”

You need a moment to follow what he is pointing at. You are surprised, almost taken aback to hear a question coming from him, a question directed at you. Slowly, you look down, only now noticing that your sweater slipped. You put down the paddle that you used to form the butter and pull your sweater back up.

“Uh… I fell onto broken glass when a sick person snuck up on me.” You explain, scrunching your nose, “I was distracted, I never am usually but I was hungry and looking for food and I found something I’ve been looking for, for months!”

“Oh,” Steve mumbles and looks down. “What was it?”

“...Kit Kat’s.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, lip curling up a bit, “you almost got yourself killed because of Kit Kat’s?”

You shrug at him, “they’ve always been my favorite! And I haven’t had any since the day the world went to shit!”

He chuckles a bit but he doesn’t comment on it further, just looking back down, giving you the opportunity to look at him closer, at the scar around his neck, you never asked how he got it, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

He looks up to find you staring at his neck. He knows you are curious, you have been from the start, he always caught you staring at it.

“I was dragged by a demo– a bat.”

He sees the way your eyes widen, how surprised you are by his explanation, “huh?”

He points to his neck, “it choked me, leaving a mark, while two others bit my flesh off.”

Steve used to cringe every moment he spent thinking of that night, of when they dragged him across the floor, leaving marks on his skin. He used to have nightmares of it, until those nightmares were replaced by new pictures, worse ones.

You nod slowly, looking him up and down, there are no other visible marks for you to see, except for the one on his neck.

“Where?”

He sighs, not wanting to look into your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness flashing in them. He looks back down at the carrot he was cutting, picking the knife back up again, he continues.

“My abdomen, my sides… but Eddie had it worse.”

You quickly realize what he is doing, steering the topic away from him again, thinking he doesn’t deserve sympathy for what he went through.

You have seen the scars on Eddie’s skin, the deep and gnarly marks, he briefly told you what had happened but you never pushed the subject, you never tried to find out more.

“You mean the scar on his lip…?”

Steve nods, “his chest, abdomen, arms, legs… They’re all scarred. They bit off chunks of flesh.” He says, his voice sad, almost haunted.

Your shoulders drop, the look on your face too, sadness flushes through you and you look down at the table, at nothing in particular.

You can’t imagine how it happened, the pain he was in, the fear that took home in all of them when Eddie was bleeding out and fighting for his life.

Steve turns around when he registers your silence. He sees the worried, sad look on your face, how your lips curl downwards and your shoulders are dropped.

“But we’re okay now, he is healthy as you can see… and annoying.”

At that, you smile a little, lifting your head back up to look at him, “yeah, but he’s adorable.”

Steve draws back a little, raising an eyebrow at you, “you crushing on Munson or something?”

Your eyes widen and you flush all over, shaking your head quickly that your hair falls out of your clip.

“What, no! Ew! He reminds me of my brother! People that are just like my brother ain’t my type!” You scoff, shuddering a little. You pick up the paddle again and continue forming the butter into the shape you want to have it.

Steve can’t help but smile, amused by the look on your face. He gets a little curious though.

“... And what is your type?”

You hum, taking a moment to answer his question.

He doesn’t look away from you just yet, he watches you.

“Mmm… As long as he makes me smile when I need it the most… that’s all I need.”

Steve nods at your words, humming.

You look up at him, surprised to see him still watching you.

“What about you? What’s your type, cowboy?”

He flushes a little, cheeks warming under your eyes. He hasn’t talked about women in years, and hasn't thought about this either.

He shakes his head, lifting his shoulders up and down, “I uh… I honestly have no idea.”

He is not the guy he used to be, the one who was flirting freely and taking out one girl after the other – even that guy didn’t know his type. He was searching for something in every girl, and he never found it.

“Oh come on!” You scoff, looking at him in disbelief, “what type of women did you go out with?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, they were always… stereotypical girls that always talked about the latest trends and stuff.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you look down.

“Ah right… Prom King. I can guess which type of women you’re into–”

He quickly shakes his head at you, “no… no… I went out with them to have fun, it was just physical. Those girls weren’t my type.”

You frown at his words and sigh.

For some reason your reaction makes him think that you’re done with this conversation, but then you look back up and turn towards him completely.

“Okay… then, when you’re with a woman, what is attractive to you?”

“... Real answer?”

“Sure…” You murmur.

A smirk tugs at his lip when he notices how flustered you are getting when his eyes move up and down.

You notice how he stops at your chest in particular and you can’t help but groan and shake your head in disappointment.

“Booo…”

“No!” Steve raises his hands up in surrender, chuckling.

“I was gonna say eyes.”

You roll your eyes, snorting, “right… I didn’t mean physically, Steve. I meant what is attractive to you when you’re on a date with them? What do they do that is attractive to you?”

Your words wipe the small smile off his face again, and he stands there in silence, getting lost in his thoughts, getting lost in the past, reliving every date, every moment that should have excited him but didn’t. He realizes that there was not a single date that is worth remembering, not a single girl who made him smile genuinely. Sure, he had fun the moment he was in pleasure but that’s all, the girls were attractive physically but emotionally? They all sucked, none of them cared about him, all they wanted was a piece of King Steve.

And even when he thought he found something genuine, someone to love him, someone to care for him, it turned out to be a show, it was just as genuine as the interest all those girls had in him. It was all a lie.

There is no love in him for her anymore, no feelings, no desires, nothing. But those words still hurt and sometimes they still haunt him because he believes it. Those words echo in his head, just like all the other hateful things others have thrown at him. But one in particular remains,

‘Bullshit’

“I… I don’t know…” He whispers, letting his facade fall for only a moment. “I guess someone who doesn’t see me as a failure.”

You are taken aback by his words, a weird feeling settling in your chest at the confession.

When Steve realizes what he said, when he notices the look in your face, when he notices his mistake, he immediately draws back.

“W-What… Failure, why?”

He shakes his head, turning his back to you again, “doesn’t matter, um… the butter should be done, wanna give me a hand cutting the potatoes?”

You hesitate, staring at the back of his head. You want to know more, you want to know why he said that, you want to know why he feels like this, who made him feel like this.

A sigh falls from your lips, loud enough for him to hear.

“Sure…”

You leave it alone, not wanting to risk getting on his bad side again, you bite your tongue and do as he asked. You clean up the kitchen table before you walk over to him, getting your own cutting board, and you start peeling the potatoes.

You work in silence for a while, just like before, but this one isn’t as uncomfortable, even though his words still echo in your head and you wonder about his past. You don’t want him to close up on you again, not when he just started to open up, so you don’t press the subject further.

It’s too silent though and you can barely handle it. You let go of the peeler before you started peeling the potatoes, taking Steve aback, his eyes already glaring at you as you turned and walked away.

“Really? You don’t want to peel potatoes?”

“It’s too quiet!” You leave the kitchen, leaving Steve stunned as he looks back at the door. It was quiet but he didn’t think you were going to have a breakdown because of it. He doesn’t know you and that is being a little obvious by now. Maybe you don’t do good with silence and he just doesn't know that side of you. If he knew, maybe he could have talked about something else, or try.

But not two seconds later, he starts hearing the radio turning and then static. He doesn’t remember when was the last time they turned on that radio. He can hear you changing the channels of it, the static growing and lowering, and he wonders if you're crazy. There is no music being played. Who would operate a radio station in the middle of the apocalypse–

His eyes widen when he starts hearing ‘Hound dog’ by Elvis Presley. It is static, yet it is still there. There is music. Somewhere in Indiana, someone is operating a radio station. Someone is trying to keep people in a good mood despite it all. He never knew. Nancy never knew. Eddie never tried. The three of them thought that the only music they could have was Eddie’s guitar.

He hears you humming to it, walking back into the kitchen and placing the small radio on the far corner so you two can have the music to yourselves. He is still staring at the radio, completely stunned, his eyes wide. You turn to look at him when you grab the peeler, noticing the look of surprise.

“Why do you look so stunned?”

“I– I didn’t know they played music…” Your eyes went to look at it and you smiled, nodding at him.

“Yeah, I had one back at camp too… Did you know radio signals can travel from 50 to 60 miles away? Some AM stations up to 100 miles!” He is still surprised there is music, yet you are talking away facts to him about radio signals. But that actually caught his attention. There are others, not an hour away from him. It has to be the WSQK watts station. It has to be.

“There’s… a radio station near… like thirty or forty minutes away from here…” You turn to him, surprised as well now.

“Really? Well… there’s people operating there… Probably also sending out news and messages to people.” Your attention turns back to the potatoes, starting to peel away, leaving the peeled skin scraps in a mountain on the counter.

“That’s… good to know.” It actually is good to know. They thought that the only radio signal they could ever get for news was Mr. Clarke’s transmitter that is in the library. That’s how they got contacted by Hopper when the others arrived in California, and now he is finding out that maybe some radio stations are still transmitting. They are probably using some kind of solar panel to make energy because–

“This potato has a worm.” He snaps out of his thoughts immediately at your words, frowning as he looks down at it.

“There’s no worm there.” You slowly look up at him with a cheeky smile, only to look back down, leaving that peeled potato aside to grab another.

“You were thinking too much. Just enjoy the music, you can think later.” You reply and he blinks for a few seconds as the song keeps playing. He looks back down to his carrots, grabbing the knife he left on the side to keep cutting. The minutes pass, the songs changing, songs he knows. Songs that remind him of when the world didn’t simply go to shit.

And there’s some kind of comfort in that.

“Did you know Marvin Gaye was shot by his own father?” You have been spitting facts and news to him that he either knew or never knew, and he didn’t notice he found himself talking back at you, even giving a fact or two of his own.

“I did, that was crazy as shit.” The song ‘Sexual Feeling’ was playing, that’s why you started talking about that with him. Each song that passed, you said something about it. You were stirring the vegetables in the boiling water while he sauted the meat in the pan, with the butter you made. He threw some rosemary in it too, for extra flavour.

One other thing he didn’t notice was that he had been humming along all this time.

He had two pans where he was cooking four pieces of meat, while you worked on making sure the vegetables were properly boiled. You had added some garlic in the pot because you claimed it’s good for the overall health. He almost chuckled at that because it was just because garlic is delicious. There was no need to put garlic on boiled vegetables.

You two didn’t even notice that even in the silence of conversation, where just the music played, there was no more awkwardness. There was no tension. There was nothing that could make you think he didn’t like you anymore.

“Is that Marvin Gaye?” The sound of Nancy’s voice makes the two of you turn around, and she is surprised to see you working together. It’s been days since you two last had a proper conversation, and– “Wait… music?”

“Yeah. She kind of discovered it. Nance, we didn’t know the radio station was still functioning, for a whole year.” Steve’s voice makes you feel proud, knowing you helped and that he was actually surprised by your discovery. Nancy blinks a few times, not believing her ears.

“Wait, so it means we can use that to receive news…” Steve’s eyebrows meet in the middle for a second, only to then nod slightly.

“I bet they’re not different from the news we get from the transmitter in the library, Nance.” His head turns back to the meat, while you grab four plates, stacking them next to him. “Thanks.”

You try to tone down your giddiness, not wanting to show him you are really happy he is being civil and friendly with you, “No problem.”

Nancy’s eyes travel back and forth with the two of you, wondering what had changed, but it is better not to ask. Seeing Steve putting steak on each plate while you grab a colander from the cupboards below the sink. You are about to grab the pot yourself, grabbing kitchen clothes to not burn yourself on the handles, but Steve grabs them from you.

“Let me.” You see how he grabs the pot, not letting you do it, not letting you carry the heavy weight yourself.

“Um–” You don’t know how to react or say, kind of confused at his action, but you don’t dislike how much of a gentleman that move was. Nancy hums a bit to herself, clearing her throat before yelling out.

“Eddie! Food’s ready!” Your head turns to look at her, and you snap from your thoughts, not noticing you had been looking at his arms as they strained a bit when pouring the water into the colander. You quickly move to the cupboards to start setting up the table with Nancy as Eddie walks down the stairs.

“Oh, shit, we eating Steve’s delicious steaks?” Steve rolls his eyes but he’s proud of his cooking. It’s one of those things he knew he was good at, and he never received any complaints.

“Just set the table up, Munson.” He replies and Eddie immediately moves to grab the water out of the fridge and set it on the table. You go back to the counter, next to Steve, and grab a big scooping spoon. Steve hands you one plate, with a steak on it, and you just add some boiled vegetables on it before placing it in front of Nancy as she sits down.

Once you are all seated, Eddie doesn’t even wait a second before he shoves a piece of meat into his mouth, moaning as if he’s in a porn movie, making the other three of you cringe.

“Do you have to do that everytime you eat his steak?” Nancy asks as she cuts herself a little piece, Eddie turning to look at her, with his mouth full.

“Its’ ‘fee biss’ stek’ i’ve evur’ haf.” You snort into your water at the nonsense he just mumbled because of his mouth full of food. Steve holds in a chuckle as he grimaces in disgust.

“Can you chew and swallow before you talk?” And Eddie glares at him only for his eyes to widen up as he looks around, a frown in his eyebrows. He chews quickly, swallowing where he almost choked.

“Is that– ‘Take on me’? Is that fucking music!?” Nancy snorts as you all realize that Eddie hadn’t even noticed the music playing because he was more focused on Steve’s steaks.

You explain that you have found a few channels over the months every time you come across a radio somewhere, though none of them have played metal music.

“Maybe you gotta do the heavy metal channel,” you shrug.

“Huh, you know what? Maybe I will, once I figure out how to, I fucking will,” he nods happily before he takes another bite of his steak.

Steve chuckles a little to himself, though he keeps his eyes trained on the plate before him. Nancy and Eddie share a look of surprise, it’s been a while since they saw him so… relaxed.

For the first time in a while, he joins in on the small talk during dinner, commenting and nodding along to the things you talk about. A sparkle of hope is inside of both Nancy and Eddie, hope that maybe there is still something left in him wanting to try, wanting to live, wanting to fight for something better.

Maybe he is ready to leave now, maybe he is learning how to let go.

Eddie wastes no time in wanting to find out, because the moment you are all done eating and he pushes the empty plate away from him, leaning back, he stuffs his hand into the pocket of his jeans, fishing something out.

You all watch curiously.

Eddie flashes you a smile when you lean closer, trying to peek over the table. He lifts his arm up and throws something over to Steve, the unmistakable sound of jingling keys passing by you, a flash over silver before your eyes before it lands in Steve’s hand.

Steve looks down, feeling the metal in his palm, his fingers are closed around it. He doesn’t need to look to know what it is, the happiness in Eddie’s eyes and the dreadful feeling in his stomach tells him exactly what it is.

With furrowed eyebrows, he stares at nothing in particular.

“What is it!?” Nancy asks, impatiently.

Eddie looks at the both of you, unable to contain the smile on his face as he starts jumping up and down on his chair.

“I finished it,” he explains proudly, though neither of you understand what he means by that as you both give him questioning looks, to which he sighs. “The RV! It’s up and running! We can finally get out of here!”

“Seriously?” Nancy nearly squeals, her eyes lighting up at his words, she nearly jumps from her chair, almost knocking it over.

You know that she’s been waiting for this, waiting to be reunited with her family again.

“Yeah! We’re going to California, baby!” Eddie exclaims, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “So you better start packing your bags.”

You smile, sharing their relief as well. You've been waiting for it too, waiting to finally see your family again, though in this moment, you fear looking over at Steve, knowing how he feels about leaving Hawkins. You still turn your head, daring to take a glance and you find exactly what you thought you would.

His features are no longer relaxed, his lips are no longer curled into a smile, his eyes aren’t soft like they were before. A mixture of sadness and anger lingers in them, and when he looks at you, meeting your eyes, you feel a shudder running down your spine, he no longer is the one from before, the one that laughed with you, the one that talked with you like you were his… friend.

He clenches his jaw and he turns away again, throwing the keys back to Eddie who catches them with one hand, the smile falling from his lips when he finally notices the frown on Steve’s face.

You all flinch a little when the chair scrapes against the hardwood floor and the brunette picks his plate up angrily before walking over to the kitchen.

Nancy’s smile falls and her shoulders slump, helplessly she looks at Eddie.

“Dude, you know we can’t stay here,” Eddie states carefully, with a soft and gentle voice. “We’re gonna run out of everything someday, you can’t prevent–”

“We won’t run out if we go hunting,” Steve grumbles.

“There’s nothing left here for us, man. We got people waiting for us–”

Suddenly, Steve turns around, with his eyes angrier than before and his cheeks burning red, “you got people waiting for you! Leave me out of this!”

Nancy frowns in disbelief, as well as Eddie who gets up from his chair as well, throwing the keys on the dining table.

“Seriously? You’re telling me that the kids aren’t waiting for you? That they haven’t been asking for you every time Dustin radio’d us and you’ve been acting like a complete asshole, refusing to speak to him – to them?”

Steve scoffs loudly, turning back around, he makes his way over to the sink.

“We’re not leaving without you, Steve,” Nancy speaks. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Nance.”

She falls silent after that, opening her mouth and closing it again, she looks a little taken aback, guilt flashes in her eyes.

Eddie only sighs, looking down with a defeated look on his face.

You don’t know what his words mean, you don’t know why she gives up after that. Many questions run through your head but you mostly wonder what he meant by that.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again and you can hear the desperation in his voice, you can see the sadness in his face, he doesn’t want to leave his friend behind but he doesn’t want to stay here either, he never wanted to, least of all now. “There is nothing left for us here, there is nothing left for you here, you know that, man. Robin is–”

You flinch again when he throws the plate into the sink, so hard it must’ve splattered in half. He turns around, throwing a finger at Eddie, “I told you I’m not leaving! If you wanna go, feel free to get the fuck out of here, all of you! But leave me alone!” He yells, glaring at the both of them before he storms out of the room, passing by you and out into the hallway, not bothering to grab a jacket or an umbrella before he rips open the door and leaves the house, slamming the door so harshly that you wonder if it’s still in tact or not.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline kicking in when you notice that Eddie and Nancy aren’t moving, not planning to follow him out.

They know him better than you do, they know not to touch him now, he won’t listen, he won’t compromise, he will do more damage than anything else at this moment but you don’t know that.

Worry settles deep in your gut, the urge to go after him growing stronger each passing second. You get up and push the chair back, leaving them no time to react before you rush out of the room, quickly throwing on your old pair of sneakers, not wasting any more time to follow him out.

You hear your name being called before you slam the door shut, but you don’t bother to turn back around, you run straight into the storm, not caring about the rain you ran from earlier.

You rip open the gate and close it behind you, looking around you as you try to spot him in the darkness, you squint your eyes when lightning strikes through the sky. You see his silhouette, three houses down the road.

The rain runs down your face, soaking through your clothes already, the coldness of it clinging to your skin and making you shiver already, even as you start running after him, following him wherever he is going. You pick up the pace when he gets further and further away from you.

Worry still gnawing at you, not knowing how he will react to you following him but you can’t just let him go like this, you know that he is angry but you also know that the anger is a mask for something else. He is sad, he is broken because of things that happened to him. You may not be the person he wants him to follow, but you just can’t let him go like this.

You slow down when he rounds the corner of a house, disappearing behind the wall. The rain paddles harshly against the floor, thunder crashing through the sky. You almost slip on the muddy ground when you step into the grass, you halt in your tracks when you notice the surrounding bushes, somehow still full and alive, unlike most other things in Hawkins.

You lost him after he disappeared into the garden of whoever lives or lived in this house. The white picket fence has no gate, and you can just walk through it. You follow the footprints in the mud, feeling grateful for the lightning for once. You push your wet hair out of your face, as you inch closer and closer to where he ran off to.

You take deep breaths, trying not to shiver from the cold. Thunder makes you flinch again, though the loud crash is not what makes you halt in your tracks, nor is it the red lightning bolts in the sky that illuminate your surroundings, allowing you to see better, allowing you to take in the view before you.

For a moment, you stop breathing, you stop moving completely, you are sure that even your heart stopped beating. You can only raise your hand to your lips as your eyes widen in horror.

He is here, he is standing in this garden, only a few steps away from you. He is standing there with his head hung low, looking down at the grave before him, wilted flowers on it, a necklace dangling from the cross, a necklace that once dangled from her neck.

Robin Buckley.

The name engraved into the wooden cross, is the name you have heard so many times, the name of his best friend.

So many feelings run through your veins but mostly shock and confusion. He talked about her like she was alive, they talked about her like she was alive, there was no sign of this. You could have never guessed. Every time he left the house saying that he was gonna visit Robin, you thought he was actually seeing her, you could have never imagined that he meant visiting her grave.

Your heart breaks when the realization of it all begins to sink in, why he is the way that he is, why he doesn’t want to leave, why he is so filled with anger and rage.

You swallow the sickening lump in your throat. You don’t know what to say or do, a part of you wants to walk away and leave him be, the other wants to comfort him, and the stronger part wins.

“Steve…” You call out softly to him, your voice reaching him despite the raging storm.

He tenses up, you can see it, it takes him a moment but when he finally turns around, you realize what a mistake it was to follow him. Even through the darkness and the rain, you can see the glistening tears in his eyes, the angry ones, the scowl on his face directed at no one but you.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t!” He snaps loudly. “Don’t say anything right now!”

You press your lips together, taking deep breaths as you look at the intense emotions in his eyes, and his anger makes you cower away. Shivers run down your spine, not from the rain, but from how he looks at you.

You shake your head slowly, digging your nails into your palms. You don’t know what to do, so you just stand there and watch him. Behind the hatred in his eyes, you see pain and sadness, you see how hard he is holding onto this, you see how it is driving him crazy, how it’s ripping him apart.

“I-I didn’t know…” You say softly.

Steve can hear the sadness in your voice, the gentle tone in it, the warmth in your eyes – he can’t stand it, he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t deserve it.

“That she’s dead? You didn’t know that my best friend is dead?” Steve scoffs as he slowly starts to make his way over to you, inching closer carefully, staring at you like you are his prey that he is ready to rip apart, right here, right now. “Well, now you fucking do, she’s dead, Robin is dead just like most people are, just like you will be the moment you step out there!” He throws his hand up, pointing at nothing in particular. His voice is trembling, the rain streams down his face.

You wince at his words.

You know what’s waiting out there, you know the dangers of this world but that doesn’t stop you from finding your family, from keeping hope alive.

You understand him now, more than anything. You don’t know how you would be if you lost someone you loved so dearly but he still has people he loves, people that love him.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I really am, I’m sorry that you lost her,” you start, your own voice trembling, out of nerves and out of fear. “But she is gone, a-and you staying here won’t change it! It won’t bring her back, it won’t fix anything! I understand your pain, I really do… but– you have people who care for you, Eddie and Nancy. You have other people who are waiting for you… Dustin?” You say despite the shock that still curses through you.

You don’t know whether it’s tears running down his cheeks or if it’s just the rain, but his eyes are glassy.

“Don’t bring Henderson into this! He is alive and well and that suffices!”

“Does it really?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Because you look miserable most of the time, and you will end up all alone once Eddie and Nancy are gone!”

Steve takes another step closer to you, looking down at you with nothing but hatred in his eyes.

“I know you feel like your life is over but it’s not, I–”

“You’ve known me for two weeks. Two fucking weeks. I don’t care about your optimistic hopeful bullshit. When you find your parents and your brother dead, you will wish you never had it to begin with.”

You draw back, straightening your back, you stare at him, speechless and stunned. The words are caught in your throat, your chest aching more than ever.

You know he is hurt and angry, and now he is trying to hurt you back. You know that they’re alive, you know that your parents are fine, you know that your brother is well.

“They’re… they’re not–”

“You saw the world out there, open your eyes for just a second!” He snaps at you, getting closer and closer, allowing you to see him and his anger better. “You are leading my friends to their death! You are helping them leave! I-I thought you would want to stay once you realized you were safe here, that you’re all fucking safe!”

You shake your head at him, growing angry too for the things he said about your family.

“Why wouldn’t I want to leave!?”

“Cause you are literally driving into hell! There are things you haven’t encountered there!”

“I want to see my family! Nancy and Eddie too! You have family waiting for you!”

A humorless laugh falls from his lips, he brings his hand up to his face, pressing his knuckle under his nose as he closes his eyes for a moment before he opens them again, looking at you again, “family? My family is here, six feet under!” He yells, pointing at the grave. He is blinded by rage and sadness. “The one person I had in my life that cared for me like no one else had is gone! And I’m not leaving her here!”

You know there is no getting through to him, not when he is like this.

Steve would rather chase after a ghost for the rest of his life.

“Leave her here?” You whisper. “She’s not here anymore, Steve! Do you really think she would want this for you? She wouldn’t! You were family, you were her best friend, she would want you to leave, to find a better place, to live!”

If the look in his eyes could kill, you’d be buried under this ground right now. You can see that it’s getting worse, that his eyes are burning, that his chest is heaving.

“I know what danger is out there, but I need my family–”

“Smell the fucking non-existent sunflowers, they’re dead by now!”

Steve tries it again, to hurt you, to harm you where he knows it hurts the most but you shake your head, trying not to let his words get to you, trying not to let his words touch your heart. You take a step away from him, shaking your head.

“No–, no they’re not,” you whisper, feeling the familiar lump in your throat, the painful throbbing in your heart, the hotness in your eyes.

He scoffs at you, looking you up and down in disbelief, “you think you’re going to find your house surrounded by a gate of protection? You’re fucking delusional if you think so.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, taking a step back further. You hesitate, feeling intimidated by his presence all the sudden but he only follows, looking right into your glassy eyes.

He is guided by hatred. He can no longer see clearly, the pain has turned him into this, the pain has made him cold. He doesn’t care about the tears in your eyes, about the trembling in your bottom lip, about the fear and the sadness in your eyes.

“My family is alive, I-I know they are–”

“Smell the decay of the corpses around you, and tone down that hope of yours before you end up even more hurt than you thought you could ever be. Open your eyes for once and stop acting like an immature little girl.”

His words feel like a blow to your chest, stealing the breath from you and replacing it with pain. The colors vanish before your eyes, a darkness you never allowed to enter, blurring your vision and crawling into your veins, threatening to take over.

The tears no longer stay in your eyes, they start falling freely as your bottom lip trembles, a sob threatening to escape you though you push it back down, not wanting him to see just how much his words have hurt you.

You see nothing in his eyes, no remorse, no guilt, nothing but this – grief has turned him cold.

Your sniffle breaks his anger a little though, the blaring redness that flashed in his eyes just seconds ago, dimming just a bit when he begins to see the damage he has done. He sees the way your chest is rising up and down heavily, the way you're blinking quickly like it would stop your tears from falling, he sees the pain in your eyes that he had caused.

You are crying, he made you cry when he once swore to himself to never do this to anyone ever again.

“You’re…” Your voice breaks and you wipe your tears, as though it would change anything. “You’re a douchebag.”

The tension in his shoulders leaves him, and regret starts sinking in.

Robin thought that of him before she got to know him, before she became his friend. He changed, even more so when he found her.

Has her death made him turn back around?

Has it changed him this much?

She would be disappointed, she would kick his ass for what he did just now, for what he said, for how he made you feel, for making you cry when all you wanted was to help. He knew where it would hurt the most and he chose to hit you there exactly, not caring about what it would do to you.

You tear your eyes away from him, sniffling quietly as you walk away from him, leaving him in the rain.

His fingers itch, his hand moves forward as though to stop you but he quickly clenches his fist and breaks his eyes away from you, looking down at the muddy ground. He closes his eyes, shutting them tightly as he holds back tears. His heart is aching more than ever.

He knows you’re right, deep down he knows.

He knows it’s only fair for Eddie and Nancy to leave, he knows it all, he understands it all.

He knows that she would want him to go with them, that she would force him to if she could. He knows she’s gone, he hasn’t felt her presence since the day a bird had sat down on her cross, she is gone and there is no bringing her back, not even if he stays.

But how can he leave when all that is left of her is this?

Everywhere he turns there’s a reminder that she was here, every good memory he has of her would be abandoned and he can’t do it, he just can’t.

With trembling lips and tears now streaming down his cold cheeks, he turns back around, looking at her name on the cross, at the reminder… that she is gone, forever. His knees almost buckle, a sob threatens to rip from his lips but he doesn’t let it, he doesn’t allow himself to break down, even as the sadness and the guilt begins to consume him.

“Robin,” he whispers, shakily. He knows he won’t get an answer, he knows he won’t get the sign that he’s been begging for, he knows he won’t hear her voice calling back to him, the only thing he hears is the rain, the rustling trees and his own heartbeat. He tastes the saltiness of his tears, he tastes the bitterness. “Birdie…”

She is gone and she’s not coming back.

He lost her, and soon he will lose more.

Soon his biggest fear will catch up to him.

Being left behind, being all alone.

It was bound to happen.

Right?

Steve didn’t come out of his room all day.

You haven’t seen him, haven’t heard from him, haven’t heard his voice in the hallway or anywhere else.

He came home shortly after you the night before, you heard him talking to Nancy, heard her asking questions that he didn’t answer. You know she told him that you’re leaving today, told him to pack his bags and be ready by night. It’s getting dark out now, your bags are in the RV, as well as Nancy’s and Eddie’s, along with a box of pictures and other things that they refuse to leave behind.

You are all ready to go, all except for him.

Eddie is giddy, excited to finally hit the road, though you can also see his jumpiness, how he can’t seem to sit still, the anxiety of having to leave Steve behind is eating at him.

Nancy is distracting herself, sitting at the dining table, her guns and knives sprawled across the table, a cloth in her hand as she cleans her weapons.

You’re sitting by the window, looking into blank space. Sadness lingered in you all day, and it didn’t change throughout it. He planted thoughts into your head that you refused to think about or even consider, though now a part of you can’t help but feel anxious because what if… what if there is some truth to it? What if you are being a little too hopeful? What if you are being ignorant and foolish?

You know he was hurt, and that hurt has triggered the anger, anger that he directed at you – he wanted to hurt someone and you were there, the perfect target, you are the reason why his friends are leaving now.

You didn’t mention what you found out last night, not to Eddie nor Nancy. It only really sunk in this morning, when you woke up with a headache after crying yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how he lost her but something tells you that she didn’t go peacefully. He blames himself, you saw it in his eyes.

“We should go soon.” It’s Nancy who breaks the silence in the room, a determined look on her face. You can sense her hesitation, her nervousness. She doesn’t want to go without him, you saw the way her eyes kept flicking to the staircase waiting for him to come walking down the stairs with bags in his hands, he never did. She told him to be ready by 7pm, it’s 8 now.

Eddie told you that Steve said goodbye, that he hugged him and Nancy, and prepared food and snacks for the road. No matter how much they begged and tried to convince him to come with them, it was to no avail. He never planned on leaving, not then, not now.

A part of you wants to try, to go up to his room and talk to him again but you doubt he wants to see you, especially after last night. He hates you, you saw it in his eyes. He won’t change his mind, not for you. He hurt you, but you still don’t want him to stay here, to be alone, to be left behind.

Eddie stops pacing around, he watches Nancy as she gets up from her seat, putting the guns and knives away into her backpack.

“Nance,” Eddie hesitates, looking at her in uncertainty.

She throws her backpack over her shoulder and shrugs at him, trying to look tough, trying to mask the worry on her face.

“He made his choice, he wants to stay. I won’t force him to come with us.” That is all she says before she leaves the room, taking you by surprise with her sudden coldness. She walks out of the house without another word.

Eddie glances at you, taking in the frown on your face, the sadness behind your puffy eyes. He knows that something happened between you and Steve when you followed him out into the rain, last night. He suspects that he threw unkind words at you – you didn’t tell him anything, neither did Steve but Eddie knows it crashed between you.

Now all he sees is hesitation in your eyes, despite the hurt written across your face. He can tell you don’t want to leave him behind. Eddie noticed that you had developed some kind of attachment to Steve, despite his constant cold shoulder.

You keep your eyes trained on the ground, blinking rapidly as you get up, not moving away from the window just yet though.

Eddie sighs, he walks over to the desk by the window, opening one of the drawers, he picks out a map he kept hidden, a copy of the one already in the RV. It’s marked up just like the other one, the town in California circled in a red color. He carries it over to the dining table, “in case he changes his mind,” he tells you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you look between him and the map, “I thought you didn’t have a copy?”

He makes his way over to you, a small smile grazing his lips, he places his palm on your shoulder, “guess I lied a little.” His brown eyes are sad, not matching the smile at all. He squeezes you, nodding softly before he steps away, looking around one more time, even though he’s done it a few times already today. “I’ll be outside.”

“Yeah…”

He closes the door behind him, leaving you by yourself.

You can’t say that you’re surprised by their sudden decision to leave today, but then again, they have been waiting for this moment for a long time. They’ve been waiting for it for a year, waiting for him to be ready. He never will be.

You take a deep breath as you look around the house you found shelter in, found new friends in. You wouldn’t have been here if you didn’t follow him that day. You tug your jacket closer to your body, gripping it tightly.

You don’t want to leave without him.

But you are the last person to change his mind.

You have known him for a few days only and yet he managed to crawl under your skin. You got used to him, despite his rough demeanor, despite yesterday.

You make your way upstairs, you can’t leave without saying goodbye.

But when you knock on his door, he doesn’t respond or open the door – not that you expected him to. You lean against the door frame, keeping your knuckle against the wooden door.

“Steve?” You whisper shakily, hoping to hear his voice. “I uh… I just wanted to thank you, for letting me stay, I know you didn’t want to but still… thank you.”

You hear nothing on the other side, no shuffling, no footsteps, no sighs, nothing.

A sigh falls from your lips, the sadness in you spreading further.

“Despite everything, it was nice meeting you… Goodbye Steve.”

You finally pull away from the wood, looking at the door one last moment before you head back downstairs and grab the backpack you left on the floor. You look around the house one last time and you can’t help but imagine him walking downstairs, where his friends once were, and see them all gone. Just himself and the ghost of what once was and never will be again.

It hurts to leave him behind, and you can’t even imagine how Nancy and Eddie feel. You have your answer once you head out and towards the back where you see Eddie wiping his cheek away while making sure the tires are all set, and how Nancy has her back towards the two of you, and her legs are slightly shaking as she looks at stuff into her weapon bag.

They are hurt from leaving him behind, way more than you are. You had to reassure them that even in loneliness, Steve will be safe. He is inside a community, guarded even if little, but he is still with people and in safety.

“Okay ladies, I think we are good to go.” Eddie says finally and you head over to Nancy, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, Nance.” You see her looking at the distance, towards the same way you followed Steve the night before. You see her gulp tightly, nodding at you before turning around and heading inside the RV first. You turn to see Eddie giving you a small comforting smile as he looks at the house one last time.

He sighs as he turns towards you, bowing down as he points with his arm towards the open door of the RV. You can only smile so little at the theatrics, and you take a deep breath before you step inside, surprised to see just how well equipped it is. Two big seats at the front, driver and passenger, then followed by counters on the side, and then a couch on the other. A pull out couch. Then at the end of the kitchen counter sat a small booth, with a small table in the middle.

You see there is a small little hallway, which has the door to the toilet, and then at the very back end you can see the big double bed. It has a sliding door to close it from everyone else if needed. You are amazed by it, a small and nice motorhome for the three of you. Eddie enters the RV as Nancy starts the vehicle. He closes the door behind him and he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“You like it? I installed the pull out couch myself. We have enough gas till the next possible gas station, and hopefully there’s still some left, so we need to make sure to not run out before that.” Nance only nods as you look up and open the bag cupboard at the top of the couch, putting your bag inside as well as Eddie’s and hers. You close it and you three hear the RV coming to life finally.

“Good job Eddie.” Nancy finally smiles his way, and Eddie puffs out his chest as he sits in the passenger’s seat, pulling the map out of the glove compartment in front of him. He had marked down all possible places they could stop at to look for more food and gas. Even toiletries. He also marked all possible gas stations, and you realize they had been planning this for a very long time.

“Okay… goodbye Hawkins you piece of shit.” Eddie says, making you hum as you take a seat on the couch. Your body suddenly sways as the RV starts to move slowly, and the excitement starts to come back to you as well as the fear of what you might encounter. You are going to your family. You are going to find your family and you will be safer this time. You have people around you, armed and willing to protect you as much as you would protect them. You won’t sleep in the mud, looking for cover under the cup of the trees. You will be sleeping either on a nice couch, or the bed whenever available.

You see how Nancy turns the lights on and off quickly, just enough to mark her way through the trees, not following the main road so no one would stop you all. Your hands were gripping the couch tightly, not wanting to look out the window, not wanting to look back, but you were itching to do so.

It takes time because Nancy is going as slow as possible so the motorhome would not do that much of a sound thanks to the engine. You know that people are already sleeping by now, except for the guards at the front gate, and you are taking the closed off one. The one in all chains.

Once you reach it, Nancy stops the RV right in front of it, Eddie getting up from the passenger’s seat to walk towards the cupboard underneath the sink of the kitchen, taking out some bolt cutters. Your eyes widen as he pulls those out and you turn to look at Nancy.

“Hang on, you are cutting those open– you are going to leave the gate open for all the community inside here!” Nancy sighs at your outburst and you hear the clanking of chains, you turn your head to see Eddie holding a new pair in his hands and a lock.

“We are not that reckless and selfish. It took me some time to find a spare pair of chains this size, and a lock, but– It’ll endure.” With those last words, he jumps off the RV, and you rush to the passenger seat to see him get into action, grabbing the cutters and start snapping the chains away.

You’re biting your lip as you see the metals falling piece by piece. Eddie hesitates for just one second before he snaps open the last chain. He pushes one of the doors open slightly and Nancy turns on the bright lights instantly. You see how he pulls it open even more and you see how there is nothing out there, giving you guys the green light to go. He gives a nod towards the two of you and pushes the first gate open and then the next one.

His eyes widen when one bright light shines your way, the guard light tower pointing your way. The sound of a loud siren blasting suddenly and you realize you’ve been caught. Nancy and you motion Eddie to leave the chain behind, that people will put it back together instead of him.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Nancy curses loudly.

Eddie snaps out of it as he rushes to the doors of the RV, the motorhome starting to move forward as you hear the screams of people, telling you to stop, to turn back, that it’s dangerous out there. The front of the vehicle is out and you’re almost passed the gate when Eddie’s head turns to his left, his panicked face falling as his eyes widen.

“Eddie, get in!” You yell, trying to snap him out, and Nancy groans loudly.

“Munson, I’m stepping the gas whether you get fully inside or not–”

“It’s Steve!” Her eyes widen as well as yours. She doesn’t stop moving, instead slowing down.

You rush towards the window, popping your head out and sure enough, you see him.

He is running fast even with a bag hanging on his back, two duffel bags on each side of his hips, his bat in one hand, the other gripping a flashlight tightly. You hear Eddie egging him on, to keep running because Nancy is not stopping, she can’t. You see the flashlights of people running towards you, right behind Steve, ready to stop you all from stepping into the danger zone.

He can’t feel his limbs anymore from how much he ran, from how dumb it was to not tell the three of you that he had actually packed, leaving the bags in his room. Dumb to tell you that he left to give his last goodbye to Robin’s parents and Robin herself. He spent all day with her. Had breakfast, had lunch, and finally dinner.

He lost track of time, and when he returned to the house, none of you were in it. His heart had crumbled to the floor, but it was just a few minutes late, so if he had any luck, you three were still near. He grabbed everything as fast as he could, rushing into the kitchen to shove one last thing into his duffel bag, and then run out. He ran through the woods with his flashlight, following the broken bushes and the tire trails the vehicle left.

As soon as the RV came into view, the lights from behind him turned on, his panic rising as he didn’t have a chance to even catch a breath. He saw how the officers and the guards started running towards him with their flashlights, and he took off. He ran as fast as his feet could take him, trying not to think of all the weight he was also carrying. He could hear Eddie calling for him, his hand reaching out already for Steve to grab.

He knew that the moment he grabbed Eddie’s hand, Hawkins would be a thing of the past. She would be the past. Everything would be the past. But Robin would have wanted him to move forward. She would have wanted him to keep on going. She would have kicked his ass if she found out he was willing to throw everything away just for her. She would have wanted him to actually live.

So he grabs onto Eddie’s hand.

Eddie pulls tightly with a grunt, using all his strength. Nancy picks up the speed and throws her foot onto the gas when Steve manages to put one foot on the first step of the RV. Eddie drags them both inside, falling onto the floor with Steve.

You are stunned as you stare down at them both. You snap out of it when you feel the cold wind, you run towards the door and shut it, locking it.

Steve is panting, no, heaving as he tries to recover his breath on all fours, staring at the floor. Eddie is sitting up, his hand coming to rest on Steve’s back. The three of you are silent, not having expected Steve to appear out of nowhere at the last minute.

“What… What happened?” Eddie asks, his own breathing heavy from the whole ordeal, and you can just stand over them both, looking as Steve starts to shake, your eyes coming to meet in the middle in worry.

“I– I was saying goodbye– I forgot to tell you, I’m so sorry–” And you can hear the choked up voice, your heart turning with sadness as Eddie’s eyes glistened, looking at his friend. Nancy couldn't stop driving, but she turned her head for just one second to look and you saw how a tear was running down her cheek, her gaze turning back to the road.

“Steve…” Eddie’s voice is low, a whisper and it was the key that opened the gate to Steve’s emotions. Through his heavy breaths, you start hearing his sobs. Choked up sobs that he wanted to swallow down, but it was impossible. Soon, his tears were hitting the floor as he stared down at it, his fingers digging into the carpet as memories flashed in his mind.

He could almost picture Robin waving at him from the gate that people were already closing. He could almost picture how she would be smiling and jumping happily the more the RV drove away. How she would be cheering him on. His cries were loud, knowing there is a part of him that was being left behind, a part that he will never in his life get back.

You could hear the sniffles coming from the driver’s seat as well, quieter than Steve’s cries of pain, and you saw how Eddie was keeping a strong face for both his friends, especially Steve who was still trying to breathe through his sobs.

You just stood there as you waited, wanting to comfort the man that was on the floor, but you knew better. It was a moment that he needed to have with his friends, with his family. You felt your own tears flowing down your cheeks. You didn’t know Robin, but from the cries of your new found friends, you realized she was loved. She was very much loved.

The road ahead was uncertain, but in Steve’s mind, only one little thing resonated, one little voice that he could hear despite the dark clouds inside it, and the screams coming out of his mouth. If he was imagining it, he hoped it would never leave him. He might have gone crazy, but he was so happy to hear her voice, at least one last time.

‘Goodbye, Dingus.’

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk

#the edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet)#chapter three #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #stranger things angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #grumpy x sunshine

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amirasainz · 11 hours ago

Note

Maybe some jealous Lando but with a happy end? Btw, I loved your last post. 💚

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Burning Jealousy

The silence in the car was unbearable.

Yn sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the passing streetlights. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional flick of the turn signal. Lando’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white.

It had been like this since they left dinner with their friends—since Mike had made her laugh a little too much, leaned in a little too close, and, in Lando’s eyes, given her just a little too much attention.

Lando had said nothing the entire drive. But then, just as the silence was starting to settle into something tolerable, he opened his mouth.

"He's in love with you, you know."

Yn’s fingers twitched. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared out of the window. She refused to acknowledge the comment.

"Yn," Lando tried again, his tone sharp. "Don't ignore me."

She exhaled through her nose, still refusing to look at him.

"I'm not ignoring you," she said, her voice dangerously even. "I just have nothing to say to that."

Lando scoffed, shaking his head. "Right. Of course. Because you don't see it."

"Because there’s nothing to see," she snapped, finally turning to glare at him. "Mike is my friend, Lando. He has been for years. You know that."

Lando let out a humorless laugh, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, and I also know the way he looks at you."

Yn clenched her fists in her lap, willing herself to stay calm. But the anger had already started to bubble over, and she knew it was too late.

"You know what? I’m done with this conversation."

She turned back to the window, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Lando let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his curls.

The road ahead was empty, the city quiet at this late hour. When they reached a red light, the car rolled to a slow stop. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.

And then Yn had had enough.

Without a word, she unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed open the car door.

"Yn!" Lando’s voice was sharp with shock, but she didn't stop.

She stepped out onto the pavement, reaching down to yank off her heels. The night air was cool against her skin, but her anger burned hotter.

"Yn, what the hell are you doing?"

Lando had barely processed what was happening before she was walking down the street, heels dangling from her fingers, her bare feet padding softly against the pavement.

"Yn!"

The sound of the car door slamming echoed through the quiet street. A second later, Lando was jogging after her.

"You can’t just walk away!" he called, his voice laced with frustration. "Yn, stop!"

She ignored him.

"Yn, I'm serious—come back here!"

Nothing.

Lando groaned, running a hand down his face before picking up his pace. His heart was pounding for a different reason now—protectiveness, fear, the sheer desperation to fix things before they fell apart.

He caught up to her quickly, stepping in front of her path and forcing her to stop.

"Move, Lando," she muttered, her voice ice-cold.

"Not until you talk to me."

"I don’t want to talk to you."

"Well, too bad," he shot back. "Because I’m not letting you walk barefoot down the street at night like a crazy person."

Yn huffed, crossing her arms. "Then you shouldn't have said something so stupid."

Lando’s expression softened slightly, but he didn’t move. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he admitted. "I know it was stupid."

Yn blinked, surprised by his sudden shift in tone.

"I just—" Lando sighed, looking down at the ground for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "I love you, Yn. And sometimes, that love makes me an idiot."

She frowned, her anger flickering for just a second. "Lando—"

"No, let me finish," he interrupted, stepping closer. "I know Mike is your friend. I know you love me. But sometimes, I see the way other guys look at you, and it drives me insane."

"Lando—"

"Because I don't want to lose you," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "Because the idea of you being with someone else—of someone else making you laugh like that, making you smile like that—kills me."

Yn’s anger started to waver, just a little.

"I hate that I get jealous," Lando continued. "I hate that I let it get to me. But it's only because I love you so much, and sometimes, I don’t know how to deal with that."

Yn let out a breath, her shoulders loosening slightly.

"You're an idiot," she muttered.

Lando let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, I know."

She sighed, shaking her head. "I love you, Lando. But you have to trust me. You have to trust that I love you and only you."

"I do," he said quickly. "I do trust you. It's him I don’t trust."

Yn rolled her eyes. "Mike has never tried anything, and he never will. You have to let this go."

Lando hesitated before nodding. "Okay."

"Okay?" she echoed.

"Okay," he repeated, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry. Really."

Yn let out a small sigh. "You're lucky I love you."

Lando grinned, his dimples appearing. "I really am."

Before she could say anything else, he bent down and, without warning, scooped her up into his arms.

"Lando!" she squeaked, wrapping her arms around his neck on instinct.

"You're not walking back barefoot," he said simply. "Even if you are mad at me."

Yn huffed but didn’t argue. She rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her back to the car.

When he finally set her down, she looked up at him, her expression softer now.

"You're an idiot," she murmured again.

Lando smirked. "Yeah, but I’m your idiot."

She rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against her lips.

And just like that, the fight was forgotten.

The love, however, remained.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #george russell x reader #carlos sainz x reader #pierre gasly x reader

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kkoga · 3 days ago

Note

DO IT. DO THE HURT NO COMFORT. PLPSLSPLSPSLSPLS I LOVE ANGST!!!

-🎧

A/N : your wish is my command....

RAINY NIGHTS, sophia laforteza x fem!reader

Warning ! Hurt no comfort, toxic relationship, mentions of sensitive topics, not proofread

Disclaimer ! Everything written here is pure fiction. Every person is not a real portrayal of themselves.

Now playing ! Cologne by beabadobee

WC — I dont knkw bruh i wrote this and its 3 fucking am im not mentally sane lawl phones also 7 percent.

Synopsis ! After Sophia Laforteza fucks up multiple times, Y/n decides she's had enough. Time and time the girl had waited, but much to her dismay, all Sophia had done, was disappoint her.

Y/n shamefully exits the restaurant, feeling dozens of eyes on her. The girl had been waiting for her girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza, to show up to a date they've been planning for weeks now.

The first hour wasn't so bad. Maybe she had gotten stuck in traffic, or maybe she would be just a little late. The second hour was worse. At that point, waiters and waitresses had started asking her where her partner was. And what Y/n hated the most, was the fact that she had no answer to their questions.

Now here she was, after the fourth hour of waiting. It was currently 12 am, and much to the girl's luck, it had just started raining.

The girl could only sigh.

"What a great marvellous day! Not only does Sophia leave me waiting for our date, it starts raining right after I get kicked out! Absolutely hilarious!" Y/n mumbes to herself, tears beginning to well up.

"Maybe she just forgot. I mean, she's busy afterall..." The girl tried her best to convince herself that this was going to be a one time thing.

She was wrong.

Y/n bites her inner lip. It has been 2 hours since their designated sleepover. It's been weeks since Sophia had gone over to her house. So they'd been planning for a movie night. And tonight was that night. So why exactly has Sophia been ignoring her calls?

Y/n presses the call button once more, but to no avail, she was met with Sophia's voice mail for the nth time.

The popcorn was starting to get cold, and the ice cream was starting to melt. Y/n sighs. It's been two hours. Maybe she got caught up in an emergency schedule?

"Couldn't she just have told me...?" Y/n shakenly whispers to herself. This was the fourth time Sophia had stood her up this month alone.

Y/n begrudgingly placed the ice cream back in the fridge and seals the popcorn in a random container. The sound of rain keeping her grounded.

"It's okay. This will be the last time this happens."

Finally. Sophia had finally shown up to a hang out. Y/n had been waiting for the past month. The girl had greatly missed her girlfriend, and she hoped Sophia felt the same.

"Sophie! Hi!" Y/n ran up to Sophia, and hugged her as tight as she could. Afraid to let go, scared she might lose the one person able to cheer her up with a simple smile.

"Y/n! Baby! Hi, i missed you so much." Sophia hugged the girl back, and for a moment, Y/n thought,

"Finally. We're back to normal. Oh god, how I've missed my girl."

Y/n couldn't help the small but sweet smile that had formed.

It had been an hour since their hang out started, and apparently, Sophia had to go. Y/n felt sad, but knew it was her job, her dream. And Y/n would never get in the way of that.

As Sophia entered her car, Y/n bid goodbye to her girlfriend.

"Bye Sophie, miss you, and i love you." Y/n leans down for a cheek kiss, almost missing the unreadable expression Sophia had on her face.

"Yeah, bye." And with that, Sophia drives off to god knows where.

"No i love you too...? No... maybe she just forgot. It's fine." And suddenly, rain had started pouring. Y/n quickly ran for cover, but couldn't avoid looking like a somewhat wet puppy.

It was infact, not fine. It had been three months since that little mini date, and Sophia hadn't said the words "I love you". Atleast not without Y/n basically telling her to.

What went wrong? What did Y/n ever do? Did she offend Sophia? Did she do anything to form this... this gap between them?

Y/n felt so lost. So... confused. She was so sure she hadn't done anything. At least not anything she could remember. Well, she was going to find out tonight.

The door opens widely, in a swift manner. And in comes Sophia, sick and worried.

"Y/N, BABY, ARE YOU OKAY?? I came as soon as i got the text, I—" The panicked Sophia came in, expecting to see an injured or sick Y/n. But all she had found was Y/n sitting on the chair of one of her counters, with a stoic look on her face.

Sophia's breathe was heavy, like she had ran to get to Y/n's apartment.

"Why are you completely fine? You texted me it was an emergency Y/n, I was busy—!"

"Well, you always are, aren't you?" Y/n looks up to Sophia's eyes, and frustration begins to fill the Filipina.

"Excuse me? You know I'm constantly busy. For fucks sake, I'm an idol! You can't—"

"I know. I know what I signed up for, Laforteza. I know I'd never get in the way of your dreams. You would never even let me." Y/n gets off the stool, and faces her girlfriend.

"So what's your point! What, you call me here because you missed me? I was in a fucking meeting Y/n. With one of HYBE's officials!! Do you know how fucking important that is?" Sophia scratches her head in disbelief, her anger bubbling up faster than it ever has. Y/n sighs defeatedly.

"More important than me?"

Silence filled the apartment. What felt like hours were only a few measly seconds.

"The silence was more than enough, Laforteza. I'm tired. I am so fucking tired of you leaving me hanging. At first, it was a date here, a date there, but nowadays, it's like everything we plan just ends up with me waiting."

"But I'm trying Y/n! I'm trying my best for you, for my members, for my fucking dream. Why can't you just understand that?"

"Then answer this, Laforteza. When was the last time you had told me the words "I love you"? When was the last time you had willingly told me those three words."

Sophia tried to recollect, the Filipina had really tried her best. But the realization had hit her hard.

"Fucking THINK Laforteza. Give me a goddamned answer. When was the last time you had given me a sincere, loving, "I love you"?... ANSWER ME!"

"I... I can't remember...." Sophia had started tearing up. Why couldn't she fucking remember the last time she had said I love you to her own fucking girlfriend?

Y/n let out a laugh. But it wasn't the usual light and hearty laugh Sophia had always heard. This laugh sounded painful. It was like all of Y/n's vocal chords had suddenly forgotten what a laugh had sounded like.

After a few seconds, Y/n's laughing had turned into sobs.

"Do you know how many times I've had to shamefully walk out of a restaurant, or get kicked out? Sophia, everyone looked at me. Their eyes were so full of pity. The waiters and waitresses constantly checked up on me like I was some poor child, left behind by her mother. Countless times, Sophia. I endured it all, thinking it would be the last time."

Y/n's voice had started cracking, and the girl had made a face Sophia had never seen before. One filled with so much sadness, so much sorrow.

"But time and time again, you proved me wrong. Every date you stood up, every "I love you" left unanswered, destroyed me, Sophia."

"Baby... baby I'm so sorry, please—" Sophia tries to move closer to Y/n, but the girl pulls away.

"Don't. Don't ever call me baby ever again. You don't get the fucking right, Sophia."

"I'm so disappointed in you Sophia. I never thought you'd ever treat me this way. Your career may have excused a missing date or two. But seven in a row? Sophia, we've gone on three total dates for the past four month's. And we had planned seventeen. Seven fucking teen Sophia. You stood me up fourteen times, and that's only for the past four months."

"I.. please I'm so—"

"So let's end this."

"...what?"

This felt so surreal. Y/n had just asked her if they could end it. Sophia had felt her whole world crumble. She caused this? Has she really broken down the one person who had supported her through everything?

"No.. no, no we aren't. Please, just give me a chance to—"

"No, Laforteza. Get out. We're over."

Sophia laughs, hoping this was some sort of wicked sick dream.

"We aren't over Y/n. Please, I just—"

"We've been over for the past seven months, Laforteza. What we've had for those last few months was just me trying to keep us both on the same page. But a relationship requires two people. We can't keep going if your heart isn't in it, Laforteza."

Sophia couldn't help it. Her tears had burst out like there was no tomorrow. The girl hadn't cried like this for a long, long time.

"But.. but I need you Y/n, please..." At this point, the Filipina had gotten on her knees.

"No, you don't. Hell, you don't even want me. You just think you do. So please, get up and leave, before I say things I don't think I can take back."

"I can't just leave!"

"Yes you can. Leave. For the both of us, Sophie." The mention of her nickname was driving Sophia crazy.

"But I fucking love you Y/n!" .

Y/n looks at Sophia with a tired face.

"Do you really?"

Sophia looks at Y/n. A look of desperation displayed on her pretty face. Y/n hates how she's never going to see that face ever again. Hates how she's never going to kiss that pretty face to sleep ever again. Hates how those soft and comforting arms will never comfort her ever again. Hates how she will never wake up next to the love of her life ever again. Hates how Sophia will never be hers ever again. But she was okay with that. She knew it had to end one way or another. It was better this way.

And so, after more back and forth conversations, Sophia reluctantly leaves. Sophia closes the door, and Y/n locks it right after.

Y/n will never open up her heart for Sophia ever again. And the latter knows that. They were over. They were really over. Neither could believe it. The two fall to their knees, on opposite sides of the door. The sound of heavy rain masking the others cries.

Guess rainy nights were never their thing.

#sophia laforteza #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia #katseye x fem reader #katseye x reader #katseye imagines #katseye x female reader #katseye #kkoga #no comfort

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angelsdean · 2 days ago

Text

Mary is 28. The year is 2016. Her whole life has been stolen from her. Some cosmic being plucked her from Heaven, took her away from her home, her husband, her babies, and placed her in this strange new world.

Her babies are gone, replaced with strangers a foot taller than her and nearly a decade older. They call her mom in gruff voices. They are hunters, something she never wanted for them. She has to hold back tears just looking at them. She sees glimmers of herself in Dean. His hair has darkened since he was a little boy, but she sees herself in other parts. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, his smile. She sees herself in Sam too, though he feels stranger. She can't quite match her pudgy little baby to this man.

At night, she moves through the bunker like a ghost. Nothing feels quite real. She takes scissors to her hair, thinks a drastic change will make this all feel more real. Throws herself into hunting. The adrenaline helps. Her racing heart reminding her she's alive, alive, alive. This isn't a dream.

This isn't a dream.

She sobs into her pillow, as the reality of it hits once more. She will never see her babies again.

These strange men look at her like she's a wonder. She understands what they lost. Understands they never had a mother. She imagines she'd look at her babies the same way, if she could see them again.

But she doesn't know how interact with this Sam and this Dean. All she knows is rocking babies to sleep to the tune of "Hey, Jude" and cutting the crusts off PB&J's and warming up store-bought pies for her sweet little toddler. She feels like she's failing at something she never really felt she succeeded at in the first place. So she focuses on the one thing she was ever good at: hunting.

When the British Men of Letters approach her, she goes in with good intentions. She's doing this for her boys. It's the one thing she can do right, she thinks.

Except things go wrong. They always go wrong.

"Cas almost died," Dean says, a hard edge to his voice and his eyes swimming with emotion.

She feels terrible, tries to explain. "I'm doing this for you. I'm playing three decades of catch up here." She wants to say, I'm trying to fix things. If I can rid the world of monsters, if I can make it safe then you won't have to fight anymore. You can have normal lives. You can be free. But she doesn't know how to talk to them.

Mary watches Dean's expression cloud with his own grief. "And we're not? How do you think this has been for us? We're your sons, and you've been gone. Our whole lives, you've been gone," he says. And she understands. She's been gone. And her babies are gone. And it's all so unfair.

"You said that you needed time. No, you said you need space," Dean continues, and she can feel herself losing him. Them. Sam won't even look at her. "So we gave you your space. But you didn't need just space. No, you needed space from us."

He's not wrong. She told them when she left, how hard it was to be around them.

"That's not true," she lies. "Dean, I'm trying –"

"How 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?" Dean cuts in, hurt, angry.

And it hits her harder than she expected. Because she wishes, wishes she could be a mom again. To her babies. But that's never going to happen. And if she's stuck here, then she needs to figure out some other way to be.

"I am your mother," she says, sternly, "but I am not 'just a mom.' And you are not a child." It's not fair. Part of her knows that's not what Dean was asking. Not how he meant it. She's the one wishing he were a child. Wishing she could be "just" a mom. But she can't be a mother to them. Not this Dean. Not this Sam.

Dean looks her in the eyes, his expression vacant, haunted, and says, "I never was." His lip trembles for just a moment before he regains his composure.

She was a hunter's kid once. She knows what it's like. There's little room for childhood innocence. But she also doesn't know. She had a stable home. She had two parents. She had no siblings to look after.

"So between us and them –" Dean continues, the question hanging in the chasm that has opened up between them.

"It's not like that." Can't you see I'm choosing you. This is the only way I know how to keep you safe.

"Yeah, Mary, it is." She hates how it doesn't exactly break her heart, hearing her name come from his mouth instead of "mom." It feels more normal. Because these are not her children. "You made your choice. So there's the door."

Dean walks out of the room without a second look. Sam rises from the table, averting his eyes. She understands this too. Struggling to look. To see.

But this isn't how she wanted things to go. She didn't mean to upset them. And she doesn't want to lose them completely. She just--needs more time. "Sam," she tries. Maybe it would be easier to get through to him. He never really knew her, has no memories of her.

But he tells her to go too.

And maybe part of her is glad for the easy out. This will give her more time. She just needs to focus on hunting. Save the world. Put her babies to rest. Then she can come back and they can...be a family. However that might look for them.

#youngmarynatural #ficlets #myficlets #dean and mary #spn 12x14

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elllisaaa · 24 hours ago

Text

UNDER THE INFLUENCE - J. YUNHO

KINKTOBER DAY 21 - QUIROPHILIA

SUMMARY : working with yunho was both a blessing and a curse. a blessing because he was incredibly talented and smart. a curse because you had to look at his pretty hands all day long and it was very, very distracting. so when you spend the night trying to come up with a diagnostic for a patient, doing exams in the labo all night with him, you cannot hide your attraction anymore.

-> pairing : surgeon!yunho x surgeon!fem!reader

-> words count : 1.6k

-> genre : smut & a tiny bit hint of fluff at the end

-> warnings : soft dom!yunho x sub!reader, quirophilia/hand kink (obviously), fingering, dirty talk, begging,

+ the way i'm depicting yunho does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | ateez masterlist | kinktober 2024

“- I’m gonna go get a coffee, you want one ?

- Yes, please ! I feel like my brain is gonna explode.”

Yunho chuckled at your reaction, and he took his wallet with him as he got out of the laboratory. You were both stuck here to try and come up with a diagnosis for a patient who had an infection that you couldn’t heal and that was going to cause irreversible damages if you weren’t able to find what it was. You and Yunho were the head surgeons of the hospital, and so far, working with him had always been a blessing : he was very talented in his field, had a sense of morals and he was the sweetest human being on earth.

The only thing that bugged you was his hands. His hands and his long fingers. His hands you were forced to stare at all day and that made you wet thinking about them. You knew you always had an appeal for people who had pretty hands, but with Yunho, it was worse. You didn’t know exactly what it was, you couldn’t pinpoint this detail that made you so attracted to his hands, but the facts were there - you were obsessed by them and it was hard to concentrate on the results of your tests when he was the one holding the sample.

“- And one coffee for Miss Y/N ! Be careful, it's really hot.

- Thank you so much, you’re an angel.”

As he handed you your cup, your fingers brushed against his, and all these thoughts you were trying to keep under control came back to the surface. You could feel your cheeks flushing as you focused on your coffee rather than on how perfect his hands were. So far, Yunho never noticed, or at least, he never made any commentaries about it. The thing was that you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, you didn’t want to make it awkward, especially since you were colleagues, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself either. Because yes, you liked his hands a little bit too much, but you also liked him a little bit too much.

“- I did the last tests I could, we just have to wait a few hours to get the results now.”

Yunho watched as you nodded and pretended to be immersed in the reading of a new report about another patient of yours. He always thought that you looking at his hands was pretty normal, especially since you were surgeons - after all, you were very cautious in your work, and he didn’t mind you always being attentive and having his back. But lately, he had noticed how much you were staring at his hands even outside of the operating room. And even now, as he was just pushing his glasses up his nose, you couldn’t help the way your eyes followed his every move.

“- Y/N ?”

You perked up, trying to look as if you were working and not like you were observing his hands - once again.

“- Why are you always looking at my hands ?”

He saw your eyes widen in surprise, your cheeks taking a deep shade of red and your mouth opening because of the shock. So he was right, you were definitely not just checking if he was doing his work right. You looked away, ashamed to have been called out when you thought you were being slick.

“- It’s just… It’s nothing.”

You tried to defend yourself, but nothing was coming to your mind, and Yunho didn’t look one bit convinced by your weak arguments. He tilted his head to the side, staring at you from the other end of the desk.

“- Tell me. You know I won’t judge you.”

You looked back at him hesitantly, biting down on your bottom lip before you took a deep breath. This couldn’t have stayed a secret forever after all, he would’ve noticed one way or another so you’d better spit it out now.

“- I’m… I’m really attracted to hands in general. I don’t know how to explain it, it has always been like that. I just love hands for some reasons. And you have some really pretty hands. And I can’t do anything else than look at them all day. And… Yeah.”

As you talked, a grin started to spread across Yunho’s face. He didn’t think about that, but it all made sense now - the way you always shivered when he accidentally (or voluntarily) touched you, the way you couldn’t detach your eyes from his hands when he was doing some tests, the way you were always hyper aware of his every move. Your cheeks were even redder, if that was even possible, and Yunho couldn’t help thinking that you were cute like that.

“- So it’s only my hands that you like ?”

Your embarrassment visibly grew as you buried your face in your own hands, groaning about how you were so stupid, how you were sorry.

“- I didn’t want to make it weird since we work together. But I… The fact that your hands are attached to you is not a downside.”

Yunho chuckled as you confessed under your breath, and he decided to end your sufferings. He stood up and bypassed his desk to join you on your side, hooking his fingers under your chin to force you to look up at him.

“- You didn’t make it weird. I just wish you had told me sooner.

- You could’ve too.

- I could’ve. I’m such a bad boyfriend, aren’t I ? I think I need to make it up to you.”

Before you could even react, Yunho leaned down to press his lips against yours - softly at first, and as you deepened the kiss, he let his tongue slip into your mouth, not letting you go before you were dizzy and out of breath.

“- How do you plan on making it up to me ?

- What about my fingers in your needy cunt ?”

You couldn’t argue with that so you only kissed him again, sighing against his mouth as his hands dropped down to your waist, pushing you to stand up until he could lift you up and drop you onto your desk. He parted your legs with his knee, and you only needed his signal to spread them open. Yunho didn’t stop devouring your mouth as he let one of his hands slide down your clothed body, the other one curled around the back of your neck to hold you in place.

You gasped against his lips when you felt his light touch through your pants, and you could feel the grin spreading on his lips as more noises escaped you when he started to rub your clit through the fabric. After months without having anyone touching you because work - and Yunho - kept you too busy, it felt like a relief to finally feel something, to have someone else pleasuring you. Yunho stayed attached to your lips as he slipped his hand under the waistband of your pants and inside of your panties, his fingers now directly in contact with your cunt.

“- Shit… You’re so wet already…”

Maybe you should feel embarrassed about the amount of slick dripping down your inner thighs, but with the way Yunho groaned as he covered his fingers in your arousal, you were sure that he didn’t mind it. You reconnected your mouth to his, drowning out your moans as he pushed one finger inside of you, sliding right in with how wet you were. You were practically certain that he could have made you cum with one finger only, because it was so long he could reach your g-spot without even trying.

“- Yunho… Need another one, please…

- Fuck, whatever you want angel.”

And a second finger joined the first, making you lose your mind and tightening the know slowly building in your stomach. Clearly, he was now aware of how much of an effect his hands had on you, and the fact that you were unable to stop yourself from moaning and whining as he fingered you drove Yunho just as crazy. He was entirely focused on you - on the way you muffled your noises against his lips, on the way you grinded against his hand as if to encourage him to push his fingers deeper in, on the way you seemed to be addicted to the feeling.

“- Come one angel, cum all over my fingers, I know you want it.”

Yunho’s words were all you needed to tip over the edge and let go, your walls tightening around him and your whimpers coming out choked because of how hard you were biting down on his shoulder. he continued to thrust his fingers into you at a slow pace until you were completely relaxed in his hold. He pulled out his hand and brought it to his lips, sucking away your essence, groaning at the taste of you - and he couldn’t wait to have a better one, a real one.

“- You’re gonna be the end of me.”

Your protests only made him chuckle and he placed another sweet kiss on your lips, but it only took a few seconds for it to get heated again. And as you were about to put your hands on the obvious boner deforming his own pants, the signal indicating that the results of the tests were finished rang loudly through the laboratory. Right, you were at work. Yunho reluctantly let you go, but not before he could stare into your eyes, his gaze full of hope and affection.

“- Let me take you out this weekend. Let me show you that I’m the one for you.”

Of course, you said yes. And of course, that same weekend, you had a taste of his fingers again.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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hard-core-super-star · 2 days ago

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OWN MY MIND [wandanat]

pairing: top!wanda maximoff x bottom!natasha romanoff

summary: wanda's crush on natasha has grown to nearly unbearable levels. instead of pining after her, she decides to do something about it during a party.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! -> porn with plot; wanda has a crush and she's about to make it EVERYONE'S problem; semi-public sex; slightly obsessive wanda go brr; so much teasing; the clothes stay on because i say so; thigh-grinding; fingering [nat receiving]; neck kisses; i got hooked on the idea so there's a lot of expostion; shitty dirty talk; so much bickering

wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: I'M ALIVE! i did not mean to disappear again but life had other plans 😅that being said, I'M OKAY! i survived a very stressful january and my writer's block seems to be easing somewhat. every year i say i'll be more active on here and it doesn't always work very well BUT i'm trying! anyway, i hope you guys are doing well, my askbox is always open for you all. that being said, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

There wasn't much Wanda was sure of anymore.

At some point, she'd been sure her and her family were going to be safe. She'd been proven wrong the day a Stark Industries missile crashed into her living room, sending all her childish hopes of safety with it.

After that, she'd been sure she'd never leave her brother's side, even agreeing to become an experiment for HYDRA to guarantee their safety. Their powers had helped and even when Ultron appeared, she was sure they'd figure things out together.

That dream had instantly been shot down, along with Pietro and the remnants of her home, after Ultron's attack.

She hated thinking about it. About everything she lost. About the dreams she'd held onto for most of her life that were meaningless now. That didn't serve any purpose other than reminding her she was alone.

Sure, she had the Avengers now but...they didn't understand her. Not the way her brother had.

Clint tried his hardest to be there for her before he left to be with his family, do doubt feeling guilty over something that wasn't his fault. He wasn't to blame for Pietro's sacrifice and they both knew blaming him wouldn't bring the speedster back anyway.

In a weird way, though, the archer was the only one who truly understood her grief so when he left...Wanda did what she had always done. She retreated into herself, ignoring the looks of the rest of the team and Vision's borderline annoying insistence that she talk to someone.

She didn't need to talk about anything. There was nothing to talk about. Nothing that could change the pain she carried every day.

Nothing...except Natasha Romanoff.

Their friendship hadn't come out of nowhere despite how hard the older woman liked to act otherwise. Even without her powers, she knew Clint had been the one to push Natasha in her direction. It was also obvious that the Widow had no idea what to do.

It was weirdly charming.

Despite how hard she tried to act like she cold and heartless, Natasha cared. She cared a lot more than she wanted to. Especially about Wanda.

So, when the older woman started appearing outside her door at ungodly hours of the night, seemingly unaware of the tear that stained the witch's cheeks, and inviting her to train with her...Wanda decided trusting her wouldn't do any harm.

That much was true. No real harm came from getting close to Natasha. If anything, she helped more than anyone at the Tower had even tried. She didn't care that Wanda didn't want to talk about what happened in Sokovia, that her inner demons showed their face every night and left her with nightmares too intense to ignore, that her powers grew stronger every day.

The Widow didn't seem to care about the details. She simply cared enough to be there. Sometimes she showed up earlier, before any nightmares could haunt her dreams, other times she showed up later and with a tea in hand that she quickly offered to her. There were no words exchanged but she knew.

And that meant more to Wanda than she could even put into words.

Those feelings, though, quickly grew out of her control. It happened almost on accident, practically without thinking. All she knew is that one day she felt...drawn to Natasha in a way she hadn't noticed before.

To the curve of her neck, the flex of her biceps, the tension in her jaw when she throws a punch. All the little details came together and left her feeling far too confused for her liking.

Confused and yet far too in control.

And to say Wanda was slowly becoming obsessed with control would be an understatement.

This flurry of thoughts is what leads her to do something too far out of her comfort zone. It's a shitty idea, she knows that, but when Vision off-handedly tells her of the party Tony will be throwing later that day, a plan slowly starts forming in her head.

A plan that involves a certain redhead and the confusing feelings that settle low in her stomach when they're alone together. Of course, she's not a stranger to desire, she knows what her feelings really are, but that doesn't mean she's exactly okay with them. With the suddenness and the intensity of her thoughts. Of the fantasies she longs to make a reality.

She's just as patient as she is stubborn, though, so she waits. Waits until the party is in full swing, until she's all dolled up in her favorite dress, paired with the leather jacket she never gave back to redhead, and then she strikes.

It must look weird. It certainly feels weird, stepping out into the crowd instead of avoiding everyone in her room. She has to step out of her comfort zone if she wants to go after what she wants, though, and she's determined to sink her teeth into Natasha before the end of the night.

Thankfully, she doesn't have to wait long for her opportunity.

As soon as she makes her way into the bustle of the party, she scans the room for the Widow. She finds her by the bar, chatting with Tony and Rhodey with a drink in hand.

Even though she wants to waste no time, she decides to linger. To let the anticipation build and see how long it'll take Natasha to bite. It's both torturous and enticing. A borderline perverted mix of longing that makes her heart threaten to burst out of her chest.

When Natasha's eyes finally meet her gaze, she sends a soft smile her way before pretending to be incredibly interested in her drink. It's a cheap strategy, she knows that, and yet it's one that works in her favor.

She only has to wait a few more minutes before the Widow untangles herself from Tony's drawn-out (although probably annoyingly entertaining) story and makes her way over to her.

"I didn't take you for a beer girl," she says, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at her.

"There is a lot you don't know about me," Wanda replies, her accent coming out strong. It's half on purpose and half on accident. It tends to slip out easier when she's around people she's genuinely comfortable with.

And Natasha is right at the top of that list. Even if she doesn't fully know it.

The Widow lets out a soft huffing sound in response. It's not quite a laugh, but there's an edge of fondness to it that neither of them can fully ignore. It's not every day she allows herself to be so unguarded.

"You're pretty and witchy, what else is there to know?"

The teasing remark only makes the younger woman's smile grow wider. "Does that mean you think I'm pretty?"

Wanda accompanies her question with an alluring tilt of her head, watching in amusement as Natasha takes a long sip of her drink to avoid answering. Even if she doesn't say the words, she's been caught red-handed and the witch couldn't be happier about it. Maybe her sudden desire for the woman isn't as one-sided as she'd allowed herself to believe.

"What are you even doing here?" Natasha asks, her tone far too casual for the intensity in her gaze. "You hate Tony and you hate parties."

The witch in question simply shrugs. "I was tired of sitting on my ass."

This time, the Widow actually laughs. "Clint should have never taught you that phrase."

"I don't know, I think it's quite fitting." She pauses for a moment, letting the air between crackle with a hard to define energy. One just as powerful and unpredictable as her own powers. "You seem to like looking at my ass."

The older woman's eyes widen before quickly darting around them. Sure, they're leaning up against the ridiculously placed bar but no one around them is paying attention. Tony and Rhodey left to find someone else to bore with their competitive stories and everyone else is scattered around the room, too engrossed in their conversations or their drinks to pay them any mind.

Not to mention, Wanda would never allow them to notice them. It's not mind control, not really, which means she feels no guilt at manipulating reality for a few moments.

"Since when are you so bold, Maximoff?"

"Since I decided to start going after what I want."

This time, she pairs her words with a subtle step forward. It's not enough for their bodies to press together, but the intention is more than clear. It's a hint and a warning all wrapped up in one. One the Widow could easily ignore if she wanted to.

Wanda almost expects her to, considering how shifty her eyes are. How her attention seems to bounce around the room more and more. She's sure she's never seen the older woman so nervous before. It's as cute as it is enticing.

Finally, Natasha relents. She lets out a long sigh, her gaze shifting back to Wanda's. "You couldn't find a more appropriate time for that?"

The younger woman's smile turns into a smirk. Her free hand reaches out, manicured fingers running down the length of the redhead's arm. "We could always...sneak away, just the two of us..."

Natasha lets out a soft chuckle at that, her resistance clearly wavering, even as she tries to hold strong. "I don't think that's a smart idea, princess."

Wanda's pout is almost enough to make her melt. Almost.

"Why not? Aren't we on the same page about this?"

"It's not that simple."

The witch knows she should at least ask why. That she should pretend to care about the hesitations she knows are swimming around in Natasha's head. She doesn't need to read her mind to know what they are, why they matter. But it's hard to think straight when her advances aren't being rejected. When she's so close to getting what she wants.

So, instead of doing any of the rational things the Widow seems to be struggling with, she wordlessly grabs her hand and leads her away from prying eyes. They're a few ways away but still near the hustle and bustle of the party. Far away to fully hear each other but close enough to be caught if someone decided to wander around.

She's not fully thinking about that possibilty, though. All her focus is on Natasha and getting her to admit how much she wants her. How much she needs this too.

Without thinking about the consequences, she pushes the older woman up against the wall, their eyes meeting once more. The bright green flecks of Natasha's eyes seem to sparkle almost dangerously. Unfortunately, Wanda is too far gone to heed the warnings.

"Wanda, we can't." There's no real discomfort in the Widow's voice. No real attempt at getting the younger woman to stop.

So, she doesn't.

Wanda merely lets out a soft hum but makes no attempt to step away or fully listen to the older woman's complaints. Instead, she leans in more insistently, her lips trailing up Natasha's neck and leaving heated kisses on her skin.

The redhead wants to pull away. To tell Wanda to stop and let her walk away before they do something they'll regret. It's impossible to fight against her, though. Especially when her hands join the slow exploration.

"Why can't we?" The witch asks, her hands settling on Natasha's hips. "Why do you want to pretend like you don't want me?"

The sound the redhead makes is somewhere between a huff and a groan. "That's not what I'm doing. I'm just trying to be smart about this."

"There's nothing smart about this," she replies. "But I want you and you want me. What more do we need?"

Natasha opens her mouth to answer but Wanda doesn't give her a chance. In one swift move, she hooks the redhead's leg around her waist before pressing herself against her, drawing a soft gasp from her parted lips.

"You were saying?"

"You're so annoying, little witch."

The teasing nickname makes Wanda huff. Sure, it also makes her heart skip a beat but mostly, it annoys her. "Then tell me to stop, 'Tasha."

"Just shut up and kiss me already."

There it is. The permission she'd been waiting for. The clear admittance that their feelings were the same. That the sparks of desire she'd been feeling during training weren't one-sided delusions.

The witch wastes no time in connecting their lips once the realization hits her. Despite the intensity of their desires, the kiss is surprisingly soft.

It's still more than a little desperate and yet there's an edge of affection that makes them melt. That leaves them craving more.

Thankfully, they both have more than enough ideas on how to fix that craving. The youngest of the two takes the leap first, though, not one bit embarrased of showing how desperate she is for more.

Wanda grinds her hips up against Natasha's, slowly hiking her dress up to reveal the smooth skin underneath the fabric. There's something about both the setting and their outfits that drives them both mad. Something about being so exposed and yet so composed at the same time. Something about the matching black fabric of their dresses that turns them on more.

Her lips leave the Widow's just to trail down her jaw, her hands moving down her body with purpose. She grips her hips hard enough to move the older woman against her as she easily slots one of her thighs between her legs, giving her the perfect surface to grind against.

"You're so quiet, 'Tasha," the witch teases, unable to stop her flourishing dominant side for rearing its head.

Natasha knows she's allowing herself to slip. That she shouldn't be letting her guard down like this. Shouldn't be giving Wanda this much control over her.

It's not like she can help it, though. There's an intensity behind the younger woman's movements that she doesn't want to fight against. She wants to let it consume her until there's nothing left. No trace of her fears or hesitations.

She's not about to admit that any time soon, though. Even as her bucking hips give her away.

"That's because we're in public," she replies, keeping her voice as even as she can. "I can actually control myself unlike some people."

Wanda chuckles, keeping up her slow movements. "That's not what your hips are telling me."

"You're the one moving them," she shoots back.

The witch leans back slightly, a smirk forming on her face and pairing beautifully with her dialated pupils. "Is that so? If I move my hands away, you'll stop trying to hump my leg?"

Without waiting for an answer, she moves her hands away from the redhead's hips, allowing her fingers to trail up her torso toward her chest. She keeps her touch light and teasing, using it to further draw out the other woman's desires.

"That's not fair," Natasha huffs, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as the attention piles on. "You're the one that started this, you have to finish it."

"But we haven't even started yet, have we? You still have too many clothes on."

Wanda's fingers linger on the strap of Natasha's dress, sliding it down just enough to allow her lips to connect to the exposed skin. She focuses her attention on that spot just enough to make the older woman's hips buck against her.

"Fuck," she groans. "This is so unfair."

"I think it's more than fair. I can feel how much you want me. You're soaked, aren't you?"

Her question is met with another groan, this one in a sightly higher, more desperate, pitch. The witch is right, of course. She's already drenched and all she's done is lazily grind against her thigh.

It's practically impossible to stop her body from responding to her, though. Even without reading her mind, she knows her cues all too well after spending so much sparring with her.

Then again, she's pretty sure she wouldn't mind allowing her to invade her thoughts. Something about the lack of control makes her gush.

The low chuckle Natasha's thought is met with makes her eyes widen in response, her hands coming up to grip the younger woman’s shoulders. “Are you seriously reading my mind right now?”

Wanda knows the redhead is trying to sound intimidating but she’s far too breathless, far too wet against her thigh, for her to feel anything but satisfaction. “I couldn’t help it, your thoughts are so loud.”

The response is exactly what she had been expecting and all she can do is huff. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Her words only make Wanda bolder. With her words, her touch, her unbearable need to make the other woman fall apart just for her. “I thought you wanted me in your mind, ‘Tasha?”

The Widow knows she's been caught. That even if the witch didn't spend much time in her head, she knows how much she loves this. How much she wants this. This back and forth dance that will no doubt end with her on her knees.

And still, she's far too stubborn to admit it.

"Shut up." It's a weak remark but it's the only one she has. The only two words she can coherently form as her hips roll against the hard muscle pressing so insistently against her heat. "If you wanted to talk so much, you should have taken me on a date."

"If you don't like me talking so much, why are you so wet?"

It's infuriating. For every snarky response she can form, Wanda has two more waiting for her. It's like she knows exactly how to work her up, exactly how to meet her where she's at instead of trying to change her. It's more than infuriating, it's...it's sweet. In its own complicated, slightly fucked up way, the witch is being sweet.

Maybe it's that realization that makes her melt. Or maybe she's just too pent up to care anymore. She knows what the answer is, but she ignores it in favor of gripping Wanda's wrist and guiding it between her legs.

"I'd prefer it if you stopped talking and started doing, princess."

The witch's body tenses for a second, almost like her brain is struggling to catch up to reality, but then her fingers are working their way into Natasha's underwear and they both let out twin moans at the feeling.

Instead of taking a moment to tease her, Wanda dives right in, her patience fading with every buck of the older woman's hips. She sinks two fingers into Natasha's aching cunt, barely reminding herself to take it easy. To draw her pleasure out until she's writhing and groaning.

"Is this better for you, 'Tasha?" She asks, her lips making their way to Natasha's neck once more. She knows better than to leave too many marks behind, but she can't help her urges and she sinks her teeth into the side of the older woman's neck.

Natasha's walls clench around her fingers, nails digging into the witch's jacket as sparks of pleasure shoot up her spine. She arches her back into her touch, her hips bucking a little too wildly for her taste. It's not like she can help her movements. Not when it feels so good.

"Wanda," she moans, her cheeks heating up as she realizes how desperate she sounds. "Fuck, don't stop."

If Wanda was slightly more sadistic she would push her to beg. As enticing as that sounds, she'd much prefer to show her how good she can make her feel instead.

"I won't," she says as her thumb finds its way onto Natasha's swollen clit. "Not until you fall apart for me. Until you admit how good I make you feel."

Her pride seems like a small price to pay for the pleasure that's turning her brain to mush. She opens her mouth to stroke Wanda's ego some more when the younger woman speeds up her movements, her fingers curling just enough to leave her gasping.

She pushes her hips into her fingers with every thrust, looking far more needy than she ever allows herself to be. "Right there, fuck, feels so good."

Natasha's never really been one for talking during sex, far too accustomed to selfish lovers who don't need her approval to feel like they're doing things right. It's different this time, though. Not just because she genuinly feels good, but because it's so clear that Wanda feels good. That this is what she wants. Touching her, pleasing her, driving her to the brink of madness. The witch has never looked more comfortable, more in her element, than she does right now.

"You gonna cum for me already?" The witch teases, pretending she's not doing everything in her power to make the older woman fall apart. "Here? Where anyone could see you? See how desperate you are for my fingers?"

The slight degradation shouldn't turn her on more, but it does. It makes her head fall back as an incoherent string of curses leave her lips. She knows she should at least feel a little emberrased but she can't. Can't think about anything except Wanda's fingers pistoning in and out of her wet pussy.

"Yes," she replies breathlessly. "I need- need to cum."

Wanda doubles her efforts as soon as she hears Natasha admit how close she is. Her thumb presses down on her twitching clit, rubbing fast circles against it until the Widow's walls are spasming around her fingers.

"That's it, let go for me, 'Tasha. Make a mess on my fingers."

She doesn't have to be told twice.

The coil in Natasha's stomach snaps almost instantly, leaving her clinging to the witch as the pleasure crashes into her all at once.

Wanda watches her with wide eyes, greedily drinking in every twitch of her face, every desperate sound she can't hold back. She's sure she's never seen anything so breathtaking in her life.

All it does, though, is make her realize how much more she wants. How badly she needs Natasha. How her mind has filled up with fantasies she's not sure she can live without.

After losing everything she's ever had, she has to have the older woman.

That will come later, though, right now, she has more important things to focus on. Like making sure Natasha can walk long enough for them to retire to her room for the night.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat #wandanat smut #wandanat fic #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #avengers fanfiction #mcu imagine #marvel fic #wlw fic #writing

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puma-riki · 11 hours ago

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AND, BABY, EVEN ON OUR WORST NIGHTS IM INTO YOU!ˎˊ˗

๋࣭ ⭑ Ѕ𝘺𝘯𝓸𝙥𝒔𝓲𝑠: Who in Enhypen I think is most likely to still be super in love with you even when you’re arguing/mad at them

ꮐ𝛠ｎ𝕣𝟈: Fluff ── .✦. ── 𝑾α𝑟𝚗ｉ𝘯𝓰𝑠: None

𝙁𝙚𝚊𝘵𝚞𝘳𝔦𝒏𝓰: Heeseung, Jungwon & Ni-ki

Authors Note: WOW you can really see the bias here, to be honest i have no idea what this is I just started word vomiting

────────────────────────

HEESEUNG

Who else is shocked

he's a simple man, okay?

a simple, weak, pathetic, hopelessly in love man

he doesn't even remember what he was supposed to be arguing with you about because he has never been more into you rn

However, he also can't stand how you'll ignore him afterward and refuse to touch him

You're sulking in the passenger seat of his car, arms crossed, and your legs lean against the door instead of towards him. He keeps sneakily blatantly glancing at you every time he can while he drives.

You won't even look at him and it's driving him crazy. Even though you look super cute sulking in his car and in his leather jacket. He had done something to make you upset during your trip to the mall. You ended up being snappy with him and said some not very nice things before stalking off ahead of him.

You had left him there in a daze and he really wished he remembered what you said to him because he was too focused on the way your alluring eyes narrowed at him, how glossy your lips looked, the way your cheeks puffed up, and how your hair flowed when you turned and left him standing there in the middle of the bustling mall.

You had gotten a few feet away from him before he snapped out of it and caught up to you, only for you to ignore him the whole way back to the car. Now, here you are, sitting beside him, still looking all pouty and adorable, and Heeseung is losing his mind.

He risks another glance at you. Bad idea. The way your arms are still crossed, the way his oversized leather jacket drowns you, the way your lips are pressed together in frustration—he’s never been more in love with you than in this exact moment.

"Baby," he finally says, his voice laced with amusement and something a little softer, a little sweeter.

Nothing. You don’t even flinch.

Heeseung grips the steering wheel a little tighter, fighting a smile. "You're really not gonna talk to me?" He tries again, tilting his head, hoping—praying—you’ll at least look at him.

Still, nothing.

He lets out a dramatic sigh. "You're literally killing me right now," he groans, dropping one hand from the wheel to poke at your thigh. "Do you even know how cute you are when you're mad?"

Your glare shoots to him immediately, eyes sharp and lips parting like you’re about to tell him off—

"Heeseung," A surprisingly soft tone.

"Thats my name,"

"Will you be quiet." The irritation is back in your voice. You turn towards the window again

"Okay, but can I make a deal with you?" he says, glancing over at you again, completely ignoring the way you’re still facing the window, arms crossed tight.

You don’t answer, of course. But he knows you’re listening.

"If I make the next red light, you have to give me a kiss," he announces proudly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel like this is the best idea he’s ever had.

Your head whips toward him, eyes narrowed. "What?"

Heeseung grins. Hook, line, and sinker.

"You heard me, pretty. A kiss. Next red light."

You scoff, turning away again. "Absolutely not."

"Aw, come on," he whines dramatically, shifting in his seat like a restless kid. "You love kissing me."

No response.

"You do," he insists. "You’re just mad right now, but you’re totally gonna cave. I know you."

Still, nothing.

Heeseung sighs, then switches tactics. "Okay, okay. No kiss. But can I at least hold your hand? Just a little bit? One pinky? A thumb?"

Silence.

Heeseung pouts. "Baby, please."

You shake your head.

He groans like he’s physically in pain. "You're actually breaking my heart right now. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Nothing.

He sighs dramatically again, waiting for the next stoplight. Then, when it finally turns red, he perks up.

"Last chance. Give me a kiss, and I’ll shut up. Forever if you want." he says, already grinning because he knows damn well you won’t fall for that.

Sure enough, you turn to him, deadpan. "You definitely won't."

Heeseung pouts, hand flying to his chest like you’ve wounded him. "You wound me."

You roll your eyes. "You're so stupid."

"And you're so pretty," he fires back, laying his hand on the center console. "Now hold my hand."

You exhale sharply, glaring at him for a second longer—then, with a huff, you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers.

Heeseung beams. Like, full-on, brightest-smile-ever beams.

"You’re ridiculous," you mutter.

"But you're still holding my hand," he teases, squeezing your fingers.

You groan, but you don’t pull away.

Heeseung just grins even harder, bringing your hand up to press a quick kiss to your knuckles.

Mad or not, you’re still his. And he’s never been more into you.

JUNGWON

This man YEARNS to have you angry or annoyed at him

and I am dead serious.

He is a younger brother so it's in his blood to be annoying and you are absolutely no exception.

He loves poking, teasing, pulling at your clothes, following you around, pissing you off basically

and when you get pissed off then that means you're paying attention to him

and that's all he really wants (he also just likes being all up in your business because he's clingy, but he'd never say that out loud)

You're never actually mad at him, of course.

but you do get annoyed with him and that leads to petty arguments that are easily swept under the rug because he's just so cutie how could you ever actually be mad.

"Stop."

"Stop what?" He asks innocently as he leans back on the bed on his hands and tilts his head.

"Stop wasting my highlighter and spreading it on my face." You roll your eyes at him from your seat at your vanity.

You've been trying to get ready to go out for about an hour and the whole time Jungwon has been at your side. He followed you around the house as you went back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom, to the kitchen. At that point, he was just talking your ear off, and you found it cute that he was following you around much like a meowing cat would.

But now he was just being annoying to get you riled up.

Jungwon grins, completely unbothered. He stands up and returns to his spot next to you at your vanity, looking down at you unscrewing a tube of mascara. “But it looks good on you,” he teases, swiping a bit more highlighter onto his finger before reaching for your cheek again.

You grab his wrist to stop him. “Jungwon.”

“What?” He laughs, feigning innocence as he leans closer, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m just helping you glow, angel.” with a simple flick of his finger he successfully wipes the shimmery powder on your cheek. The sight of your exposed neck as you try to tilt away from his hand makes his heart skip a beat.

“You’re making me look like a disco ball,” you deadpan, glaring at your now overly shimmery cheek in the mirror. You let go of Jungwon and set the mascara down to trade it for another makeup wipe.

Jungwon hums, dramatically tilting his head. “Mmm… a really cute disco ball, though.”

You groan, turning back to your vanity to finish getting ready—only to realize something is missing.

“Wait, where’s my—” You whip around just in time to catch Jungwon smirking as he dangles your mascara between his fingers.

Your eyes narrow. “Jungwon.”

“Hm?” He blinks innocently, twirling the tube in his hand. “Looking for this?”

“Give it back.”

“I dunno… do you really need it?” He grins, holding it just out of reach as you step closer. “I think you look perfect already.”

You lunge for it, but he’s faster, twisting away and laughing as he runs and flops onto the bed, holding the mascara hostage against his chest. “You want it? Come get it.”

Oh, he thinks he’s so smart.

Without hesitation, you climb onto the bed, straddling him as you wrestle for the tube. “Jungwon, I swear—”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, his hands moving to your waist as he tries to keep you from prying the mascara from his grip. But then, suddenly, he stops fighting.

Because you’re right there.

Hovering over him, lips parted in frustration, eyes burning into his with determination. His heart stutters, and he realizes… he really didn’t think this through. Or maybe he did. Doesn't matter, you're literally on top of him he's living the dream.

Your fingers finally close around the mascara, yanking it free, but Jungwon hardly notices. He’s too busy staring up at you, completely mesmerized.

You pause, noticing his dazed expression. “…What?”

His grip on your waist tightens slightly, a lazy, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “Just… you’re really pretty when you’re mad.”

Your breath catches for just a second—before you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

But before you roll off him completely, you lean down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips—just enough to throw him off before you sit up again, triumphant.

Jungwon blinks, caught between being smug and utterly lovestruck. “Wait—”

“Nope.” You cut him off, hopping off the bed and walking back to your vanity with your mascara in hand. “I meant what I said.”

Jungwon groans dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “That was definitely getting me somewhere.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you say, applying your mascara with a satisfied smirk.

From the bed, Jungwon watches you, lips still tingling from the kiss, his heart so full it’s embarrassing. Yeah. He definitely won.

NI-KI

he's also a younger brother so yk what that means

he might be even more annoying because he is so smug and flirty someone stop him

he lives for the reactions you give him when he teases you

the way your face flushes, how your touch warms and lingers on his body when you smack him when he says something flirty,

don't even get him started on how you avoid his gaze because he's made you so flustered so then he has to guide your face to look at him by delicately grabbing your chin between his fingers

SOMEONE STOP HIM IMMEDIETLY, I QUIT

which is why he keeps pushing his luck and it's no one's fault but his own when you get fed up with him and present him the most horrible, agonizing, and cruel thing man has ever created

The silent treatment

Truly, it is his worst enemy

He can't think of a worse treatment other than not being able to talk to you.

But it also might be the best thing that's happened to him because he finds out that you are so so so fine when you're mad at him.

"Are you really not gonna talk to me?" Ni-ki asks as he stands in front of you. You're sitting on the small black leather couch in his room. you look up from your phone and give him a look that says it all.

He knew this would happen eventually, but he's not sorry. Like at all. You had gotten back from a trip to the mall almost an hour ago and you've been ignoring him for two hours.

You wanted to get new clothes and just window shop. You looked absolutely breathtaking walking next to him, or just standing next to him really. You were wearing one of his jackets with a cute skirt and a plain top. You were just cute. Especially when you tilt your head up to look at him because he's standing so close to you. He let his cuteness aggression get the best of him and he started teasing and flirting with you shamelessly in public. It was fine at first, he'd poked your cheek, tugged on the sleeve of your jacket, pulled you closer to him.

But then he started getting annoying.

He put his cold hands on the back of your neck, making you yelp. He ruffled your hair and messed it up. He squished your cheeks together and probably smudged some of your makeup. Wrapped his arm around your waist and pinched your side so you squirmed and fell into him. Basically, would not leave you the hell alone for 5 seconds. This man had pissed you off for the last time. Because then he started really pushing your buttons, passing you shamelessly flirty comments out loud in a very public space. They weren't even that crazy, but it still turned you into a flustered mess, while he just laughed.

But he just couldn't stop. Seeing you flustered over things he'd say was way too much fun. The way you’d stammer, your eyes going wide before darting away, how you’d smack his arm but still let your fingers linger for just a second longer than necessary—Ni-ki lived for it. He knew exactly what to say, exactly how to push your buttons, and he had no shame about using that knowledge to his full advantage.

Now he's suffering the consequences.

Two entire hours of pure torture. He hasn't heard you laugh in 2 hours or heard your voice. You'll hardly look at him and he's about to just sink to the floor and hope you'll take pity on him and smother him with affection like he wants you to.

“You’re really still mad?” he tries again, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When you don’t respond, he sighs dramatically and drops onto the couch beside you, his head leaning against the back of the couch “[Name].”

Silence.

“Angel.”

Nothing.

"My beautiful, intelligent, cute, girlfriend who I'm so lucky to have."

A glare.

You turn more towards your arm of the couch and keep scrolling on your phone. Ni-ki sighs and looks up at the ceiling. Then back at you. You're biting your cheek and your eyebrows are furrowed in frustration as your fingers fly across your phone. He can only guess you're dragging his name through the mud to your friends. But he could care less about that, he raises his hand to poke the cheek you're biting on—

"If you poke me one more time today, I will beat the shit out of you."

He swallows. Okay. Maybe he really had done too much this time.

For a moment, he contemplates just admitting defeat, apologizing, and behaving like a good boyfriend for the rest of the day. But then again, when has he ever been able to resist testing his limits?

Instead he moves to quickly pluck your phone out of your hands. You scoff and turn towards him. "Give it back, Riki, seriously"

Ni-ki smirks, holding your phone just out of reach as you reach for it. "Oh, so you can talk to me," he muses, dodging your grab with ease.

"Riki." Your tone is sharp, but he can see the flicker of exasperated affection in your eyes.

"You're still calling me Riki? You must not be that mad." he grins, shifting back just in case you decide to lunge for it.

You narrow your eyes. "Give. It. Back."

"Hmm." He pretends to think about it, twirling your phone between his fingers. "But see, I don't really feel like it."

You lunge.

Ni-ki yelps, scrambling back against the couch as you climb over him, reaching for your phone with determined fury. He barely has time to react before you’ve got your hands on his wrist, attempting to pry it free. But all he can think about—despite the very real threat of you actually hitting him—is how attractive you are like this.

The fire in your eyes, the way your lips purse in frustration, the fact that you're putting your full body weight into wrestling your phone from his grip—his heart is pounding.

Damn, he thinks he's found something better than flustering you.

"You are—" you grunt, tugging at his wrist, "—so annoying!"

"And you—" he flips your phone behind his back, eyes sparkling, "—are so pretty when you're mad at me."

You freeze for half a second, before promptly smacking his chest. Hard.

"Oof—hey!" he laughs, wincing dramatically. "That was uncalled for."

"Well, that's what you get. You are seriously so..." You can't even find the word to describe your fading irritation with him, as he looks up at you with a love-sick gaze. Is he biting his damn lip right now? You raise your hand up to his face, as if you're going to claw his eyes out, and let it curl into a fist and fall to your side. "Ugh!"

"And yet, you're still in my lap," he teases, grinning up at you.

Realizing your position—straddling his thighs as you try to wrestle your phone back—you huff and move to get off him. But before you can, Ni-ki’s arms wrap securely around your waist, pulling you right back.

"Not so fast," he murmurs, tilting his head as he gazes up at you. His voice has dropped just enough to make your breath catch. "You still haven't forgiven me."

Your resolve wavers for a fraction of a second. He sees it, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

Ni-ki leans up slightly, closing the distance between you two, his face just inches from yours. "Say you forgive me," he murmurs, voice teasing but eyes soft. "Or else I might just keep you here all night."

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, you genuinely forget why you were mad at him in the first place. But then you remember exactly why, and with a sudden burst of strength, you snatch your phone from his distracted grip.

"I'll forgive you never," you declare, pushing off him and retreating to his bed, where you hope he'll leave you alone to sit and think about how he should make it up to you.

Ni-ki just watches you, lips curling into a slow grin. He places a hand over his chest, feeling his own heartbeat racing.

Yeah. He was absolutely done for.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧!)ᯓ★

Taglist | @jiiyen @yangjungwonnie @amoressb @sugarikiz @stvrriki

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nottivagos · 2 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/buralaryalannstuff/773302179869163520?source=share

this is SO stalker!carlos comforting reader (could also be me) (please)

no idea attached to this, i just saw it and had to share it!!

- 🐇

an: i'm not classing this as a notebook post because there's no filth. it's basically a long ass idea (poorly written, i'm too tired for grammar today) that has been in my drafts for ages. on that note, more and more every day i believe we are the same person, 🐇anon because HOW DID WE GET THE SAME POST AND SAME IDEA IN THE SAME DAY?!?!?!?

it was the same as it usually was. a bad dream followed by carlos’s arms around you, your emotional state confused by the emotions you were feeling. your mind frantic as it was on overdrive.

the dream was always vivid and constant, as if you were living in the moment again. he’d come around for dinner, that charming look glimmering in his eye as he passed you that wine glass, before they had darkened upon your first sip.

then it was fuzzy. the distant crack of a mobile phone followed by some muffled words. did you even finish your food? that you couldn’t remember. you must’ve done, surely. what was it again? it was definitely hearty— warming, even. then it was darkness. you could remember being awoken by that bumpy dirt track, before carlos pressed a sweet finger on your lips, cooing you so you’d fall back asleep again. to which you did with no protests.

the next phase, however, was more corrupted and stark. carlos’s uncontrollable rage when you tried to leave for the first time, the pathetic tears that shed and burnt your cheeks from the fact that they fell so uncontrollably. the sheer fear followed by a half-assed “i’m sorry, cariño” as he held you that night, before laying you ever so gently onto his lap, toying with your hair absentmindedly in the silence of your new home. the forest and your little cottage. that stupid, stupid dream he’d made a fucking reality, even if it was being seen through rose tinted glasses.

then came the lack of contact with your parents and friends. carlos’s sweet words when he tried to explain that you didn’t need them anymore. that first christmas you’d both shared, the new phone he’d gifted you with the numbers he thought you needed already put into it. the way “my love” rolled off his lips whenever he walked into a room to see you. that stupid smile you always smiled when he did so, followed by a pounding heart and an afraid face whenever his body language tensed at something you’d done or said that he didn’t approve of.

“oh my sweet girl,” broke you out of your frantic thoughts. carlos then sighed, brushing your hair from your eyes with a large hand in a sweet gesture. it felt right being here like this. in carlos’s embrace, feeling his warmth as burly arms cradled your sobbing form, engulfing you with his size like a blanket of love and safety.

a choked sob followed. your big watery eyes came to look up at his caring brown doe ones as you sniffled, rosy coloured lips formed into a pout as your cheeks stained crimson and stung from the salty tears you’d shed.

“what are these tears for, hmm?” he consoled ever so gently, his thick accent like the calm in the storm as calloused pads of his thumbs came to brush some stray tears from your cheeks, coming to cup your face. “it’s just a dream, nena. just a dream,” he whispered as if he was talking to a child.

you were too emotional to speak. sobs were the only thing to escape your lips, throat dry as you strangled yourself in your own overwhelming sadness.

“that’s alright,” carlos soothed, pressing your face back against his chest as you continued to cry. “we can talk about it later,” he murmured into your ear, pressing a loving kiss against your temple whilst a hand came to tangle in your hair whilst cupping the back of your head.

“i-i’m sorry,” your croaky voice managed merely a whisper of an apology, nuzzling your face into his chest. carlos knew you’d ruin his shirt with your messed up mascara, but he was willing to sacrifice that if it meant you were safe and happy in his arms.

“shh,” he was quick to shush you, pressing another loving peck against the top of your head as he sighed contently. “there’s no need to talk right now,” carlos mumbled, “just let it all out,” his other hand coming to wrap around your waist, his thumb brushing up and down your spine gently in soothing motions.

and it was in these moments that it felt pure with carlos. he cared. of course he fucking cared, he was the only one for you. he believed in his own sick and twisted way. your soul and life was his, but all in all, was it so bad? a few night terrors were easily fixed in these moments as carlos kissed away your tears, whispering those sweet words you desperately needed to hear into your ear as you just hopelessly let him comfort you. like always. and forever. <3

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drownedthemall · 10 hours ago

Text

sweetness of her laugher

part 4 - fate

caracalla x noble!reader x geta

a/n - sorry for taking so long, hopefully, you enjoy this chapter <3

4k words

summary - the gladiator games have begun and the emperors are eager for you to indulge in the cruelty

also, general acacius has plans for you...

You tried to sleep off the things that you had witnessed today. But to no avail, slumber does not visit you. You hope to attempt to remedy this by revisiting the gardens. You rise from your bed, tiptoeing to the door of your room. You peer outside. The guard subtly turns his head towards you. You request, "I'd like to go to the gardens.", you whisper softly.

He shakes his head, "Princess, It is not recommended for anyone to be out at this time, I cannot let you.", he denies your request with haste.

"Please, sir", you jokingly pout, attempting to convince him. "You can watch over me if you're that worried," you argue with the visibly annoyed guard.

He sighs defeated, "Fine, my lady..", he shakes his head in disapproval. You lightly smile at how easily he gave up. He leads you to the gardens, standing guard by one of the columns as he watches over you. You peer over your shoulder to see if he's following you. He is not.

You head over towards the fishpond that is surrounded by an abundant amount of rose bushes. You do this as you ponder the route you want to take this night. You stand over the pond, trying to make out any of the fish that could be in the body of water. Which proved difficult when only the moonlight was illuminating the pond. You then see a shadow from up above move quickly. "An owl?", you try to rationalise to yourself.

Suddenly everything was really quiet. Maybe it only seems that way. Nevertheless, you check for where the praetorian was stood at. Your heart stops as you notice that he's gone. This leaves you frantically looking over any column you could see from where you're stood at, thinking that maybe you've just misremembered. But no, he's gone. That's when you immediately come to terms with that you should probably head back to your chambers.

There was a reason for the guard discouraging you from coming here. It's not a secret that a large population of Romans are not pleased with the Emperors. It's only a matter of time before people gather and revolt. Likely, someone from the inside may even plan an uprising of some sort. It's not like it's unheard of. You however do not want to be caught amid something like that. Yes, you may have grown to like the two but the fact they hold the titles of Emperors can intrigue any woman, right? The fact you've been around them puts you in danger, despite how much you'd like to not think about that. However, the truth prevails. You shouldn't have come here. Not just the gardens, but Rome itself.

As you turn round you're greeted by a tall figure. You feel as though your soul has transcended through five different lifetimes. You gasp and take a few steps back. The calves of your legs hit the cold stone edge of the pond, making you off-balanced. A pair of hands come to your rescue. They grasp your forearms, stopping you from making a bigger fool of yourself. You are about to fight back but you notice the familiar robes of the man before you. This seems to reunite you and your soul as you come to realise it was Geta. He pulls you into his chest. He holds you tight as if the water is about to steal what is rightfully his.

You sigh relieved, "Emperor..", you lean your head against his chest. His face entangles into your hair, "I didn't mean to scare you.." he mutters softly. You can feel how the warmth of his breath nestles into your bed of hair. As you calm, the embarrassment sets in and so does the realisation of the position you're in.

Eventually, you build up the courage to push yourself away from his hold. You could instantly imagine the scowl that painted his face. He moves his hands to your waist, still keeping you secure in place. He breaks the silence, "Why are you out this late", his tone was oddly accusatory as if he had just foiled some kind of treacherous plan of yours.

You try your damn hardest to avoid his accusing glare, already having to endure the effects of his touch and the closeness between the two of you. "I couldn't sleep, Emperor, I was just seeking some fresh air..", you try explaining yourself.

"Does your balcony not provide you with that?" he continues with his rather harsh tone.

"I..", you begin, "I'm sorry, Emperor", you apologise defeated. You knew it was a bad idea to argue with him. Aware that one misstep could very well acquaint you with the scythe.

Your tone of voice seemed to have soothed him, but you could still sense his distrust. He brings up one of his hands from your waist to your face. He cups the side of your cheek. Alluding that he wants you to look at him. So you do. He caresses your cheek, he likes the fact that you are weary of him. That you were unsure of his intentions, he revelled in that. However, now, he wanted you to wholeheartedly give yourself to him. He didn't want you to fear him while in such an intimate moment. His hand travels down to your bare neck, which wasn't adorned by any necklaces. This brings your attention to the fact that he is not accessorised either. Though he is still in his formal robes from earlier today, he must've been in the process of going to bed. He was the owl in question.

His knuckles brush up and down your neck. "..Don't be afraid", he softly begins, "I won't hurt you.", he attempts to reassure you. Whether his words are truthful or not, they work. His other hand comes up to tuck a loose strand of hair away from your face. You see the way he's concentrated on every subtle movement your face makes. You didn't realise you were holding your breath. You breathe out, "Would you like to join me in my stroll?", you ask, knowing this is the only way you could accomplish what you had set out for yourself earlier.

He stops all of his caresses and thinks about what you suggested. After what feels like an eternity he nods in agreement. He takes hold of your hand and beckons you to follow him. He has already decided the route for you two to take.

You two walk along the gravelled pathway, with distantly placed oil lamps emitting the way. The pace of you two is leisurely, which would be perfect for admiring the greenery surrounding you both. However, the drowning darkness of the night only points your attention to the man who is holding your hand. How his toga has left his shoulder bare and exposed for the sight of only you and the Gods to see. How he keeps glancing back at you as if you're going to disappear if he takes his eyes off of you.

You pull away the blanket of silence that has draped over the both of you, "Why was I even invited for this whole...", you flail your free hand, not knowing how to describe this whole arrangement.

Geta just stares at you for a moment before answering, "Caracalla likes you, that's why.", he states almost dismissively.

This frustrates you further, "But how does he know of me?", you huff, seeming to have now found the courage to voice your mind.

He just shrugs his shoulders. "I had not known of you previously... He was just very adamant on it being you", he explains in his bored, unamused tone.

You were expecting to get some proper answers out of him. You deserve to know why after being dragged all the way out here. Where you know not a single soul that resides in Rome. How even when you try to find a moment of peace it only gets ripped away from you, as if you don't deserve it. Your spiralling thoughts end with, "Now, can we not mention his name?", he looks you in the eyes as you two near the pond again. You just hum in response, even though he was the one to bring him up in the first place.

---

This morning you're awoken by the sun's rays. They cast a warm glow over your face. Which is a nice change compared to how you were awoken the night before. As your mind leaves the ever-so-comforting dreamscape, you're reminded of the games happening today. This only brings forth dread to your shortly lived sweet morning. At least you'll see Acacius...

You reluctantly peel away the warm covers, immediately longing to just curl back into them. Bam. You jump at the noise. Why can't you ever find peace? You turn your attention to the location of the noise, only to be met with an unexpected embrace. Your door had been barged open by none other than Caracalla. Your head once again meets the feathered silk pillows. His legs straddle the sides of your body as his face is mere inches from yours. He drinks up your worried expression and admires every freckle and blemish that lies upon your skin. "You're already awake", he says in a hushed voice.

"Yes... I am", you whisper as you try to wrangle yourself from him. He only giggles at the attempt, grabbing a hold of both your wrists.

He leans in to whisper in your ear, "Are you excited?", his earring settles on your lips. You feel your insides twist at the implication.

"For the gladiator games?", you hoarsely ask, your voice not yet prepared for the day.

He slightly moves back, bringing your hands closer, manipulating them to cup his face. "Yes, for the games," he answers as he leans into your touch. You decide to answer honestly, shaking your head in response. You felt that you could be more truthful with Caracalla. Even if you disagreed or didn't fully align on things, you sense that he would still cling to you. You didn't share the same sentiment with his brother, however.

He furrows his brows, "Hm? Why not..?", he asks queried, almost offended.

"I don't know how to feel about the violence", you answer, shying away from his burning stare.

He chuckles, "Well, I suggest you feel excited, invigorated..." he begins, "..and aroused", he ends the sentence in a breathy tone.

You can't help but look displeased at his words, you knew the Emperors were sadistic. But you can't even pretend to not be phased by his gross verbiage about people dying for entertainment. However, Caracalla misreads your expression. He turns his head, his lips making contact with your palms. He kisses them. "Don't worry," he comforts. He leaves another kiss. "It'll be fun, I promise", he mumbles against the palm of your hand. You notice the way his breath left your palms wet, his kisses only doing the same.

"I shouldn't be here", he admits quietly. He continues, "Geta would not be pleased", he giggles like a misbehaving child, putting emphasis and pause on the word 'not'.

"He would not?", you ask rather worriedly, afraid that if Geta were to find out he'd somehow put all the blame on you.

He smiles amused as if reading your mind "Only at me, don't worry", he kisses your bare inner wrist, "I won't let anyone hurt you", he says in an unusually lucid tone.

You hate to admit but your heart is quite literally doing cartwheels. These two must be affecting your mind somehow because all of a sudden you're feeling beyond impulsive. You take advantage of the fact that his head is in your hands and you pull him towards you. His mouth is subtly open and his eyes are glazed over in desire. His lucidity disappeared in mere seconds. He stabilises himself by pressing his hands into the bedding. Your lips meet his, and your attempt at keeping this short and sweet changes as he deepens the kiss. He nips at your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to dance along with yours. Your hand find itself in his hair, and you tug and pull on his red locks as the two of you 'fight'. He pulls away to catch his breath, saliva coating both of yours and his lips. He admires you in a daze, bringing one of his hands to caress your lips. Sliding his thumb over your bottom lip. A boundary has now fallen and the pit in your stomach tells you that you will come to regret it

Thud. Caracalla doesn't even bother to look over at who has entered the room, only devoting his attention to you. You, however, do and see a familiar redhead. You want to crawl into a ditch and die. The Emperor above you seems to feel zero shame, this mustn't be a very rare predicament for him to be in. You wonder how often he's been caught in the act.

"Brother," Geta states sternly, looking over the two of you as if he's a bull that's seen red.

The older redhead only continues absentmindedly playing with your hair, disregarding his brother's presence, "What do you want.", he says boredly.

"What did I tell you about doing this?", he sighs frustrated at his older brother's actions as if this has been discussed extensively without your knowledge.

He rolls his eyes, "Oh, please, it's not like she's complaining," he finally looks at his brother and then immediately returns to you, "You like this, right?", pressuring you to answer.

You feel humiliated. Your already flushed pink face only turns into a more noticeable shade. You open your mouth to answer but Geta interrupts, "Don't play into his stupid games," he dictates.

Now this ticks him off, "Hah, fuck off," he throws a murderous look towards Geta, "You always ruin everything." He roughly kisses you one last time before leaving you to process everything.

The way they treat you makes you wish you could peel your own skin off. The way they play with you like you were some kind of doll. Sure, you are growing to like them... but is that due to your isolation and inability to compare actual normal interactions to theirs? Or are you truly becoming just as sick as them? Infested with the disease that undoubtedly plagues both of their minds. These are the thoughts that keep nagging you throughout your stay here.

---

You feel how the ground you stand on is vibrating from the amount of people gathered in the arena. The never-ending buzz of people talking and shouting over each other. The concoction of smells enveloping your nose, from the smell of iron and faeces to the smell of the Emperor's perfumes and oils. The unbearable heat only made the stench much more potent. All of this enthrals you with a painful headache. The heavy jewellery you wore that the Emperors themselves insisted on you to wear did not help either.

The three of you are the first to enter the viewing booth. It consists of three gold-inscribed stone thrones positioned right at the front, and the rest of the seats are placed further back for the other noble guests. The Emperors seemed to have lost their more put-together composure that you have grown to like. They were now buzzing with excitement, absolutely restless. Pacing from one side of the viewing box to the next, wanting for the other guests to arrive as soon as possible. In the meantime, you attempted to not think of what was about to happen, which only did the opposite. You were just as restless as them but for a completely different reason. You wanted to get the hell out of here. Feeling like a bird in a cage at this very moment.

Caracalla is sitting on his seat, he looks over the arena, occasionally sending a look your way. The first person to arrive is the man with the winning gladiator, Macrinus. He steps foot into the booth, greeting the caesars instantly. "My pleasure to be here Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla." He says this as he takes Geta's hand. The younger brothers' excitement is palpable, "I'm interested in seeing your poet, Macrinus," Geta humours.

"Haha, yes, so am I," he laughs alongside him. He then looks over to you and takes hold of your hand as well, giving it a soft peck, "It's wonderful seeing you here, Princess", he greets. Geta leaves the two of you, however he still listens in from the sidelines.

You smile politely, "I wish strength to your fighter", you say as you pull your hand back to your side. Fidgeting with the rings that do not belong to you.

"Thank you, my lady, hopefully, the Gods pay mind to your wish", he chuckles, glancing up at the 'preoccupied' Emperors as they watch the interaction.

Acacius and Lucilla then enter the booth. Caracalla remains in his chair, while Geta heads over to meet the two. You perk up at the sight of the General, relieved to see a familiar face. "Emperor Geta," he lightly smiles at the caesar.

"General Acacius, hope you spent your free time well", he laughs, looking over at Lucilla. She held a small piece of lavender to her face, presumably to calm herself and to reduce the smells of the arena.

"Thank you, Emperor, we did," she responds disingenuously. He hums, moving his attention fully to Lucilla herself. This leaves an opening for you to converse with the broad-shouldered man.

"Princess," he declares as he gives you a subtle grin. "Hope you're enjoying your time in Rome," he starts.

"General," you nod. "Yes I am, thank you," you chuckle, for once happy to talk to a sane person.

"Are you excited?", you ask, wanting to gauge his opinion of the games about to take place. This question seems to pique the interest of the Emperor sitting. He was already listening in on both the conversations but he was now only focused on yours. He peers over the seat, leaning on the armrest. This is only noticed by the General.

"Ah, who wouldn't be?", he answers, with his arms locked behind him. This frustrates you, he was no longer being candid with you the way he was in your travels. Understandable in the presence of the caesars but nevertheless annoying.

"He's right," Caracalla states, causing you to look at where he's sat. By this point, your Caesar and Lucilla are done talking. He comes up behind you, hand on your waist, mouth to your ear. "It's time," he hushly says. You subtly gasp at the unexpected contact. He smirks, while the other brother just giggles at the sight. He leads you to your seat, you look over your shoulder at the three, disappointed that you couldn't talk with Lucilla. The only woman here other than you.

As you sit down, Emperor Geta announces the games that are about to take place. He beckons the General to come up and speak of his victory in Numidia since the games are in celebration of it all. He reluctantly moves to the front of the viewing booth, to be seen by those in the colosseum. The brothers snicker, knowing full well that the General had not prepared something beforehand.

You fiddle with the gold cuffs your wrists are decorated with, feeling that they're too tightly clamped. You turn your view to Caracalla, and you see that he already has his eyes on you. Yours slightly widen as this catches you off guard. This amuses him and he grins, his gold tooth visible in his smile. He leans to you and grabs a hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "You're so antsy, relax already," he teases. You sigh softly, trying to calm yourself. He moves back in his chair, satisfied with the touch of your hand.

As the General moves to sit by his wife, Lucilla, he gives her a curious look. He seems to have taken notice of how the caesars act around you. It's been a short amount of time since you've arrived but the way the Emperors treat you has already been noticed by many. Acacius and Lucilla would like to take advantage of this.

It all begins with the armoured rhino leaving the caged layer of the colosseum with a champion gladiator standing upon it. As every new thing develops in the arena you feel the way his hand squeezes yours, his excitement uncontainable. While you just try to shield the view with your other hand, nausea creeps its way up as more and more blood can be seen on the arena walls and ground. A fighter gets impaled by the ravenous beast, and this leaves the caesars glancing back at each other, laughing at the sight. Geta sees you grimacing and ignoring the display of gore.

"Watch!" he encourages in a commanding tone, wanting you to also take pleasure in the cruelty. You force yourself to pay attention to what's happening before you. Well, you try but you feel as though your mind is drifting off elsewhere. Anywhere but here. However, you do when you notice the familiar gladiator from the day before. He was all sweaty, dirty and bloodied. He seems to have taken on the leadership role of the group. This role doesn't last long as soon enough it's only him and the champion. He grabs a handful of the sand and strategically throws it, right as the rhino charges forward. Now, ashamedly you were entertained. Especially now that it was leaning in his favour. The beast bashes full force into the wall of the Colosseum. With the impact vibrating all the way to where you're sat. This causes the caesars to leap to the edge of the booth, and you follow suit as the clingy Emperor drags you along. You and the two were enthralled at the way this was playing out. Caracalla lets go of your hand and instead pulls you in by the waist.

"It's that poet, is it not?" Geta shouts over the roaring crowd to his brother.

Caracalla narrows his eyes, trying to piece the man's face to any that he might've seen before. "I can't remember," he admits, shouting back in response.

"It is," you add to the discussion. Caracalla angles his face inches from yours, "How come you know?", he interrogates. "You like him?", he jabs without missing a beat from his previous question.

"What?", you reply genuinely confused at the random spiel of questions.

"Look, look!" Geta cuts the tense moment short by pointing to the gladiator bringing a finality to the fight. He stabs the champion through his chest. Geta dramatically raises his arm in the air, deciding the fate of the man who is on his knees. This was another nauseating sight, that they were the ones to deem the fate and worth of the lives they were playing with. With their existence, you lose faith in the God's. They are the epitome of chaos, mortals that have been fed lies to shape them into something they are not.

Geta symbolises the demise of the once-known champion, pointing his thumb down, the Gods have decided. People cheer at the decision, jumping from their seats to see the final act at play. The gladiator decapitates the man, his body slumping to the ground even further. You don't even have the energy to shield your eyes. You realise that you have no real control over your fate as long as you're in the hands of the Emperors.

taglist - @duckyhowls @himiko @lover-rep-fanfic @t6gse370 @syraxnyra <3

#caracalla #gladiator 2 #caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #fem reader #female reader #general acacius #geta #emperor geta #x reader #gladiator ii

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ivyues · 2 days ago

Text

Chasing Yesterday | 5 | - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x lost connection trainee friend

Years after splitting paths, Bang Chan didn't expect a simple text to bring an old friend – and old feelings – back into his life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

After countless late nights together, the song was finally complete. Now, as you sat at your desk, gazing at the finished track on your laptop, a smile tugged at your lips – reflecting on the journey that had brought you here.

Here, where your relationship with Chris had deepened to the point where you could proudly call yourself his girlfriend. If his bandmates had their way, though, you were already more than that; they jokingly referred to you as their "mother" behind your back. You knew it was only a matter of time before they let it slip in your presence. The more you got to know them, the clearer it became – they would seize any opportunity to tease your dear boyfriend. After all, that was just their way of showing love.

Your phone buzzed, breaking your thoughts. His name flashed across the screen, and without hesitation, you answered.

“Hey,” you greeted, already knowing why he was calling.

“Hey baby,” Chris’ voice came through, warm and familiar. “Did you finish it?”

“Just exported the final mix,” you confirmed, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll send it over now.”

There was a beat of silence before he asked, “Are you sure?”

You frowned slightly. “Of course. I mean, you put in just as much work as I did. If you want to use it for the group, go ahead. I don’t even need credit if it’ll keep things from getting messy.” You tried to keep your tone light, teasing. “As long as you know that I also gave birth to this song.”

Chris chuckled, but there was something thoughtful in the sound. “I know,” he murmured. “But… I wasn’t planning on releasing it.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? But why? I thought you guys did some special songs for one of your concerts? It’s a great song after all, Chris. And you worked so hard on it, we both did—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “But some things don’t need to be seen by the whole world.”

Something in the way he said it made your heart stutter.

You swallowed, warmth spreading through your chest. “So you want to keep it just for us?”

“Yeah.” His voice was soft, sincere. “It can be just ours.”

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment before Chris hesitated. You could hear the way he inhaled, slow and measured, as if he were preparing himself for something.

“Speaking of the concerts…” he sighed, the weight of his thoughts heavy in his voice. “I don’t want you feeling like you have to… but how would you feel about coming to one of ours? You don’t have to, it’s totally okay if you don’t. I just don’t want to not ask you in case you wanted—”

You cut him off before he could spiral further. “Chris, I don’t want to think about what could have been. I just want to support you and enjoy it.”

He was quiet for a moment before he exhaled, a mix of relief and something more complicated. “I just… I don’t want to show you what you could have had, even though it was never something you could have.”

You understood what he meant – understood the way his heart worked, always worrying, always caring too much. And yet, you had already made peace with the past.

-----

The concert was electrifying. You had seen Chris perform before, but never like this. He commanded the stage effortlessly, pouring raw energy into every lyric. It was mesmerizing. The bass thrummed through your chest, and every time his gaze flickered to your spot in the crowd, a secret smile tugged at your lips.

As you made your way towards the exit, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Meet me backstage? 😉

You rolled your eyes fondly and typed back a quick On my way.

Security let you through without question – Chris had clearly made arrangements. Weaving past the crew packing up equipment, you found a quiet spot near the wall, pulling out your phone while you waited. The adrenaline from the concert still hummed in your veins, but you were content, scrolling idly through your notifications.

A sudden presence slid up beside you, too close, too fast.

“Heeey.”

A firm nudge against your shoulder sent you jolting forward with a startled yelp, your phone nearly slipping from your grasp. Heart racing, you turned sharply – only to find Chris grinning like a mischievous kid.

“You—” You smacked his arm, half-gasping, half-laughing. “I hate you.”

“Liar.”

His eyes twinkled as he nudged you again, softer this time. He was practically vibrating with post-concert energy, the rush of the performance still coursing through him. His skin glowed with sweat, his hair a tousled mess, but he had never looked happier.

From a few meters away, a familiar voice cut through your flustered silence.

“Smooth move, man. Scare her—solid strategy.”

Chris only grinned wider, shameless. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You groaned, while he laughed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. The warmth of his hold, the lingering thrill of the night, and the teasing lilt in his voice made it impossible to stay mad.

He leaned in, his voice quieter now – just for you. “I’m glad you came.”

You sighed, relenting, and let yourself melt into his embrace. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

Before you could say more, Chris’s gaze flicked toward the stage area, his expression shifting.

“Oh—JYP’s here.”

You frowned. “What?”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Yeah, I just found out. They called me to film something with him real quick.”

Your breath hitched. Your eyes widened slightly before you quickly schooled your expression.

Chris noticed. “Wanna say hi?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “He’s never gonna remember me.”

Before he could argue, movement in your periphery caught your attention. A group – including said person himself, some members, a manager, and a few staff – was on their way to pass by where you were standing, presumably for better lighting.

Your stomach twisted slightly. The last time you saw that person, you were told that you didn't make it, that you weren't enough.

At first, he barely glanced at you. But then, as you greeted him casually, his gaze snapped back, his expression shifting. Recognition flickered across his face before his eyes widened.

“Wait… Do I know you?”

Chris looked between you, intrigued.

You smiled politely. “I’m Y/N. We used to train together," you said gesturing towards Chris.

He exhaled, still looking stunned.

After a few moments of catching up, he turned to Chris and the others. “We were just about to go eat. You should come.” Then, his gaze flicked to you. “You too.”

You hesitated. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

Chris nudged you. “Come on.”

You sighed, already knowing you’d lost. “Fine.”

His grin widened.

-----

The dinner was lively, filled with conversations that bounced between lighthearted jokes and deep discussions about the industry. You mostly listened, enjoying the energy of it all – until a music executive you showed your songs to when you were a trainee turned to you, his expression thoughtful.

"Are you still writing?"

You blinked, caught off guard. Across the table, Chris looked at you curiously.

You hesitated before answering. "A little. Just for myself."

He nodded, as if considering something. Then, casually, he said, "We’re always looking for new songwriters. If you have anything, send it in. No pressure, of course."

For a moment, the conversation around you blurred.

Chris' gaze flickered toward you, but he didn’t say anything. He knew – better than anyone – what this offer meant. What it stirred in you.

Your fingers curled around your glass. Once, an opportunity like this would’ve been everything to you. Once, you might have said yes without hesitation.

But now…

You liked your life. You liked music being yours – something you could love without the weight of deadlines, industry expectations, and the pressure to create for others. Your world was full of music already, but on your terms.

And you didn’t want to step back into an industry that had once drained the joy out of something you loved.

You exhaled, slowly. Then, with a small smile, you shook your head.

"I appreciate it," you said honestly. "But I’m happy where I am."

He studied you for a moment before nodding in understanding. "That’s good to hear."

Chris nudged your knee under the table, a quiet gesture, but when you met his eyes, there was nothing but pride there.

And just like that, the night moved on. No big moment, no regret.

masterlist

#bang chan imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #stray kids #skz #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids fluff

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cozmowrites · 3 days ago

Text

New Year's (2024)

"Hey- grab me a slice of that cake!" Ashido shouted at you as you told them you were off to grab a drink of alcohol or two from the table. Todoroki told everyone about a New Year's party to have a fun reunion between the two hero classes. Pro-heroes, sidekicks, or whatever they wanted to be, everyone was alive with energy, reaching its peak. Music boomed, laughter echoed, and the aroma of fancy hors d'oeuvres filled the air, something Todoroki bought into. Everyone had gathered to celebrate the end of the year, reconnecting after years of carving their individual paths.

You picked up two glasses of saké in one hand, casually chatting with Ashido as she takes the cake from your hands so you could carry both glasses on each hand. Despite the festive atmosphere, you couldn't help but notice one glaring absence. Kirishima had come up behind Ashido and scared her.

"Bakugou's missing," you muttered.

"Yeah," Kirishima laughed. "He's doing his lone wolf thing again, probably glaring at the stars or something."

Ashido rolled her eyes. "Classic Bakugou. Someone should drag him back here."

Without a second thought, you volunteered. "I'll go. I could use some fresh air anyway. Plus, I wanted to deliver this extra glass to him." You held it up and the both of them wished you good luck in finding him.

Leaving the chatter and music behind, you wandered through the hallways of the venue, not really knowing where anything is, until you found the staircase leading to the roof. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside. It was cold as fuck and you didn't think to bring your jacket or coat. There he was, leaning against the railing, his back turned to the door. His blond hair glinted in the faint glow of the city lights, and the skyline stretched endlessly before him.

"Thought I'd find you here," you said, approaching cautiously. He didn't turn, but his posture tensed slightly.

"What the hell do you want?" His voice was gruff. You were definitely bothering him, but that's what you do. Bother people and pry into their business.

You held up the glass of saké, even though he didn't look at you right away. "Figured you might need a drink."

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing before he sighed. "Fine." Taking the glass, he leaned back against the railing and stared out at the city.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't awkward; it was peaceful, broken only by the distant sound of music and laughter drifting up from below. You were cold and he took note of that, how the hairs stood up on your arm and the way the goosebumps formed almost immediately after. He hated that you tried to hide it and he shrugged off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders.

"Don't get sick." He grumbled quietly and you slipped your arms through the sleeves, immediately feeling warmer.

"Why are you out here?" You finally asked.

"Too noisy in there," he muttered, taking a sip of the saké. "Besides, it's not like anyone would miss me."

"That's not true," you replied softly, stepping closer. "Kirishima and Ashido were talking about you just now. They care about you, Bakugou. We all do."

"Tch." He looked away, but the faintest trace of a blush colored his cheeks.

You stood beside him, gazing out at the skyline. The countdown to midnight was getting closer, and the city seemed to buzz with anticipation. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how his usually harsh features softened under the moonlight.

"You're different, you know," you said suddenly.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" He shot you a look as he took a drink of his saké.

"I mean you've mellowed out. A little. You're still grumpy, but you're also.. calmer. More thoughtful."

He scoffed, but you caught the flicker of embarrassment in his eyes. "Don't start getting weird on me."

"I'm just saying," you teased, nudging his arm gently.

A distant cheer erupted from below, signaling the final minute of the year. You both turned instinctively toward the noise, though neither of you made a move to join the others.

"Thirty seconds!" You heard someone shout from below, the sound faint but clear.

You turned back to Bakugou, a small smile playing on your lips. "Any resolutions for the new year?"

"No. Resolutions are stupid." He grumbled, though there was no real venom in his words.

"Fair enough," you laughed.

"Ten!"

The countdown was in full swing now, the voices growing louder. You felt a strange tension settle in the air, and when you looked at Bakugou again, his gaze was fixed on you, intense and unreadable.

"Five!"

"What?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Four!"

He didn't answer. Instead, he set his glass down on the railing and stepped closer, his crimson eyes locked on yours.

"Three!"

Your heart pounded in your chest. Was he about to—? No, this was Bakugou. He'd never—

"Two!"

"Hey-" You started.

His hand brushed against yours, hesitant yet deliberate.

"One!"

Before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both firm and unexpectedly gentle. Your eyes widened in shock, but you didn't pull away. The kiss was brief, yet it sent your mind spinning, leaving you breathless when he finally pulled back.

"Happy New Year," he muttered, his cheeks a deep shade of red.

You stared at him, still stunned. As the cheers and party seems to get louder below, the rooftop seemed quiet and the city felt distant. It was just you and Bakugou now. "Did- did you just kiss me?"

"Yeah, I did," he said gruffly, avoiding your gaze. "Got a problem with that?"

"No," you said quickly, your heart racing. "Just.. I thought we were only friends. You.. made that pretty clear on graduation day."

He finally met your eyes, his expression softening. "Maybe I'm done pretending that's all we are."

For a moment, you were too stunned to speak. Then a slow smile spread across your face. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

+++

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vampworks · 2 days ago

Text

Playing games you can't win

Pairing: Caleb x Reader

w/c: 1.1K

A/n: me and that chip have beef, also Caleb and dog coded love has me like charlie day at that red string board.

Summary:After three week of Caleb trying to win you over, you finally have enough. He quickly finds that he can't handle it.

Warning: Toxic love, pipspeak as a pet name, mourning, intimacy, angst, Caleb gets very little comfort

The push and pull was far too much. The heat was far too much. For three weeks, the two of you had been 'playing house' in Caleb's sad condo above the city. Your mission was long since ruined by the colonel, so your days were spent watching Wontony float around. You'd ask the poor robot questions about a man it seemed you both had just met.

'The Colonel was a cold, calculating shell of a man you couldn't stand. All attempts to draw a reaction were pointless. A cup thrown and shattered at his chest. His response? Nothing but an empty grin and tease. Caleb on the other hand, was all heat. He is just as touchy as he was when you were kids if not more. When he did appear, he'd test how far you would let him. His large hands carefully tread down your shoulders only to rest above the small of your waist. He stops completely, staring into your eyes and searching (Pleading) for approval. It hasn't come.

The once-narrowed eyes completely softened leaving behind a starved dog begging for anything akin to touch. You could have called him pathetic at the sight of him on his knees; hell, he sure does. The two of you were so close. Caleb was practically vibrating while pawing you in every place he could. Lilac eyes traced the curve of your jaw and neck as if you'd break if he lost even a moment of control. The epitome of every slow-burn romance you had forced him to see growing up. Each of those followed the same pattern. He studied each one just as closely as planes or bugs in the backyard.

meet-cute

build-up

some kind of misunderstanding breaking the progression and the two separate

The problem is resolved, and the music swells.

The big kiss

pg-13 rated makeout scene

and they ride off into the sunset

He had tried so hard to follow the plan. Maybe then you fall for him like he had from the start. Nothing about this "resurrection" has gone right so far, so here we are back at the starting line every time Caleb falls to catch himself. Far too much Far too soon

So he'll wait for you to make the first move. He'll wait like he always has, but now it kills him to know you're finally seeing him as the crazed man he is. No more hiding, no more wishing from afar.

Now is the time to call in reinforcements, so movie night it is. Don't ask how long it took to organize a full weekend off, but for you, it was more than worth it.

'10 things I hate about you' is on the screen before you both. The smell of braised chicken was still in the air from dinner as Caleb slowly inches his way to your side of the couch. By the time Heath Ledger sings on the bleachers, his left arm slowly comes to rest on the back of the couch. behind your head. After bickering over whether Cruel Intentions or Pretty Woman should be next, somehow your legs just fell into his lap. Oh no, guess you'll just have to leave them there because' the movie is starting. It seems 'Cruel Intentions' won while you aren't looking.

you were so focused on his dorky grin and teasing that he won again with his evol. The man chokes down a snort as the title card plays, but you only glare and huff. It's a small thing, but it only sets him back further behind as the memory of him holding your legs down with it comes crawling back up. Seeing red, you storm off. Sure, you're a sore loser, but dear God, can you have one night without feeling weak compared to him? Without the thought of the colonel.

He follows you throughout the apartment with a racing heart. He begs for another chance for you to just see things his way. His words go in one ear and out the other as you pack your things, practically shoving them back into your luggage. He stops you in the doorway, falling to his knees. "Please, let me fix this. I love you more than you could ever know. All of this has been for you." Large trembling fingers grasp around your legs, his head pressed into your waist. "Let go, Caleb." You muttered through gritted teeth. You couldn't play this game anymore. You weren't the kid he left behind, and he was the boy you had spent a year mourning. He only held tighter. "You don't understand, pip. I just got you back. How in the hell am I suppose' to live without you again?" He barked. You scoffed. "That's the thing. You can't fathom the idea of me gone, but I had to bury you. That's why I will always win this little game,huh?" You lift his head with your fingers beneath his chin. He lets out something like a whine. A new dark thought now surfaced: you'd give him exactly what he wanted from the start. You'd be his while you held his leash.

You bend down to kiss him. It's rough and heated. Nothing like those movies before. A disgusting mess of teeth clashing and you biting his lip till it bleeds. Neither of you pulled away for air, now in a game of who would own the other and who was a coward. Caleb seems to break as tears threaten to fall down the apple of his cheeks. Every voice in his head screams out to grab you and never let go, but he doesn't. He told you that any pain you gave him was a gift to be cherished, and this was no different.

Soon enough, the man is a mess, gazing back up at you as you pull away. "Breathe, Caleb. I love you too." Your voice is sickeningly sweet as your hands find purchase in his hair, soothing him. "Bye~." The door slams,

A second later, you're gone down the hall, bring up a finger to swipe away the blood.

There's a gaping hole in my chest. A you-sized hole that aches and calls out to be filled. For years I watched over you as a dog guarding its flock. My teeth and claws protected you from the wolves all around but I was just as hungry as them. I longed for your taste as I kissed your wounds. I dreamt of your touch as you hugged me. My eyes are tearing into your flesh just as they would. I am no better, but maybe You have always known this and loved me anyway. Maybe your love will absolve my sins.

#angst #love and deepspace #x reader #lnds caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #lads x reader #loveanddeepspace #fanfiction #lads #caleb x mc

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wandascrush · 3 hours ago

Text

For the first time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Summary: “It’s just like seeing her, for the first time, again”

Warnings: kissing, intimacy, small allusions to sex, angst, descriptions of the female body

Song: For the first time by Mac Demarco

A/N: Some lyrics will be infused in this story (always italicized) Also I swear fluff coming soon for Wanda and Nat!

One Year Ago

“Promise me,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath as you traced slow, lazy circles against Natasha’s bare shoulder. You two lay tangled together in bed, limbs entwined, sheets a mess from the night before. The city hummed softly outside the window, but here, in this moment, you were in your own world.

“Promise you what?” Natasha murmured, her fingers ghosting over your spine.

“That you won’t shut me out. No matter what.”

Natasha hesitated. She wanted to promise. She really, really did. But some things weren’t that simple. Instead, she kissed your forehead, pulling you closer, letting herself believe—just for a little while—that she could have this.

That she could keep you.

Two years ago

It had been raining that night.

The soft patter against the windows mixed with the smell of tea and fresh laundry as you paced the tiny apartment, rambling about something that Natasha had long since lost track of. She was too distracted by how beautiful her girlfriend looked in that oversized sweater, her socks sliding slightly against the hardwood as she moved.

“And then she had the nerve to say I should’ve just let her cheat off me—Nat, are you even listening?”

“Hm?” Natasha blinked, trying to focus.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, stepping closer. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?” Natasha smirked, catching your wrist and pulling you forward until you were pressed against her.

Your breath hitched, hands coming to rest on Natasha’s waist.

“You love me.”

The words were meant to be playful, but Natasha’s heart clenched. Because it was true. And suddenly, it didn’t feel so scary to say it anymore.

“I do,” Natasha admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a smile broke across your face—radiant, breathtaking. She threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss.

“Good,” you murmured against her lips. “Because I love you too.”

The kiss turned more and more heated, Natasha sliding her hands between your legs, filling you up with her fingers as you moved against each other on the couch. Your moans filled the living room, Nat whispering, “Mine,” between each thrust.

A Lazy Sunday Morning

The smell of coffee filled the apartment as Natasha shuffled into the kitchen, still groggy from sleep. You were at the stove, humming a soft tune, hair a mess from sleep.

Your girlfriend leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with a lazy smile.

“You gonna make me coffee, or are you just gonna look pretty and tease me?” Natasha rasped, her morning voice thick with sleep.

“Both.”

The redhead chuckled, stepping forward to wrap her arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling your neck.

“Mm, I think I like waking up to this.”

“You’re getting soft, Romanoff.”

“Only for you.”

You knew what Natasha did, it was impossible not to. She was an Avenger, a hero, a SHIELD agent. Natasha tried so hard to protect you from her life, keep you safe and guarded. But life has a funny way of messing things up. That’s all it took really, one overheard conversation, one unguarded file for your life to change.

That day would live on in her mind forever, playing like a horror movie. The look of despair, terror on your face when you found out things that no one should ever know. Civilians, should never know.

You two argued that night, a boxing match, if you will. You both left the ring bruised. Pleading, crying promises- telling Natasha you’d forget everything you knew, if she just told you the truth. And she so desperately wanted to believe you, but the Agent in her had to tell Fury. She just had to.

His suggestion never occurred as a possibility to Nat, was never even a thought in her mind. If it was, she would have never told him.

“I’m sorry. We just can’t risk it.”

“Nick, please-“

”It’s not up for discussion.”

————

The beep of the heart monitor filled the lab. Sedation kept you peacefully unaware, the dinner you ate that night immediately putting you to sleep before you could stop chewing.

“Are you sure about this?” Bruce asked gently, standing beside his friend, expression unreadable.

No. For the first time in years, Natasha Romanoff wasn’t sure. But it wasn’t about what she wanted. It never was.

“Just do it.”

Bruce hesitated for only a moment before pressing the button. Dr. Cho kept your vitals in check, making sure your heartbeat and blood pressure were reasonable. Soft hands gently pressed cold compresses to your limp body.

It was agony. Watching you twitch, the way your chest rapidly rose and fell, the groans leaving your mouth before you went quiet.

Bruce carried you into the car, lying your head across Natashas lap in the back seat. It was thirty minutes to the hospital, the last thirty minutes she would ever be able to stroke your soft hair, feel the skin of your arms, or hold your gentle hands.

And it was thirty minutes until they would place you in a hospital bed, dress you in a medical gown, hook IV’s up to your arms, and Cho would play the part of a typical doctor. She would tell you that you were in an accident, and you would cry. Your memory of Natasha Romanoff, the girl who captured your heart, would cease to exist. From that moment forward, you would become just another civilian.

And Natasha—broken, bleeding inside—had forced a small, bittersweet smile as Cho wheeled you into the back entrance of the hospital. It was time to play pretend.

Present Day – Some NY bagel shop

The bell above the café door chimed softly, the Avenger barely noticed. She was staring into her black tea, thoughts elsewhere—until she felt it.

While she’s been away, living day to day has been tough. Without her at my side, simply being alive has been rough.

A pull. A warmth.

Her green eyes shot up.

And there you were.

It’s just like seeing her, for the first time, again.

Bathed in golden sunlight, wrapped in a soft sundress that clung to you in all the right ways. So effortlessly beautiful that it physically hurt.

Natasha’s breath hitched. Her hands clenched around her cup.

It had been a year. A year since she erased herself from your life.

Her body involuntarily got up from the table, quickly walking toward the exit. At the same time you quickly turned, bumping into her and knocking the smile off your face.

“Oh!” you gasped, stumbling slightly.

Your eyes met.

Natasha should have left. Should have gotten up and walked away before you could even process who you were. Your brows furrowed slightly as you studied the beautiful woman before you, lips parting in soft confusion.

“I’m sorry…you just look so familiar.”

Natasha’s heart shattered.

She forced a tight smile, gripping her bag strap so hard her knuckles turned white.

“I—I don’t think we’ve met,” she lied.

You weren’t convinced. Squinting, head tilted slightly as if trying to place Natasha in the depths of your mind.

“I swear I’ve seen you before…” you murmured, mainly to yourself. “Maybe I just have one of those feelings, you know? Like déjà vu.”

Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat.

Déjà vu.

“Yeah,” Natasha whispered. “Maybe.”

When you smiled, it was the same smile. Natasha had fallen in love with. Bright. Warm. Unaware that it had once belonged to the redhead alone. Then, as if drawn to by some unimaginable force, you hesitated.

“Hey, um…” you played with the edge of your cup. “Would you maybe want to sit with me? I—I don’t know why, but I feel like we’d get along. And my date is late anyway.”

Natasha should say no.

She should walk away.

But somehow, she found herself nodding.

#natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff #natasha romanoff x female #wlw #natasha marvel #marvel cinematic universe #wandascrush fanfiction

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promptedwordsmith · 11 hours ago

Note

about a week ago an ai website suggested Rafayel as a character for me to interact with. so now i am obsessed with him.

Writing prompt: Female lead character is someone that Rafayel rescued from drowning, ten years prior, and they both never thought they would see the other again until he ended up working with her and they talk to pass the time while hunting and she mentions, "i was rescued from browning by a boy from the sea and he kissed me before he disappeared and I fainted."

OK so the +5k story that was my longest before? Absolutely smashed it with 7.3k I messed with the circumstances a bit sorry, if that doesn't match what you wanted but it felt a bit more natural this way.

The waves were higher than usual, the wind a little stronger. You hadn’t meant to get caught, not really. You’d always felt a special connection to the sea, but the sea didn’t always care. It was just doing what it did best—pushing, pulling, twisting. One moment, you were wading in the water, feeling its cool embrace; the next, it had you.

You kicked, flailed, and tried to keep your head above the surface, but the waves were too strong. They dragged you down, swirling around you, taking the air from your lungs, until the world around you was dark and heavy, and the last thing you saw was the faint glimmer of light far above.

Then, everything went black.

You woke up to a soft sound, like water lapping against rocks. Your head throbbed, and your throat was tight and sore. You blinked, struggling to focus, feeling the coolness of the air around you. When you tried to sit up, your legs felt like jelly, weak and trembling.

There was someone near you. You didn’t hear them at first, but when you finally turned your head, you froze.

A boy? No, not a boy. He looked… wrong in a way you couldn’t place. His skin was a pale bluish-grey, shining like the ocean’s surface on a moonlit night. His hair was long and dark, dripping with seawater, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—were wide and full of curiosity. He was sitting in the water, half-submerged, but it was the way his body shimmered that had you staring in awe. He had a tail. A tail that shimmered with iridescent blues and silvers like a fish.

He didn’t seem to be staring at you in the same way that you were staring at him. He was watching you closely, his head tilted to the side like a curious animal. His lips parted, and he looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he just kept staring at you.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out in a dry, hoarse rasp. "W-where am I?"

The boy—merman?—blinked at you and tilted his head the other way, as if trying to understand what you said. "Where?" he repeated, his voice soft and strange, like the sound of waves against rocks.

You blinked, confused. "Yeah, where? Where am I?"

The merman furrowed his brow, looking at you with wide eyes. "Here," he said, pointing to the water around him. "Here. This… my home."

You tried to sit up, feeling the soft sand beneath you, but your limbs were uncooperative. "Home?" You stared at him, unsure if you could trust this stranger. He didn’t look like any person you’d ever seen. "You’re not… human."

The merman seemed even more puzzled by that. "Human?" he repeated, sounding out the unfamiliar word slowly. He looked at his tail, then back at you. "I’m… me."

"You’re not human either," you said, feeling a little silly for even asking. You’d never seen anything like him before. But what was he? He seemed part human, but also... something else. "What are you?"

The merman looked down at his shimmering tail again, then back at you. "I’m... Rafayel," he said, a bit proudly, as if that explained everything. "And I live here. In the water." He flicked his tail, making a ripple in the water, and grinned, as if showing off.

You stared at him for a long moment, your head still spinning from the water and his presence. "I... I don’t get it. You’re not a human, and I’m not… you’re not from around here, are you?"

Rafayel’s brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at you curiously. "Not... from here?" he asked, repeating your words. "But... you are? Where did you come from?"

"I came from the land," you said, pointing vaguely to the shore in the distance. "The land where... people live."

He blinked at you, the corners of his mouth curling into a small frown as if he was struggling to process your words. "Land?" He repeated, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was speaking to himself. "I don’t know that word."

It hit you then—Rafayel didn’t know what humans were. He didn’t know what land was. He didn’t know anything about your world. You, on the other hand, had no idea what he was. What kind of creature lived in the water, with a tail like that?

"Are you a fish?" you asked, unsure if that was an insult.

He blinked at you, confused by the question. "Fish? No," he said, shaking his head. "I’m Rafayel." He said it like it was the only answer needed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You frowned at him, still not sure what he meant. "But you live in the water. You have a tail. That’s not normal."

Rafayel’s eyes seemed to sparkle at your words, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Not normal? But it’s me."

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You had never met anyone like him, and the more you looked at him, the stranger it seemed. But there was something comforting about him too. Something curious. You didn’t feel afraid, even though you should’ve. He seemed harmless in a way.

"I think I should get back to the shore," you said slowly, still weak from being dragged under by the waves. You attempted to stand, but your legs wobbled beneath you.

Rafayel’s eyes widened, and he quickly swam closer, offering you a hand. "No, no! Stay! Stay with me." His voice sounded almost desperate. "I want to know more about you. Where did you come from? Why are you in the water? I never met someone like you before. You're... different."

You paused, staring at his outstretched hand, and for some reason, you felt like you had to know more about him too. Despite the strangeness, there was a connection, something pulling you to him.

"Okay," you said finally, hesitating, but not quite pulling away. "You’re... Rafayel, right? And I’m—"

You were about to introduce yourself, but Rafayel’s grin widened, and he shook his head.

"I know," he said, as if it were obvious. "You’re different. And I want to learn everything about you."

Rafayel continued to watch you curiously, his head tilted to the side as if trying to figure you out. You had finally managed to sit up, but now he seemed particularly fixated on your legs, or rather, the lack of a tail. His eyes scanned them with an intense interest, studying every small movement you made.

“Why don’t you have a tail?” Rafayel asked, his voice soft with genuine curiosity. His wide eyes blinked rapidly as if he expected you to have an explanation that made sense to him, something he could grasp.

You looked down at your legs, feeling slightly self-conscious. "Well, these are my legs," you explained, struggling to find words that would make sense to someone who had never seen anything like them before. "They're... um, for walking."

Rafayel raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Walking?" He glanced at your legs again, the words still not computing in his mind. "But… why don’t you have a tail, like me? So you can swim and... move faster?"

You smiled awkwardly, trying to explain in a way that would make sense. "Well, we don’t swim like you do," you said, lifting your leg slightly as if it might help him understand. "We—uh—we get around by making tiny little falls... but we don’t fall! We catch ourselves. And we use our feet." You took a small step to demonstrate, your balance wobbling slightly as you caught yourself on the soft sand. "We just walk."

Rafayel’s face scrunched up, trying to picture it. "So you just… fall, but don’t fall?" His voice was full of disbelief. He reached over and poked your feet gently, his fingers lightly brushing against your toes. "Do these help with the little falls? Your feet?"

You blinked in surprise at the sudden attention to your feet, your cheeks flushing a bit. "I think so? I think my parents said they help with balance or something." You paused for a second, thinking about the words you had been told when you were younger. "They said they were for helping me stay steady." You looked down at your toes, wiggling them in the sand as if testing them, then shrugged, unsure if that was the full explanation.

Rafayel leaned in closer, his expression still one of pure wonder, his eyes focused entirely on your feet. "They’re so small, but they help you not fall?" He poked one of your toes again, almost like he was checking if it would do something special. "I thought... I thought you would walk on all fours, like me." He motioned to himself, showing you his tail, a long, shimmering thing, almost as if showing you his method of travel was the most natural thing in the world.

You laughed softly at that, shaking your head. "No, no. I don't walk on all fours." You flexed your legs, letting the muscles stretch. "We use our legs for standing and walking, but we don’t really need tails to move." You smiled, enjoying the innocent curiosity in his voice. "Your tail is really amazing, though. Does it help you swim faster?"

Rafayel’s eyes brightened at your question, clearly pleased to talk about himself. "Oh, yes! It’s great for swimming. I can move really fast through the water!" He swished his tail as if demonstrating, the movement smooth and fluid. "I can dive deep, or leap out of the water like a big fish." He flicked his tail again, sending a small splash of water toward you, and laughed.

You grinned, delighted by his enthusiasm. “That’s amazing. It must be so fun to swim like that.”

Rafayel looked at you, then down at his tail, as though contemplating something deeply. "It is fun, but..." He looked back up at you, suddenly more serious. "What do you do when you want to go fast, or when you want to swim?"

You had to think about that for a second. You weren’t used to the idea of swimming the way Rafayel did. You enjoyed the water, but you’d never been able to move through it the same way he could. "Well, I guess I just... swim like regular people? I mean, we use our arms and legs, but we don’t do it like you do." You paused for a moment, remembering the fun of jumping in the water but not the freedom he must have felt, gliding effortlessly. "I think it’s different for us."

Rafayel nodded thoughtfully, clearly fascinated by everything you were saying. "I wish I could see you try to swim." His eyes sparkled with interest. "I wonder how you’d move through the water without a tail. Maybe you would... float really well?"

You giggled at the thought, imagining yourself trying to float around like a leaf on the water. "Maybe I would." You paused, then raised an eyebrow playfully. "Maybe you could teach me how to use my tail, though?"

Rafayel blinked in surprise, but his face lit up at your suggestion. "Teach you? But... you don’t have a tail like mine!"

You leaned forward, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "Well, I could try to swim like you. Just teach me how!"

He scratched his head, considering the idea. "I don’t know if I can teach you that… I mean, I don’t know how to teach someone who doesn’t have a tail!" He laughed nervously, looking at you as if you were asking him to teach you how to fly.

You chuckled at his awkwardness, but there was a spark of understanding between you. You knew he wanted to show you things, and it was nice to see him care so much. "Well, maybe not the tail part," you said softly, “but we could teach each other something. I can show you how to walk on two legs, and you can show me how to swim like you.”

Rafayel looked at you, his eyes shining brighter than the water. He grinned, his excitement unmistakable. "Deal!"

The stars above twinkled brightly as you and Rafayel continued your conversation, the words flowing easily between you both. The night air was cool, the salty scent of the sea mixing with the warmth of the small fire you’d built together. You both sat near the shore, the waves gently rolling in with rhythmic ease, and while you couldn’t have said exactly when, it was clear that the night had gotten later than either of you realized.

You’d been spending hours with Rafayel, mimicking his movements and playing around with the oddity of your new friendship. You tried your best to imitate the graceful movements of his tail in the water, but without a tail of your own, you found it harder than it seemed. It was much more fluid and effortless when Rafayel did it. His tail sliced through the water with a stunning elegance that left you in awe every time.

He, in turn, had tried to mimic your walking, though he wasn’t used to it. With his tail still the only part of him that existed in this world, his efforts were more clumsy than you expected. He twisted and shifted in the water, trying to get his movements to match yours, awkwardly flopping his body around to resemble walking on two legs. His eyes would twinkle with a grin every time he lost his balance and fell, only to try again, more determined than before.

For a few hours, this harmless playfulness went on, but eventually, you found yourself yawning, exhaustion creeping over you. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, and with the cool night air against your skin, your body decided it was time to rest. You stretched your arms, trying to fight the sleepiness, but before you knew it, your eyelids fluttered, and you let out a soft sigh.

Rafayel was still trying to imitate walking on two legs in the shallow water near the shore, but he paused when he noticed the soft sound of your breathing change. He turned to see you sitting near the fire, your head tilting slightly as you leaned back, eyes closed in a peaceful daze. He blinked, his expression softening as he took in your slumped figure.

He approached slowly, sensing that you were falling asleep. Part of him wanted to wake you—he didn’t want you to be vulnerable while you slept, especially with no one around. But something stopped him. You looked so peaceful, so trustingly comfortable in his company. His eyes wandered down to the water, and he curiously mimicked your movements on the shore, trying to mirror what you did while walking. He flexed his tail in the water and then brought himself forward, feeling the odd sensation of walking without legs. It was awkward, but he didn’t mind—it was almost like a game now.

Eventually, though, he stopped moving and glanced back over his shoulder at you. He blinked again, a knot forming in his chest. You were asleep. You’d trusted him to be near, without fear. But with humans, there was always danger, wasn’t there? He wasn’t sure how things worked in your world, what dangers you faced, but he had learned that humans weren’t always like merfolk. There were other humans out there, ones who might not understand, ones who might hurt you.

Rafayel's heart fluttered with unease, but instead of disturbing your rest, he just knelt near the shore, staring at the gentle waves. He thought about what he could do for you, about how much he longed to help you navigate your world. His desire to protect you was growing with every passing moment, even as he couldn’t understand why he felt this pull so strongly, so suddenly.

He heard voices from the distance, and his eyes shot wide with alertness. The sounds of yelling were growing closer, and with them came an unsettling feeling in his chest. His instincts told him to leave, to slip away into the water where no one could see him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave you, not now, not like this. His gaze flickered back to you, noticing the delicate way your fingers curled into the sand, the peaceful expression on your face.

The voices grew louder now—there were humans looking for you, their calls echoing into the night. Rafayel’s heart skipped a beat. They were coming, and he had to decide what to do. The thought of being caught out in the open, exposed, terrified him. He didn’t want them to see him, to see what he was.

But there was a part of him that couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

Quickly, he glanced around for something to give you, a gesture of care. His eyes locked on a small, smooth shell nearby—a perfect crescent-shaped shell that had caught his attention earlier. He picked it up carefully, the light of the moon reflecting on its pearlescent surface. He gently placed it in your palm, making sure it stayed there, even as you slept soundly, unaware.

“Please stay safe,” Rafayel whispered softly, his voice barely audible against the sounds of the waves.

As much as it pained him, he finally turned away, his movements swift and silent. With one last lingering look at you, he dove into the water, feeling the cool embrace of the sea. His body adjusted seamlessly to the water, his tail cutting through it with ease. He swam deeper, away from the shore, where he would be hidden from the approaching humans.

But his mind stayed on you, and the memory of your trusting face lingered in his heart.

He didn't know what the future held, what might come of your world meeting his, but he was certain of one thing: he would protect you from whatever dangers lay ahead. The thought of leaving you in harm's way was unbearable, and so, he would wait. He would wait until the time was right, until he could understand your world more fully, and perhaps, find a way to be near you without the fear of being seen.

Rafayel had never stopped thinking about you.

He'd only known you for a brief time, just a few hours one fateful night on the shore. But in that time, something in him had shifted—something deep and primal, something that he couldn't ignore. The pull had been instant, a magnetic force between him and you, something that felt ancient and impossible to dismiss. He had left the water that night with the shell in his hand, his heart fluttering in a way he didn't fully understand.

And yet, after that night, you were gone.

He had waited, watching the shore from the water, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face. He told himself it was just a fleeting connection, that the human world and the merfolk world were too different, and that he shouldn't expect anything to come from that brief meeting. But each time he checked, each time he thought he might see you, the shore was empty. The waves crashed against the rocks, and the wind carried nothing but silence.

Rafayel’s parents had told him that you had been on a vacation, that you didn’t live near the shore. At first, he’d clung to the hope that you would return. But as the months passed and you never came back, he had to face a painful truth—maybe he would never see you again.

His heart ached every time he thought of you, and he didn’t fully understand why. After all, you had only been a human, someone he had met by chance. But there was something so magnetic about you, something that had drawn him in. He couldn’t explain it, and as time went on, the confusion only grew stronger.

When Rafayel finally came of age, his parents had talked to him about the change, the transformation that would allow him to take on a human form and live among them. The change was something all merfolk went through when they reached adulthood, but for Rafayel, it had always been about one thing: finding you.

He had known, deep down, that if he ever had the chance, he would leave the sea, leave his home, and search for you. He didn’t know where you were or what had become of you, but he had to try. The pull in his chest was too strong, and it wouldn’t go away. No matter how much time passed, he couldn’t forget you.

So, with the change complete and his human form fully manifested, Rafayel left the ocean for the first time, walking onto land with determination in his eyes. He didn’t know where to start looking for you—he only knew the shore where you had disappeared from, the place where he had last seen you. He made his way to the human town nearest to the beach, hoping that somehow, some way, he would find a clue that would lead him to you.

The search was harder than he had expected. He didn’t know where to begin, and the world of humans was so vast and strange to him. He asked around in the town, but no one knew you. No one had heard of the girl who had once laughed and talked to a merman on the shore. At first, Rafayel had assumed that you were simply a traveler, someone passing through. But as the weeks went on, he started to realize the truth—he had no idea where you had gone, or even if you were still alive. His hope began to dwindle, but the longing for you never left.

It wasn’t until one afternoon, when Rafayel had nearly given up on finding you, that he overheard something that made his heart skip a beat.

A pair of humans were talking nearby, and he caught part of their conversation.

"Have you heard? The family that used to live here… Their daughter never came back after their vacation," one of them said. "I think they sold their house. Poor girl, she had such big dreams. I heard she was adopted after her parents passed away. Maybe she’s living somewhere else now."

Rafayel froze, his heart pounding. "Adopted?" he murmured to himself.

Could it be you? Could it really be the same girl?

He approached the two humans cautiously, hoping they would provide more details. But they didn’t seem to know much more about you. They mentioned your family’s house being sold, the vacation you had gone on, and that they had heard you were adopted. It was all so confusing, so uncertain. They spoke as if you were nothing more than a distant memory, a girl who had disappeared from their lives years ago.

Rafayel felt his pulse race, but he didn’t know what to do with this new information. Had you been gone all this time, living elsewhere? Had you forgotten about him? Was this all just some sort of strange dream to you?

He had no way of knowing, but he knew one thing for sure: He needed to find you.

He tried asking around the town for more clues, but no one could tell him where you had gone. No one knew what had happened to the girl who had laughed with the merman by the shore. They spoke of you as if you had never existed, like a story that had been forgotten.

Rafayel sank to his knees on the beach, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him. He had searched, asked, and hoped for so long. And yet, he was still no closer to finding you.

The ache in his chest deepened, and he didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. He had thought he was ready to find you, ready to face whatever might happen, but now that he was here, the uncertainty felt unbearable.

He didn’t even know if you would recognize him. Would you remember the merman you had met as a child, or would you think him just another strange figment of your imagination? Would you think he was a dream?

Rafayel’s mind was spinning, caught in the confusion of his own emotions. The search for you had led him here, but it felt like he was still missing something—something that would finally bring him the answers he needed.

And so, Rafayel sat there, staring out at the endless ocean, wondering if you were out there somewhere—waiting to be found, waiting for him.

Rafayel sat alone in his small, dimly lit apartment, a blank canvas stretched out in front of him. His fingers hovered over the brush, the bristles quivering in the air like a hesitant dancer before a performance. He had learned the hard way that his heart, his soul, was tied to you, even though he had never been able to find you after all this time. But now, with a new sense of purpose, he had a plan.

He was going to paint you. He was going to capture the memory of the girl with whom he'd shared only a few fleeting moments—the girl who had become a dream he couldn’t shake. He had never been an artist before, but now, after months of trying to recreate the warmth of your smile, the spark in your eyes, and the soft laugh that echoed in his mind, Rafayel felt a sudden burst of raw talent. It came to him naturally, as if his hand was guided by some invisible force. In time, his brushstrokes were no longer clumsy, and his paintings began to take shape in a way that he had never imagined possible.

Every portrait he created was different, a combination of what he remembered from that night on the shore and what he thought you might look like now. He worked relentlessly, day and night, blending colors and textures as he brought your face to life again and again. The subtle curve of your lips, the delicate arch of your brows, the shimmer in your eyes.

But no matter how many portraits he created, no matter how closely he examined his work, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The girl in the paintings—was it you? It didn’t feel like it. He felt he could almost reach through the canvas and touch your presence, but it never quite reached the depth of who you truly were.

Each time he thought he was getting closer, the next painting felt a little further from the mark. He wanted to make sure he got it right. He couldn’t afford to fail. His chest tightened, his mind clouded with thoughts of the possibility that he would never see you again. His heart pounded in his chest, desperate for the truth.

Then one afternoon, weeks after he had begun his artistic obsession, a break finally came.

He was at a small café, taking a brief respite from his work, when he overheard a conversation that stopped his breath in his throat. An older man was talking to the barista, his gruff voice carrying over the chatter of other patrons. Rafayel couldn't help but eavesdrop as the man spoke, his words tugging at a memory he thought was long buried.

"You know," the man was saying, "I knew her when she was just a little girl. She was quite the tough one, always out there hunting, always training. And now, look at her—getting a reward for being one of the best in the city. Never thought I'd see the day."

Rafayel’s heart pounded harder than ever. He leaned in slightly, ears straining to catch the next words.

"Reward?" the barista asked, clearly intrigued.

The man nodded. "Yes, she was in the papers last week. Excellent hunter. They even gave her a medal. Quite the achievement for someone so young."

The hairs on the back of Rafayel's neck stood up as his mind raced. Could it be her? he thought, the hope surging inside him like a wildfire. He quickly composed himself and approached the man, not wanting to seem too eager.

"Excuse me," Rafayel interjected, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. "You said... you knew her? The girl who received the reward?"

The man turned, his expression slightly guarded, but Rafayel’s intensity must have been clear because the man hesitated before answering.

"Yes," he said. "Her name’s Y/N. She was adopted by an older couple after her parents passed. Not sure where she is now, but last I heard, she’s living in Linkon City. She had a lot of promise back then, and I hear she’s made a real name for herself as a hunter."

Rafayel's breath caught in his throat. He had to fight the urge to rush out the door and find you immediately. His chest tightened with the weight of the revelation. Y/N. Your name. He had no doubt now—this was the girl he had been searching for, the one who had haunted his dreams for years.

He thanked the man, his voice shaky but sincere, and rushed to the nearest shop to buy a local newspaper. He scanned the front page, and there you were—your face staring back at him from the photograph. His heart nearly stopped as he saw you, older now, more mature, with a sharp, confident look in your eyes. The caption read: "Young Hunter of Linkon City Receives Award for Excellence."

The world around him seemed to blur as his eyes traced the image of you. His hands shook, and for the first time in years, Rafayel smiled. His heart swelled with both pride and love—pride that you had made something of yourself just like he had always known you would, and love that burned brighter now than ever before.

But as his eyes lingered on the photo, a deep, gnawing doubt struck him like a cruel wave. His paintings—the portraits of you—didn’t do you justice. How could they? The girl in those paintings was always a child, always frozen in time. This woman in the photograph was so much more than that. You had grown, evolved into something beyond what he had imagined, and yet, that was still you. That was the girl from the shore, the one who had touched his heart.

He stared at the photograph, unable to tear his eyes away. He had found you.

But now, the question was—how would he reach you? How would he get you to see him the way he saw you? Would you even remember him? Would you even believe it was the same person?

With those thoughts swirling in his mind, Rafayel made a decision.

He was going to Linkon City. He would find you, finally face-to-face, and try to bridge the gap between the dreams of the past and the reality of now.

The days following his discovery of your whereabouts were a blur of anxious energy and tireless effort. Rafayel spent hours—sometimes even all day—studying the photos of you in the paper, trying to etch your face into his mind. Every curve of your cheek, every spark in your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips. It wasn't enough to just look at the photographs anymore. He had to feel you, to know you. And so, the paintings continued.

He worked furiously, sketching and painting until his fingers ached, each stroke of the brush building the image of you. In his mind, you became clearer, sharper, more real with every stroke. He had painted you a dozen different ways by now, with each one revealing a little more of who you were—your maturity, your strength, the softness hidden beneath your confidence.

Finally, after days of painstaking work, Rafayel was able to capture you so perfectly that it felt as though you might step right out of the canvas. The memory of you—the real you—had settled deep within his mind, so ingrained that it no longer required a photograph to reference. He could draw you from memory, from feeling.

When the breakthrough came, it felt like a moment of pure magic. The drawing was flawless, the last line on the canvas the final piece of a puzzle he had been working on for years. He sat back and took in the image. It was you—no longer the child he had met by the shore years ago, but a grown woman, strong and confident in her own skin. The painting shimmered with the same light he remembered from that day, the spark that had drawn him to you.

But now, he needed to find you.

Linkon City. That was where you had been. And now, it was where he would go.

With a single, deep breath, Rafayel packed his things and set out for the city. The streets of Linkon were busy, bustling with people going about their lives, and Rafayel wandered among them, searching for any sign of you. But he had no idea where to begin. He didn’t know where you lived, or how you spent your days. All he had were his paintings, his memories, and his hope.

His hope led him back to the shore.

It wasn’t the beach where they had met—it wasn’t even the same town—but it was close enough. The shore had always felt like home to him, and he hoped that perhaps, just perhaps, you might come back here, like he had, to the place where the ocean whispered its secrets.

So, every day, Rafayel returned to the shore, sitting quietly with his easel and his paints. He worked, creating quick portraits of people who passed by, offering the paintings in exchange for a few coins. The people who came through were strangers, but for Rafayel, the true reward wasn’t the payment, it was the quiet moments in between—watching the waves, breathing in the salty air, waiting for a face he longed to see.

Day after day, he sat on the same spot, sketching, painting, lost in thoughts of you. He knew it was a long shot, but something inside him told him that you might just be close. You had to be. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving without seeing you, without knowing if there was even the smallest chance you remembered him.

A week passed, then a week and a half. His patience began to wear thin, but the spark of hope never faded. Every time he heard footsteps on the sand, he looked up with a racing heart, hoping—hoping—that it was you.

One late afternoon, as the sun dipped low in the sky, Rafayel was putting the final strokes on a painting. He had been so immersed in his work that the world around him had become a blur, his focus consumed by the canvas. As he added the last touch, a tiny swirl of blue to the corner of the painting, his gaze shifted up to the horizon.

And there you were.

You walked past, seemingly unaware of his presence, as though you were just another passerby, lost in your own world. But Rafayel’s heart stopped. The world around him seemed to freeze, and for a moment, everything felt surreal. It was you. You. He knew it immediately, even if you hadn’t seen him yet. The way you carried yourself, the way the light caught your hair, the way your footsteps seemed to match the rhythm of the waves—they were unmistakable.

He gasped, but quickly caught himself. He couldn’t let you know he was watching you. Not yet.

For a moment, Rafayel was frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Should he call out to you? Should he run to you and finally say everything he had been dying to say? No. He couldn’t. Not yet. You were here, but you hadn’t noticed him. And he wasn’t sure if you would even remember him.

Instead, he continued painting, keeping his gaze low and pretending to be lost in his work, even though his mind was spinning in a thousand different directions. His hand moved with steady strokes, carefully adding details to the portrait of a man who had paid for his art earlier that day. But his focus was on you—on the way you walked around the market, browsing the stalls, looking at trinkets and wares like any ordinary person.

He wanted to call out to you, to tell you everything, but he didn’t. He couldn’t yet risk it. So, he finished his painting in silence, feeling the pressure of time closing in as he tried to stay composed.

After a while, a small crowd began to form around his easel, admiring his work. He took the payment without thinking much about it, his mind still focused on you. As the last customer left, he slowly stood up, his gaze never leaving you.

You were still there, walking through the market, laughing softly with someone who had stopped to talk to you.

Rafayel sat still, his brush hovering over the canvas as he glanced at the ocean's rhythmic waves. His mind wandered, drifting from thought to thought, but his eyes never left the shore. In the distance, people walked by, oblivious to the quiet man sitting alone with his art. But he wasn’t looking at them. His gaze lingered on the figure walking among the crowds, brows furrowed, fingers absentmindedly running through his hair.

There she is.

You hadn't noticed him yet, but Rafayel felt an undeniable pull in his chest. He was finally close to you—this you, the one who had been a fleeting memory for years. His hands trembled slightly, but he steadied them, focusing back on the portrait in front of him. He’d painted and repainted your face so many times in his mind, trying to capture the essence of you.

The woman in his painting was close, but something was different. The years had passed, and you had changed. He didn’t know if you'd recognize him, but he didn’t dare risk it. He kept his head lowered, feigning concentration, waiting to see if you'd come closer.

And then—he saw it. A slight shift in your posture.

You stopped in your tracks, your gaze fixing in his direction. Rafayel held his breath, his pulse quickening. For a long, drawn-out moment, you stood there, staring at him, your eyes wide.

A soft gasp left your lips, too soft for anyone else to hear but loud enough for him to catch it. It was as though you recognized him immediately. The smile that spread across your face lit up your whole expression, and you started walking toward him. His heart leapt, an overwhelming mix of excitement and dread swirling in his chest. His hands were still shaking, and he didn’t dare look up as you neared. He wasn’t ready for what was coming next.

But you weren’t walking cautiously, or with hesitation—you bounded up to him, your eyes sparkling, radiating energy. You stopped in front of him, out of breath, looking at him with wonder.

"You look just like the merman from my dreams when I was a kid!" you exclaimed, practically bouncing in place.

A knot tightened in Rafayel’s chest, and the world around him seemed to slow. His heart skipped a beat, then sank into his stomach. His mind raced, trying to process your words. The merman from your dreams? Did you really not remember him? Did you really not recognize the man in front of you?

It felt as though the ground shifted beneath his feet, and his world tilted. But then, he forced a smile onto his lips, carefully masking the ache that bloomed in his chest. His emotions had to stay under control.

He could only laugh, though the sound felt hollow. “A merman, huh?” He handed you one of his portraits, keeping his voice light. "Well, I’d be happy to talk about your dream, if you’re willing to share. Maybe I could do a quick portrait for you—on the house, of course.”

You beamed, your smile so wide it almost seemed to brighten the entire area. With a grateful nod, you sat down beside him, your excitement apparent.

“I’d love that!” you said, eyes sparkling as you looked at the drawing in your hands. “I used to have dreams about this merman, and you... you look just like him! It was always so vivid. It was like we understood each other, you know? I had this crazy dream while I was on vacation in a seaside village in the south.”

Rafayel smiled, but there was a bittersweetness to it. "Yeah, I’ve always been drawn to the sea," he said, trying to keep his tone casual, though his heart was racing. “In fact, I lived around there for a while.”

He wanted to test the waters, to see if there was any recognition in your face, any flicker of memory. He kept his gaze steady on the canvas, fingers moving instinctively, not daring to look up too often. But he caught glimpses of you, watching the way your eyes flickered with curiosity.

“Oh, you lived there? That’s amazing!" You leaned forward, practically glowing. “I must’ve seen you around. Maybe I put your face on the merman in my dream, that’s why it felt so real.”

Rafayel’s heart skipped. Maybe, just maybe, there was something in those words that would break through the wall between him and your memory. But it wasn’t enough. He pressed forward, dropping subtle hints. Maybe, just maybe, you'd remember more.

“I’ve always loved the water," he added softly, trying to make the connection clearer, "Fish are my favorite food... I practically lived in the water. It’s... it’s my home, you know?”

You nodded eagerly, a bright smile still lighting up your face. “I love the sea too! It always felt so calming, so... familiar. Like I belonged there.”

His breath caught, and for a second, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe you were starting to understand, he thought. Maybe this time would be different.

But then, he saw the look in your eyes shift slightly, and you leaned back in your chair, placing a hand thoughtfully under your chin. Rafayel could feel the frustration building in his chest. He needed you to see it, to understand it—he couldn’t go on hiding behind these painted words.

With a sudden shift, he spoke with a slightly more urgent tone. “Do you still have the shell?”

You blinked, pausing for a second. A small, slow frown tugged at your lips as you processed his words. It was like the gears inside your mind clicked into place. Slowly, your gaze shifted from his face to his hands, still holding the painting.

There was a brief silence, and Rafayel’s heart pounded. This was it. He watched you carefully, waiting for the moment when you realized.

Then you looked up at him, eyes wide, the puzzle pieces coming together. A moment of clarity passed over your face, and Rafayel held his breath.

“You…” you whispered, your voice trembling with realization. “You... are him, aren’t you? The merman. You’re... you’re not just a dream.”

Rafayel couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. There was a rush of warmth in his chest as your words sank in, and for the first time, he allowed himself to breathe.

He was no longer just a memory.

He was here, with you.

“I’ve been looking for you, for a long time,” Rafayel said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve never been more glad to see you, in this life or the last.”

You stared at him, eyes full of wonder and surprise. The recognition was there now, and Rafayel felt like the world had finally shifted back into place. He wasn't just the merman from your childhood dreams. He was Rafayel—the one who had always been waiting for you.

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