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buckets-and-trees · 11 months ago

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What You Want

Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your boss, powerful lawyer Bucky Barnes, insisted he needed his indispensable assistant to accompany him on his trip to Norway. He also promised he would have you home in time for Christmas, but the weather decided to strike its wrath and decimate international travel, leaving you stranded for a few more days.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, vaginal fingering, use of "plum" as a term of endearment

Logistical Notes: Written for @sstan-hoe Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge - I was given a selection of prompts including "That noise...keep making it," reindeer, and lawyer/assistant power dynamics. Also my December entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the FLASHBACKS prompt. Divider by @saradika.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You heard the door open and close behind you and then familiar footsteps approaching, but you didn’t turn to look, instead keeping your eyes on the beauty of the frozen wilderness on display before you.

“Peace offering?” Bucky spoke as he stepped up beside you at the rail of the balcony, holding one of two steaming mugs in his hands toward you.

You sighed but gave him a small smile and took the mug. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re a very powerful man, Bucky, but I’m relatively sure you don’t control the weather.”

“Not yet, but I’m trying to pull some strings,” he said with a smirk, and you smiled.

“It’s not your fault we can’t get a flight back to the States when a blizzard has taken out half the Eastern Seaboard.”

It was unlikely that even with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ considerable lawyering power and money that he would be able to get you back home before Christmas. The main international airports in New England would have to live through the record raging blizzard, dig out, and then there would be hundreds of thousands of passengers to accommodate in and out of the country. Reasonably your guess was that you wouldn’t be returning until as early as the day after Christmas at the earliest.

“I should still apologize though. I said I would have you home for Christmas.”

You took a sip of the hot coffee. “You should apologize, but you’re not.”

He smiled. “No, I’m not.”

He turned and looked out over the forest and frozen tundra with you, the snow sparkling by the moonlight. This side of the resort hotel Bucky had booked the two of you into looked out over the wilderness.

“How long are you going to stay out here?”

“Until I see a reindeer. You brought me to Norway in December. I want to see a wild reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes, Bucky spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? They said our accommodations should be ready after dinner.”

It had been a bit of a feat to find any place this close to Christmas that wasn’t closed or completely booked, but Bucky had managed to find this place that although they said they didn’t have a place immediately available, they had late check outs that just needed to be cleaned and refreshed for new guests.

“It’s a very fine restaurant.”

“Alright, let’s go eat.”

“If that will be all for the evening, I’ll be happy to escort you to your suite, Mr. Barnes,” the maître d’ said. He had been attentive all evening, but being with Bucky on this business trip you had quickly learned only the most excellent service was a common thing for him.

“Yes, thank you, I think we’re finished,” Bucky replied, looking to you, and you nodded. You both scooted your chairs back from the table and then followed the man out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, past the bar, past the observatory lounge and balcony you’d visited earlier, and to a pair of elevators.

Dinner had been quiet, but not an uneasy quiet by any means for the two of you. Bucky was an intimidating man, power emanating from him very naturally, but after the first few weeks as his assistant, you had gotten over your nerves. After sitting with him through many lunches, plenty of meetings, taking notes from him on cases and projects, and a fair few late nights, you had grown comfortable around him, learned that he could be easy to talk to, but didn’t strive to fill a silence for conversation’s sake, something you appreciated.

The hotel Bucky had found was an upscale, moderately sized wilderness and ski lodge. When you arrived on the fifth and top floor, there was a cozy hallway that only boasted three doors, and you were led to the one at the very end, where the man unlocked the door, stepped in to hold it open, and then handed the key to Bucky.

“If you should need anything at all, simply pick up the phone and our staff will assist you,” he said. “Have a good evening, and we hope you enjoy your stay, even though we know it was unexpected for the holiday.”

“Thank you, dinner was fantastic, and the place looks wonderful, you’ve been great, Lucas. Have a good night,” Bucky said, and pressed what you were sure was a generous tip into the man’s hand.

All your and Bucky’s things had been left neatly to one side of the entry of the suite. A quick look around revealed that there were two rooms off either side of the spacious sitting area as well as a small kitchen and bar, and on the far side full floor to ceiling windows and a balcony. You had hoped for two rooms like you’d had at the previous hotel, but two rooms in a suite would be perfectly fine, especially since the stunning view out of the sitting room’s windows wasn’t the only beauty in the place. There was a fireplace with a gorgeous mantle with a roaring fire already ablaze and a stunning Christmas tree with gorgeous trimmings in the Scandinavian style.

“It’ll do, yes?” Bucky asked, watching you take in the beauty of the tree.

You smiled warmly at him, then looked back at the tree. “Yes, it’ll do just fine.” The sitting room was spacious and rivaled your cozy studio apartment back home for size. You stepped further into the suite. “Do you want to take a look at the rooms and pick which one you want?” you asked. All the trip was on the company’s expense account, and as his assistant, although you suspected he might be a gentleman and offer you the better room, you would defer to Bucky to actually pick.

“We’ll share whichever one is better,” he said with a shrug.

You scoffed. “No, there are two rooms in this gorgeous suite, I’m sure they’re both fantastic, I don’t mind taking the one you don’t want. Might even sleep on the couch so I can stay by the tree and look out those windows all night.”

He chuckled, low, and suddenly at your back. “You misunderstand me, plum,” he said, placing his hands on the curve of your hips and pressing his chest up against your back. He leaned in to speak the next words directly in your ear. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t move, and a soft, “Mr. Barnes,” was all you could say.

“Aw, none of that, plum, you haven’t called me Mr. Barnes for months, and I won’t it happening again now.”

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to protest, but even as you said the words, a traitorous part of you didn’t put much feeling behind them.

“Shouldn’t we? You’re smart enough to know I didn’t really need to bring you on this trip with me, but I wanted to. Didn’t want to go that long without seeing you, wanted you by my side in a charming Nordic country during the height of its festive season, and you said yes, like the perfect assistant that you are. I told myself that was enough, didn’t go knocking on your door any of the nights we were at our first hotel, kept it professional despite wanting more and more of you every day we spent together away from the office.”

His hand moved from your hips to circle around your front, his left moving over your soft stomach over to the other side to rest over the front of your right hip, and his right further up your torso, his hand brushing the underside of your breast and resting firmly just below it, bringing you flush against him.

“Fate won’t let me get you home for Christmas, so why deny what it’s dangling right in front of me now?”

He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and a small whimper escaped your throat.

“Let me have what I want,” he murmured, leaving a slow trail of more kisses down your neck. “I know you want it, too.”

“I – no, I don’t – I”

It was impossible to put up the words of protest when he licked the shell of your ear. You shivered in his arms instead.

“Let me ruin my perfect girl,” he pressed, slipping the hand that was at your hip into the waistband of your trousers. His hand stopped when his fingers met the lace edge of your panties. He turned you around abruptly and kissed you full on the mouth, cupping your face with both hands so you had no choice but to take the heat of his kiss, and the flame he’d been sparking started to catch more dangerously in your core.

He had somehow maneuvered you further into the sitting room so that when he suddenly broke off the kiss, you were in the middle of the space, the warm glow of the fire and the tree lights casting over you both.

Bucky stepped back, and you frowned in confusion, still breathless. He trailed a finger up the column of your throat to the tip of your chin, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “Undress,” he said.

He moved to the couch and sat, his eyes returning to you as he settled in.

“Undress,” he repeated.

That commanding tone struck another spark right to your cunt. You knew you were already growing wet for him.

You toed off your shoes one at a time, then took off your socks – those requiring you to move a little less elegantly than you wanted with his searing gaze on you. Standing aright again, your hands moved to the button of your trousers, fingers trembling since you had never stripped in front of anyone before. You weren’t a virgin, but although the partners you had been with before had been eager to have you naked, none had ever asked you to undress for them like this, like they wanted to see your full figure, not just fuck it.

Bucky spoke your name in a way that had you pause and look up at him again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You know I pride myself on my instincts. I think we both want this, but there are two rooms here.”

You bit your lip.

He was offering the veiled choice if you wanted it.

Your mind raced with flashbacks of conversations and thoughts you’d had over the past few weeks clear back to the first few meetings with your boss.

Insisting to your mother that your boss did absolutely need you to fly with him to Norway to assist him with meetings with an international client the week before Christmas.

Your best friend insisting on a shopping trip for your fancy work trip to a foreign country “because if your hot boss isn’t going to seduce you, have a foreign fling!”

Your heart stuttering the first time your eyes met your boss’s deep blues the day you interviewed with him.

The same eyes that were riveted on you now.

On you.

You unbuttoned your trousers and lowered the zipper. You glanced down as the fell to the floor, then stepped carefully out of them. When you looked back up, you saw even more hunger in Bucky’s eyes, and it warmed your blood. Looking right into those eyes, you reached for the hem of your sweater and lifted it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor as well.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “C’m’ere,” he beckoned, sitting back on the couch again, but beckoning you into his lap as he watched your every move.

You concentrated on his eyes and on keeping your breathing steady. When you were close enough for him to reach for you, he held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you gently down to straddle your legs on either side of his.

“My perfect plum,” he murmured. His hands moved up your thighs, over your hips, up your waist, and back down.

“Your plum?” you asked, watching his face as his eyes roved over you up close.

“My perfect plum - I want to savor every delicious curve of your body,” he said before dropping a kiss to the top of your breast. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “When I felt that lace of your underwear, I thought maybe you did want this, too.” His lips moved to the other breast where he kissed the exposed skin, then traced his tongue along the edge of the lacy cup, causing you to shiver. “There isn’t any other reason you would be wearing such pretty lingerie, is there?”

“No,” you admitted immediately.

“Just for me,” he said as he moved his hand to your mound and immediately slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke along your folds, making you gasp. “Good girl, already wet for me.”

You keened as his finger traced your warm hole but didn’t go in, instead taking the slick there and pressing it up over your folds. He continued tracing them up and down before moving up to find your clit, knowing he found it the second your head dropped back, and you let a, “Yes,” tumble from your lips. “More.”

His other hand skimmed up from your hip, up your side, to your neck, and then angled your head back down for another kiss. Your lips met his eagerly, mouths parting, you licked into his mouth, and he growled his approval. He moved his finger from your clit, but your whine was brief as he slipped that finger along with a second straight into your cunt, stroking in and out, over and over again. You canted your hips into his hand, and you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he curled his fingers forward with each stroke, quickly finding the spongy spot that made you tremble and moan.

Breathless, it was you who had to break off the kiss first, but you pressed your forehead to his. “Feel good, plum?” he asked, and you registered that he sounded as earnest as you felt, his voice deep and a little breathless, too.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped.

“Mmm, sir? I like that,” he said, and rewarded you by moving his thumb to start circling your clit.

You moaned openly.

“That noise…keep making it.”

He sped up his motions just slightly, seeming to feel how your body was tensing up, building toward a powerful release.

“Ready to cum for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, sir!” your answer was more like a plea. “So close.”

Keeping up the rhythm on your clit, he applied more pressure with each thrust of his fingers up inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot on the front of your walls, and with just a few more strokes, the wave crested and rolled over you.

“That’s it, plum,” he cooed as you trembled above him, his other hand coming to smooth unhurriedly up and down your back as his fingers continued to stroke your channel, slowly extending your orgasm. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth. You sucked them in, laving your tongue over them. “Can’t wait to see you come for me again,” he said. And too impatient for you to lick his fingers clean, he withdrew them and crashed his lips back into yours.

“Earlier tonight when I said I should apologize, and you called me right out for not doing any such thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is why I didn’t apologize. I was in no way sorry that I had more time with you, and I’m going to use it to take you apart and put you back together all night.”

You would think about all of this later. But he emptied your head of anything but him and the pleasure between you, making more than good on his promise to take you apart until you were completely spent and ruined in his bed.

READ THE SEQUEL: NOW THAT I SAW YOU

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eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove · 4 months ago

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Hey, i read the “Bat-boys finding out your pregnant” and may i ask for more? It was sooo cute that i need more of it 😭💕

The Batboys fathers HCs

A/N: this request is long overdue that I’m sure the requester doesn’t even remember it, but I’ve arrived at last. I hope this is what they wanted. The Absolute Power run has restored my love for Nightwing and comics. ❣️

Dick Grayson is a fun dad. At first, Dick suffocated beneath the weight of fatherly duties. He wanted to be better than Bruce. Dick loved him, but he could admit that his boyhood wasn’t a salubrious environment for the young mind. No child should have to carry the weight of Bruce’s mission. Thus, Dick’s mission became ensuring yours and the baby’s lives were secure, safe, and joyous.

Pale beams of sunlight kissed your cheeks good morning. The aroma of maple syrup wafted throughout the house, tickling your nostrils as you carried yourself down the stair steps, footfall by footfall. There Dick stood at the stove, scooting the black spatula beneath a golden pancake and flipping it into the air, causing your baby to burst out into a fit of giggles before the pancake hit the skillet with a sizzle. He was proud of himself for making his baby laugh.

“Well, well, look at mama.” A grin crept across his lips as he spotted you creeping closer, supernovas bursting in his electric blue irises.” You were snoring in a pool of drool when I awoke, so I grabbed the baby and started breakfast.” Vibrant seas of pacifiers, rattles, and toy pianos adorned the house.

Dick attempted to rush the developmental process. Not out of callousness, but sheer excitement to have a child. He had already stocked the baby in dolls, trucks, pacifiers, fruit snacks, apple juice (watered down, of course). He even installed a nightlight that short circuited the house at first, but Bruce helped him fix it. Reading is good for the baby right? Dick is on it. He’s already ordered the best and most classic tales; Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Alice in Wonderland, Dr. Seuss, Little Red Riding Hood.

Dick Grayson has read multiple novels on fatherhood, motherhood, child development, postpartum depression. He hates surprises, and babies are the breeding ground of surprises. He will pack the go-bag full of onesies, pacifiers, diapers, wipes, toys because he doesn’t want you to be in public and not have the materials.

“Give me a few days to install the new changing table. You’ll love it.” Crimson blush adorned his tanned cheeks, a proud grin dawning on his lips, showcasing his pearlescent teeth.” It broke when I weight checked it, thank god. Damian, albeit reluctantly, is coming out here tomorrow to translate the instructions.”

Jason Todd is the protective, paranoid father because he’d placed a bullet in the worst humanity had to offer, witnessed otherworldly horrors done to the little guys, the folks who lack billions of dollars to hole up on secluded islands and cabins. He can’t eradicate all the scum, can’t caulk the fractures villains seem to keep slipping through—and that terrifies him.

Jason never imagined a life worth living to be possible. He’d thought himself a sentient zombie, an unlucky boy yanked from the eternal peace of a cold, soundless grave and forced to enact vengeance on behalf of the common folk who lack the means to undertake the mission themselves. He never considered Red Hood to be a hero; merely a restless phantom with nothing else to bide his time until the sweet release of the afterlife deigned to shatter his manacles to the mortal world. That was until he’d fallen over the sun, offering endless devotion to his goddess, and you’d rewarded his offering with a daughter, a lovely girl. He’d abduct the moon and wrap it in a silken bow if only you’d give him permission.

“Catch, papa,” your daughter had called out, retrieving the little football and sprinting toward him, tiny feet carrying her over the damp and verdant grass of y’all’s backyard. Jason never brought the both of you to parks—an excess of people to watch, different personalities and behaviors; a myriad of possibilities for tragedy. Too much room for error in a vast, leafy expanse.

“You’ve gotta bring it to me first,” Jason called back, outstretching his muscular arms, awaiting her arrival. He was paranoid and distrustful of the world, not a killjoy. Y’all’s daughter’s bedroom was littered with vivid nail polishes, fluffy scarves, glittering tiaras, and Monster High dolls. Your daughter had always adored Frankie Stein and Frankenstein because they reminded her of Jason and herself, the dolls and humans both sharing pale white streaks of hair. He hadn’t known whether to laugh or weep upon hearing those words from her lips, innocent and completely unaware of the accuracies spanning far past hair color.

“Jason, I love you, but we are not cooping ourselves up in the house this summer.” The words were firm and unyielding—but lacking any true bite.

“ I’ve given you grace. I let a lot slide because I understand your background. But we’re just not doing it this summer. Its too hot to not go to waterparks and enjoy ourselves because of possibilities.” A damn good point rested upon your tongue, and he knew it.

“Fine.” He relented with a jocosely petulant huff.” But we take a gun with us.”

Tim Drake is an ambitious father. It’s been said before, but I don’t believe he’s as active as the fandom would believe. Though, his absence isn’t born of malice or indifference, but ambition, a thirst for a legacy. He wants to be a man his significant other and child can be proud of, a father worth bragging about. There’s also a large chamber seated within his mind that knows not how to be a father, for his parents were cold, choosing to throw dollars at his gripes and needs rather than be present.

One of his greatest fears is disappointing the both of you, like he was disappointed by his own parents, so disappointed he couldn’t even despise them. Tragically, the mission to avoid history’s repetition had placed him before a mirror, his parents gazing back at him, a smug smirk curled on their lips because they know that he’ll be on their end of the glass within a few decades.

Can he be blamed? Tim wants the absolute best for his family. The best grades, the best schools, the best scores, the best scholarships. He’s not naïve enough like Dick to believe hard work and persevere can lift a nobody anywhere. There are no bootstraps to be pulled taut. It’s an illusion, a sauce wealthy people spoon over their meals to disguise the taste of nepotism and privilege. Manipulations the rich regurgitate to excuse themselves from having to acknowledge the unfair, biased system they’ve upheld.

The door to his limousine slammed closed, his child seated beside but, but farther than ever. What could be said? Jerking forward, the limousine rolled into drive, coasting beneath autumn streaked clouds, as though her father had gifted her the sky from a florist. Bruce hadn’t prepared Tim for the teenaged terror years. He couldn’t help but wonder if he himself had been this capricious and fickle as a teen, or if he were merely that bad of a father.

“Do. . . do you want a Milkshake? From that one place by the house, like we used to when you were young.” Tim couldn’t help but raise a hopeful raven shaded brow. He could smell the stench of sweat, an anxious perspiration, cleaving to your school uniform. It must’ve been a test day.” I’ll clear the rest of my schedule for us. . . if you want, of course.” He extended an olive branch, granting her the choice to engage and accept, or set the course for the rest her teenage years.

Damian Wayne does not want children. He doesn’t know how far his taint would bleed, and all he can envision are the ways he could disgrace the mind of a child. His village was rotten and evil. Bad fruits bear worse seeds.

Damian’s devotion was love, the purest kind he knew, a primal desire to protect and cherish that of which he adored. You forged suns in his heart, set the butterflies in his belly aflutter. Beneath a weeping of sheet of violet sky, the both of you had sworn to love the other until Earth imploded—and when it did, he would find you in another universe.

He doesn’t hate children. In fact, he would be a decent babysitter for Dick and Jason, and whenever Tim deigned to grace the BatCave with his presence. But, Damian is staunch in his childfree attitude, and you respect it. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure you wanted kids. No, you and Damian battled crime, traveled the world and experienced culture, learned histories outside of the filth pumped into his mind by the Al Ghuls. Bruce was saddened by Damian’s decision against children, but he ultimately respected it—and him.

Damian knew he was poisoned and rotten and always would be, no matter what emblem was sewn over his breast. He was content with the life the both of you had, and knowing Dick, many more children are to come, so he’d never get lonely.” Beloved, what do you make of Italy? Not the tourist parts where the history is washed, but the ripe lands.”

Bruce Wayne is a weary father. He knew the birth of his youngest child was redemption, his last chance at preserving the Wayne name since Damian had sworn off children. But Bruce was aged, hardened, jaded, weary. He had scars to last a lifetime, some worn on his heart, though majority were worn on his skin.

The Wayne brownstone was eerily silent since Alfred’s death. Bruce’s son sat around the oaken table, coloring a picture of Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, and Alfred. Bruce’s heavy lids fell over exhausted, dim blue irises, his brain flitting back to the memories of Alfred, gathered at the stove and learning a recipe. I am. . . old, Master Bruce. My time on this earth is not infinite. You must learn more than the ways of fists, the words echoed in his mind. Reminding him that old age wasn’t even the murderer of Alfred Pennyworth.

He fetched an inhale before pulling himself off of the couch, and padding over toward his son at the dinner table.” What’s that? Oh, a pretty picture. A real artistic talent, like Damian.” Bruce was unsure of his fathering more often than not. He knew how it appeared to his son’s school counselors and the principal—old, washed up playboy Bruce Wayne saddled with another young son. That was far from the case, but the masses will believe anything when they’re given nothing.

Bruce fetched a pot and skillet from the creaking cabinets of the brownstone, far from the elegance and cleanliness of the manor. Alfred would’ve been mortified to see the mess, he almost chuckled, but withheld it. Lest his son raise a question, for the explanation would be too complicated and long-winded for his young mind.” So, what do you see for dinner tonight? What makes that belly growl like a lion? Mac and Cheese? Lasagna? Hamburger Helper?”

Bruce knew exactly what his son would choose. Asking was merely a courtesy. Bruce knew him, raised the boy from the minute he was weaned. He knew what his son would do before his son knew what he himself would do. The Batman wasn’t a slacker, wasn’t lazy.

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theonewiththefanfics · 1 year ago

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Seal It With a Kiss (one-shot)

Synopsys: After a looting session goes wrong, Astarion and Reader have to face the music and confront their feelings. Whatever they might be.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit

Word count: 3234

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

The light was too bright. And the ground was too hard. And the pillow too tough and lumpy. And why did Y/N feel so hot when it was literally snowing? And, actually, when had it started snowing? From bright blue skies, might she add?

Slowly, haziness dissipated from her eyes, and the world around came into sharp, painful focus. The light was too bright because half of her surroundings were on literal fire. The ground was too hard because she was half on rubble that once was a palace roof, and the tough, lumpy pillow was a rock her head had smashed against, while the snow was ashes flowing down, covering everything, including her, in a grey layer of soot, the sky peeking in from the hole above.

Although her sight was clearing, a sharp ringing pierced her ears. Or was it shouting?

A shadow crossed the sky, and above her, she could see their resident vampiric elf’s mouth moving.

“ – were you thinking?!” Finally, her ears started to clear as well. “You absolute imbecile! Why would you do that?!”

Y/N just groaned in response, as her memories came back in quick flashes. Everyone was arguing about where they should look for another magical artefact, Astarion shooting down what Gale had proposed, Wyll trying to make a sensible plan while Lae’Zel interrupted Shadowheart at any given moment. A deep rumble from the depths of the abandoned palace they were in silenced them all, Karlach throwing them a worried expression. And then the whole building exploded.

On instinct, Y/N had pushed Astarion as far away as she could before the ceiling came crashing down on top of her. It was nothing short of a miracle, she had managed to survive. Bruised, battered, no doubt with broken bones, but alive nonetheless. Maybe she’d have to thank a goddess or two. That was if Astarion didn’t rip her to pieces beforehand with how furious he looked.

Slowly Y/N tried to lift herself onto her forearms, and for all his admonishments, Astarion was quick to crouch down and help her, putting his arms under her pits and letting her rest against his chest.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled, noticing a large bannister lying across her leg. “That’s not good.”

“Not good?!” Astarion practically shrieked, his hands tightening around her ribs. “How hard did you hit your fucking head? This is so beyond not good I can’t even think of a level!”

Y/N winced at his tone. “Can you stop shouting, please? Gods, my head is splitting.”

“Oh, is it now? It would be quite the fucking miracle if it wasn’t, seeing as a whole fucking palace just toppled on you!”

“Quit being so dramatic and help get that thing off me! Where’re the rest?”

“Frankly, I don’t fucking care right now!” Astarion gently laid Y/N back down and went to the large boulder.

His arms strained as he lifted the piece of the pillar, her eyes widening at the display of strength.

She sometimes forgot how strong Astarion actually was, how easily he could snap her neck with just a twist of his hands if he so wished while Y/N allowed him to drink from her. But he was always gentle instead, with how he held her nape, fingers soothingly pressing into her scalp and knuckles brushing against her collarbones once he was done in a sweet gesture of thanks.

As quickly as she could, Y/N scooted from under the rubble, Astarion dropping the boulder back unceremoniously, and he was back by her side in a second, an arm wrapping around her waist, so she could lean on him.

“We have to find the others,” Y/N hissed as she stood. Her whole body screamed in pain, but they had to get out of the now-ruined palace, lest another explosion happen.

“They can find their own way out,” Astarion grunted, as he led them towards the exit.

“Astarion!”

“No!” He snapped his head to look at Y/N, and his scarlet eyes held such a desperate gaze in them, that she pinched her lips shut. “I will knock you out if I have to. I am not letting you get hurt again.”

“Astarion, they’re our friends,” Y/N’s voice was gentle. “We have to help them if we can.”

For a moment, Astarion truly looked like he might just throw her over his shoulder and march out of the place. But then he sighed, hanging his head in defeat before looking at her with pain distorting his features. “Why do you always have to be so good?”

Something tugged at her heart. That expression on his face, as if it physically put him in agony to lead them around the ruined palace in search of their companions, as he flinched and tightened his hold on her whenever something crackled, ready to throw his own body atop hers, in case something happened. It wasn’t selfishness, not one bit. Something deeper lay beneath Astarion’s reluctance.

It took them a while to find their party, but luckily no one was injured, and Y/N was the worst one off. Shadowheart was by her side in an instant, giving her a healing potion.

“Should keep you set until we get back to camp.” She patted her shoulder. “I’ll heal you fully once we’re out of immediate danger.”

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled at the cleric.

She was just about to ask Astarion whether he was alright, but the vampire had already detached himself and was glaring at the ground, arms crossed over his chest ten feet away from her.

Y/N couldn’t deny – it stung. He’d been so worried just a few moments ago, yet now he couldn’t even look at her?

Her feet worked on their own accord, moving in his direction, but the way he turned his back to her, told her all she needed to know – he didn’t want to talk.

Pain shot through her heart, and it was definitely not because of the explosion, but Y/N respected his privacy, so she didn’t approach him any further, even though they always, always, walked next to one another.

“We should head back,” she spoke up, eyes remaining on Astarion’s taut back. “Maybe get some rest as well. We still have tomorrow anyway to search this place.”

When Astarion left the palace without even waiting to see if anyone was following, Y/N could do nothing but sigh and depart as well.

The walk to where they’d set up their camp was uncharacteristically quiet, especially from the pale elf’s side. He’d usually fill their travels with mindless talk and sarcastic quips, but this time around, he hung towards the back of their group and was as mum as a grave. He didn’t even comment on whatever Gale was saying, which made Y/N all the more uneasy.

She couldn’t wrap her mind around why he’d become so distant all of a sudden. What’d happened at the palace was nothing unusual. They risked their lives on the daily, saving others and themselves, so why in the world was Astarion so pissed about this, she had no clue.

Karlach leaned to the side, watching as the vampire entered his tent, closing the laces immediately. “Fangs is quite in a bad mood. Anything we should know about, soldier?”

Y/N huffed. “Probably broke a nail or something. In any case – nothing important enough to be acting the way he is.”

“Maybe I should go and – “

She put a palm on Karlach’s shoulder, stopping her, and giving her friend a wry smile. “I’ll talk to him. Better he’s angry at me and only me, not someone else as well. Apparently, I’ve pissed him off as is.”

“You sure?” the tiefling asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N nodded. “I think we need to have a talk anyway.”

With a “good luck” from Karlach, she sighed and steeled herself against whatever the vampire would throw her way. She unlaced the ties and lifted the flap to the side. With crossed arms, she entered Astarion’s tent, only to be greeted by his back as he stubbornly kept looking at a book in his hands, not even acknowledging her.

“Are you seriously pouting right now?” Y/N asked after a minute of silence.

“I’m not pouting, I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

“Well, does brooding involve giving the silent treatment, or can we talk?”

Astarion threw a withering gaze over his shoulder. “What is there you want to talk about? Unless it’s an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

Y/N let out an exasperated huff. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I won’t apologise for saving your life.”

“By putting your own life in danger?!” Astarion spun around, throwing the tome he’d been holding onto his bedroll.

“Comes with the territory.” She shrugged. “You should know how it is.”

“Letting a whole building collapse on top of you is very different to knocking a blade out of the way!”

“Why are you so angry with me?” Y/N raised her voice, matching Astarion’s furious tone. “I saved your life!

“I didn’t ask for you to!”

She let out a disbelieving scoff. “Well, sucks to be you then! Because I was not just going to let you get crushed underneath all that rubble! Your life is just as important as everyone else’s!”

“Not to me! Not when it comes to you!”

Now that shut her up completely, her lips pinched in a thin line, eyes wide in shock. She and Astarion were friends, at least Y/N would've liked to think so. She most definitely had developed deeper feelings than that, but would only admit to it over her own dead body. The thought of Astarion’s rejection made her want to crumple into a small heap, but his reaction put thoughts in her head that maybe, just maybe, her feelings weren’t one-sided.

“What do you suppose I would do if you – if – if,” he stumbled on his words. “If I had to go on without you? If you were no longer with us… with me…”

“Astarion…”

“Do you understand how it felt to see you go down?” He sighed, hanging his head. “When I saw the roof caving in and then felt you push me away before you vanished beneath rubble and dust and ash… I’ve never been more terrified in all of my life, two hundred years of which were spent under the rule of an absolute sadist, where horrors awaited around every corner.”

His eyes bore nothing but pain and despair he’d felt in that moment. “I heard everyone else screaming - Shadowheart calling out, Wyll and Karlach making sure Gale and Lae’Zel were alright but nothing… not a single whisper from your voice. You tell me I’m pouting, but all I can see when I close my eyes is you… how you would look… dead. Your eyes closed forever, your blood spilling out of your body and I… I have to stand and watch as I am unable to save you.

“But I’m alright.” Y/N stepped up to him, taking one of his palms in hers, and squeezing it. “Astarion, I’m alive, and I’m fine.”

“But you almost weren’t!” he hissed, pulling her closer, bringing their clasped hands to rest against his chest. “And all I would have been left to do was wait for the dust to settle and dig out your broken body. You would have condemned me to eternity without you… I just almost lost the person I love... and that fear is something I never wish to experience again.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at such an honest confession. “I umm I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” Friendship was one thing, but love? That threw her completely off balance.

“Feel? Felt? What does it matter anymore? Clearly, it’s not like it’s reciprocated.” He scoffed, back the mask of bravado and not caring, but Y/N wasn’t having any of it.

“It matters to me.” Her brows furrowed. “It matters a great deal to me. Why do you think I did what I did, exactly? Because it’s fun? Because I enjoy blocks of buildings dropping down on me? Because it’s such an absolute delight to realise - if I don’t push you out of the way, you will be in direct line of fire, and I might lose you?”

Astarion’s mouth opened and closed. “I didn’t – I –“

“No!” Y/N pointed an accusatory finger at him. Now she was angry. “You don’t get to play the "I'm in love with you" card and be angry with me. Not if you dare tell me how I feel without asking first!”

“You...” He shook his head, a crease to his brow. “You never indicated you held anything more than… friendly affections towards me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Yes, because I let everyone in this party use me as their personal snack each night. I’d say that should’ve been your first clue.”

“I’d say you’re a full-course meal, my darling, but I understand the sentiment.” And though back was his usual air of sarcasm, a deep vulnerability could be seen shining in his crimson eyes as he weaved a gentle hand to wrap around the small of her waist, brushing underneath her sleep tunic to rest against her skin.

Cold met warm, and Y/N gasped as a shiver ran down her spine. His slender fingers dug into her back as he pulled Y/N closer, their breaths mingling, and if they only moved just a couple of centimetres, lips would touch.

“I just – I cannot stand and watch you throw your life away for someone like me. The thought of your brightness being extinguished because of it… I couldn’t bear it.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side. “Someone like who exactly? Someone who I’ve grown to look at as my dearest confidant? Someone who I know will always tell me the truth and be there if I cannot handle it? Or someone who so deftly has stolen my heart, he cannot even comprehend it’s been his the whole time? Besides, even if it wasn’t reciprocated...” She played with the string of his shirt, “you can’t tell me to be more careful, to not save you when you do the exact same thing.”

“How can I not?” Astarion’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, and for once, he seemed to want the moment to reflect what truly lay in his soul. “You make my heart beat on its own. If I had to give up walking in the sun for the rest of my life, I would. As long as it meant you were safe and happy. I’d even gladly go back to Cazador if you were on the line. Without a second to spare.”

“Don’t you dare fucking say that!"

“But it’s true.”

“Not if I can help it,” Y/N grumbled, tightening her hold on his shirt by his hips, pulling him closer like she had to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “He’s not ever going to get near you. I’ll level the whole of Baldur’s Gate if I have to.”

“And I am being honest when I say, if I had to choose between you being unhurt or me being imprisoned, being used as I was, I would always put you first.”

Y/N was on the verge of tears. “You listen to me you pompous blood-sucking elf – you will do no such thing. Whatever comes, we both will get through it. And Cazador will have his head ripped from his shoulders, but not before I gouge his eyes out, and do every single vile thing he did to you back onto him. I will skin him alive and then throw him in a tomb with nothing but cockroaches. Let him drink his own blood and see how he likes it.” She shuddered, taking in a deep breath. “Your life is not worth less than mine. Don’t you ever dare think that way.”

A watery chuckle escaped Astarion, and his eyes brimmed with silvery tears. “Can I kiss you?” He didn’t dare lift his gaze, focusing on their intertwined fingers, resting against where his heart no doubt would have been rattling a crazy rhythm if it still beat.

“If you want to.” Y/N’s reply was as quiet as his question had been, but there was no teasing in her tone.

His eyes flashed for a second, but she didn’t get a full grasp on what it was she saw. Maybe surprise. Maybe gratitude? She couldn’t tell really, all she knew was that the emotion caused a pang to ring to her very core. She’d kill Cazador with her own bloody hands.

“I want it.” He nodded. “More than anything.”

“More than my blood? That first night you almost drained me dry,” Y/N’s words, though true, held no malice, only gentle teasing.

“And how do you know that first time I wasn’t trying to wake up the sleeping princess with a magical true love’s kiss? The feeding just ended up being a bonus.” He brushed her nose with his, and couldn’t help the way his own lips turned up as Y/N smiled.

“Well, this sleeping princess would’ve punched you in the nose, had you awoken her for such silly things. Besides, you did miss my lips.”

Astarion chuckled, relishing the way her body pressed against his. “But I am allowed to awaken you to drink from you?”

“Well...” She nudged his nose with hers now. “Seeing as you become absolutely unbearable when hungry, I think for my own peace and everyone else’s, that does count as a vital reason to rouse me."

Gentle hands cupped her cheeks. “Allow me to demonstrate then how vital a kiss can be to one’s survival.”

And then their lips met.

She’d never admit it out loud, for his ego would surely grow larger than it already was, but it did feel like a magical kiss of life. Her whole body sang as his fingers slid against the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, almost like Astarion was afraid she’d pull back, but she could never. Not when he slipped his tongue past her lips, and her knees almost crumbled.

Y/N had to tighten her hold on his waist to not completely lose it, and she could feel the smirk growing on the vampire’s face, as he realised just how incapacitated his kiss had made her. He nipped at the bottom of her lip and relished in the small whimper he got to devour.

After what felt like ages, they pulled back, panting, but not going too far as Astarion rested his forehead against hers.

Y/N smiled. “True love’s kiss you say?”

“It feels like it,” he mumbled, allowing himself to indulge in the tender touch of her fingers skimming up and down his back. “Though I don’t know much about… love… I’d like to experience it with you. All of it. The good and the bad that might come with it.”

“I’ll be here,” Y/N promised. “As long as you want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

“And if I ask for forever?”

She let out an over-exaggerated, dramatic sigh. “Forever’s quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“Not long enough,” Astarion replied, a smile tugging up his lips. “It’d never be long enough with you.”

Y/N quirked a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

He chuckled at that. “I’d say it’s more of a promise, if anything.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”

“Deal, my love.”

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stevie-petey · 7 months ago

Text

episode two: the mall rats

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.” “Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be. It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Summary: dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, allusions to violence, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 13.2k

Before you swing in: hello !!! new chapter, i am so sorry for the wait :/ the end of the semester has been killer and ive been super busy with my lab job (i present at a conference friday ... pray for me). heres chapter 2, she somehow ended up being 13k words but lets ignore that for my own sanity !

There are dandelions all around you.

Their puffs of white surround you as the seeds dance in the air and settle atop of your head and tickle your cheek. They’re soft, reminiscent of the snow that encases you every winter in Hawkins and the days you used to chase Jonathan around in his backyard.

You’re barefoot in a field that you can’t quite place. The grass below you skims against your ankles as the dandelion seeds float towards the tops of the green. It’s a familiar landscape, something tells you that you’ve been here before, and the thought is almost reassuring to you.

The sun is warm against you and there’s someone in the distance. You open your mouth to call out to them, they feel as familiar as the landscape before you does, but when you try to speak, the dandelion seeds begin to swarm into your mouth. The puffs of white seem to turn into daggers in your throat as they cut your tongue and slice inside you as you struggle to breathe.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. The dandelions now draw blood as they continue their malicious attack on you. You claw at your mouth and cower in the field, trying to flee from what’s attacking you, but the dandelions only follow as you try to call after the figure you saw in the distance.

Stumbling blindly through the grass, panic stricken and longing for the person who had once been at the top of the hill, your foot catches on a root and suddenly you’re falling. This time, you do scream, and the dandelion seeds spill from your mouth as you fall into an endless abyss.

“Y/N!” Your eyes fly open and your body shoots from your bed; you almost head butt Dustin in the process. He flinches back, startled by your violent reaction, and he puts his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Geesh, I was just trying to wake you up.”

It takes you a few moments to process that you are, in fact, awake. Your heartbeat is still pounding rapidly in your throat. You can still feel the dandelion seeds on your tongue and the millions of little cuts they left behind.

Dustin stares at you with slight concern in his eyes and you clear your throat, trying to rid the memory of your dream. That’s all it was. A dream.

Clearing your throat again, you try to calm yourself down. “Why are you in my room?”

“Like I said, I was trying to wake you up.” Your brother says as if you’re an idiot.

“But why?”

“Did you bang your head or something last night?” He gives you an odd look and you glare at him. “Cerebro caught a Russian code, remember? You promised we’d see Steve today to talk about it!”

You rub your eyes, exhausted. It’s taking longer than usual for your mind to wake up and process everything. “I know, I know… What time is it?”

“Eight, now get up and go get pretty for Steve so we can discuss how to become American heroes.” Dustin crosses his arms, silently daring you to argue.

“There was so much wrong with that sentence,” you groan, but reluctantly throw your blankets off of you and start pulling out random shorts and a t-shirt to wear. “You’re lucky it’s the weekend and I don’t work today.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Dustin mocks you, tossing you a white t-shirt and removing the red one from your hands. “Steve likes you in white, now hurry up.”

Your mouth drops in shock, but your brother simply rolls his eyes at you and leaves your room so that you can get dressed.

“How does he even know that?” You whisper to yourself, now alone in your room.

–

Dustin bikes ahead of you as you make your way to Joyce’s store in Downtown Hawkins. He had complained when you told him that you needed to make a pitstop there before going to the mall.

“I haven’t seen Steve in a month!”

“And Mrs. Byers is close to losing her job at Melvald’s, so you can wait the extra five minute detour it takes to deliver her muffins to cheer her up.”

Your brother had tried to argue some more, but you simply shoved a fresh baked muffin in his mouth and began to bike away.

Now, as the two of you head towards Downtown, the early morning air fills your lungs and slowly wakes you up. It’s quiet, Hawkins isn’t quite awake yet in the early hour. Only the bees buzzing past your ear seem to be lively.

You watch Dustin up ahead and briefly marvel at how much bigger he seems to have gotten in the month he was away at camp. He looks older, more mature, no longer the baby brother your mom brought home fourteen years ago.

As you’re lost in your reminiscence, you almost miss the figure that stumbles along the side of the road.

“Dustin!” You yell at the boy, weary of whoever is up ahead. “Stop!”

He hears the fear in your voice and screeches his bike to a halt. Turning around, he checks to make sure you’re okay. “Did something happen?”

You stop next to him and discreetly point at the figure a few yards away. It seems to be a boy, maybe a teen your age, but he’s walking as if he’s in immense pain. “You see that?”

“Yeah,” Dustin squints and also seems unnerved by the person’s appearance. “Think it’s anything dangerous?”

“I don’t know…” Something feels familiar about the person. Their hair, the way it’s styled, reminds you of someone. You squint as well, your eyes catch on the person’s leather jacket and the expensive brand, there’s a faint outline of cigarettes in the pocket, and the sight fills your nose with the smoke that once choked you last winter. “I think it’s Billy.”

“Why is he walking on the side of the road?” Dustin makes a face. “I know he has a car, the bastard almost ran me and the party over on Halloween.”

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to understand why you feel this tug within you to get closer to the teen. Billy is cruel, he is horrible, and the bruises he left on your neck took weeks to fully fade away. Yet there’s a concern within you as you watch him stumble, as if in some daze, and it's this worry that solidifies your decision. “Stay here.”

“What–” Dustin turns and sees that you’ve gotten back on your bike and are now pedaling towards Billy. “Y/N! Are you insane?”

“Stay here!” You order, not really understanding why you’re doing this either. “Just… Wait for my signal!”

Dustin curses, not at all liking this plan, but he listens. He tightens his grip on his bike’s handlebar and makes sure you never leave his line of sight in case you need him for backup.

As you approach Billy, you make sure to circle widely around him so that he sees you coming, before finally facing in front of him. You brake a few feet away from him, incredibly nervous for how he may react. You haven’t spoken to him since last winter, he had kept his promise to Max to leave you alone.

Billy barely seems to register that you’re in front of him. He stops as if he’s in a trance and blinks slowly at you. You notice the cut on his forehead, how there’s still fresh blood dripping from it, and something within you wants to tend to the wound. Then you notice the grime that covers his face and his jacket, and you begin to worry even more.

As you’re eying his disheveled appearance, Billy opens his mouth, and the action looks as if it takes all the energy within him to do so. “S–sweetheart?”

“Are you okay?” You ignore the nickname he gave you that makes your skin crawl. You’re more worried about his appearance. He’s sweating like crazy, almost as if he’s on drugs, and he’s paler than normal. His California tan is gone, his eyes are glazed over, he looks as if he isn’t really here with you right now.

It scares you. You’ve never seen him like this.

“‘M fine,” Billy slurs. He seems… off. More drawn into himself now, less sure of himself. Scared, even. It’s a strange sight to see: Billy Hargrove, alone and frightened, in the early morning of June. “I… I’m fine.”

His slurred words aren’t reassuring, and a part of you wants to offer him a ride on your bike. You assume he’s heading to the local pool to lifeguard, you know it’s where he spends most of his days, but you have Dustin with you and you’re still nervous around Billy.

The wounds he gave you may have healed, but some nights, when the nightmares are really bad, you wake up to his hands around your throat.

It feels wrong just leaving Billy like this, though. He’s still human, Max has slowly opened up to you about her abusive stepdad and the way he punches her brother. You know that Billy’s actions come from his hurt, but you don’t think you’re ready yet to forgive him. Not now, at least.

Reluctantly, you sigh and wave your hand to indicate to Dustin that he’s fine to start biking over. Billy doesn’t seem like a threat right now in his current state. When you see your brother start to pedal closer, you look back at Billy. “Listen, I know we aren’t… friends.”

Billy stares blankly at you, and you really hope that he can understand what you’re saying right now.

“But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?” You tell him, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm as you speak. However, when your skin makes contact with his, you flinch at how cold he is.

Before you can say anything else, Dustin finally catches up and brakes softly next to you. He looks nervously between you and Billy. “So… Uh. Ready to go, Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You pull away from Billy, your fingers almost numb from his cold skin, and spare him one last glance as you start to bike away. “Remember what I said, okay?”

Billy doesn’t say anything.

You and Dustin leave him stranded on the side of the road.

Neither one of you talk about this.

–

As usual, Downtown Hawkins is deserted when you and Dustin arrive at Melvald’s. The only two cars parked in front of the rundown store belong to Joyce and Hopper.

You hop off your bike and park it in the bike rack before carefully untying the container of muffins from the back. Dustin is slumped on top of his bike, silently complaining, and you wave a stern finger at him. “Wait here, okay? This will only take five minutes, I promise.”

“I’m telling Steve that you’re cheating on him with Mrs. Byers.”

“Not cheating if we aren’t together,” you quip, before opening the door to the store.

When you step inside the store, you’re greeted with Hopper obnoxiously yelling and jumping around as Joyce laughs and claps for him. Curious, you carefully side step the grown man and make your way over to the woman.

“Y/N!” Joyce lights up even more when she sees you, and then lets out a small cheer when she sees that you’re holding one of your signature baked goods containers. “Are those for me?”

“Always, Mrs. Byers.” You grin at her and set the container down. “They’re the muffins you really liked last week, thought I’d bake a special batch just for you.”

Hopper now joins you at the store’s counter in front of Joyce. He’s practically vibrating with his excited energy, so much so that he even smiles at you and claps a hand behind your back. “Kid, it’s like you knew we’d be celebrating a monumental occasion today.”

“What, did Jonathan finally wash his bedsheets?”

Joyce shakes her head and Hopper claps again, now grasping your shoulders and shakes you around. “No, even better! I got Mike out of my house!”

Through Joyce, you had learned all about Hopper’s utter disdain of Mike’s relationship with El. He has spent every day at their cabin since getting together, and even you have had to pry the girl away from Mike a few times to hang out with her. It’s hard bonding with El when Mike is breathing down your neck.

You’re all for young love, you think they’re adorable together, but christ. You understand Hopper’s frustration.

“Actually,” you’re still being shaken by the man. “That does sound better. How’d ya do it?”

Hearing your question, Hopper thankfully stops shaking your shoulders and now happily points at Joyce. “It was all her. I’m the puppet, she’s the master. Joyce gave me a brilliant script to say to the kid.”

“So you remembered everything?” Joyce asks, now unwrapping one of your muffins with glee.

“Yeah… well,” Hopper pauses. “I mean, I had to improvise a little bit, you know?”

You wince. “Oh, that’s never good.”

He glares at you but continues to explain. “It turns out that getting to Mike was the key.”

His words only make you wince again, and you look at Joyce. She meets your eye and the two of you silently agree that something doesn’t sound right here. She questions Hopper further. “And you didn’t yell at him?”

Hopper hesitates, which you expected. “I’ll… tell you everything over dinner.”

“Okay!” You step in between the adults and wave your arms out, preventing whatever else is about to be said. “I’m still here, let’s remember that.”

The chief glares at you again and narrows his eyes. “You’re right, you are still here. Why are you still here?”

“Because Mrs. Byers loves me and I baked her delicious muffins.” You deadpan, which Joyce chuckles at. “And while I’m sure whatever she told you to say to Mike was lovely, I have my doubts that you actually listened.”

“She’s got a point, Hop.” Joyce voices.

Hopper sighs at you both. “Okay, maybe I said some things, haven’t told El the whole truth, but what else was I supposed to do?”

“Not lie to kids?” Crossing your arms, you make a face at the man.

“Easy for you to say, little miss Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Hopper scoffs at you. “Got any better advice?”

You roll your eyes at his words. You understand that the man is still grappling with being a father again, he’s never been one to handle feelings any better, so you spare him some pity and try to be honest with him, say what he needs to hear. “Look, all I’m saying is that the best thing my deadbeat father ever did was teach me kindness, and it broke my heart when he was dishonest in the end. Just, don’t be that way with El, okay?”

Hopper is quiet as your words hang in the air.

Joyce is quiet as well, looking between you and the chief with a fondness in her eyes. It’s not often she sees someone render Hopper speechless, and she knows that it’s one of the many things she loves the most about your relationship with him. Though she would never tell you this, she thinks that Hopper secretly has his own fondness for you as well.

When the silence stretches for an uncomfortably long amount of time, you clear your throat and change the subject. “Well! This was fun, happy we did this.”

Hopper snorts, relieved you’re moving on as well. “Get lost, kid.”

“Gladly.” You turn back to Joyce and press a swift kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Byers!”

Joyce says goodbye as well, and when you’ve left the store, she faces Hopper with a slight smirk. “She’s a good kid, Hop.”

“She is,” he agrees, looking down at his shoes. He will never admit this to anyone else, but to Joyce he knows his words are safe. “She’s the best of ‘em.”

–

When you finally get to the mall, Dustin basically dumps his bike in a spot next to a disgruntled older couple and runs before you can even slow down. He’s so lost in his excitement to see Steve as he runs towards Scoops and leaves you to deal with his bike and the couple alone, which you groan at.

“He acts like it’s been a year,” you grumble, finally hopping off your own bike to grab Dustin’s and secure them both to a nearby rack. After mumbling a quick apology to the couple your brother practically threw a bike at, you run after him inside.

By the time you catch up, Dustin has just entered Scoops and is talking to Robin. You approach, curious to see how this event will unfold. Robin hasn’t met your brother yet, and you have a feeling that his abrasive nature will either make her his biggest fan or absolutely hate him.

It’s the Henderson charm, really.

“I’m Dustin,” your brother introduces himself as you come to stand next to him. When he notices your arrival, he motions towards you and winks at Robin. “I’m sure Y/N has told you all about me.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at the kid, and you try to cover a giggle with a cough. “I’m Robin. I’m sure Y/N has told you a lot about me.”

“I probably have,” shrug, knowing you always talk about the people you love. When Robin and Dustin both look at you with confused faces, you quickly clarify, “I’ve talked about you both, I mean.”

“Can we cut the chit chat?” Dustin asks, now annoyed by how long this conversation is taking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Robin, but uh. Is he here?”

“Is who here?” Robin looks over at you for help, but before you can prepare her for the inevitable storm of Steve’s bizarre and endearing friendship with Dustin, the older teen’s body comes crashing through the backdoor and his sneakers squeak loudly against the tile.

“Hendersons!” Steve raises his arms in the air in greeting, an ecstatic smile on his face when he sees both you and Dustin standing in Scoops Ahoy. You and your brother start to laugh as Steve now dances around, cheering and gleeful. “You’re both here! Little Henderson is back!”

“I’m back!” Dustin cheers. “And you got the job!”

Steve is beaming and his smile is probably one of the happiest you’ve seen cross his pretty face. He had complained about missing Dustin the entire month he had been gone, moaning and groaning about how he was bored at your house now that he didn’t have Dustin to shoo away.

“I got the job!” Steve mimes playing the trumpet before he starts his intricate and dumb handshake with Dustin.

It’s a complicated process, with fist bumps and pretend lightsaber death. They had come up with it during a particularly boring snow day at your house. You watched as they thought up the handshake while you made cocoa for everyone, heart swelling as Steve was so patient with your brother and encouraged his nerdy little habits.

It had taken them almost the entire day to create what they deemed “the perfect handshake”, and as they go through it once more in Scoops Ahoy, you feel the same swelling in your chest as you did the very first time you saw them come up with the handshake.

While you gaze fondly at Dustin and Steve, Robin stands next to you and watches in horror. As Steve pretends to spew his guts everywhere, the girl leans over to you and says, “Is this what you deal with every day?”

“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile softly at the two boys. You missed seeing them together, more than you thought you had.

Robin sees the dreamy look in your eyes as you stare at Steve and she gags. Unhappy with how this day is looking, she turns to him. “How many children are you friends with?”

Steve’s smile falls and he sighs in defeat. Wordlessly he points at Robin as he looks at Dustin and raises his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. He’s had to deal with Robin’s teasing all summer, and Dustin seems to catch onto what he’s trying to tell him, so he quickly changes the subject. “Sorry we got here so late, man. Y/N insisted on gossiping with Mrs. Byers before coming here.”

“I spoke with her for five minutes.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Yeah, five minutes too long.”

“Your breath reeks.”

“You have a pimple on your chin.”

You gasp and quickly cover your face. “I do not–”

“This is fascinating,” Robin whispers as she looks between you and Dustin. “It’s like there’s two Y/Ns.”

Steve, having heard Robin, laughs. His smile had returned to his face as he watched you interact with your brother. “They’re reunited for one day and are already at each other’s throats.”

“Got a month of insults to catch up on,” you flick Steve, who winces and rubs his nose, offended.

Dustin suddenly straightens up. “Speaking of catching up…” He looks at you and tries to subtly motion over at Steve, mouthing “Russians!”, and being everything but discrete.

Steve frowns, unsure what’s happening, but you’re too busy worrying about revealing anything to Robin; she’s scarily good at reading people. Looking wearily at her, you clear your throat and tug at Dustin’s shirt. “C’mon, why don’t we get some ice cream and tell Steve about what you built at camp?”

Again Steve frowns. He had been hoping to share a sundae with you, not talk about boring science stuff with your brother. “Why do I wanna hear about some weird nerd tech–”

“Because you promised me free ice cream last night, when we called.” You interrupt, silently pleading with him to catch onto what you’re saying. “Remember?”

Something shifts within Steve’s eyes and his carefree expression now darkens. He remembers the fear in your voice last night over the phone, how you had asked him to tell you stories to fall asleep to. Clearing his throat, Steve nods and plays along. “Oh, how could I forget? Take Dustin to your booth and I’ll whip up some sundaes.”

You smile at him, thankful as always for how attuned to you he is, before you say a quick goodbye to Robin and tug your brother over to where you normally sit. Once you’re sure Robin isn’t listening, you yank at the boy. “Real subtle back there, doofus.”

“Oh, like Robin would know what Russians could mean.” Dustin grumbles as he slides into your designated booth. His hand catches on something in the seat and he tugs at it, pulling out an old Captain America comic. Holding it up, he narrows his eyes at you. “You really made a home here, huh?”

“Sure did,” you prop your feet up and dig out the Spider-Man comic you had been reading a few days ago. “The ice cream is surprisingly good here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the ice cream is the reason you’re always here.” Dustin doesn’t even want to imagine how many hours you’ve spent in this cheesy ice cream parlor ogling over Steve. Maybe it’s a good thing he was gone most of the summer.

You flip to the last page you left off on and ignore Dustin’s insinuation. “Hey, free ice cream is free ice cream.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” Steve arrives and places down two giant sundaes onto the table. He slides next to you into the booth with a grand flourish. “Tada!”

Dustin wastes no time digging into his ice cream, making obnoxious noises as he shoves the food into his mouth. You cringe, disgusted that you’re related to him, but Steve kisses your cheek when the kid isn’t looking, and you can’t help but smile. Sneaking your own kiss to his cheek, you thank him. “You’re getting really good at whipping up sundaes, Steve.”

He preens at your praise. “It’s all in the forearms, ya know?” He makes a show out of rolling up his sleeves to show off his arms, which you giggle at with a slight flush on your face. Despite working inside all day, Steve has a nice sun kissed tan, which compliments how long his hair has gotten this summer.

Between his short Scoops Ahoy shorts and his hair streaked with sunlight, summer looks good on Steve.

In between bites of his ice cream, Dustin lifts his head up. “Quit talking about Steve’s arms and flirting in front of me, it’s gross.”

You fling a banana peel at him. “You’re the one too busy devouring his food to talk about anything else.”

“So you admit you’re flirting with me.” Steve teases, winking at you.

Dustin covers his eyes in disgust, forgetting about his ice cream entirely. “Seriously, stop it! You’re my sister, how would you feel if I flirted with Suzie in front of you?”

“I would–” You try to think of a response, but ultimately you deflate, unable to come up with anything. Frustratingly, you realize that the kid has a point; you’d be incredibly grossed out as well. “I would hate it.” You sigh, accepting defeat.

“Who’s Suzie?” Steve asks.

“Dustin’s girlfriend.” You say, popping a cherry into your mouth as you eagerly await the teen’s reaction to the girlfriend news.

As expected, Steve’s jaw drops and turns to your brother. No way the little twerp got a girlfriend before him this summer. “Girlfriend? Since when?”

“Met her at camp,” Dustin smirks at him, proud he’s surprised Steve. “She’s super hot, too. Hotter than Phoebe Cates.”

You roll your eyes at his insistence of referencing Suzie’s appearance, but Steve seems interested, although in disbelief as well. “No, no way. Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No.”

“Why is Phoebe Cates the gold standard?” You ask, unsure when she became everyone’s dream woman. All things considered, she’s incredibly attractive, but it’s weird that every boy you’ve spoken to about this universally finds her attractive. Steve finds her attractive, which you’re choosing not to think about because you don’t look anything like her.

Steve hears the slight bitterness in your tone and shuffles closer to you in the booth. Meanwhile, Dustin takes another bite out of his sundae and nods at him. “Mhm, she’s brilliant, too. She doesn’t even care that my real pearls are still coming in.”

“That’s great, Dustin!” You say, happy that your brother has found a girl who accepts him as he is. It’s sweet, really.

“I know, right?” He sits up straighter in the booth and smiles even wider. “She says kissing is better without teeth.”

You and Steve share a horrified look. Neither of you can believe what you’ve just heard, and you think a part of you died inside. Suddenly, the delicious sundae you’d been eating now turns to cement in your stomach at the thought of your little brother kissing a girl who enjoys his lack of teeth. “Oh, that’s… Yeah.”

“Wow!” Steve tries to mask his own horror and disgust, leaning even closer to you now to try and ground you as well. “Yeah, that’s… That’s great! Proud of you, man. That’s–That’s kinda romantic?”

Dustin basks in Steve’s praise and your disgust slowly melts away. Your brother genuinely seems happy to be with Suzie and even happier to tell Steve about it all. He won’t admit it, but you know he idolizes the teen. Steve’s word is like an oath to him, not even you have this much influence over the boy. If it were anyone else, you’d be offended and hurt, but seeing Steve flash Dustin a wink, you couldn’t have chosen anyone better for your brother to admire.

“So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” Dustin motions towards his half-eaten sundae before turning to you. “How much ice cream have you had this summer?”

“A lot,” you shrug, taking another bite of your own sundae.

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”

“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.

It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Robin, from across the parlor, sees your sudden annoyance at Steve and calls out to him, “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?”

“Ignore her,” Steve groans, not having the energy to deal with Robin’s quips and your anger being directed at him. He turns to you and lowers his voice. “I was kidding, Y/N. You know that–”

“Robin seems cool,” Dustin interrupts, not at all wanting to witness a lover’s feud between you and Steve. He left you two alone for a month, he thought he’d come back to you guys being an old married couple. Instead, he still has to suffer through your weird in between chaos.

You jump at the chance to gush about Robin, all while avoiding Steve’s pleading eyes. “She’s amazing. Genuinely one of the coolest people I know.”

“She’s not.” Steve corrects you, shaking his head. You roll your eyes at him and flick his ear, but as your hand lowers, he catches it with his and intertwines your fingers with a practiced ease. The action makes you blush and look away, still not ready to forgive him just yet. Steve sees the blush and feels your fingers tighten around his and he feels as if he can breathe again. There’s hope, at least. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”

Dustin sighs. “They ditched me yesterday.”

“No,” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N, did they really?”

“They… Kinda did.” You wince, absentmindedly placing your other hand on top of the one Steve is holding. He smiles softly at the action, momentarily forgetting about what you've just told him.

“My first day back! Can you believe that shit?” Dustin’s hurt from last night returns, which only makes you feel worse.

Steve leans forward now, invested and equally as offended as the boy. “Seriously?”

“I swear to god,” Dustin pauses to take another bite of ice cream. “They’re gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory.”

You drop your head onto the table and groan. “Is this really how you’re going to segue into the Russian thing?”

“You’re my sister. Why would you expect anything less of me?”

“Touche.” You lift your head back up and continue eating your ice cream. It’s the only thing keeping you going right now. Steve has learned how to make your sundaes perfect, adding the peach ice cream you adore with just the right amount of whipped cream.

Meanwhile, Steve has a confused look on his face as he looks between you and Dustin. “Glory? Russians? Did I miss something?”

Dustin smiles mischievously and lowers his voice as he slides closer to the teen. You roll your eyes at his antics, knowing that the conversation that’s about to unfold will only give you another headache. You missed Steve and Dustin being together, but you didn’t miss the way they seemed to double in stupidity when together.

Looking around to make sure he won’t be heard, Dustin begins to explain. “So, last night, as Y/N and I were trying to get in contact with Suzie…” He pauses, sees that Scoops Ahoy is now filling with more customers, and lowers his voice even more to an almost inaudible whisper and covers his mouth.

You and Steve both lean forward, unable to hear him. The teen asks Dustin to repeat himself while you sit there with slight amazement. You know what Dustin is trying to say, you’re more just surprised the kid can be so quiet. It’s a goddamn miracle, honestly.

Dustin inhales deeply and again tries to discreetly inform Steve of the Russian code, but his whispers are still too low to hear. Taking a final bite of your ice cream, you click your tongue at your brother. “You’re really killing it there, buddy.”

“Dude, just speak louder.” Steve’s curious interest is now more of an annoyance.

“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” Dustin all but shouts, which causes you to practically throw yourself over the table to cover his mouth.

“Jesus fuck!” You look around and see everyone’s eyes on you, and with your hand still clamped firmly over your brother’s mouth, you clear your throat and laugh nervously. “I mean, haha. Pardon me.” The customers give you a weird look but turn away, though Robin continues to stare at you.

Steve gently removes your hand from Dustin’s mouth and once again intertwines his fingers with yours. “Jeez, okay. Yeah. That’s what I thought you said.”

“Did you have to yell?” You sneer at Dustin, still looking around nervously to make sure no one is paying too much attention to the three of you. While Hawkin’s Lab was overrun by Demodogs and every scientist within it died, you’re still terrified that they still have allies watching your every move.

Not that you think the Lab is responsible for Russians, but… Better safe than sorry.

Dustin rolls his eyes at you. “Your boyfriend is the one who couldn’t hear me.”

You’re about to correct him when Steve waves the boy off and goes back to the main topic. “What does any of that mean, though? The Russian code and whatever.”

“It means that we can never catch a break–”

“It means, Steve,” Dustin sends you a dirty look. “That we could be heroes. True American heroes.”

Steve seems into the idea and you want to scream. You hate the way Dustin is explaining all of this. “This could mean danger, guys.”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you and Steve smiles wearily. “I don’t know, Y/N. It doesn’t seem so bad, ya know? We’ve fought Demodogs, how bad could some Russians be?”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “The Demodogs were created by shifty government facilities. Why are we assuming Russia doesn’t have their own?”

“But… American heroes.” Steve looks heartbreakingly pathetic as he says this, and you realize now that his fixation on being seen as some hero stems from the hurt he still feels over his father. He hadn’t turned into who had expected to become, something that you know his father reminds him of every time he comes back from some business trip. You wish you could convince Steve that he’s more than what his father could ever expect him to be, but you know he wouldn’t listen.

With Steve’s pleading eyes looking at you, lost and hopeless, you can’t argue with him. Sighing, you accept that this is something he has to take part in, if only to rebuild his crumbling confidence. “Tell him what you’re thinking, Dustin.”

“Gladly.” Your brother wastes no time diving in, once more eager and excited to have the attention on him, and it’s only now that you realize he’s doing this for the same reason Steve is: they both feel abandoned and hurt. “We need your help.”

“With what?”

Dustin digs through his backpack and takes out the Russian dictionary he made you steal from work. He holds it up and shows it to Steve. “Translation.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he grabs the book to inspect it. There’s a new spark in his eyes, one that died the day his father told him he wouldn’t attend his graduation. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you exhale and slump in your seat. There’s no going back now. “I just want you both to know that I hate this plan and your excitement over it, but if I don’t help then you guys will somehow end up in a Russian gulag, and that would just be on me.”

Steve shares a look with Dustin, whose sigh reflects your own. “Glad you have faith in us, Y/N.”

–

It’s Steve's idea to work on the translation in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, and neither you or Dustin argue. Technically, he’s the only one who has any real responsibilities today with work and all, so it makes sense to stay at Scoops and hide out there.

Dustin sits at the table next to you as he replays the tape recording over and over again. Steve paces the room and eats a banana, claiming he needed “brain food” to focus on the complex Russian language. You sit with your head in your hands, trying desperately to hold onto the bizarre language that floats around the room.

After his tenth time replaying the code, Dustin pauses the recording and looks at you and Steve. “So, what do you guys think?”

“It sounded familiar.” Steve shoves a piece of banana into his mouth. You cringe at the obscene amount of food he tries to chew at once. Seeing your disgust, Steve waves the banana in your face and asks with a mouthful of food, “Wan sum?”

“It’s like you want me to hate you today,” you slap the banana away, which he chuckles at.

Dustin gets both of your attention again with slight annoyance. He didn’t miss the weird flirting between the two of you at all. “Guys, focus. What do you mean the recording sounds familiar?”

“The music,” Steve still speaks with his mouth full. “The music right there at the end.”

“Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” Dustin exclaims, exasperated.

As your brother berates Steve for his lack of Russian translating, you sit up in your seat processing what he’s just previously said. While you hadn’t thought much of it before, now that Steve has pointed it out, the music does sound familiar. You swear you’ve heard it somewhere before, but you can’t remember where or when. It’s a hazy memory, distant in your mind, yet right in front of you. It’s incredibly frustrating.

“I think Steve is onto something,” you say, but the two boys are too busy fighting to hear you.

“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but there’s music–”

Suddenly the back door swings open and Robin appears. She looks agitated after having to man the cash register all by herself while Steve hides out in the breakroom. “Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.” When she sees that you’ve erased her whiteboard and replaced her “you suck” columns with the Russian alphabet, her agitation only increases. “Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds.”

You get up from the table and walk up to the girl, feeling bad. While you aren’t sure what exactly her “you suck” column and tallies were for, it had been her creation that you had erased without thinking to ask. Plus, you really don’t want her seeing the Russian dictionary on the table. “I’m sorry, Robin–”

“Not you, Y/N. You’re not a shitbird,” she points over to Steve and Dustin. “Those two are shitbirds.”

“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin interjects, a smug look on his face that makes you want to scream. He isn’t at all helping the situation.

Robin begins to walk over to the boys and you reluctantly follow. “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”

Dustin’s jaw drops and Steve almost chokes on his banana. Seeing their stunned reactions of Robin having figured out what you’ve been doing, you sigh in disappointment. They’re such idiots sometimes. They wrote Russian on the whiteboard, out in the open, and have been playing the recording out loud, full volume, on repeat.

Of course Robin caught onto what you were doing.

Which only makes your nervous body tense up even more. You hate that you have to lie to her, you’ve become really close with her during your visits to Scoops, but you don’t want to drag her into anything dangerous. You’re not sure what exactly any of this Russian code means, but Robin has been nothing but kind to you this summer, you truly care about her, and it would kill you if something were to happen because of you.

So, despite knowing how smart Robin is, you try to think of a cover story. “We were just interested in the language. Ya know, a summer hobby.”

“I can hear everything, Y/N.” Robin sees right through your lies. “Your idiotic brother and boyfriend are both extremely loud.”

“Steve isn’t my boyfriend–”

“You three think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do.”

You, Steve, and Dustin all look at one another in varying degrees of awe and despair.

Robin, seeing your stunned faces, smiles. “Sound about right?”

“How could you not know about the Russian alphabet, Y/N?” Dustin angrily whispers at you as if somehow it’s your responsibility to know the ins-and-outs of the language.

“Why would I–you know what, no.” You ignore your brother and turn to Robin, trying to alleviate the situation and prevent her from finding out anything else. She’s too fucking smart, it’s both admirable and aggravating. “Look, whatever you think you heard–”

Suddenly Robin lunges for the Russian dictionary on the table, but Steve’s quick reflexes enable him to grab the book before she can. “Woah! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanna hear it.” She juts her chin out in defiance, though you see the slightly hurt expression she tries to mask. She hates that you’re purposely excluding her and taking Steve’s side in this.

You wish you could tell her the truth.

“Why?” You ask in unison alongside Steve and Dustin.

“Because maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, ya know.”

Dustin perks up, now more open to the idea of Robin’s involvement. “Russian?”

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”

Steve and Dustin gasp, believing that they’ve just heard Robin say something in Russian, but you know better. One summer, when the party had been especially nosy and insisted on following you and Jonathan around, the two of you had learned pig latin in order to communicate without the twerps eavesdropping.

Learning against the table, you smirk at Robin. “Osay ouyay owknay igpay atinlay.”

“Holy shit!” Dustin gasps and Steve almost falls over with how quickly he looks at you in shock. Both boys stare at you in awe and you almost feel bad for their tiny little brains.

Robin can’t help but smile at you, you somehow always manage to surprise her. “Impressive, Y/N. Didn’t think you knew pig latin either.”

“That was pig latin?” Steve scrunches his face and hits your brother with his banana peel. “Idiot.”

“Steve, please don’t hit my brother with banana peels,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s only noon and you’re already exhausted from today’s events. “But yes, that was pig latin.”

Dustin shoves Steve away from him and focuses on you again. “When did you learn pig latin?”

“The summer you and the party decided to stalk me and Jonathan.” You shrug, though you smile fondly at the memory. It had been a good summer, just the two of you holed up in your room as you quizzed each other on the bizarre language.

Steve, seeing your fondness at the memory, frowns. He doesn’t like the uncomfortable heat that he feels ignite within his stomach at the thought of you still being so fond over Jonathan. He trusts you, he trusts what you have, but he will never feel equal to him.

Robin notices Steve’s brewing insecurity and quickly changes the subject. She doesn’t have time for the usual hormonal drama between the two of you. All she wants right now is to decipher the Russian so that she can catch a break from Erica and her demanding need to try every free sample ever. “Back to the main point: I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”

You bite your lip. Truthfully, Robin has the highest chance of unraveling whatever the hell is in the recording. You’re horrible with languages, high school Spanish had nearly killed you, and Steve and Dustin stand no better chance. “Robin…”

“Come on,” she begs. “It’s Steve's turn to sling ice cream and my turn to translate.”

Steve and Dustin turn to you, unanimously agreeing that you’re the leader in this situation; whatever call you make, they’ll listen. Robin sees the conflict on your face and tries one last time. “I don’t even want credit. I’m just bored and wanna hang out with you.”

Your head spins. Robin’s pleading eyes are hard to fight against and you realize that she already knows more than you’d want her to; she’s already a part of it all, whether you like it or not. Sighing, you give in. “Fine, but only if you promise not to ask any questions about whatever we may find.”

“What would I even question?” She asks, unsure why your tone is more foreboding than accepting.

You share a look with Steve and Dustin. The three of you know just how quickly something simple can spiral into chaos in Hawkins. “Just… promise me, okay?”

Robin extends her hand, just happy to finally have something better to do. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

After you shake her hand, she tosses her ice cream scoop to Steve and he hands her the Russian dictionary. Seeing the exchange sends a slight shiver down your spine. You don’t like how much it feels like you’ve just signed Robin’s life away.

–

True to her word, Robin’s ears are little geniuses.

With her helping, you and Dustin are able to speed through the translating as Steve works the register. You’re tasked with writing down the letters that Dustin calls from the whiteboard as Robin listens to the tape over and over again.

“Weird ‘r’ with a hook!” Your brother declares for the last letter.

You write it down and can’t help but frown at the message you’ve seemingly deciphered. Showing the writing to Robin, you ask what she thinks. “Are you sure it was that weird ‘r’ sound?”

“I’m positive,” she says. “C’mon, let’s go tell Steve.”

“Are we sure–” You try to ask her again, but Robin has already made her way to the sliding window and gets Steve’s attention.

“We’ve got our first sentence!”

You make your way over and lean against the window as well. Steve, holding two ice cream cones, seems excited by the news. “Oh, seriously?”

“It’s a hesitant first sentence.” You butt in, still unsure if it’s even correct.

Robin rolls her eyes at you. “Ignore her, I’m right.” Then, clearing her throat, she does an impressive Russian accent. “‘The week is long’.”

Steve’s shoulders slump, clearly having expected something better. “Well that’s thrilling.”

“Told you it was a hesitant first sentence.” Then you turn to Robin. “Nice accent, by the way.”

“Why thank you,” she tips her hat at you before focusing back on Steve. “And I know it isn’t thrilling, but it’s progress!”

And with that, Robin spins around and goes back to the table in the breakroom, eager to decipher more of the code. You’re about to kiss Steve’s cheek and say goodbye, but then your eyes land on a familiar red-haired girl and her friend standing in front of the register. You look down at the ice cream in Steve’s hands and note the familiar order you’ve come to memorize since the mall opened.

“Max? El?” You lean further out the window, pleasantly surprised to see them. “What are you guys doing here? Where’s the rest of the party?”

The girls wave at you and giggle, and you realize now that you’ve never actually seen them alone together before. Normally they’re with Lucas or MIke, so it’s a bit jarring to see them getting along so well without the boys. Jarring, but also very lovely.

“We don’t need those idiots.” Max responds, which makes El giggle even more.

Steve whistles, impressed by Max’s bluntness, and hands them their ice cream. They begin to eat the treat before a thought occurs to him. “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”

You walk through the breakroom and come out the main doors to join Steve at the register. While you’re happy to see Max and El getting along, Steve has a point. Why is El here in such a public space? When you had asked Hopper last month if you could take El to Steve’s graduation, it had taken a whole debate and a fresh batch of cookies in order to convince the old man to let her come.

El is still technically forbidden from being seen in public, and yet here she is: running around Starcourt with Max.

You put your hands on the counter and lean towards the girls. They take a few steps back, now knowing that you’re onto them. “Max, El, what are you up to?”

Their eyes widen while you narrow yours, daring them to lie. Then, quickly glancing at one another, they turn around and run out of Scoops Ahoy, leaving you alone with Steve. You both stand there, dumbfounded.

“I thought I only ever had to worry about the boys.” You whisper, horrified. “The girls were supposed to be the ones I could trust.”

Steve rubs your shoulders and kisses your cheek. “You’re gonna go after them, aren’t you?”

You drop your head and sigh. “Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll tell Robin you had a babysitting emergency.” He presses a kiss to your neck now, which you shiver at, before gently shoving you out from behind the counter. “Good luck, angel.”

Steve’s kisses give you the energy you need to run after Max and El. They’re surprisingly fast as they giggle and trade ice cream cones to share. You call after them as you dodge random people in the mall, but your calls are in vain. They ignore you and continue to skip happily away from you.

“Guys!” When you finally catch up to them, they’re outside standing in front of the bike rack. “Why are you in front of the bikes–oh.”

You see Mike, Lucas, and Will unlocking their bikes from the rack as they bicker over something. Faintly you hear Mike and Lucas arguing about splitting money while Will is silent.

There’s a tension between the girls and boys that you now take note of. Normally El would have already been wrapped around Mike’s arms, but she remains by your side as Max approaches the boys. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?”

When Mike sees El, he drops his bike in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping.” El says as she glares at the boy.

You’ve never seen her so cold towards someone. It’s kind of frightening, honestly. “Oh, Wheeler, what did you do?”

“What did I do? No, what did you do? You’re the one who is letting her walk around Starcourt where everyone can see her!” Mike shrieks, always finding ways to blame you for his own problems.

You scoff. “Hey, I’ve only known about this for like, a second longer than you have.”

“Sure, likely story.”

“Have you ever considered not pissing off your girlfriend?”

“Have you ever considered getting a better boyfriend than Harrington?”

“Okay–”

Max steps in between you and Mike, annoyed. “Both of you shut up!” She waves her hand over El’s outfit and tries to turn the conversation around. “This is El’s new style. What do you think?”

“I think she looks nice–”

Mike cuts you off. “What’s wrong with you? You know she’s not allowed to be here.”

“What is she, your little pet?”

El clenches her jaw. “Yeah. Am I your pet?”

“What? No!” Mike denies, equally as confused as you are.

You’re not quite sure how you ended up in this situation.

“Then why do you treat me like garbage?” El questions the boy.

You frown at this and subtly step towards Lucas, desperately hoping for some clarification. “Did I miss something?”

“It’s a long story.” He sighs, and you now realize that Max must be angry with him, too.

El continues to interrogate Mike, and you almost feel bad for the boy. “You said Nana was sick.”

“She is! She is sick.” Mike lies through his teeth. You think about what Hopper told you earlier, how he had said some things to get Mike away from El, and you suppose now that it had involved some type of lie about the kid’s grandma.

Then Mike shoves at Lucas to get him to play along as well. Reluctantly he echoes his friend, though you know he’s aware that he’s only making this worse for himself. “She’s super sick, that’s why we’re here, actually.”

Mike is quick to follow along. “Yeah, we’re shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana.”

You catch Will’s eyes, who has remained silent this entire time, and he shakes his head at you in disappointment. You look back at Mike and Lucas now, unamused. “Nana isn’t sick, is she?”

“She is! But…” Mike fumbles over his words now. “We’re also here to get a gift for El. We just–we couldn’t find anything that suited her and I only have like, $3.50, so it’s hard.”

“It’s expensive… Had we known you were at the mall we would’ve asked you for money.” Lucas mumbles, which you flick his forehead at. “Ow, Y/N!”

El looks between Lucas and Mike, her eyes showing her hurt. “You lie.” When neither boy says anything, her hurt only grows and her voice wavers with tears. “Why do you lie?”

Again, El’s words are met with silence. Mike looks down, too ashamed to meet her eyes, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling even worse for the kid. You hadn’t expected to witness an awkward relationship feud today, and it wasn’t all entirely his fault. You know that Hopper played a role in this.

Later, when you have the time, you’re definitely going to yell at the police chief about this.

As the silence drags on, the local bus that drives everyone in Hawkins to Starcourt now arrives in the parking lot. Hearing its brakes hiss, El looks behind her and seems to make up her mind about something. Her face is stony as she approaches Mike and her words are laced with venom. “I dump your ass.”

You and Max gasp, though yours is more from shock and Max is more from being impressed.

Mike’s face falls and El whips around and begins walking towards the bus. Max follows, waving goodbye to you, and you’re left to deal with the unfortunate outcome of this bizarre situation.

Laughing nervously, you awkwardly pat Mike’s back. “You’ll… Uh, fix this, right?”

Mike slaps your hand away and marches back towards his bike. His shoulders droop and he looks tired from all he’s had to deal with today. Lucas doesn’t look any better and silently follows after his friend. Will is the only one who remains, and he drops his head to your chest and groans. “I just wanted to play DnD today.”

“I know, little bee.” You scratch his head and try to console him. “But sometimes life gets in the way. Right now Mike and Lucas need you, do you think you could help them?”

Will looks up at you. “I don’t know… Maybe, I guess.”

“Do what you can,” you kiss his forehead, wishing you could do more for him. All he’s wanted to do all summer is be a kid again, but his peers are growing older and leaving him behind. It isn’t anyone’s fault. “I gotta go, buddy. But I promise you and I will do something this week, just the two of us, okay?”

He nods, content with this, and you ruffle his hair before heading back inside to Scoops.

–

Hours later, you, Steve, Dustin, and Robin all uncover the rest of the Russian code.

You stand with your back against Steve’s chest as he has his arms draped loosely over you. Robin and Dustin stand to your left as you all face the whiteboard that has the message written on it, reading it out loud.

“‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west’.”

There’s a pause as you all take in the bizarre message. You’re extremely doubtful that it’s right. The order of the words is too abstract to possibly be purposeful. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“Are we sure this is right?” You ask the group, knowing no one else will utter the doubt that settles over the room. Steve tightens his arms around you and shrugs.

“It has to be.” Dustin mumbles, though even he looks unsure.

Robin sighs. “Well, whether or not we’re right, dingus and I have to close up shop.”

Steve groans but reluctantly lets go of you so that he can help Robin with closing. While the two teens wash the ice cream scoopers and put away the remaining ice cream, you sit with Dustin at one of the booths.

“Maybe it’s a code?”

“Dustin, we just translated a foreign language. Thinking it’s a code seems like a cop-out, honestly.” You rest your head in your hands and watch Steve count the money in the register. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and winks at you. Blushing, you look back at your brother. “We probably just translated it wrong.”

“My ears are right! We didn’t translate anything wrong!” Robin shouts from across the store.

Dustin perks up. “See? We have to assume we’re onto something.”

You bite your lip, still unsure, but leave the topic alone for now. There’s no point arguing with Dustin and Robin because it’s not like any of you can just ask a native Russian speaker who is correct. If it somehow ends up being a hidden code, then you’ll apologize to Robin’s ears later.

It’s quiet in the parlor after that, but when Steve and Robin have finished closing and he pulls the gate down to lock up the store before you all go home, Steve can’t help but bring the subject up again. “I mean–it’s just, it can’t be right.”

“It’s right.” Robin affirms once more, and Dustin nods at her appreciatively.

“Honesty, I think it’s great news.”

Steve walks next to you as the four of you slowly head towards the mall’s exit. It’s late, you’re tired from your long day of translating the Russian language, and you’re ready to go to bed. Then, as if somehow knowing the exhaustion that weighs upon you, you feel Steve slip his hand into yours. His fingers are warm and the touch soothes you as he gently guides the two of you.

“How is this great news?” Steve asks your brother. “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”

“The goal isn’t to be American heroes, dummy.” You chide, tugging at your hands to make sure he looks at you and listens. “We aren’t still going to follow this, are we?”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you both. “It’s not nonsense, it’s too specific and obviously a code. And yes we’re going to keep following this. We’re onto something, I can feel it!”

“All I feel right now is a crippling migraine forming,” you groan, rubbing at your temples.

Steve kisses your head in concern, feeling bad that he’s kept you out so late. However, he also really, really would love to become someone important. Someone worthy of his dad’s favor, so he follows after Dustin, curious despite it all. “What do you mean a code?”

“Like a super secret spy code.”

“That’s a total stretch.”

You snort. “That’s what I said, but no. Why should we ever listen to Y/N? It’s not like she’s always right in the end.”

Robin winces, afraid to annoy you further, but she can’t help but agree with Dustin. “I don’t know, is it really a stretch?”

“No, please don’t tell me you believe my brother.” You’re betrayed, hurt even, that Robin would succumb to Dustin’s fantasies.

Normally you’re all for believing your brother, but Russians in Hawkins leaving a hidden code in a radio frequency that can be accessed by the public? You may have fought alternate dimension monsters and you may know a girl with mind control powers, but even this feels far fetched.

“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘fire the warhead at noon’?” Robin raises her eyebrows at you.

“Well… no.” You slump your shoulders, knowing that she has a point. “But–”

“Just admit we’re right, Y/N.” Dustin says, annoyed.

Robin turns to you and almost groans when she sees your hand intertwined with Steve’s. Her voice falters for a moment at the sight, but she clears her throat and carries on with the conversation. “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so… ‘the silver cat feeds’. Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the meaning of their message?”

Dustin is next to her now, hanging onto her every word as you and Steve lag behind. “Exactly!”

“It is a weird phrase,” you mumble under your breath, and Steve can’t help but chuckle at how endearing you are when you try to play the reasonable role. It’s never any use, you’re everything that hope and optimism embodies; it’s adorable.

Robin sees that you’re close to giving in and begins to ramble now. “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” Again Dustin agrees with everything she says and Steve shrugs his shoulders while all you do is sigh in defeat. Looking at your brother, Robin concludes, “Guess that confirms your suspicions.”

“Evil Russians.”

“Okay, no.” You step between them now. “What if they’re just, like, really shy Russians who want some privacy? Why do we always jump to the evil conclusion?”

Dustin shoulders you to get you to shut up, and you shove him back, starting a small spat between the two of you. He hits your shoulder, you hit his stomach, and Steve watches with amusement while Robin stares in horror.

“Do we stop them?” She asks the teen.

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve learned that it’s best to just let them fight it out. It’s been a month, they’re behind on their fist fighting schedule.”

“I heard that!” You quickly say to him before yanking Dustin’s shirt to get him off of your back.

Seeing your struggle, Robin forces your brother off of you and holds him by his arms so that he doesn’t jump on you again. Dustin complains, but quickly shuts up at what Robin says. “Focus! I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you, this is totally evil Russians.”

Dustin stops struggling against her, now elated at the idea of defeating evil foreigners. “So how do we crack it?”

You were scared that Robin and Dustin wouldn’t get along, but as you watch them bounce schemes off of one another and plan an evil Russian take down, you’re now terrified of the friendship brewing between them. It’s worse than Steve with Dustin; Robin is just as cunning as your brother is.

She thinks for a moment. “I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”

“Have we ever considered a game plan for after poking our noses where they don’t belong?” Dustin and Robin both glare at you and you hold your hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“Ignore her, Robin. She likes to pretend she’s the rational one in these types of situations.” Dustin whispers to her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve kisses your cheek as a way to console you as your brother continues to speak. “Anyways, maybe the ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place?”

“Or a person.” Robin theorizes.

“Or a weapon.”

As the two of them come up with insane theories about what the code could mean, you notice that Steve is no longer by your side. Turning around, you find him stopped at one of the carousel horses meant for little kids. He’s bent over it, examining it. You frown, unsure what he’s doing, and walk over to him.

Resting a hand against his back, you lean down next to him. “Can I ask what we’re looking at here, honey?” He’s mumbling under his breath and digging through his pockets for something. Now you’re starting to get concerned. “Steve?”

“I need–do you have a quarter?”

“No?” You’re even more concerned now. Placing the back of your hand against his forehead, you check his temperature. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin quips as she and Dustin now join.

“Quarter!” Steve demands, nearly falling over as he tries to catch the one that she tosses him. When he catches it he quickly pushes the coin into the machine’s slot, bringing it to life. Music begins to play as the horse moves back and forth. It’s ominous, almost, in the mall’s dim lighting with no one else around.

Steve listens intently to the music, his face concentrated as if trying to understand something. As the music continues to play, you can’t help but feel that it sounds familiar. It reminds you of something, maybe a distant memory that you can’t quite recall. Wanting to understand more, you lean in close to the machine as well and mirror Steve’s actions. “The music…”

“They’ve both lost it,” Dustin mumbles when he sees that you’re also now analyzing a stupid carousel horse.

“Y/N, you helping little Stevie up onto the ride?” Robin laughs at her own joke, but you swat at her to shush her.

As the song plays once more, it finally clicks. Your mind flashes back to your conversation with him earlier in the break room as you kept replaying the Russian recording over and over again. It’s the same song. With a gasp, you throw your arms around Steve’s neck and begin kissing his face over and over again. “You’re a genius!”

Steve leans into your kisses and smiles at the praise, relieved that you don’t think he’s some idiot. Though his heart is beating wildly, he clears his throat and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “I have my moments.”

“Care to share with the class, dinguses?”

Robin’s voice startles you, having momentarily forgotten where you were. Blushing, you pull away from Steve and clear your throat as well and act as if you weren’t just drowning the boy in kisses. “Listen to the song, guys.”

The seriousness of your tone causes Dustin to finally listen to the music as well. It only takes him a few seconds to piece together what you and Steve already have. “Holy shit. The music.”

“The music.” You confirm with pride, still incredibly amazed that Steve managed to remember such a small yet crucial detail. Since coming to befriend him, you’ve come to admire just how perceptive he is. Sure, he may not be a math whiz, but his emotional and creative intelligence leaves you in awe every time you see it. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

You wish his father saw this intelligence within him. Honestly, you wish more people did.

Dustin yanks his backpack off of his shoulder and starts rustling through it as he searches for something. When he finds his tape recorder, he starts to play the Russian transmission again. Hearing the audio and carousel play simultaneously side by side, it only confirms what Steve has long since figured out: it’s the same song.

Not being able to help yourself, you again kiss Steve’s cheek, giddy and proud of him. “You’re brilliant.”

He preens while Robin scrunches her nose, unsure why you’re all over the guy because of some song. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s the exact same song on the recording.” Dustin explains to her.

“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”

You nod at her. “Maybe? We should look into who produces these machines, it could be our new lead.”

Steve shakes his head. “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t… I don’t think so.”

Something seems to shift within his voice and his face now twists with slight fear. He looks as if he’s realized something awful, and you feel your own joy from earlier vanish. A chill runs through you, the same awful feeling of dread that once overwhelmed you when Will originally disappeared now courses through you again.

“What is it?” You softly ask Steve, already bracing yourself for the worst.

He frowns at the apprehension in your voice and the worried crease between his brows makes you want to smooth away the concern. You know he doesn’t want to scare you, that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, so you tilt your head at him and nod slightly; you want him to tell you. Seeing your unspoken permission, he sighs. “This code, it… didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”

You, Robin, and Dustin all look at one another. Fear settles over the group, you can feel its heavy weight like an old, familiar friend.

“Why does everything happen in Hawkins?” You say to no one in particular, still trying to process what this all means.

Dustin sighs and Steve drops his head.

Somehow, you always end up here.

–

Steve offers to drive you and Dustin home after seeing how shaken up you are by the latest Russian revelation. Tired and exhausted and terrified as usual, you accept.

It takes some trial and error, but eventually he and your brother manage to fit your bikes in the back of the BMW.

The drive to your house is filled with awkward banter between Steve and Dustin. You sit quietly in the passenger seat as the two boys try to make light of the situation, but not even their jokes can lessen the fear that creeps into the car; none of you are sure what to make of all of this.

When Steve pulls up to your house, all that you’ve managed to do the entire car ride is make a mental note to call Jonathan about everything later. It’s not your best plan, you wish that there was more you could do, but at the very least you know that he and Nancy can help.

Dustin scrambles out of the car, desperate to escape the tension within it. “See you tomorrow, Steve!” He calls behind him before slamming the car door shut.

You snort softly at your brother, finally moving to unbuckle your own seatbelt, before Steve places his hand on yours and stops you. He’s noticed how quiet you’ve been the entire car ride and the way your eyes have clouded over with fear. He hates it. “Do me a favor?”

“Yes?” You blink at him, unsure what he could want at this hour. It’s late and your mom expects you home soon.

“Leave your window unlocked for me.” He winks at you, trying to play coy, but you see the genuine concern for you hidden beneath his actions.

You can’t help but smile; it feels as if you can breathe again. “Steve Harrington, why should I leave my window unlocked for you?”

Your smile sends a warmth through Steve’s chest as relief washes over him. He’s doing something right. He’s gotten you to smile. “Because I’m planning on sneaking in after I park my car a few blocks down so your mom won’t see me.”

Though you know what he had been implying, hearing him say the words out loud causes a wild blush to burn across your cheeks and your stomach to swoop. Steve has never done this before, sneaking into your room like some lovestruck teenager late at night, it’s been the one boundary neither of you have crossed before.

“I suppose I can do that.” You say with an air of indifference, which Steve rolls his eyes at. “Strictly friendly, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”

You giggle, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, and you exit the car after kissing the boy’s cheek. His face is warm against your lips and you’re coming to memorize the way your nose presses against the indent of his cheek bones.

When you get inside, your mom is knitting on the couch while Tews sits in her lap. She greets you with a smile and you compliment the scarf she’s making. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for this winter, mom.”

She thanks you and wishes you a good night, noticing the bags underneath your eyes with slight concern. Inside your room, you quickly clear away the scattered pieces of paper on your desk and arrange your bedding so that it isn't strewn across the room. Steve has been in your room a million times now, and yet you can’t help but feel like tonight is different for some reason.

True to his word, within ten minutes Steve is knocking on your window. Hearing the quiet way his knuckles rap against the glass makes your heart jump in your stomach. Your body practically buzzes as you go to open the window, eager to have him close to you.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, opening the window wide enough for him to crawl through.

Steve pulls himself up with ease, his biceps strain against his Scoops Ahoy uniform, and you’ve never been more thankful for corporate policy. “Sorry, angel. Came here as fast as I could.”

You tug at his shirt and the two of you are falling into your bed. He lands on you with a soft thud and your body has long since become accustomed to his weight. As his body settles upon yours, it feels like coming home. You exhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his body, and Steve nuzzles his face into your neck and presses a gentle kiss there.

Everything swirling violently within your head now stills. The constant onslaught of worries and doubts finally quiets, and you know that despite it all, at least you have Steve.

“We’ll figure it out, ya know.” Steve’s lips move against the skin of your neck as he speaks, making you shiver slightly at the sensation.

“I know,” you start to play with his hair, needing something to do with your hands as you speak. “But… How many times are we going to keep doing this? Be the only people in Hawkins aware of what’s going on?”

Steve is silent for a few moments, allowing your words to sink in. He rolls them around in his head, he knows that the question isn’t one that comes from doubt of what he and the others are capable of. You don’t lack faith, you lack the willingness to constantly place the ones you love at risk. It just isn’t in your nature.

“As many times as needed.” He pauses again, unsure how to express to you his certainty that you’re capable of so much with all the love within you. If there’s anyone in this shitty town who is a real American hero, it’s you. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through these last two years, measly Russians are no big deal. We’ve fought worse monsters than Communism.”

You laugh, he always somehow gets you to laugh, and the sound is as angelic to Steve as your eyes are to him. He tightens his arms around you and relishes in the way your body presses against his, how he can feel your body move with every inhale of your laugh.

Then, slowly, your laughter dies down. Reality settles upon you once more and you want to believe Steve, you do, and you try to reassure yourself that he’s right… but something feels off about this. You can’t exactly articulate what it is, but there's this haze of uncertainty that you’ve never quite felt before; a vulnerability that leaves you feeling cold in his arms.

Sensing your fear rising up again, Steve tries to distract you by changing the subject. “Speaking of monsters, I recruited the little heathens to help with your birthday gift.”

The change of subject works. You raise your head and look at the teen. “You mean the party? You got them to help with a gift for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Y/N.” Steve butts his head against your chin playfull. “I can make them listen to me… sometimes.”

You stare at him, knowing he’s full of shit. “Go on, tell me all about how you got them to listen to you.”

He tries to hold your gaze, refusing to back down, but he cracks after only a few seconds. “Okay, fine. It took a lot of pleading and I now owe a bunch of pre-teens money.”

A loud, full body laugh escapes your lips, and Steve laughs with you. The two of you hold one another and feel each other laugh, chests rising with glee. For a moment you feel okay again, forgetting everything else for now. You’re carefree in this moment, feeling like a little kid again, something only Steve can do to you.

When your laughs die down, you and Steve quietly lay together. No other words manage to find their way in the dark of your room, all that needs to be said has been laid to rest. His warm breaths hit the base of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. While you feel safe in his arms, there’s still so much that needs to be said.

Staring at the ceiling of your room, you see faint threads and strings and lines that you thought you put to rest that night in Jonathan’s room this winter. Now, they’re back again, only this time it’s a different boy within your arms. Something akin to doubt creeps in.

Steve already has all of you, you told him you’d wait, but what if you’ve missed your chance again with him like you did with Jonathan? When June began, Steve promised that you had all summer together. He calls you angel and tells you stories to fall asleep to on the phone, and yet the threads that glow above you taunt you.

You love him, you do, but you’re terrified that whatever the two of you uncover with the Russians will somehow pry you apart.

Just like Will’s disappearance had pried Jonathan away from you two years ago.

July looms over you and summer is going by faster than you thought it would. The promise of summer, one that usually leaves the nostalgic taste of honey on your tongue, now threatens to choke you.

As if having a mind of their own, your arms tighten even more around Steve, almost as if somehow you can shield what the two of you have from the dangers within Hawkins.

You hope it’s enough.

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hmusunoo · 3 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

desc. │ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴏ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰʏ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴛᴇ? ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ.

warnings. │ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴍᴅɴɪ. ᴘᴡᴘ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʏᴇᴏɴᴊᴜɴ’ꜱ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ. ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ.

pairings. │ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ꜱᴏᴏʙɪɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

"Come on, Yeonjun hurry the fuck up." You cursed to yourself looking out the window of the small cabin you currently occupied, along side your older brother Yeonjun's best friend Soobin. The most infuriating person you have ever had the disadvantage of knowing.

Your phone was sent to voicemail once again, the snow storm raging outside probably effecting cell towers in the area.

"Still not answering?" Soobin asked, his voice low in an annoyed tone. It made your teeth grind at the sound. You rolled your eyes at him before muttering a "Obviously".

Soon scoffed before putting the phone to his ear in what you assume was calling Yeonjun.

"The storm is affecting the connection" You told him "Its not going to wo-"

"Hello?" Soobin asked into the phone, your jaw fell in shock and annoyance.

"No way he answered" You said plopping down on the couch next to Soobin trying to hear Yeonjun's voice on the other line. Soobin scooted away from you probably trying to annoy you further.

"Stop! I'm trying to hear him!" You whined scooting closer to him again, all the way until he was up against the edge of the couch with nowhere to go. You muffled voices on the other end of the phone but you couldn't quite place what was being said.

"Really?" soobin groaned out in response to something Yeonjun was saying. "What?" You asked impatiently trying your hardest to understand what the hell was going on.

"Ok." Soobin nodded "I guess I can try" He said in an exasperated tone. You were starting to get even more annoyed at the lack of information you were getting.

"Alright I'll see you tomorrow hopefully" Soobin said again. Your eyes widened in shock at his words. "Tomorrow?!" You shrieked out causing Soobin to side eye you at the loud noise. You didn't really care though, he should be filling you in on what was going on instead of being an asshole and completely ignoring you.

Soobin hung up the phone with Yeonjun with the shake of his head. But he gave no leeway to what was it that Yeonjun had said.

"Um" You muttered "What did he say?" The disdain in your voice was evident.

"He won't be back tonight" Soobin said with a nonchalant swag that pissed you off.

"Did he say why?" You asked him, to which he rolled his eyes at furthering your annoyance with him.

"Look at the storm y/nie why do you think he's not coming back?" His voice and the way he said it was pissing you off majorly coupled with the face that you were now stuck in this fucking cabin with him for god knows how long.

"Don't call me that asshole" You snapped at him.

"Y/nie Y/nie Y/nie" He repeated a shit eating grin on his stupid face.

"You're acting like a child" You spit out at him bitterly.

He just shrugged like the smug asshole he was and went back to ignoring you and scrolling on his phone. You let out a huff before getting up to go to the kitchen and find yourself. All you could do is try to make this night as enjoyable as possible and the only way you're probably going to do that is by ignoring Soobin and his jerk ways all night.

Or at least until Yeonjun can get back hopefully tomorrow, you definitely didn't want to be stuck with Soobin longer than you needed to be. You were starting to regret coming to this stupid Cabin with Yeonjun anyway.

It was supposed to be Yeonjun, Giselle, Soobin and yourself but Giselle backed out last minute for family reasons and you weren't able to get yourself out of it.

Yeonjun left to the store to get more snacks for the night and some alcohol to make things more interesting but obviously that didn't go as planned and he ended up getting stuck in the storm that we didn't realize was this bad, otherwise we wouldn't have sent him out to begin with.

You were just hoping and praying he was safe and warm, also a little angry that he didn't answer your phone call but instead answered Soobin's.

You detested Soobin with every bone in your body, you had ever since you were pre teens and Yeonjun brought him home claiming he was his best friend and that they were going to 'start a band together'. You thought they were so cool up until you heard Soobin talking badly about you to Yeonjun.

He claimed that you were clingy and that you were weird to follow them around all the time. It broke your heart, you were old enough to know that you had a tiny little crush on him, and to hear your crush say that you were annoying was too much for your little twelve year old heart.

As you grew older and became adults you couldn't stand Soobin's sheer arrogance and the way he acted like he was a god that you should kiss the ground he walked on. It was gross, the typical stuck up know it all that he was.

After grabbing a snack of peanut butter and apples you opened your phone and started scrolling on Instagram watching reels as you ate your snack. You sat on the couch as far away from Soobin as you can get continuing to scroll with tour volume at a mild setting.

"Can you turn that down" Soobin asked, you rolled your eyes licking the spoon with the peanut butter on it obnoxiously.

"It's not even loud. you'll be fine" You feel like being defiant and you definitely weren't going to let Soobin tell you what to do that was for fucking sure.

"Turn it down" Soobin grit his teeth at you, the annoyance on his face was almost comical.

"Nah" You said childishly, you were aware of how youthful you sounded but truthfully you didn't care. When it came to bothering Soobin you would do virtually anything to piss him off.

"Turn it down"

"No"

"Y/n, im not joking." You shrugged at his attempt at being serious with you, furthering his anger. He Jumped up from his seat on the couch launching at you in a split second. It took you completely off guard when in a half a second your phone was in Soobin's massive hand. He turned it off looking at you with a smirk on his face as if he won.

He may have won this battle but the war was far from over. With a growl of frustration you jumped up and onto soobin reaching for your phone that was now lain in his extended hand, far from you. You reached for it with all you might. Growing angrier and angrier as Soobin laughed from under you, enjoying you torment.

"You jerk!" You yelled continuing your movements in trying to grab the phone from him. "Give it back right fucking now!" As you continued to reach for your phone you felt something hard poke your leg.

In horror you looked down at Soobin, his face beat red at the realization of the situation.

Soobin was...Hard. As you crawled on top of him. In the blur of the movement frozen in place the power of all things decided to go out. Enveloping the entire cabin in pitch black.

In an awkward movement you got off Soobin's lap briefly brushing his hard-on on accident. You cringed at the hiss that came from his lips. "Um.." You mumbled awkwardly.

"We should grab the firewood" Soobin said lowly, his voice scratchy in what I assume was humiliation. You nodded your head even though you were sure he couldn't even see you. "Uh yeah let me turn on my phone flashlight"

After making some light for the two of you, you watched as Soobin gathered the firewood not saying a word to you after what had just transpired.

Finally after a few grueling minutes of awkward silence Soobin decided to speak "Are you going to just stand there or are you going to help me." His voice was full of annoyance. It made you angry.

He was the one that got a fucking hard on and made everything awkward.

"Looks like you got it just fine" You whipped back at him, not interested in his attitude.

"Of course you're just going to sit there and do nothing typical y/nie" Soobin spit out.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean" You were up and next to him at this point, red in the face from anger.

"You don't do anything. You never help your brother out with anything you're such a ... nuisance!" He was just as angry as you now. The light from the fire he started illuminating his face.

"I'm the nuisance?!" You asked in a shocked tone. Truly appalled at his audacity. "You're the one that was complaining that I was following you guys around and being annoying."

His eyes widened in a shock you can only assume was fake. There was no way he didn't know that he said that.

"I never said that" He said shocked, face written in confusion.

"Yes you did!" You shouted at him, you were beginning to get fed up with this conversation. Growing more annoyed every time he opened his mouth.

"I did not, why are you lying? What's your benefit" The back and forth of this conversation was really pissing you off. You scoffed at his blatant lie shaking your head at him.

"I'm not lying Soobin. You told Yeonjun when we were twelve that I was annoying, why would I help you ever?" Soobin's face turned to one of realization.

"Do you know how ridiculous you sound?" Soobin asked, tone softer but still with that annoyed lilt to it. "We were twelve y/n I don't even remember the things ive said two weeks ago much less then many years ago!"

"but you still feel the same way don't you. you still think im annoying so why does it matter." You taunted him. Raising your eyebrows at him.

"I never said that" He said softly "Do not put words in my mouth y/n."

"You did say it."

"Years ago, it doesn't count"

"It does to me" You threw back, waiting for when this argument was going to end, the two of you too stubborn to ket up on the other.

"That's stupid." He rolled his eyes. You stepped closer to him trying your hardest to get your point across. Narrowing your eyes at him you looked at him directly in the eyes trying your hardest to look intimidating. You weren't sure if it were actually working though.

"I hate you, and I don't understand why my brother even like-"

I was cut off by his sudden lips sudden lips on yours.

Soobin was kissing you.

Your body had a mind of its own deciding to kiss back vigorously. Your mouth moving against his with heat. His mouth opened slightly giving you a split second to insert your tongue into his mouth. His groan vibrated through your entire body lighting you up from the inside out.

Soon Soobin's hands where roaming your body soaking in the feels of your body against his. The soft moan you let out was barely heard over his heavy breathing. Your hands traveled the expanse of his body reaching for his sweatshirt and lifting it over his head.

"Wait wait" Soobin said disconnecting your lips from his and putting a slight distance from him. "Are you sure?" He asked. Your mind still hazy you nodded.

"Use your words" He said running his hands over your face brushing the hair that was in the way of his view oof you. "Yes I'm sure" You breathed out. All rational thoughts out the window the only thing you could focus on was Soobin and how his massive hands were roaming all over your body.

Soobin lowered your body to the ground the plush carpet underneath providing some warmth along with the blazing fireplace that you were both directly in front of.

You weren't sure how you were going to feel about this in the morning bur right now this was everything you've ever wanted and there was no way you were going back. Soobin must have felt the same urgency as he instantly went back to attaching his lips to your neck sucking on your sweet spot.

Your moan was high pitched and your body arched into his welcoming all his advances.

Using your hands you ran them along the expanse of his body lifting his hoodie up like you had intended to do a few minutes prior. He wore a plain white t-shirt underneath chain hanging from his throat. The cool material was a stark contrast to the burning of your heated skin under his fiery touch. His hands made quick work in getting your top off, your bra a close second.

"Beautiful" He mumbled looking down at your half naked body on display for him. You decided that he wasn't bare enough so you busied yourself by taking his white t-shirt off and his sweatpants followed suit the only thing left was his boxers.

His bulge protruding from his tight boxes had made your mouth water at the anticipation. If you were being honest with yourself you had never really thought of Soobin in such a sexual light before. You had never noticed how truly sexy he was. It was making your brain fuzzy.

Sure you had a crush on him as kid, but that ended quickly you were never able to grow into adulthood with him in mind in this way, it was liberating. It was like seeing the light for the very first time.

As quickly as he was naked he made sure that you were just as bare as him. When your panties were finally off Soobin decided to make the marvelous decision to attach his mouth to where you needed him most.

His tongue was hot against your core, you arched into him breathing heavier as he worked his magic over your clit. His hand traveled up to grope your breast in his hand, reaching up you placed your hand onto of his squeezing it slightly to add to the stimulation.

You felt as if you were on cloud nine. The moans leaving your lips like a mantra had only fueled Soobin along, sucking onto your clit with vigor.

"Fuck, fuck Soobin that feels so fucking good" You breathed out. It was a sound Soobin had truthfully thought about you making many times. If he wasn't already hard he would rock solid by now for sure.

The slurping of his mouth against had you seeing stars closer and closer to tipping over the edge every minute. "I'm going to cum" You panted still holding onto Soobin's hand over your breast. Your eyes were squeezed shut body still arched up.

Suddenly Soobin had pulled away from you causing a whine to fall from your lips. "Wha-"

"Shh" Soobin whispered at your protest "I'm going to fuck you now, is that ok?" He said, his voice husky as he leaned over you chain still dangling from his naked chest.

You nodded your head at him "Yes" You spoke, trying your hardest to not sound too eager.

"I don't have a condom" He spoke, grabbing his length in his hand to pump a few times.

"I'm on the pill" You spoke quickly trying to speed up the process. You needed to feel him now. "You can come inside of me"

Soobin let out a small groan at your words still lazily pumping his cock he neared the tip to your entrance slapping it a few times on your throbbing clit.

"Fuck that's hot" He moaned looking down at where the two of you were about to be connected.

"Fuck me already" You whined, if you had to wait even a minute longer you think you might actually explode.

Soobin let out a little laugh at your eagerness shaking his head playfully before he looked down readying himself to be inside of you. Slowly he pushed himself in, the stretch of his hurt just slightly but was mainly overpowered by the sheer explosive pleasure.

The two of you simultaneously let out a moan the feeling of him inside of you was delicious. Once he was stated all the way inside of you he looked down at you with wide eyes.

"This ok?" He asked running a hand down the side of your face cupping your cheeks with his massive hand.

"Please move" You moaned out running your hands up and down his toned chest. Soobin started thrusting slowly before find his footing and working at a faster harsher pace.

The slam of his hips against yours hand you seeing stars. "So good" Soobin mumbled angling his head down to attach his mouth to your breast lazily sucking on the pert nipple.

"Fuck you're so big" You hissed out your body on fire with his touch and the constant slam of his hips on yours.

"Yeah?" He asked a shit eating grin on his face "You like that baby?" The sudden pet name threw you for a loop. Clamping down on him as a response.

"fuck" you wheezed out "Yes, yes I do" You were chanting, your voice was definitely going to be horse after this. While in your fucked out state Soobin pulled out of you in a quick motion, once again taking your pleasure away without a single warning.

Soobin plopped down beside you motioning for you to get on top of him. Out of breath your maneuvered yourself to rest on top of him. Guiding his cock back into you. You quickly set a comfortable pace atop him.

Bouncing up and down watching as his face contorted in the utmost pleasure. Grabbing you by the hips Soobin planted his feet firm on the floor on the cabin and started rutting into you at a faster pace then when he was on top of you just a few minutes ago.

"Holy fuck" You sobbed, falling forward on his chest as you allowed him to use your body any which way he pleased. "Fuck fuck fuck" You chanted the words falling from your tongue without any real thought.

"You're so fucking tight. Squeezing me so much baby" Soobin mumbled continuing to abuse your hole with his cock.

"I'm going to cum." You moaned out stuffing your face into Soobin's neck. His relentless pace didn't falter, if anything your need to cum only fueled his vigorous movements from under you.

"Oh my god!" You were so near tipping over the edge. Nearly sobbing from the pleasure Soobin was giving you.

"I'm almost there" Soobin said, his thrusting becoming sloppy and un coordinated. Soon you felt the knot that was wound so tight snap and your climax was there. Washing over you entire body like a single tidal wave. Your body shook with the aftermath of your orgasm still lingering.

"Oh f-fuck" Soobin said landing a few sharp thrusts inside of you before spilling his spend inside of you like you told him to do. You collapsed on top of Soobin catching your breath while resting your head on his chest.

After a few minutes of sitting in the silence, listening to Soobin's rapid heartbeat and the crackling fire Soobin lifted his head. "Let me clean you up" He spoke softly.

You rose from your spot on top of him as he got up to grab a washcloth from the couch.

As he came back and helped you cleaned up your mind started too reel. The realization of what had just happened had hit you like a truck. Oddly enough you did not regret it for a single second. You had felt comfortable with him even, all the worries of him finding you annoying washing away.

If you knew anything about Soobin it was that he was not the fuck and forget about it type, whatever happened too relationship after this was unknown but for some odd reason you had a feeling about what was to come.

After cleaning up both Soobin and yourself were obviously tired from all your activities. You had grabbed blankets and made a little bed on the floor next to the crackling fire, that being your only source of heat since the power was still out in the cabin. Cuddling up next to Soobin you had drifted off to sleep no thoughts in your head besides the content feeling you had felt ini this very moment.

"Oh god!" The sound of a voice had awoken you from your very peaceful sleep cuddle up next to Soobin.

Yeonjun was stood in the entry way to the living room staring at the two of you cuddled up together. The reality of what happened last night very evident.

"When I said get along I didn't mean to sleep together!" Yeonjun looked horrified at you both, a ghost of a smile on his face at the fact that finally his best friend and younger sister were finally getting along.

Maybe too well it seemed.

Taglist- @jooniesbears-blog, @kkamismom12 @vixensss, @st1llm0nster @jenos-eye-smiles @shypen @firstclassjaylee @dreamiestay @missychief1404 @blossommi

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

Text

Practice On Me — Part Five — Azriel x Reader

Note: I feel like this part isn’t that great but as you may have seen, I had a family emergency and I got kind of distracted whilst trying to finish it. It was going to be even longer with even more drama, but I wanted to get an update out today and I wouldn’t have finished it in time, so I’ve cut it short (on a cliffhanger, of course), and the next part will be out quicker as it’s already mostly written. You can look forward to more drama 😏 I hope you enjoy this part all the same! Also, I try to tag everyone who asks, but it won’t let me tag some of you, so please check your settings to make sure your blog is able to be tagged/searched for!

Summary: Reader is trying to carry on as normal, but a trip to a rival camp has tensions rising once more, and jealous Azriel makes a return. Trouble seems to follow our poor girl everywhere…

Word Count: 6.1k.

Warnings: A bit of violence.

This is all wrong.

The beautiful female hovers over Azriel, her lips slanting over his. Her mouth is commanding, entirely in control.

She smiles against him like she knows it.

She grabs Azriel’s hands, plants them on her waist. And she whispers in a voice that is so seductive, it almost seems impossible, “Touch me.”

So Az touches her. And it’s all wrong.

He can’t exactly place why it’s wrong. Just that there’s a panic unfurling inside of him that this is all happening too fast—

No, not too fast. It’s not that.

It’s who hovers over him that’s the problem. The realisation is nearly suffocating. Something has changed.

He doesn’t…doesn’t think he wants to be doing this here, right now, with Kaeda. It feels…off. He’s not comfortable, not at ease, like he’s always been with—

The door bursts open, and it’s a relief when Kaeda tears her mouth away from his.

The relief instantaneously disappears as he turns his head, drinks in who stands at the threshold. His stomach lurches.

Y/N looks as if she’s about to keel over on the spot. She trembles so violently that she can’t seem to keep her body still. Her tunic and breeches and shoes are sodden, as though she traipsed all the way here, through the snow, with nothing shielding her from the cold. Her hair sticks to her face, and there’s blood — blood streaking down her chin.

Azriel goes cold. Something has happened.

But Y/N seems oblivious to the blood as she stares, wide-and-watery-eyed, between Azriel and Kaeda.

And Az thinks…fuck. Fuck, fuck, a thousand times, fuck.

His head is reeling, roaring.

And then Kaeda says, “The shop hand from the forge,” and Azriel doesn’t like her tone; like being a shop hand is something shameful. She adds, “What happened to your face?”

Az is wondering the same fucking thing. It’s then that be remembers how to move, and he’s wrenching up and scooting out from beneath Kaeda, and his voice is quiet, soft, as he murmurs, “Y/N…”

He wants to go to her, fuss over her, but she’s gripping the door handle and shaking her head in a way that stops him from doing so.

“Sorry for interrupting.” She chokes out. In a flash, the door is yanked shut, and she’s gone.

All Azriel can think is no. Something prickles at his skin. He forgets there’s someone else in the room with him.

“Do you know her?” Kaeda’s voice jolts him.

“She’s my—friend.” The word sounds strange in his voice, tastes funny on his tongue. It tastes…sour.

“You think she got into a fight, or something?”

“No, that’s not—” He stops himself from revealing too much. Presses his back into the pillows. “No. I’m not sure what happened, but…no.”

Kaeda seems to think on that for a mere second or two. And then she shrugs. “How strange.”

Before Azriel can reply, she’s climbing into his lap, legs either side of his. She grabs his hands, planting them on her hips. Her soft hair tickles his cheek as she leans down, and she smells pleasant. Sweet and powdery.

“Where were we?” She murmurs, and then she kisses him again.

There is no excitement in this. There should be something thrilling about the way her lips attack his hungrily, and the way she’s stroking her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, and the way she rocks on top of him. Az may lack experience, but he doesn’t lack knowledge, basic common sense.

His cock should be hardening in his breeches by now. But all he feels is…panic.

He’s too concerned about Y/N to focus.

He rips his mouth away, panting, “I can’t.”

Kaeda blinks down at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I just — I need to find Y/N. I need to check she’s alright.”

The female studies him, reading his face.

And then her expression softens. She nods. “Of course, Azriel. I’m sorry. You should go find her.”

Kaeda is nice — he’s thought so since the moment he met her, when she took a late night trip to one of the training rings a good few months ago, and Az had had the same idea. She’s one of those personable people who can get along with anyone — who could coax conversation out of a lump of snow. People light up around her, and they laugh, and she makes everyone she talks to feel special.

So of course she has no problem with Az skipping out on her. It thaws his heart a little. The panic is still there, though.

“I’m sorry.” He stands from the bed, a twinge of guilt biting at him for just…leaving her here. “I’ll check on her and make sure she’s okay. I’ll come back after.”

Kaeda smiles at him brilliantly. “Go on. She needs you.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. Later on, he might regret how quickly he darts from the room, as if it’s on fire. But right now, all he thinks of is Y/N.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You end up at the cottage. You’re not sure why. Nor how — you have no recollection of the walk there.

The pain of an aching heart blocks out the cold, at least.

You need…you don’t know what you need.

It feels as though you’re standing still as the world moves too fast around you.

You numbly walk through the front door, forgetting to kick the snow from your shoes. And you stop at the sight of Cassian in the kitchen, stood alone at the counter, his back to you. Your mind can’t register that he’s here, when you expected him to be at the centre of the Solstice festivities, drinking the night away and finding someone to fall into bed with by the end of it.

He turns, unperturbed by your abrupt arrival. “Sandwich break.” He chirps, and then his eyes land on you. The sandwich slips from his hands. “What the fuck?”

You open and close your mouth, not even sure what might come out. There’s a disconnect somewhere. Nothing’s working right.

You just hope it isn’t Azriel’s name that slips past your lips. You don’t want to have to explain your complicated feelings where he’s concerned.

“My father.” You eventually rasp. “He…”

You don’t need to finish the sentence. Cassian knows. He always knows.

He comes striding over to you and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. And you feel a little deceitful that the tears that immediately begin to fall have nothing to do with what went down with your father. But what’s one more negative emotion to add to the growing pile? You sink into the embrace, accept it greedily. Cassian’s hugs will one day feature in legendary tales, you’re sure.

“I told Az I had a bad feeling about tonight.” He says, pulling back to study you. A rare fury flames his gaze, turning him instantly into the feared opponent that so many other males simply refuse to fight. He clenches his jaw, features harsh for once. “Gods, I just want to go straight to your father’s house and—”

“No.” You quickly cut him off. “Not tonight. Please. I can’t take any more tonight.”

Cass can be stubborn and driven by emotion and he’s damn well attracted to fights like a moth to a flame. But he’s also a fiercely loyal friend who will listen to what you need and act accordingly.

Which is why he gently takes your face in his huge, warm hands, inspects your split lip, and says, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You could kiss him for that, alone.

Maybe you should.

No, you’re not thinking straight.

You don’t want to think at all, as you allow yourself to be seated on the couch, and Cass begins rummaging for whatever scant medical supplies Rhysand’s mother keeps in the cottage. Years under your father’s thumb means that you’ve got the art of emptying your mind to an almost frightening level of perfection. Perhaps an unhealthy coping mechanism, but a necessary one. You force your head to go quiet, to empty.

But then Cassian is perching himself in front of you, a gentle smile on his face.

“I’m totally making this up as I go along.” He admits. “I’ll make it as painless as I can.”

A bizarre thought strikes you that you actually want this to hurt.

You’re not sure what to make of that one.

Luckily for you, you can’t exactly provide much conversation with Cass cleaning the wound on your lip. It’s nice not to have to think beyond the vague hums you give in response to his occasional comments.

But before long, he’s rubbing a salve into the cut — and apologising as you hiss at the sting — and then he tells you, “All done. The bleeding has stopped.”

Your attempt at a smile is more of a grimace. “Thank you.”

The silence in the room is odd. Pressing. Even in the most testing of times, Cassian is known for trying to inject some humour into the situation — he’s a master at easing tension. But he stares at you in a way that strips you bare.

And then he asks, “What happened tonight?”

You frown at the question, not entirely sure how to answer. You know he’s asking in regard to the wound, wanting to know exactly how you got it, but your thoughts are aimed — uncontrollably — in a singular direction, and if you open your mouth, you’re not at all sure that Azriel’s name won’t just roll off your tongue.

“Y/N?” Cassian presses.

“I…” You swallow. It’s a good start. “I think I might be homeless.”

Not exactly an answer. But it seems that’s enough for Cass.

He shifts his position so that he’s able to fold you into his side. He guides your head to his chest, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“No, you’re not. You have this place.” He murmurs. “You’ll always have this place. Or you could move into my room at the dormitories, if you’d like. I’ll even clean it for you.”

That drags a weak, rasping laugh from the depths of your aching chest. “You really are a catch, Cass.”

“Oh, I know. But I’ll clean my room for no other female but you.”

Would that change, you wonder, if he met Kaeda, saw how beautiful she was? He may not have had the pleasure of an introduction yet, but you’re sure that Azriel must have shared at least some information with him and Rhys. They probably know more than you do.

Your curiosity piques, and before you can stop yourself, you’re speaking. “Cass?”

“Yes, sweetpea?”

You should totally backtrack, blurt out something pointless and irrelevant—

“What do you know of Kaeda?”

Or maybe not.

There’s a short pause as Cass seems to mull the question over, his fingers beginning to absentmindedly rake through your hair.

“Not much.” He eventually admits. “Her family aren’t from this camp. Her father is Lord of Camp Fenlaros. I think they’re a wealthy family, highly respected. I don’t know any more than that.”

Which explains why you’d never seen her until the day she’d walked into the forge. You’d certainly remember meeting her before. The Fenlaros Camp sits at the other side of Illyria — the furthest one from Windhaven.

“You don’t need to worry, though.” Cass then says, and you stiffen, wondering if your silence has somehow exposed you. “Az has a good head on his shoulders. He knows what he’s doing.”

Yes, you want to say, because I fucking taught him.

But before you can muster a reasonable response, the door is bursting open.

Azriel strides in, damp hair sticking to cold-bitten cheeks and his chest heaving. His eyes drink in yours and Cassian’s current position, before zeroing in on your face.

“I’ve been looking for you.” He pants.

You stare back at him, and you hate that you feel…angry. You have no right to feel that way. What has Az done, besides what he always intended to do? Exploring your affections was only ever supposed to be a practice run. If he feels ready for the real thing, you should be excited for him.

But quite simply, you’re not.

“Why?” The word comes out too brusque, too harsh. You correct yourself, clearing your throat. “I mean—what for?”

A pause. “I was worried.”

“I got her all cleaned up.” Cass jumps to his feet, gathering the healing supplies in his hands. “It’s not as bad as it looks, thankfully.”

Azriel’s eyes don’t leave your face. “Your father?”

You lower your eyes to your hands, your fingernails of sudden interest to you. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

And you don’t. But as the words leave your mouth, you know you’re not referring to your father’s behaviour. And you think that somehow, Az knows, too.

He stares at you in silence, still breathing a little heavily. And as that silence becomes thick, almost uncomfortable, Cass catches on to it.

He pauses his movements in the kitchen, staring between you and Azriel. It becomes suddenly clear to him that there’s an elephant in the room, and both of you are refusing to glance at it.

You really, really don’t want him to leave you alone with Az right now. You need time to gather your thoughts and feelings and know what you’re not going to say—

“…Anyway…” He clears his throat loudly. “I’m going to head back to the dormitories while the night is still young.” He swivels towards you. “Do you need anything else?”

“I’ve got her.” Az answers before you can. “We’ll be fine here. Go have fun, Cass.”

And, well, Cassian doesn’t need telling twice. So typically of him, he finally scoops his dropped sandwich off the kitchen floor, blows on it, and eats half of it in one bite.

“Happy Solstice, fuckers.” He says around a mouthful of bread. “Come back to the party when you’re finished here.”

You have no plans of doing that. All you want is to climb into bed and cry. But you know there’s no getting out of whatever is about to follow.

“Thanks, Cass.” You murmur quietly, forcing a weak smile.

“Anything for you, sweetpea.”

With the remainder of his sandwich still in hand, his tall frame ducks out of the cottage. The closing of the door is a death knell.

Az stares at you. And then he’s rounding the couch, stopping just inches away.

For the first time in nine years, you’re not sure you can face him. There’s an oily feeling of…of humiliation, that coats you, and it may just worsen if you make eye contact.

“Are you alright?” He breaks the silence, his voice solemn, grave.

You nod. Twist your hands around each other just to give them something to do. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that. But your lip—”

“Cassian saw to it, Az.” Finally, you force yourself to make eye contact. And for his sake — or yours — or whatever — you push your mouth into a watery smile. It hurts your lip and it hurts your heart. “It’s really not that bad.”

There’s a momentary pause. Perhaps he’s not expecting you to be so calm in the wake of such an awful day. Little does he know, it’s all a front. Self-preservation.

You almost — almost — flinch, when he steps closer and perches himself on the coffee table in front of you.

“I should have been there.” He presses his lips into a thin line as he studies the wound up close. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t want to talk about this. You can’t talk about this. You may just die if you do. You just…need the night to end. To go away.

And just as Azriel reaches out to brush a finger over your hurt lip, you’ve decided you’ve had quite enough.

You jump up way too quickly for it to be casual, clearing your throat. “Where is Kaeda?”

“…She’s still at the dorms…”

“You shouldn’t have skipped out on her like that, Azriel. It’s rude.”

“I explained to her that you needed me. She understood—”

You whirl around to face him. You dread to think what he might have told her. “Go back to her, Az.”

Does he know you’re begging him, not telling him? You’re not sure.

He studies you like…like he doesn’t understand your demeanour. And then he says, “I will when I’m done here.”

A brusque laugh leaves you. “There’s nothing to be done here. Cassian already helped.”

You see the words hit him. Part of you feels like a wretch for throwing it in his face. He’s done nothing wrong. He owes you nothing.

This is on you for letting your feelings get out of hand. Your eyes shutter, and you draw in a slow, steeling breath.

“I’m very tired, and I just want to go to bed.” You explain quietly. “And I appreciate that you interrupted your night to come and check on me, I do, but there’s nothing that can be done for me. I just…need to sleep.”

Az stares at you again. Swallows. “Then I’ll stay until you fall asleep—”

“Az. Don’t keep Kaeda waiting.”

You can see how torn he is. You almost feel bad. He wants to do right by everyone.

But he can’t do right by you. Not tonight. It’s too late for that.

And maybe that realisation dawns on him, because finally, he pushes to his feet.

“You know where to find me if you need anything.”

You won’t. But you nod, all the same. “Yes.”

“Lock the door.”

“I will.”

He strides to the door. Pauses with his fingers on the handle, like he wants to say something else.

But then he leaves.

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The cold hurts so good. Every inhale burns your lungs. Your eyes water against the brisk air.

Pushing yourself hard like this, working against the elements, is precisely what you need. You’ve been up here every morning for the past week, putting your body through its paces before the sky has even lightened.

You’ve got avoiding Azriel as much as possible down to an art form, and when you’ve no choice but to face him, your act of breezing nonchalance, or normality, is so convincing that you almost fool yourself.

Almost.

It’s a routine, if not a strange one.

You pant heavily through the exertion, gazing up through the towering trees as you take a moment to catch your breath. It seems that the harder you push yourself, the more your muscles burn, the less your heart aches. The quiet and solitude has been a welcome companion in the days since—

Snow crunches under boots. You stiffen at the approaching footsteps.

If the males training below catch you doing your exercises up here again, they may do more than just chew you out.

But through the trees, Azriel’s unmistakable form emerges in a halo of early morning light. The nature around you seems to pause and bask in his presence, and you can’t blame it one bit.

Gods, he’s beautiful. Painfully so. Gut-wrenchingly so—

It’s for that reason that you snap your front into place; the one you’ve spent the past week perfecting. You will simply act as you always have — as you always did before that first night you offered Azriel your help — and maybe, hopefully, you’ll even start to believe it.

Maybe it will stop hurting.

“Thought I’d find you up here.” There’s an edge to his voice that makes you think he’s waiting to follow your lead. He smiles tentatively.

You smile widely and hope it’s convincing. “I’d much prefer having smoother terrain to work on, but beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.”

The rigidity of his shoulders ease. “How many times have you tripped over these rocks?”

“Oh, seven hundred, or so.”

He breathes a laugh, a little white cloud pluming in front of his face, and you do the same.

And it’s bad — it’s really bad — but your thoughts are immediately jumping to Kaeda and assuming her natural grace would hold its brilliance on smooth or rough terrain. There’d probably be no tripping, no falling.

You banish those images quickly.

Sometimes, you’re not sure whether you want to be her, or be in bed with her.

Azriel clears his throat, his face sobering. “Listen, I wanted to talk.”

Oh, gods.

Surely he’s not going to just…confront things, right here, right now, like a reasonable person. You’re not even slightly prepared for that. You claw at your mind in panic, searching for some way out of this besides tucking and rolling down the hill away from him—

“I have an invitation.” He says, and you pause. “Well — Kaeda does.”

Bizarre, that the first thought that hits you is a bleating, please don’t ask me to have a threesome.

You drag your mind straight back out of the gutter and will your face into neutrality. “Oh?”

“…Yeah…” Az rubs the back of his neck. “I know the two of you haven’t been properly introduced, but she’s throwing a party back in her home camp — Fenlaros — and she invited me and said I should bring some friends.”

For a moment or two, you simply don’t know what to say. Going into a rival camp is usually best avoided, given that Illyrian males will look for any excuse for a fight. You don’t know much, admittedly, about the Fenlaros Camp, but Illyrians are Illyrians, and that’s just a fact.

But it makes you question, for the first time, a thought that hadn’t so far occurred to you — why has Kaeda been hanging around Windhaven? You don’t even know the story of when she came here, or for what reason.

And that’s on you, you suppose, for wanting to know as little as possible.

“She doesn’t really know anyone here in Windhaven, besides me.” Az continues. “So she told me to bring you, Rhys and Cass along. I think she’s eager to get to know you.”

You’re silent as a thousand thoughts filter through your mind, one by one. So many things you suddenly want to ask, and yet what comes out is merely, “Fenlaros?”

Az nods. He seems to be studying your reaction closely.

“Is that a good idea? We’re not supposed to breach rival camps without express permission.”

“We have permission. Kaeda’s father is Lord of Fenlaros, and the party will be held at her dwellings. She tells me they’re a tad more civilised there than they are here.”

Hard to believe, of Illyrians. But who are you to talk? You’ve never ventured to another camp like she so boldly has.

You can’t exactly explain your hesitation, besides the obvious — subjecting yourself to being in the company of both Azriel and Kaeda seems unnecessarily cruel. But something else about it also just feels…odd. Just strolling into another camp as though that’s a done thing.

To Kaeda, you suppose it is.

“Look, you don’t have to come.” Az says, reading the caution on your face. “Rhys and Cass are eager — it’s our last chance to enjoy ourselves before training gets intense again. But I wouldn’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with—”

“I’ll come.” You blurt. “Of course, I’ll come.”

Even Az looks a little surprised. He studies you, giving you a moment to retract. And then he smiles. “Alright. Great.”

Maybe going to a party with your friends is exactly what you need — doing something normal, something you would have done without thought before you created this mess for yourself.

Perhaps the key to getting past this is to just…pretend it doesn’t hurt, until it no longer does.

And perhaps getting to know Kaeda, making a friend of her, will even help.

“Listen, I need to get back.” Az tells you, glancing over his shoulder. “We’ll discuss the details later.”

Before you can reply, he’s reaching out and pulling you into a tight hug. His scent envelopes you, soothes and pains you in equal measure. You close your eyes against his chest and find yourself hoping — really hoping — that this ache will go away soon. Azriel’s embraces have always been a place of solace. You don’t want that to have changed.

Just as quickly, he pulls away, dropping a kiss onto your forehead. “I’m really glad you’re coming, Y/N.” He says. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

You’re vaguely aware of the non-committal response you give him. Your mind is suddenly screaming at you.

And as he turns and walks away, you can’t help wondering what the fuck you’ve just got yourself into.

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It’s high up in the skies, two nights later, that the true regret begins to seep in.

Not just because the idea of this party makes anxiety coil tightly in your gut, like something in the air whispers to you that tonight will be a total shit show.

It’s the humiliation that hits you on the way there. An itchy kind of humiliation that you haven’t allowed yourself to feel for a very, very long time.

Not far in front of you, Cassian flies freely, the wind stirring his hair. He always wears the same expression while flying, one that’s a combination of elation, freedom and pride.

A small distance ahead of him, Azriel, too, is the picture of soaring grace. And at his side, Kaeda is the same. Her brilliant hair is like a streak of crimson blood that’s been smeared on the night landscape.

And you — you have to be carried by Rhysand. Like a youngling.

You stopped pitying yourself a long time ago for what your father did to you, the way he stole your ability to fly before you ever really had the chance. It was one of those things you had to come to terms with, because you’d never be able to change it.

That old feeling is returning with a vengeance, now, eating you up from the inside. Seeing Az be able to fly alongside a female, something you’d never be able to do—

“I’ve never been to the Fenlaros Camp.” Rhys speaks into your ear, ripping you out of your thoughts. From the way his fingers rub soothing circles into your hip, you know he didn’t miss your bleak expression.

You fix your gaze on the sprawling landscape below. Noises are drifting up to you, becoming louder. You must be close.

“Az says there’s nothing to be worried about.” You answer quietly. “But do you really think all will be well? It doesn’t take much for the three of you to find trouble when there’s alcohol in your system. If you land yourself in deep shit, you’ll be punished.”

His violet eyes sparkle with mischief. “I’m the High Lord’s son — their future High Lord. Everyone is too scared shitless to punish me.”

That’s not entirely true, and he knows it. You shoot him an unamused glance. “Rhys—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, squeezing your waist. “Look.”

Your eyes fall below, and you pause — blink.

War camp is not the correct term to describe what you’re descending towards.

Windhaven is a war camp. Windhaven is brutal, and cruel, and — quite frankly — unpleasant. You can spend a lifetime there and never feel at home amongst the crumbling, sparse buildings and watchful eyes.

Fenlaros is a small town.

You glimpse barracks and training rings, an armoury and a common hall — all things that Windhaven has. But Windhaven doesn’t have the pristine, secure buildings, looking as new as if they were built yesterday. Warm glows emanate from the inside out, and it feels almost ludicrous to consider that this is a place built to train for war. It just looks like…like a place someone could call home.

You’re close enough to pick up the sounds of music and laughter — all sounds of a place that’s lively despite the late hour. It’s Kaeda’s lead that your three friends follow, and it doesn’t surprise you one bit when she begins a smooth incline to what looked, from above, to be the largest, grandest building in the place.

Suitable dwellings for a Lord and his family, indeed.

Rhys is the last to touch the ground outside of the building. As he sets you down, Cassian lets out an approving whistle.

“This certainly beats the dormitories.” He says, and Kaeda grins.

“Welcome to Fenlaros.” Is all she answers.

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Nothing is ever as bad when the alcohol begins to flow. You even start to vaguely feel like…like you might actually enjoy yourself. The house is so big, filled to the brim with so many people, that you’ve only seen Azriel and Kaeda a couple of times in passing.

This sets off a tiny little battle in your innermost thoughts. Part of you wants to know what they’re up to. The other part of you really fucking doesn’t.

But so far, the people of the Fenlaros Camp are pleasant enough that you’re plied consistently with conversation, too occupied to wonder what might or might not be happening elsewhere in the building. You may just survive this party yet.

You’re just taking a moment to grab yourself another drink when you feel a touch on your shoulder. You turn, and you almost start at the sight of Kaeda smiling at you.

Gods, she really is beautiful.

“I feel like I haven’t had a chance to speak with you properly.” She says, and she’s right. There were very brief official introductions when she arrived to guide you all to Fenlaros, but so far, there’s been no one-on-one.

A fact of which you don’t know whether you’re relieved or disappointed.

“This place is…not like Windhaven.” You breathe a laugh. “Thank you — again — for the invite.”

“Of course. Azriel and I have been getting to know each other for a few months now. That’s all it is so far, and I don’t know where it might go, but I’d like to know his friends as well.”

Enough alcohol has settled into your system that the mention of Az’s name only gives a small twinge. You grin back at Kaeda. “It’s a relief to have another female around.”

“Gods, I’ll bet.” Her laugh is so, so brilliant. Like trickling water or birdsong or something. “Has it really been just the four of you all this time?”

“Pretty much. Since we were nine. A few odd love interests have come and gone, but nothing ever lasted.”

“Well.” She smiles. “Perhaps my arrival in Windhaven was a blessing in disguise.”

“I meant to ask, actually, what brought you there in the first place—”

“Don’t look now, but I think you may have bagged yourself an admirer.”

You pause at the interruption, your thoughts slow to catch up. And then you’re following Kaeda’s gaze to a group of boisterous males. One of whom is eyeing you with an intense hunger. As your eyes meet, one side of his mouth tips up into a smirk.

“That’s Thedis.” Kaeda tells you. “I’ve known him since we were younglings. He’s a good male.”

The way he’s drinking you in makes you not really care, in that moment, whether he’s a good male or a fucking terrible one.

“Listen, I’m going to go find Az.” Kaeda tells you, and her eyes glitter. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

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You give each other your names, and it’s all heavy petting from there.

Thedis doesn’t provide much in the way of conversation, but then that doesn’t matter when the music is loud, and the packed room is dancing, and he’s grinding against you.

He spins you in his arms, hands palming at your hips. You lean into the touch, knowing that his eyes are all over every one of your movements. He’s desperate for you. You have him eating out of the palm of your hand.

But it’s a different pair of hazel eyes that find yours from not far away. A more peculiar pair that you know so well.

Azriel dances nearby, Kaeda moving against him in a similar manner. But he stares at you. Intensely stares at you. The way his eyes rove over your outfit makes you feel like you’re actually wearing something worth marvelling over, and you didn’t just have to make do with what clothing you keep at Rhysand’s mother’s cottage.

The velvet top is pretty, though. Cinched at the waist and accentuating the curves of your breasts. You’re not certain if Thedis has stared at your face or your cleavage more.

But does it really matter, when you’re both aiming for the same, mindless goal, only desiring one thing from each other?

He surely doesn’t seem to think so as his hands explore your body. Azriel watches the entire thing with an unreadable expression.

You rip your gaze away, force it elsewhere. The room is so full that the air is stuffy, and your head spins a little. Against the far wall, a male has his tongue down Rhysand’s throat. They’re touching each other so desperately that it wouldn’t surprise you if they whipped their clothes off and began fucking there and then. The male would wear it as a badge of honour that he’d been with the future High Lord. Amongst the dancing bodies, Cassian is getting a similar treatment from a pretty, blonde female.

One song morphs into the next, and this one is faster, more frenetic. It spurs the couples around you on, and a sensual charge fills the space as if the damn lute players are strumming an aphrodisiac straight into the room.

Thedis slides his hands down to your ass, and he squeezes, lowering his head to brush his lips against yours.

“Let’s find somewhere more private.” He breathes onto your mouth. And he adds, without filter, “I want to fuck you.”

You tilt your head up, aiming to make contact with his lips.

The kiss never lands.

Everything happens too fast to register. But suddenly, Thedis is on the floor, and Azriel is on top of him, and the shadowsinger’s fist goes flying into his face.

Complete chaos erupts from there. Some people are darting out of the way, while others form a circle around the two males on the ground. The music stops, replaced by loud jeering and whoops of excitement. Azriel delivers a second punch, and Thedis returns it with one of his own, and then they’re rolling on the floor and you don’t know what to do.

“Azriel, what the fuck?” There’s no way he hears you above all the noise. You look around for Rhys, Cass, Kaeda, fucking anyone, but they all must be lost in the fray, the pushing and shoving.

You swear loudly, and you’re jostled this way and that as you push through people and try to reach the fight. You’re shoved forward just in time to see Azriel’s shadows snake around Thedis’s throat and squeeze—

“Azriel!” You snap. You try to grab the back of his shirt, but someone is grabbing the back of yours, trying to stop you from stopping him. You round on the Fenlaros male, shoving him away from you. “Do not touch me.”

And fuck, that’s the worst thing you could have done.

It doesn’t take much for Illyrians to start a fight. Male, female, it doesn’t matter — they’re a violent people, and as soon as you hit them with a punch or a shove, they’re accepting it as a provocation.

Which would be bad enough in Windhaven, where you’ve seen things get out of hand time and time again.

But you’re not in Windhaven. These aren’t your people. You’re in Fenlaros. And there’s now two members of Windhaven going up against two members of Fenlaros.

They take it as an affront from a rival camp.

And all hell breaks loose.

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @jjlevin @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @spikertrash @kindagoldylocks @barbiezambie @kht1998 @soupghoul @nyctophiliawitch @gracie1234567891011 @gaymistakeboi @luvmxo @rinalouu @microwaveallthedemons @starlightshowdown

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ariseur · 14 days ago

Text

✧˖° - DESIDERIUM.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - featuring ; satoru gojo x fem!reader, slight hints of suguru geto x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - synopsis ; “ for what is love if not brought back grief but just a little bit smaller? ” satoru wonders as he thinks about the time you got away from him, little does he know it’s eating you up inside everyday.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ word count ; 13.7k words, 74.2k characters

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ cw ; sfw, fem!reader, fluff to angst with little comfort, canon au, not proofread, interchanging povs but for reader it’s always second person, technically need a pt2 but lmk if u guys want it, not proofread, mainly satoru x reader but hints of sashisu x reader for a while, spoilers / allusions / mentions of jjk 0 and later manga chapters ( after suguru’s left obv ), mentions and cameo from kenny later, canon character death, mentions of smoking, mentions of blood and typical canon violence, mature language, intended lowercase

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes ; ( request linked here !!) wow so this has been sitting in my inbox for a few months now, this was actually requested but i forgot to link it to the post so this idea was brought to us by the wonderful @skypperlegacy — sobbing in my bed writing this i hope you all enjoy. ( edit: i wrote this note on 8/24 and i’m assuming i’m posting this AFTER my birthday, so take this as a little treat for not posting for my birthday ^.^ )

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes (2) ; it is currently 10/26. i have not finished this yet either. what the hell is wrong with me

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes (final) ; i did it. i finished it. 11/13 oh my days i finally completed this thing. i didn’t even flesh out the full idea so lmk if you guys want more of sad pathetic gojo and reader

i. sunlit hallways in 2005

your footsteps bounce off of the walls of the hallway, sun rays ricocheting off the floor and projecting onto your body as you make your way to your classroom. your eyes zip around in every direction as you tried to scan the room numbers to try and find the one yaga had referred you to. you grimace at his booming voice replaying in your memory talking about these two boys who were supposed to help you — idiots he referred to them as. ‘strong idiots’.

you assume you’d be heading into the classroom with the most noise in it, as the sound of muffled chattering pricks your ears from beyond the sliding door of the homeroom to your left. a long exhale leaves your lips, your shoulders rolling backwards in an attempt to try and alleviate the weird pressure that settled upon them before your fingers find the little slot that allowed it to open the door, cursing yourself as a loud squeak emits from your action.

you scrunch your eyes shut in a wincing manner, taking in the silence before peeking an eye open to see two boys — which you presume were the ones that yaga had mentioned to you. both of your eyes shoot open at the sound of a small laugh, seeing a boy with spectacles and snow white hair snickering to himself while his friend shook his head at him and instead greets you with a small smile.

you clear your throat. “are you suguru geto and satoru gojo?”

they nod, the dark-haired boy scooting out of his seat to get up and properly greet you while the other lazily grins at you, the cerulean lenses of his gracing his face and framing his teasing gaze behind a deep blue. “geto,” the former gestures to himself, “and this is gojo,” his hand waves over to the seemingly brash boy who stands beside him, giving a small wave as his hands come to intertwine behind his back.

you lean forward, ducking your head as you bow out of respect for your new classmates. hair falling in front of your face, you introduce yourself quietly as you hear small shuffles emerging towards you until sheen black shoes come into your peripheral.

lifting your head up a little further, you’re met with the bright face of ‘satoru gojo’, the name striking a familiar cord within your brain. gojo, you think, as in the gojo clan? however, you don’t get to ponder on that for too long before he chuckles at your expression — clearly somewhat impressed with his appearance. either that, or you’re completely freaked out. although, gojo’s pride would only let him choose the former.

“so,” the boy, gojo, begins, “are you the little shrimp yaga-sensei told us we’d be looking after?”

you press your lips together in a soft frown, before your eyebrows furrow with the small huff that left you as geto smacks the back of his palm against his friend’s chest. “‘m not a shrimp, you know — not even that much shorter than you.”

as if to further prove his point, you get an eyeful of white hair as he leans down to meet your eyes, just barely but enough to provide the message. “yeah?” he breathed. his grin makes you nauseous, pearly whites on display and dimmed with the backlit centered illumination giving him a frontal shadow. you tilt your nose up at him before holding his own gaze, his bright ceruleans on display as you replied with a passive-aggressive, “yeah.”

geto laughs, pressing his arm against his friend’s chest to get him to back away from you, the intense scent of cypress and a deep sea breeze no longer engulfing your senses. soft snickers instead fill your ears as gojo stuffs his hands into the pant pockets of his uniform before slipping past you with a hum. geto follows in suit.

you turn your head back to the open doorway, seeing the boys make their way out before gojo turns to you once more. “you coming or what, shrimp?”

you groan under your breath and he smiles at your reaction, now no longer in your sight as he turns the corner; struggling to hold back a grin at the quick footsteps that trail behind him with a hesitant, “hold— hold on a sec! i’m not a shrimp!”

“you are too.”

“are not,” you huff.

his eyes trail up towards the ceiling for a second, tapping his chin as he feigns a long, hard thought before cracking out into another smile. “are too.”

this game continues for a while, and you almost feel bad for geto — except the little game of chicken that you and his counterpart had going on was taking up more of your attention at the moment. with his obnoxiously long legs, gojo purposefully takes wide strides to try and tease you at least a little bit, having you make more of an effort to keep up — just because you’re new doesn’t mean that you should be let off the hook so easily, he thinks.

“are too—“

“these are the dorms,” suguru interjects, his tone clearly exasperated at this point. a few minutes of walking and the poor man felt like it was hours of meaningless boredom.

your eyes follow the direction of geto’s finger over the trail of doors that lay before you. he leans his head forward, the golden sunlight capturing his face as a few strands of raven hair from his bun slip out from their ties. “my dorm’s on the very end right there,” he gestures his head to the door at the corner, “satoru’s is two down to the left.”

speaking of him, gojo slings an arm around your shoulders; keeping a firm grip even with only his bicep as you try to squirm away. “don’t worry, i’m sure yaga’ll help you in no time. by the end of the day, you’ll be lazing around in a nice bed with your feet kicked up, thinking about how you met the most beautiful man ever today,” he says to you.

“don’t you think it’s a little weird to call your friend the most beautiful man ever?”

to gojo’s horror, geto snickers from behind him.

“you’re a sassy one, aren’t you. .” he mutters under his breath, a sigh escaping him as the warmth of his arm leaves your shoulders and is instead met with the cool air conditioning of the halls, only the sun’s peeking through the windows warming you up. he takes a step near his friend, hands stuffed in his pockets once again. “well, you can always stop by whenever you do get your dorm, i’ll always be here,” he singsongs. you fake gag at his playful wink.

geto steps towards you, leaning into you as he mumbles a little too loudly ( whether that was on purpose or not remained unknown ), “don’t worry, the girls’ wing is on the other side — luckily you won’t have to see that idiot all the time.” you laugh at your eyes trail to gojo’s small pout from behind the boy, his shoulders deflating instantly once he realized he was left out.

“hey, so like, can we not bully me for today? just once?” he chimes in, tilting his head to the side a bit in question. you and geto share one last glance and laugh together before he walks ahead of you again, gojo lagging behind so you’d walk next to him as well.

he couldn’t help but glance at you, noticing how you keep your eyes trained in front of you. only occasionally flitting to the window to admire the outside scenery. it wasn’t everyday that they got a new student, and if they did, they never lasted long. despite still only being a first year, geto and gojo adapted to the harsh environments of jujutsu society — fully aware of the consequences and what it would take to save non-sorcerers. which only made gojo all the more curious as to why you were here.

“pervert, quit staring at me.”

“hey, people would pay for these eyes on them — you’re a lucky girl, today,” he explains, bumping his shoulder with yours. you glare at him. his smile doesn’t falter.

“so do all new recruits get this treatment or what?” you chide, putting a hand on your hip comfortably as you walk. he hums for a moment. “nah,”. he decides, “you’re special,” his grin only widens the more you banter, bright blue eyes mimicking yours in a sharp narrowing. you hold his gaze for a bit, before ultimately deciding it wasn’t worth it — turning your head with a low, ‘tch’ as you keep your feet moving. gojo does the same.

they walk you around the campus, showing you the track field and the direction in which the girls’ wing is, telling you to report back to them once yaga had assigned you a room, gojo urging you to invite him over one day to which geto nudges the back of his leg with his shoe. and at the end of the day you’re left with a small wave goodbye to your new classmates, smiles on their faces as they walk off back into the dorms; leaving you to roam around with the new-known information.

you look back at the stone arch of the school’s entrance, the stone pathway beneath your feet as you squint from the brightness of the sun just beyond the horizon. a perfect point of which the ground and the sky meet.

you can feel the blocks of sunlight on your chest as you take one last look at it, face softening at the sight.

gojo takes one last look behind him to check on you, seeing your frame simply stand and soak up the golden skies. his lips only quirk the slightest bit upwards, geto quirking a brow beside him only to let an amused breath out at his best friend’s infatuation. “don’t start going all mushy on me now, satoru.”

said friend turns his head back ( geto notices how he takes one last quick glance back before fully rotating his head ) and scoffs, “no way.” geto merely hums and closes his eyes, a knowing feeling growing in his stomach. “she is kinda cute, you know,” gojo mumbles — closing his eyes when geto opens his own to look at the boy dubiously.

he, too, looks back at you only to find you walking off to another section of the high school; presumably to go and talk to yaga to find out where the hell your dorm would be. he chuckles. “don’t ruin another friendship for us by going a little too far with the flirting, this time.”

the snow-haired boy stays quiet at that, creating a small lull in the conversation only filled by the clacking of shoes against pavement. the sun on the nape of his neck slowly eases up with how it lowers beyond the skyline, small beads of sweat slowly seeping back into his skin before he huffs. “can you believe the way she talked to me?” geto looks over to him once more. “‘yeah’, who does she think she is talking to us like that?” gojo makes a dumb face as he mimics you, hands on his hips momentarily as he mocks the way you stood — it was surprising how he was the one saying this.

geto snickers. “you mean the way she talked to you.”

“whatever,” his classmate responds with a yawn, being able to crack a small smile at geto’s laughs of amusement at his frustration ( or how gojo would call it, his ‘suffering’ ). “you’ll learn to like her eventually,” he chides. his friend stays quiet at that once more.

gojo tilts his head up at the darkening sky. he swears he can feel the sun on his chest, too.

ii. the way the clouds shape us

“special grade? guess satoru was wrong about you being a shrimp,” the sound of geto’s laughter fills the air, thin fingers handing you back your student id as you pocketed the small, white card back in the pocket of your uniform.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you shake your head, placid smile painted on your lips. geto leans against the tree, careful not to ruin his sleek hair against the chipped bark. he watched as you lifted your hands up to the sky. you extend your fingers and stretch them out — watching as the light blue of the sky above you illuminates your open-faced palm and casts a shadow for the rest of your arm.

gojo wasn’t wrong, you were definitely beautiful. even geto knew it, taking in the way your hair splayed out delicately against the vibrant grass, as he could hear the distant chatter of his other two best friends making their way towards you two. you had to thank gojo for this, considering he was the found who found this little safe haven in the first place.

over the past few months ( even if you joined a little later than halfway through the actual school year ), it became quite comfortable for you to chat with these newfound friends of yours. you quickly got along with ieiri, much to gojo’s dismay as he has discovered you two make the best team against him with your sharp words towards him. he’d savor the way you’d lean in and tell him you were never really serious afterwards ( even though he was well aware of that fact, he’d like knowing you still didn’t want to really hurt his feelings ). it really felt like home when you were with them, a sanctuary only for the four of you.

with your eyes flitting closed, geto finally tears his eyes from you to gaze at the duo approaching the two of you, gojo whining about something like usual as shoko barely humored him with the little tolerance she had left; a pale cigarette hanging from between her lips.

you relish in the sun on your skin, lessened from the months before that first day you came to tokyo’s jujutsu high as you’ve adapted. you must adapt in order to survive. you realize that now, which is why you indulge in the small moments you can get — even if it’s just silence with geto or the fact that suddenly, even behind closed eyelids, the sun was gone.

allowing your lashes to flutter open, you see a familiar brunette stand above you. a combination of the sweet, earthy tones emitting from the dewy grass below you and her perfume suddenly hit your nose, surprising but definitely not unpleasant. you hummed, eyebrows furrowed.

she laughs, “eh? you two are just out here without us?”

“sigh,” you roll your eyes at gojo who audibly says the word ‘sigh’, “so inconsiderate, you two.”

geto laughs, resting his hands upon his stomach as he closes his eyes — nose twitching with the leftover pollen floating along with the soft, spring breeze down from its habitat within the trees and the plants enclosing you all.

he doesn’t exactly fall asleep, especially in such an uncomfortable position. but he makes peace with this discomfort and instead seeks refuge in his own place of serenity, only him and his thoughts ( and the quiet chatter of you and shoko ganging up on your white-haired friend ).

you exhale smoothly through your nose, a breath of fresh air leaving your lungs as you stare up at your friend, a smirk threatening to unleash itself on her face even from behind the cancer stick. “those things kill, you know,” you playfully chastise her, watching as she chuckles before crouching down.

she slips the cigarette from past her mouth, the end stained glossy and pink from that one lip product you always forget the brand of, before offering the smoke to you between her two fingers. she hums as you take the tube, the material dry against your lips. “might as well while we’re still alive and young,” she says — and the morbidity of the question no longer bothers you like it would have a few months earlier. instead, you actually chuckle at her dry delivery. you struggle not to choke with your laid back position as you hold it before letting it escape you, a hot puff of smoke emitting in the air.

“so, what’re we doing today?” a pair of lanky, slack-clad legs come into your peripheral along with a familiar mop of snowy hair before it disappears, his voice trailing off as he sits next to geto. you prop yourself up on your elbows, squinting at the sudden bright light as shoko sits beside you inside.

you crack a small smile at the feeling of her fingertips messing with the ends of your hair, shaking out the small bits of grass that got stuck in the delicate strands. gojo, however, thinks you’re smiling at him so he grins in return before your smile is soon replaced with an unsure expression — almost like you’re gonna throw up just from looking at him. he still doesn’t falter.

“what do you think we should do?” you ask after a bit, thanking ieiri under your breath as she’s done helping you primp.

“what if we go to the convenience store for a bit and get some snacks? i was thinking—“

“boringg..” shoko’s thoughts are interrupted by gojo’s loud interruption, her face immediately dropping as she looks at him. “hey, you don’t have to show off in front of your girlfriend every day, y’know,” she shoots back.

he pouts at the brunette, his shoulders deflating as his hands come up to his face to mimic a fake tear rolling down his cheek. a nervous huff escapes you as you look between her, geto, and gojo before you start, “he’s not m—“

“how about we go to the arcade in shinjuku city? they close in like,” he checks the imaginary watch on his wrist ( whether he didn’t know he had interrupted you or he didn’t want you to finish your thought was something you didn’t understand ), “two hours, i guess.”

you roll your neck around on your shoulders, sighing at the low cracks that escape your aching bones. eager for some activity, you shrug. “hate to admit it, but that might be the greatest idea gojo’s ever had.”

to that, he beams. you hear a duet of groans come from your other two friends. “aw, c’mon. don’t give into him so easily,” geto chides playfully.

“not to brag—“

“—all you do is brag, gojo—“

“—but i, personally, think i have a ton of great ideas.”

geto tips head back and laughs. you see the way his eyelids twitch and scrunch with his soft smile, outer corners crinkling as the airy sound frees itself from him. he crosses his arms. “that’s why you personally think that, im afraid ‘s not a very common opinion,” he answered calmly. gojo sulks as he looks to shoko for help. she shrugs and puffs out another cloud of smoke between the small opening she’s created on the side of her mouth.

“we can always bully him some other time, i’m bored and i’m practically losing years off of my life just listening to him,” you mutter to her — perhaps a little too loud as you see gojo’s jaw drop open from your peripheral.

geto gets up, dusting the damp pieces of grass sticking to his pants and the back of his legs before taking a big stretch. you wrap your arm around the other, extending your elbow and mimicking his motions as you let out a sigh at the feeling of weary muscles ( which you can already tell that geto and gojo will use against you when you spar ).

“why don’t we go already then?” he inquires, causing gojo to shoot up as you already start to slowly walk back to the campus entrance. shoko snorted as she shook her head, trailing behind to walk and talk with the raven-haired man. your eyes scan over the perimeter of the horizon, spotting all the grass and the vast architecture of the highschool, squinting as you look for the way you came from.

feeling the air change from behind you and the soft sounds of quick footsteps on grass, you begin. “hey shoko, do you ever—“

then you see his stupid smile.

“oh,” you say. he scoffs, almost like he’s offended that you had such a tame reaction. gojo huffs a bit, still attempting to keep up with your pace. “just ‘oh’? you aren’t excited to talk to me at all?” he groans.

you shrug. “just thought you were shoko ‘s all.”

oh, you really shouldn’t have said that. you think — because once you see the way his face splits into a grin once more, you instantly grimace. “so you are excited to talk to me.”

“never said that.”

“you didn’t have to. i’m psychic.”

“that so? what am i thinking right now, then?” you ask, finally tearing your eyes away from the ground and tilting your head at gojo; who taps his chin and pretends to think ( although, you know that there’s a seventy percent chance that whatever comes out of his mouth will be bullshit considering the way he’s struggling to hold back a smile ).

your question evokes a long hum from him as he looks up to the sky, to the right, and then back to you before he answers, “how handsome i am?” your eyes narrow a bit, one of the rare moments where satoru gojo could render you speechless.

once your mouth drops open, void of sound, gojo’s almost ready to backtrack and apologize before you finally laugh. a nice, hearty laugh that makes your chest rumble in between every breath. and if that isn’t the biggest ego booster for the boy then you’re not sure what is. he couldn’t care of you were laughing at him or with him, all he knows is that he can’t help but chuckle along with you. his chest swells with pride as you lean on the stone archway as the cacophony of giggles slows down.

you wipe the corner of your eyes, looking back at geto and ieiri as they eye you in confusion — but nonetheless give you a pity snicker in response.

“you’re hilarious, gojo — keep it up,” you finally say.

he beams boyishly at you, a warm wave of something washes over him albeit he can’t figure out what. “nice to know i still got it,” he asserted, making you give one last eye roll before you looked back at the stone steps leading to the front entrance.

you skipped forward and turned your body a bit to look at your classmates. the usual scowl on your face no longer evident anymore for it was replaced by a soft smile, one so foreign even to shoko who’s company you more or less enjoyed the most. she pursed her lips around the tobacco stick in an uncharacteristic curiosity, wondering what that fool could’ve done now to make you genuinely laugh.

“i’m gonna grab something from my dorm real quick, ‘kay?” although you were probably saying it to the group as a whole, gojo nodded eagerly as he flashed you a thumbs-up with a small, ‘okay’ as well.

he turned to shoko and geto as you rushed up the stairs and into the building, running along to the girls’ wing as they glared at him. “what?” his voice was too innocent to be gojo, just the sound of his “oblivion” made them want to facepalm. geto held a thumbs up as he mocked his friend’s earlier face while shoko have a light huff, the sound somewhere in between sounding both exasperated and entertained.

“th’hell was that?” she asked, finally stubbing the cigarette out with her shoe ( still keeping a pack on here though, you never know when you might need one. especially when you’re friends with the biggest idiot in tokyo ).

“what?” he repeated.

“nothin’,” geto shrugged, the tiny front piece he kept loose from his bun swaying as he shook his head. he shares a look with shoko that definitely throws gojo off though. he narrows his eyes at them, spectacles somewhat hiding the oceans that are his irises.

gojo crosses his arms. “you guys are just jealous that i can make a pretty lady laugh.”

“you— you don’t think . .” shoko trails off, her forehead crinkling as she looks like she’s trying to decipher something. gojo quirks a brow even though she was thinking aloud or possibly talking to geto instead — he still waits for her to finish her sentence. “what?” he repeats only to be met with a dismissive shake of the head from her.

he opens his mouth to ask what they’re talking about before he hears hasty shoes against stone and looks behind him to see you, walking back down with a small pin clasped in your hand that shimmers in the sun when you hold your hand up.

gojo’s eyes take their own route as they fly away from your palm, down your arm until it reaches your face — a fond smile written on your face like you had been claimed victorious. it made his own smile quirk back up again.

you only spare him a glance before you lope to shoko. he watches as you hand the item over to her before she takes it, a faint half-smile twitching on her lips bemusedly.

“so you can keep your bangs to the side,” you answer — even when no one has asked why you gave that pin to her. “i got it from osaka on that mission last month — thought it’d look cute on you.” geto cocks his head as he tunes out your conversation before shrugging and walking back over to gojo, hands shoved in his pockets.

he chuckles, “no need to pout, satoru.”

“i’m not pouting,” he placed a hand on his hip. unbeknownst to him, he totally was; whether it was unintentional or not. “she’s just playing favorites over here when i’m the one who so graciously invited her to start hanging out with us,” he frowns.

a laugh and a rough pat on the back from geto interrupted him from entering his soon incoming villain arc as he walked back over to you and ieiri, pulling his dramatic friend along with him. gojo’s ears perked up at your voice in the conversation once more.

“oh, you know i don’t like all those weird hair clips ‘n’ stuff—“

“don’t worry,” you lean over, brushing some of her bangs out of her face as you clip them to the side. gojo watches afar as your thin fingers work to cover the small pin with another piece of shoko’s hair, successfully getting it out of her face and concealing the pin in the process. you grin, mission accomplished.

pulling back, you watch as shoko touches her hair — smirking when she realizes how useful it’d be. she pats your head and looks at you before her eyebrows furrow; only then do you realize what she was focused on behind you.

“uh, where’s my souvenir?” your face instantly drops as you feel gojo’s chin on your shoulder, words purred dangerously low next to your ear.

“up your ass.”

“mind fetching it for me?”

“you’re disgusting—!” you push him off as he chortles, his eyes crinkling softly as bouts of laughter overtake him at your exaggerated reaction.

“we’re not gonna make it to shinjuku if you guys keep bickering like children,” you both hear geto chide. you look over to the entrance, a small smile on his face as he teases the both of you.

you scoff, stuffing your own hands in your pockets as you walk over to the dark haired man. “he started it,” you mutter.

he gasps. “nu-uh!”

“yu-huh,” you retort. he sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation whilst shoko follows you and geto in return. gojo smirks as you huff and turn around, watching as his friend bumped hips with you on the way there, making mindless conversation.

the air wasn’t so bad, the light breeze felt more refreshing than over. he looked back over at shoko’s hair in thought.

perhaps he’d have to work harder at officially getting on your good side some other time, he thinks.

iii. the taste of blue raspberry

vibrant lights and loud video game chirps wasn’t exactly gojo’s scene despite how he always presented himself; extroverted and inherently obnoxious ( although, he’d prefer to use the word ‘comfortable’ rather than obnoxious whenever you’d refer to the latter ). all he could do was trail after you and shoko, geto following him as he observed the random teens and little kids accompanied with their parents that kept the arcade flowing.

cerulean eyes follow your movements in hopes that he’ll keep track of you. that he wont lose you in this crowd. he’ll occasionally look over at shoko and geto to make sure they’re still here, too.

“so, you chose a shitty arcade spot to hangout in? such poor taste,” he leans down over you, hoping that mild jabs and soft teasing will help keep his mind off of the fact that there’s snot nosed kids running around the already narrow spaces between the machines; their flat footsteps melding together with all the loud sounds as they become synchronized with the beat of the music.

your lips twist into a sneer at the sound of him, slowly turning your head to look behind you at the boy who grinned so slyly. gojo knew exactly what he was doing.

“would you rather have yaga put us to work and sweep the dorms?” you bat your eyelashes as he only smiles further, reveling in how you play along with his little game.

“i dunnooo.. wherever you go i go, i suppose.”

“such a flirt.”

“just being honest,” he puts his hands up defensively as he walks past you to a random machine that stands stationary in front of you, untouched with whirring, vibrant lights that glow brighter when he thumbs a few tokens in the slot at the bottom. as you hear the clinking of the coin hit against the curvature inside of the machine, the snow-haired boy turns to look at you with a boyish smile as he crouches down and points a finger to the blinking button saying, ‘play now!’

you have the urge to warn him about how the game is most likely rigged. you don’t. instead your parted lips close with a huff. gojo is said to be able to do anything, you remember, he’ll learn the hard way.

“you mind getting me a slush at the machines?” he says, lanky body extending to its full height as stands upright again.

“that’s so far — and scary,” you feign a pout. realistically, you were just too lazy to walk all the way over there and back for one item.

“take suguru with you,” he tips his head up to gesture in the direction of the dark haired friend, to whom you see looking out the glass doors at all the kids who run through the place.

so there you are, walking along with geto as you huff about how gojo could have gotten the drink himself. he hums occasionally, looking around and observing the environment to try and make sure you don’t run into anything during your chatter.

“he does care about you, though. you know that right?” his fingers sift through the yen in his palm, the coins clinking around as he grabs some and puts it into the thin slot of the slushee machine.

your lips press together as you hum almost dismissively, head cocked. the cup makes a soft thud against the metal as he puts the cup inside and closes the small glass opening. the machine whirs as he clicks the blue raspberry flavor almost like it’s muscle memory — the blue button lighting up with the white kana in front of it.

“you want something?” geto asks quietly, leaning down to interrupt your analysis.

the thought makes you crack a small smile as you think for a moment before turning to face him. “do you want something?” you inquire. “i’ll pay.”

he waves you off with a soft smile. “it’s alright, i’m not much into sweets.”

you grab gojo’s cup out of the dispenser, putting a clear lid and straw in it as you grab another disposable cup. if you were going to get a slushee, you weren’t going to let geto pay for it by himself. the whirring of machine’s drink being poured almost drowns out the loud, coinciding beeps and animated sounds of the nearby screens you both hear.

“then let me buy you something when we get out of here,” you smile at him.

you fail to notice the way his face softens at you when you’re too busy grabbing the cup, licking off the excess that spills over onto your thumb as you laugh. his smile falters a bit, before he walks with you back to go get shoko and gojo.

you scoff at the sight of the white haired man smirking at the pixelated screen, pointing it out to you and geto. the two of you lean over as you heard gojo sip on the drink while you roll your eyes at the big blue kanji in bold spelling out, ‘top score: satoru gojo’.

“thought you weren’t a fan of blue raspberry,” you hear from behind you.

already, you see the man in question leaning on geto as he looks at you with a quirked brow. you look down at your cup. ah, you think, guess you did. your expression must give something away because you hear shoko amusedly huff next to you.

you shrug. “guess i just wanted to try something new.”

clearly a mistake because his smile only widens as he slings an arm around your shoulder too. “nah, you know what i’m thinking?”

“you never think.” that earns you a flick to the forehead.

he leans down. “i think i’m rubbing off on you,” he laughs.

you try to push him off of you yet he manages to let his weight relax as you struggle to keep him up, “gojo, you ass,” you mutter.

he turns to look at you, his smile looks different. feels different. “call me satoru,” he beams.

iv. ‘the star plasma vessel?’

riko amanai is a pretty girl, you think. you have no idea why she wanted to be the star plasma vessel in the first place. you weren’t there when satoru and suguru went to go meet her, instead hearing her version of the story where they practically tortured her — and knowing the boys, you’re not quite sure that she wasn’t exaggerating.

she likes you, definitely favoring you a little more than tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum, you think as you pointedly look at the pair of friends, walking ahead of you.

you look down at riko’s arm interlocked with yours and smile. “so,” you whistle, “what do you think of those two?”

her green eyes dart up to yours before looking at suguru and satoru and squinting. “they’re interesting, that’s for sure,” she mumbles. her lips twist into a sneer-like pout just at the sight of them, evoking a lighthearted chuckle from you. you fail to notice the way satoru’s head turns to look at you ever so slightly at the sound.

it makes riko grin as you playfully bump your hip with hers. satoru had never seen you so lax. maybe because the young girl was easier to handle than himself. he didn’t mind seeing you like this, but he couldn’t deny that it was pretty fun to work you up, too.

he smiles at the thought of your puffed cheeks with furrowed brows, narrowed eyes burning holes into him as he would flick your forehead for the third time in a row.

“what’s gotten you all cheesy?” he hears suguru inquire from beside him, tearing his eyes away from the stone road beneath him to look at his snow-haired friend. “eh? just thinking about stuff,” satoru replies.

suguru hums, his hand still shoved in his uniform’s pocket. “you sure it has nothing to do with—“

“a-tat-tat-tat—!” satoru waves a hand in front his friends face, holding another finger up as a gesture for him to silence. “what’d we say about sharing private stuff in public, suguru?”

“i can’t help it, some ‘gossip’ is too hot,” he shrugs.

“that does not help me—“

“what gossip are you guys talking about?” riko chimes, crossing her arms as the two of them look at her. you quirk a brow yourself.

if he’d had known better, satoru would’ve flinched at the rough hand you had smacked down on his shoulder. his eyes flickered towards you, already spotting the sly smile on your face. fuck you for being so beautiful, he thinks.

“yeah, what gossip are you guys talking back?” you press. he scoffs, waving you off as he continues walking. your lips press into a pout as you cross your arms as well, mimicking riko’s motions as you two whisper about whatever. suguru laughs at the two of you — only a few days and you guys were already twins.

sometimes the thought made your smile falter ever so slightly, knowing that you had to escort her only in a day or two was saddening. but for now, you’ll enjoy the smiles and pats on the back — knowing you’d have to part soon was only so minuscule in a world drowned in familiarity.

you intertwine your fingers with hers instead and swing your arms back and forth before you turn your head to your aforementioned friend.

“hey suguru, what do you say we show riko-chan here that little coffee shop downtown?” you ask, watching as he turns his attention away from his small flip phone’s messaging system ( as he’s most likely texting shoko and making fun of satoru in the process ) before his eyebrows raise with a soft smile.

you hear satoru huff again as his head whips around to look at you. stifling a laugh, you take in his furrowed brows and jutted lip as he sulks.

“hey, why don’t i know about any secret coffee shop downtown?”

“we had just found it walking around one day,” suguru deflects.

“and you didn’t tell me about this super-cool-top-secret-no-satoru café?”

you beam before resting your hand on his shoulder. satoru swears electricity shoots through his nerves as he turns to look at you. he wouldn’t spoil it now, but he’s seventy percent sure that this is the first time you’ve touched him without pushing him ( or as he’d like to call it, abusing him ) away.

“don’t be so jealous, satoru,” he ignores the way you call of his name makes a pit settle in his stomach. you turn to riko, “we’ll share the spot, yeah?”

“if you say so,” suguru puts his hands up in playful submission. satoru only chuckles.

your laugh synchronizes with the sounds around you, like music to satoru’s ears whilst you skip ahead with riko and scan your perimeter. everything sounds clearer now; the birds outside zipping around trees, chairs and drinks clinking, a heavy pair of distant footsteps that you can only assume is the trailing of a few people on their way to the same place.

but none of that really matters, although you’re sure everything does. all these sounds are apart of you and you’re willing to make the most of it. you walk hand in hand with riko as the boys follow in suit.

you scoff at the way satoru pulls the chair out for you before sitting himself in his own and kicking his feet up. his brow quirks cockily at the sound. “ah, so you’re only nice to me when amanai is around?”

“someone’s still gotta keep you in your place, satoru.”

“yes, ma’am,” he laughs, tipping his head back lazily as his hands fold over his chest. suguru huffs and grabs his friend’s feet before shoving them back down onto the cement. “decency, satoru?”

“ehh,” he groans, only peeking an eye at suguru before closing them again and letting his body go lax. you shake your head and laugh, watching as riko eyes him in annoyance. they’ll warm up to each other eventually, you think — and you can tell suguru feels the same.

“this is so cool—!” you chuckle at the way the young girl gleams at the intricate details of the outdoor table and the faint music playing from inside the café. her green eyes shimmer in the light, you notice; perhaps maybe just curiosity glinting in them. she’s only fourteen.

your eyes flicker around your environment yourself, hearing the mindless chatter that riko and suguru partake in about, presumably about what they’re going to do next. you squint at the distance, seeing an unusually tall man towering over a few people as he looks in your direction. your lips purse as you narrow your eyes at him further before he tilts his head up and turns away.

you watch as he walks away, his toned back all you see before you hear a mumble of your name and a tap of your foot.

you look over to see satoru, who stares at you with an indecipherable expression — something between an uncharacteristic curiosity and a standoff-ish glow. your head tilts before you look back over at the front of the café. that man is gone.

you turn back to see satoru leaning over the table with a sly smile. “penny for your thoughts?”

you shake your head and dismiss him with a weary smile and a lazy shake of your hand. “just looking around,” you say — even if you know that you can’t fool satoru gojo, his eyebrows only pinch a bit before slightly rotating his head to look behind him a bit.

“you want a sweet?” you ask, tapping his side of the table to get his attention.

had his eyes always looked so piercing, you think to yourself, as you feel something move around in your chest. rearranging itself along with the soft onomatopoeic thumps of the organ that lays inside.

he hesitates. “nah, i’ll get something on the way back later.”

“who are you and what have you done with satoru?” you chuckle. he ignores the way the usage of his given name makes him feel, the way you say it — syllables still fresh on your tongue. instead, he laughs along with you while looking over to his friend. he doesn’t know what he expected, suguru was always observant; so why was he so surprised to see him looking at the two of you with a raised brow?

you look back at riko before gasping out a small laugh at her chubby cheeks, full of food as she eats it like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. it only makes your grin grow wider when her eyes meet yours, like a deer in headlights whilst she stops chewing. you both take a pause, even when the boys turn to look at you as well — before you burst out into bouts of laughter. riko’s giggles are muffled by the parfait that’s swelled in her cheeks but she covers her mouth with a polite hand as she tries not to choke.

your cheeks feel warm with the way they stretch to curl into a smile. suguru and satoru exchange a look before satoru smiles right along with you. it wasn’t so bad, he thinks. if amanai made you act like this then maybe he didn’t mind her as much as he thought. his foot taps against the concrete underneath the table. he can feel something wriggling around in his chest.

v. deficit

riko amanai’s beauty, no longer will it be seen as the white sheet frames her features instead, you think.

the deafening sound of applause almost takes your mind off of satoru’s expression; only coldness lies within his features, now.

your hand clutches your side, even with the greatness of the stitches that shoko had blessed your wounds with — you could almost still feel his knife in your abdomen. the stinging never seemed to go away. the clapping doesn’t help, all of your senses are occupied on trying to focus on satoru.

with the close proximity of suguru next to you, you can feel the way his hand twitches against his side while he looks at riko, or more so, the sheet that covers her. you can feel his horror, too. just a couple of days ago, she was fourteen, trotting along tokyo with you

you’re almost upset you weren’t there for her death, you weren’t there to comfort her in her last moments or save her at all. you were only there for the aftermath, the same man who you saw at the coffee shop just days prior. you look at suguru to your right — who knows what he’s gone through, you think.

and yet throughout all the booms of cheers and applause, you can hear satoru’s voice and your head whirls back to him. you almost don’t recognize it when he utters, “i screwed up, it’s not your fault.”

your hand comes up to gently rest upon your mouth in a soft gasp as your eyes try not to trail down to where riko’s shoe clad feet swing with satoru’s steps, the only part of her that’s left unsheathed from the horror of what’s underneath the cover.

his next words come out muffled yet you know you couldn’t escape them even if you tried, so close yet so far to avoidance — but you know you heard him clearly.

he calls your name, then suguru’s. “should we kill these guys?” your stomach churns, the pain in your side gets worse — your head hurts and it feels like you don’t know where you are at one point. you start to question whether anything is real at this point. he adds, “i doubt i’d feel anything about it.”

his eyes don’t dart to yours like they had the few mornings prior, before you had gone to escort the young girl. he had smiled and slapped a comforting hand on your shoulder once you explained how you had a bad feeling. you still do. you wonder if there’s any other feelings you could have, anymore.

you hear suguru’s soft mutter next to you, the applause only simmering down as you try to hyper-focus on his voice. perhaps to ground you, or perhaps you couldn’t escape it; a reminder of what this world is really like. “no,” he says. “there wouldn’t be a point.”

your vision glosses over into a blur and you go to look at the light above you, florescent and blinding. your heart hurts and you do your best not to clutch it through the fabric of your uniform, you can’t be seen like this, you think. you can’t let them see what’s happening to you.

fingers digging into your palm, you tune the rest of suguru’s voice out; even though you can feel his eyes on you regardless. instead, the pair of your own follow satoru, seeing riko’s hand, partially crusted with the leftover pool of blood that had flowed beside her head, swing lifelessly as he walks past the two of you.

your brows knit closer together as you stare at him. everything clips in and out. the noise, the cheers, suguru’s voice slowly melding into satoru’s. “no point, huh?” he huffs. “does there need to be a point?”

“of course there does,” suguru snaps back. mauve irises are nothing but void now, his eyes only fixated on the ground a few feet in front of him. “especially for jujutsu sorcerers.”

your eyes burn with the way they’ve been mindlessly gazing at the snow-haired boy, the back of his head the only thing you can catch a glimpse of behind suguru’s dark hair. it doesn’t feel like they can close, only the sheen layer of oncoming tears coating them so they don’t entirely dry out. “satoru,” you breathe — and with the way things are going, you’re surprised to see cerulean eyes turn to meet yours.

suguru doesn’t bother to look at you since he can already anticipate the crumbling feeling of guilt when he sees your expression. it doesn’t matter anyway. it almost feels like nothing does.

glossed lips don’t part like how they’d usually do, they don’t even grace you with the smallest sight of a smirk like how satoru always would. you’re not quite sure why you whisper his name, what you’ll even say. maybe a mantra that only connects the two of you, something that’ll keep you sane.

he keeps his eyes locked on you for a second more before turning his head and walking away. your hand comes to grasp at your side. the stinging comes back.

vi. pinky promises (of two)

sentimentality was a privilege in a world of jujutsu — you learned, after riko. sensitivity wasn’t trained into sorcerers, in fact, you’d say it was actually trained out of them. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to be sensitive. although, surrounded by the strong, tears burned hot on your skin and your hand burned even harder when they’d come up to wipe them away.

the birds outside the encapsulated feeling of the trees chirp, showcasing what once looked golden now is tainted with a dull grey that seems to gloss over everything now. your eyes feel droopy, no longer laced with sleep but with the dread that’ll come with the rest of the day.

you wonder how satoru’s doing, how shoko’s doing. how suguru’s doing. his face looks thinner, you noticed as you think back from the recollection of your faded memories from two mornings ago. he won’t go out with you as often, you wonder how badly it fucked him up. you wonder if anything will be the same again.

you run a frustrated hand through your hair, cringing at the way oil meets your fingers. you know you have to wash your hair, but you can’t bring yourself to. it almost feels like a chore, combined along with your classes and being put on your ass every time when you try to spar with satoru.

(he always says he’ll go easy on you and let you win. you huff in annoyance — he never does.)

despite all the breaths of fresh air you try to take, your lungs can never feel free of the burden that they’re tainted with. you close your eyes and savor the heat of the bark against your palm, in hopes that it’ll finally soothe the ache in your chest like how it did all those weeks ago — at the beach in okinawa.

you remember the warmth of the sand against your skin, smacking your hands together when you’d sit upright to rid your skin of the small golden flecks. you remember seeing riko and gojo splashing each other in the water as you heard kuroi and suguru’s soft voices conversation from beside you. the feeling of your hair tied, the brightness of the sun drowning your skin. it’s so vivid in your mind, you wonder if everything was all a dream, sometimes.

a raspy voice breaks your reverie as it excuses itself before you move your propped leg and look down below you. a faint smile finds its way to your lips as you see a familiar brown bob accompanied by the scent of tobacco and rose body spray.

“so distant out here,” she cranes her neck up at you with pressed lips, you internally sigh in relief at the lack of a cigarette that’s usually rested between them. a small pout forms on your lips at her extended arm, looking down at her hand and then back up at her with a cocked head. “i’d say with more to do out here, i would understand why.”

you huff. “i was brutally injured not too long ago, and this is how you treat your favorite patient, let alone favorite friend?” shoko smirks with an entertained scoff.

“i don’t see utahime around here anywhere.”

“shoko!”

she snickers as she makes her way over to the grass, the plush dirt cold against her upper thighs as she unceremoniously plops down onto it. you begrudgingly ( but not really, as the lack of social interaction practically burns your throat ) hop down from the branches of the tree, the heat finally capturing you in all of its glory as you carefully sit down next to shoko.

“always reminiscing, huh?” she asks. you can see the way she fidgets with the turtleneck of her uniform, presumably from the antsy withdrawal of her cigs. you give a small hum — whether it’s an affirmation or not, you don’t know. all you know is that it’s a noise that escapes you, now only a rare sight for the people closest to you.

your tongue tingles with the longing of verbosity. eager to say something, except the brunette beats you to it first. “i get it,” she sighs. “it’s nice to be alone out here.”

“we can’t ever be alone with those two idiots,” you remind her playfully, a chuckle managing to slip past your lips as she groans at the mention of the two familiar boys.

“how’s satoru doing?” you ask softly, plucking at the dewy grass that lay beneath you. shoko looks at you quizzically from out of the corner of her eye before closing her eyes with a snorted laugh. your heads whips around to look at her as you see her head shaking fondly.

a small, contagious huff makes it way out of you at the sight before she looks back at you, honey eyes narrowing once she realizes that you’re genuinely asking. her smile never falters, though ( which is usually a bad sign considering of the sadistic streak you’ve seen her partake in ).

“have you got it for the satoru gojo?”

you gape. “i don’t—! i just,” lips pursed, you huff and tilt your chin up with crossed arms. “the escort was a bust, just wanted to see if his ego wasn’t too hurt.”

at your brash synopsis; your ears grow hot when you realize shoko definitely doesn’t believe you — especially with the way she hunches over a fit of silent snickers.

“shut up.”

“ah, i won’t bully you,” her lips twist into a grin. “for now.”

“shoko!” you throw your head upwards while you fall back and ragdoll, your back hitting the solid dirt beneath you as you put your arms over your head, blocking the sun’s view from your eyes.

all you can feel is the ache in your stomach, even with your friend’s reversed cursed technique, you can still feel the knife that once pierced the flesh linger on. your lips twist until you hear the shuffling of weeds and dirt swipe next to you. you turn your head, lifting your arm only to see the brunette scooting closer. she pauses, “what?”

“you don’t wanna lay down with me?” you feign a pout as you look up at her on propped elbows, the corner of your lip quirking up when you see how unenthusiastic she looks with your antics.

“you can get bugs on you,” she chimes before leaning against the bark of the tree.

“it’s nature, sho.”

“some of it’s pretty gross. you ever see tortoises fuck?”

“you’re so weird,” you laugh before rolling on your back again and looking back up at the sky; eyes gazing at the sun until when you look away, you see faded, floating shapes in your trajectory. she snickers too, looking up at the sky, too.

she’s starting to get eye bags, you notice — the fold of skin forming under her eyes along with faint, darkened circles that sit right under her splayed bottom lashes. unable to blame her, you simply lay there and stare. your eyes still pick up on the way she fiddles with her thumbs placed in her lap, pale yet irritated hands a stark contrast to the darkness of her uniform.

“y’know if it’s me you want instead of gojo, you can say so,” she laughs, interrupting your analysis with how hard you were staring. but this time, you don’t say anything. nothing at all, not even a small twitch of your lips in annoyance or a giggle to her joke, you simply keep staring at me.

she barely tilts her head yet it’s enough for you to notice. she finally asks, “something you’re thinking about?”

the words sit heavy on your tongue, laced with a bitterness you could only describe as filth. “do you ever wonder what’ll happen when we’re older?”

“what do you mean?”

“look at what happened, now.”

her brows relax. “oh.”

shoko’s lips pout out a little bit as she looks off into the horizon, where the school lays dormant with only few staff occasionally walking out or a few students walking out to their drivers to participate in another assignment.

your hands feel hollow with the way they’re too weak to even ball your fists, so you swallow the pit that forms in the hollow crevice of your throat and look back up at the sky.

“we’ll be together forever, right, shoko?”

you hold out your pinky to her — and despite her scoff, she interlocks hers with yours anyways.

vii. words left unsaid, words always heard

“you think it’ll get any better?”

your turn your head to the velvet voice emerging from the shadows, tensing in your spot atop the dorm balcony as you slowly look behind you. long hair is seen first; thick, ebony silk cascading down suguru’s thin t-shirt. you can’t count how many days you’ve seen him wearing that familiar white oversized tee, you wonder if it’s become a second skin for him at this point.

you hum at his presence, turning back to the dark sky that lay before you. looking at the exterior of the school that lay in the courtyard, painted with darkness as only the soft glimmer of moonlight embraces them, embraces you.

“you act like everything will go to shit.”

“i’m not saying that,” his tone is sharp — no longer smooth as how it used to be, he sounds on edge, like the rubber band inside of his throat will snap at any moment.

you hear a few small steps shuffle closer to you whilst you turn around and lean your body forward, the metal of the railing cool against the sweat of your arms. another nightmare, geto notes; from the way your hair is still frazzled and your breaths come out heavy with few quick intervals of inhalation.

you could feel his presence beside you, the aura of tensity thickening the air as you struggled not to say anything. you could feel his eyes on you, observing you. suguru was always observant somehow — you wonder how long he had been that way before you had found out. he was a very interesting boy, you learned early on.

“i never said you did,” your lips twisted like something sour fell damp in your mouth. “you’ve just changed, suguru.”

“have you not changed also?”

closing your eyes, you hope for one more breeze to pass through — for one opportunity, for one sign that’ll release you from this energy. it doesn’t.

“suguru—”

“don’t you ever wonder how the world would be,” a pregnant pause wriggles its way into the two of you, “without curses?”

you look at him only to see violet eyes focused straight ahead of him. he doesn’t glance at you nor even breathe in your direction, his shoulders don’t seem as tense though.

you shake your head with a breathy laugh. “yeah, i guess so.”

you lean further to try and alleviate the pain in your stomach, a churning inside of your gut that gives you a bad feeling just at the thought of it. sharing a look, your heads turn toward each other in the moonlight — he looks paler, you notice. sickly.

“hasn’t everybody? or at least hasn’t every jujutsu user?” you mumble.

( you notice suguru pauses, an uncharacteristic habit that he’s slowly developed — once always so sure and witty with his remarks, now wilted with the uncertainness that’s plagued him. )

“why do we exist?” he finally says.

your eyes dart around, stomach finally squeezing at the discomfort you feel at his question; yet you laugh it off anyway.

“philosophical, are we?” you meager a forced grin, although it only falters slightly once you feel him sigh out a breathy laugh. “a human’s purpose on earth is undefined, i don’t really know the answ—“

“i mean as a jujutsu sorcerer: what is our purpose?”

“i don’t know where you’re going with this,” you finally say. suguru takes a step back and stops resting against the railing. you look down at the high drop, then back at the sky — you wouldn’t want to jump to conclusions, but you can’t help but look at him out of the corner of your peripheral.

( at your absence of an answer, he fills in the quietude for you. )

“we fight curses, right? to protect civilians?” he runs a hand through his dark hair, the sweaty strands connecting with the callouses that lie embedded his fingertips.

you swallow. “uh-huh.”

“but who’s saving us?”

your lips twist into a small pout as you try to comprehend the underlying meaning of his words, you wonder what sort of plan he’s dancing around — why he can’t share it with you. he always shared everything with you.

( your mind mainly focuses on that one blanket that he would always hog when he was over, fleece and blue with white polka dots; now faded and worn, and you’re pretty sure it has one hole in it from when satoru tried pulling it towards him at the foot of the bed. )

“curses are created from human negative energy, the shit that stirs within non-sorcerers that finally manifests itself,” he spits. you don’t move.

“i know what you saw out there. about r—”

you cut him off. the topic ends at the beat of your heart.

suguru calls your name softly, looking back at you with furrowed brows and an inquisitive look upon his face. he seems like he’s genuinely considering this, you think.

a pause ensues, and all you hear are the distant chirps of crickets that inhabit the area. suguru doesn’t, he only looks at you — his ears drowning out any other noises besides the soft breathing exerted from him. he doesn’t seem fazed, he’s thought about this for a while — regardless of your answer, even though he knows it’ll hurt him either way.

“satoru,” you mutter.

“what about him?”

“he doesn’t know?”

“the burden he carries is unlike no other, and i have a feeling we can change that.” he places a soft hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his hand spreading along your arm and only furthering your nausea. “i think you know that, too.”

you turn on your heel, feet similar to lead as it takes everything within you to turn away and head back past the glass, trying to make it back to your dorm before a deft hand catches your wrist. it’s bordering tight, but your head whips around to see him nonetheless.

“promise, right?” his other hand holds out his pinky — almost ironic in a way. you can feel your eyelids heating with the oncoming wave of tears threatening to spill. you can’t though, not now.

it takes a second or two but you apprehensively bring your hand to interlock pinkies, a childish but fond gesture the four of you had always done.

soon, he will have coffee and crepes in the street. he’ll breathe in bliss. empty his cup of its grief, for the new life he will lead — you think.

“promise.”

viii. satoru gojo - the strongest

satoru gojo often feels like he’s not as strong as he can be.

how silly is that?

goodness, to him, is adjacent to a rock flowing slowly through the rapids. he’ll float there first. although, he knows it’ll follow him — he can only hope he’ll meet you in the river, up to his knees, both hands full of something good, like silverfish wriggling for the waters.

a bright, childlike grin on his face as it meets your sheepish one, as if when he were to meet you as a child — being your friend would be worth more than being the heir of the gojo clan. his yukata dirtied and muddy from the cross contaminated water, soaked and dripping once the two of you would make it onto the small rocks. he would’ve been punished by the elders for the mess he had created, but he wonders if it would have made a difference.

he wonders, if you had been there, whether you would have made a difference.

he knows you’ve made one now.

and when he hears the news from yaga, he can’t help but clench his fists like his heart had clenched alongside it. his head pounds with blood thumping through his veins as yaga’s voice muffles.

he doesn’t remember much — he remembers being told about you and suguru, he remembers yelling, he remembers the hot tears that welled up in his lashes as he walked away. he remembers going back to your dorm room, opening your door, and feeling his gut drop at the sight of it.

satoru remembers the lingering scent of your body spray and how it engulfed your room. the small scratches satoru had carved into your desk with a pencil once he had tried tutoring you (it ended horribly and you didn’t get anything done, a smile threatens to tug at his lips at the memory).

the small notes you used to pass in class with shoko folded neatly in an organizer. he picks one up and squints at the shaky kanji of shoko’s handwriting bunched up on the page compared to the way your characters floated on the small ripped piece of paper.

‘did you do #14?’ he read shoko’s.

yours read, ‘yep’.

he could almost laugh at her last response — which read, ‘nerd.’

he wonders how you’re doing with suguru — satoru wants to believe you had no part in the massacre he had inflicted on the village but there’s no way to no for sure, all they can tell is that they found one was suguru’s buttons on the scene. his fingers run along your sheets, neat and made from the days before you had left — he feels his breathing quicken at the sight of your fluffed pillows.

(you knew you were leaving, and that part hurts the most.)

his eyes dance around the decorations of your room, littered with cheery figurines and souvenirs from past missions in shibuya or sapporo, ones you’d always have to march back into satoru’s room for because you knew he had taken at least one.

he had never told you that the only reason he did that wasn’t to be obnoxious, but so that he could pull you into his room and coax you to stay a little longer — how he’d promise you wouldn’t get into trouble with yaga if you just went out for a plate of takoyaki in the middle of the night.

when he had seen suguru in shinjuku that day, all he could think about was that he wanted to tell you — how he wanted to just see you, even if it was only a glimpse; even if you hadn’t said anything to him. he just wanted to see you.

words lingered in his brain, suguru’s request burned into his head. because he didn’t come to fight, he didn’t come with aggression. he only requested that he saw his side, too. a part of him was relieved you weren’t there with him, because he was always weak to you — it would’ve made it so much harder, he thinks.

has he always felt this way about you? feeling what way? what the fuck is he thinking? he doesn't even know.

there's a big, hot, white ball of something within him — something wiry inside of his gut that cuts and scrapes at every edge inside his intestines. satoru doesn’t know what it is but he’s never felt this way before.

but he’ll go outside, and he’ll see shoko or wave to his classmates. he’ll hear the whispers float around in the halls, overshadowing the faint sound of soft laughs he used to hear when he’d bump hips with you when you would take your daily rounds — to help with the dreams you had, you said.

satoru gojo didn’t get nightmares, he just woke up with once again another weight on his shoulders the next morning, groggy with the idea of obligations that would only pile up on him. and although satoru never dared to dream when he was asleep ( nor did he know how to dream when he was awake ), he would only pretend to so that he could roam around at night in search of you.

and when he’d find your figure, shaky breaths escaping your lungs with disheveled hair and tear stained eyes — so beautifully illuminated by the celestial pearl in the sky, the only beacon of light suspended in velvet darkness. you’d look up at the moon, perhaps with a prayer in mind, as you’d only think about what to do next.

like always, he’d sneak up behind you. only this time, he wouldn’t startle you with a playful call of your name or tap your shoulder and be on the other side to confuse you. he’d merely slip behind you in silence, leaning against the railing of the open-view gap that’d let you view the outside of the high school. he’d feel you glance at him with a wobbly bottom lip, swollen from the chewing you’d had to do just to silence your cries.

satoru wouldn’t say anything. but you knew why he was there.

(or at least, why you thought he was there.)

your head would drop low with eyes screwed shut, and only satoru could hear the quaky breath you’d take as you’d try to compose yourself. azure eyes would rake across your figure with a furrowed brow, he never understood why you were so emotional — yet he’d lay a comforting hand on your back anyway. you’d savor the warmth of his palm with only more tears building up in your lashes.

he’s strong. he has to be — whether it’s for you, for suguru, for jujutsu society; doesn’t matter. that’s neither here nor there. for now, satoru will nurse the thought of your memory until it bleeds and stains the very bed he dreams of you in — knowing he’ll awake the next morning and jolt at your absence. he’ll then wash his face, hold his head high, and walk right back outside. the hurts only scabs over for the day before he opens it up again the same night.

ix. migration

“you— what?”

“i’m going to the states.”

geto’s lips quirk into a soft pout, one you’ve gotten accustomed to for the past few years.

“how come?” he asks softly, albeit you almost frown at his tone. a sound that had come to be so comforting — it tingles at your bones in small zaps and shivers. it makes you feel terrible, but you can’t help but indulge in the feeling.

“always wanted to go,” you shrug. your eyes glance to the girls’ bedroom; the two twins suguru had found in that small village that had come to be but a large pile of ash and dismay. hand still warm from tucking the two of them in, it fills you with bitter sweetness.

his eyes linger on your face — you can tell he doesn’t believe you because he always has this tell, where his lips will shift to the side momentarily as he presses them together, almost in thought. you’re not sure you believe yourself, either.

staying in japan does nothing for you but weigh you down with the slow, imminent guilt that swells your chest from the fact that you’re stuck here. of course, it wasn’t an involuntary choice to go with suguru — you felt you had no other choice but to escape the things you had seen at the place that had hurt you most.

although, you can’t help but think about the boy who’s hair lights up the room, who’s eyes can see right through you — it’s almost unsettling how much you remember the flecks of blue and detail within them, practically painting the sky in those colored irises. often times, you’ll lie awake at night; hands folded neatly over your chest as the external stimulus of the outside world provide you with a sense of security, realness.

the expensive eau de cologne of his lingers in your nose, the almost spice of the musk permanently altering your brain that’s only triggered when you walk past advertisers outside of the store trying to sell a similar scent.

you swear your eyes don’t water, even though no one’s presence is there but yours — so there’s really nothing to swear about. you just don’t want to seem like something you’re so foreign to; vulnerability. letting the tears flow down the curve of your cheekbones. you don’t wipe your eyes for it’s the only reminder you have left that that boy exists.

so the next morning, you’ll wake up. slumped over from the thing that eats at your bones, your cursed energy being the only thing you can feel running through you.

fingertips coated with the smallest bit of dust, the leather cover of the suitcase is practically unused save for the few times you’d use it when you’d be sent to the outskirts of japan for certain missions. you almost smile at the faint memories that cloud your brain around that time; shoko’s quiet laughs while utahime and you would whine at small inconveniences on the trip. stopping by certain food stalls that weren’t available in tokyo, trying new things — it makes you miss it.

but you know you can’t go back now.

you pretend not to notice the watery eyes of nanako and mimiko once they see you walking out of the door, nor do you notice suguru watching you walk out the door all the same; the robes clinging onto his figure disfiguring him into a man you no longer knew.

the soft smile that once lied on his young face now replaced by one of feigned amicability; like a customer service smile. you’ve known him over a decade and yet it seems like the two of you’ve only been roommate faintly acquainted with each other. it makes your heart thump a little harder.

you pretend not to feel the way your throat closes up as a single tear courses down your skin; leaving a residue that coats the linear path trickling down your cheek — this time, you wipe your eyes.

x. (not so) divine intervention

tongue sticking heavy in your mouth, any form of noise that you could’ve possibly made dying on your throat. your hands feel a surge of pressure through them, fingers twitching along as the gears in your head turn.

you look different, he takes note of. your hairs parted a little different, a few inches of extra length added on as well. a smile tugs at his lips; one full of mirth and almost jocularity. you look so clean, healthy — strong. there’s potential, he realizes, as he searches suguru’s memory bank of you; your face making a constant reoccurrence throughout his mind. the day you left, you cooking for the girls next to him, you lying next to him, your tears that night.

his half-smile only grows wider.

he cocks a brow before he holds his hand up in salutations. he says your name, but it’s not how he would usually say it. it’s almost raspier, lower. your lips press together as you examine him, your eyes keep flitting back up to his head — intricate stitches wrapping around the width of his forehead.

“hey,” geto looks you up and down. “shrimp.”

tilting your head up, you roll your eyes at the nickname before continuing to walk forward. you don’t know what you expected because he follows you anyway, hands clasped together under the warmth of the sleeves of his robes.

his soft footsteps easily match your quick ones, stern and at least trying to flee. you don’t wanna look at him, whether that’s because you know you’ll crumble or because you’re so upset, you don’t know. all you know is that you can’t look at him now. even when he observes the bustling streets of and makes passing comments about the citizens of tokyo.

“i wasn’t sure that you had gotten back — how come you didn’t find me?” he asks, and you know it’s only because he’s fishing.

you spare him a glance out of your peripheral. you frown softly, it doesn’t even look like suguru anymore. paler skin, thinner cheekbones, lips now a lighter shade of pink with small cracks lining them. an angry, irritated color begins to form around his forehead where the stitches lay, the thread sunken so deep in his skin that it makes your own head hurt at the probable tightness.

you quietly exhale, but you know he can hear the shaky breath that comes along with it. “didn’t know if you were busy.”

“you know i can always manage some time for you,” he smiles bittersweetly. tilting his head up, he looks up at the tall buildings that surround you, admiring the straying leaves falling from the trees. one floats down and makes its way onto your head — your eye twitches as he plucks its off your hair before holding it up to his view.

you take your time to look at it, too. it’s starting to brown with the oncoming seasonal change, an amorphous combination of a golden crisp and veranda green.

“i’ve been meaning to ask your help with something,” he doesn’t look at you, still trained on the leaf. “only if you’re ready to be my partner in crime, again." he smiles at you, one that seems more like suguru. it’s confident and teasing, and with the way he leans a little more forward brings you memories of his old demeanor back in high school, the way him and—

you pause, because for a moment, you swear you could’ve seen a glimpse of white hair behind him. it’s almost concerning how quickly your blood runs cold at the thought. it’s not out of dissent nor is it out of a manifest of obscureness to which you’ve rendered him to.

but once you hear geto speak of his name — it’s like you crumble all over again. your hands going soft and clammy, your chest surging with an almost sort of giddiness at the thought of him again. just like a wishful coin in a pond, it’s beautiful to know that there are still glimmers of this feeling. even this deep in.

“suguru?” you tilt your head back, meeting his relaxed gaze as he halts his movements.

“hm?”

“what are those?” you gesture to your own forehead, keeping your eyes locked on your head as you talk about the stitches on his own. you don’t get a reply.

after that, you don’t pay attention half-way through his explanation, stopping him again with a closer step forward as he talks about some sort of plan. really, the only thing you listen to is the small glimpses you hear of satoru’s name. he talks about something going on in shibuya, he talks about jujutsu high — and you would be lying if you said that the mention of the school didn’t make you a little sad.

you wonder what satoru’s doing, you wonder what shoko’s doing. hopefully, you’ll see them soon — even if it’s just in passing. you know nothing will be the same as it was before, but you can help but wonder what they’re doing now.

you won’t know her now — but as she puffs the remaining tobacco through the small opening of her swollen lips, shoko shakes her head and looks down at her pinky. she wonders if that promise had gone down the drain like you had. she swears she can feel the corners of her eyes dampen a little.

and you won’t know it either — but satoru can’t help but see you everywhere he looks. when he sees the first years walking back home from the mission, he trails behind them just to get the view of them lined up together; yuuji bumping hips with megumi while all he gets is a glare in return. nobara looks up on the sky and drags her feet out of boredom, spewing off mindless bits of chitchat about how she totally ‘did that’.

his neck will crane up to the horizon as his lips only recite your nothings. all he is sees is sunset, yet he’s scarred with the melancholy he carries. he’ll try to close his eyes, your hands coming up to his collarbones before you press down. until he’s bruised with incompetence; until his shame has configured the astronomical.

and satoru will smile, a slew of memories seeping back into the curves of his brain as he thinks back to those times of you — of suguru, shoko, nanami. he never stopped hurting that day, but he can’t help but smile at the sight of something begun anew.

oh well, satoru thinks — he can only wonder to what you’re doing now. something inside him hopes for a day where he’ll see you soon. he’ll wait for the day where he’ll see you soon.

𐙚 holy shit i did it

𐙚 comment to join taglist ; @kasumitenbaz @sad-darksoul @seternic @kalulakunundrum @2ukika @sugimvra

𐙚 requests are open — november thirteenth, 2024

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julietifsheneverdied · 19 days ago

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could i ask for a percy jackson x gn reader, with just pure fluff ? :3

yes yes yes!! mwah <3

COLD NIGHTS 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒ percy jackson x reader you could spend every day with him like this.

fluff | established relationship

━━━━ NORMALLY, THE camp wasn’t cold or filling with snow, but this year was different: with enough people begging chiron to let the snow into camp, he finally agreed. so layers of snow filled camp grounds, and snowball fights were common to see.

everyone trained inside now, and hot chocolate was almost always available if you had your chalice.

you, however, weren’t a big fan of how cold it had gotten. yes of course you loved the snow; seeing the ares kids battle apollos kids in snowball fights, the stroll twins pulling pranks using the most common resource around them, and snowmen everywhere from more apollo and aphrodite kids.

what you were a big fan of, was spending cold nights curled into your boyfriends bed. that’s where you were now, wrapped in his arms on his bed with layers of blankets over the both of you.

your hands had long since been tangled into the mess of curls on his head, legs in a messy heap under the blankets, and his hands raking up and down your back.

this is what you would choose to do for the rest of your life, feeling his heartbeat against your own, the warmth radiating between the both of you was greater than what the blankets would provide.

“you sleeping?” his voice wasn’t more than a soft murmur, the vibrations of his words was felt through his body, and now was one you could feel.

“not yet. you?” you scooted closer - if that was possible - to him and didn’t bother moving to look up at him.

“no. warm though, you warm, baby?” he asked you, tightening his arms around you.

“mhm.” you hummed.

there wasn’t a need to say anything else after that, the peace and quiet between you two spoke well enough. you imagined living with percy, somewhere in new york (probably close to his mom and step-dad, which you’d never mind - mrs. jackson was the sweetest woman ever) and spending days like this.

no responsibility, no monsters after you, nothing. this is what you wanted, you remembered the dreams that came before you were in camp, and even more memorable when you had started staying here.

dreams of a boy with black, curly hair and sea green eyes, the two of you sitting at the beach side with laughter in the background. your hands laid intertwined between you and him, and the waves crashed against the wet sand a mere few feet away.

it was nothing but blissful peace.

“wanna visit my mom for the holidays? she says she got you some presents.” percy’s hand began to trace over some imaginary shape on your back.

“of course, perce, of course i want to.” you smiled against his shoulder, brwathing in his cologne mixed with salty seawater - he smelt like your percy, and it was all you needed to close your eyes and basically fell asleep.

MAIN MASTERLIST — REQUESTS ARE OPEN — PERCY JACKSON MASTERLIST

authors note; okay this is very short and I APOLOGIZE great things are short tho size doesn’t matter

- juliet ⋆♆.˚

#julietifsheneverdied #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #fluff #fanfic

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daisies-daydreams · 8 months ago

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Okay so I was listening to the song agora hills (not saying I like Doja but her song hit okay? Hate the sinner love the sin) ANDDDD it have major hobie brown x lovesick puppy reader. Like this woman is DEVOTED to her mans. Like really devoted. On her knees with puppy eyes type of love. Always wanting to be on him and nuzzling him. Whines when he tries to move. Just very..loving. Hobie doesn’t mind obviously. And it gets worse when they have sex. She whines while his cock rams into her, grabbing the sheets tightly to ground her🙏. SO YES I NEED A FIC LIKE THATTT…just very fluffy but smeggsy sex

Somethin’ Different About You (Hobie Brown x Lovesick!F!Reader)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Lovesick!F!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut Tags: Swearing, Reader Gets Whiney, Making Out, Foreplay, Vaginal Fingering, Cock Piercings (Prince Albert), Dirty Talk, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Doggy Style, Unprotected P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Creampie, Post-Sex Cuddling, Cockwarming, Ass-Lover Hobie™ Word Count: 3k+ A/N: I literally listened to Agora Hills for the first time a few weeks ago and it was 😩👌Anywhoooo, thank you for the spicy request and I hope you enjoy!

“Guess we’re havin’ a night in,” Hobie shrugged as he peeked at the thick blanket of snow covering the street below. Frost caked the outside of your flat’s window as a tiny space heater hummed in the corner of your room. Your boyfriend closed the blinds shut before turning towards you with a quirked brow.

“You cold, babydoll?” Hobie asked as he watched you tremble beneath the thick comforter. You nodded as your teeth chattered incessantly. Hobie pursed his lips before he lumbered towards your bed. Your heart skipped a beat as your love cupped your cheek, his palm already warming you to the core.

“You want me to help warm you up?” he murmured, a hint of desire laced in his words as he looked at you with a soft, half-lidded gaze. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat as you eagerly nodded your head.

“P-Please,” you frowned and wiggled beneath your comforter. Hobie cracked a grin and chuckled before he grabbed the bottom of his red t-shirt. Your eyes widened as he quickly slipped his shirt over his head, his puffy wicks fanning out as he tossed the clothing aside. You sucked in a sharp breath as you raked your eyes over his lean abs, your eyes eventually landing on the thick, dark happy trail.

“Like what you see, lovie?” Hobie snickered with a teasing grin. You bit your lip as your cheeks swelled with heat.

"I can't help it," you muttered sheepishly as you glanced away. Your boyfriend snickered as he unlatched the buckle of his studded leather belt, his ripped jeans falling to the floor not long after. You felt a wave of heat wash over you as you caught side of Hobie's dark boxers loosely hanging around his sharp hips. He chuckled again.

“Scoot on over, baby,” he lilted. You immediately did as you were told, your heart pounding in your ears as he slid beneath the covers with you. You instantly came to his side and snuggled against his warm body, your lips curled into a giddy smile as he wrapped his lanky arms around you. “Mmm, there’s my pretty girl,” Hobie cooed before gently kissing the crown of your head. You squealed and dipped your head into his chest as he wrapped one of his ankles around yours.

Hobie sighed, letting his warm breath cascade over the back of your ear and down your neck as he held you close. Your heart skipped a beat as he nuzzled his face into your neck - his plush lips delicately brushing over your pulse and nose ring gliding against your skin.

“I was thinkin’…maybe after the weather gets better, we could go iceskatin’? I know you've been wantin' to go for a while,” he suggested as he traced mindless shapes against your hip. Your eyes lit up as you wiggled at his suggestion.

“Really?” you breathed while tilting your head over your shoulder. Hobie hummed and gave a lopsided grin.

“Really really,” he replied. Your smile grew as you turned around and pecked his lips. Hobie grinned into the kiss as he spread his palm across your waist. His lips on yours felt like sunlight on a spring day: warm and soothing to the touch. You whined when he suddenly started to slip away.

“Babe, I’m just gettin’ a glass of water,” Hobie laughed. You pouted as you gazed into his deep, brown eyes.

“No, you’re too warm,” you keened and rolled on top of him. Your lover chuckled softly as you shoved your face into his neck. He sighed and stroked his hands up and down your back as he pecked your temple.

"I'll be gone for a bit, yeah?" he said while gently brushing his thick thumbs over your hips. Your heart fluttered at his light touch as you parted your lips against his skin. Hobie’s breath hitched as you gently kissed his pulse, letting your lips linger against his neck as you felt his hands tighten around your waist. “Please? Just a little longer?” you murmured, your lips dancing over his sensitive pulse as your breasts pushed against his chest. Hobie swallowed thickly as he tilted his head back. His pupils grew by the second as you gave him your best puppy-dog eyes. Your boyfriend sighed and scratched the back of his head.

“Well…who am I to deny my baby ?” your lover said with a cocked grin. You squealed and wiggled on top of him, drawing another deep, melodic chuckle from his throat. You smiled widely as you finally felt like you were starting to warm up against your beloved’s body, his hands wandering up and down your sides as he peppered your cheek with kisses. You giggled before he suddenly laid his palms against your ass and tenderly squeezed your supple cheeks.

A mischievous smile crossed Hobie’s features as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Y’know…there’s another way I could help warm you up,” he whispered while smoothing his hands up and down your bum.

You squealed as he suddenly flipped you over, his long body draped along your back as your stomach and breasts pressed against the ruffled sheets. You whined as you felt him trace his hands along the curve of your butt.

“You wanna feel my fingers stuffin’ that perfect pussy of yours, sweet girl?” Hobie purred as he teased the band of your pants with his nimble fingers. Your walls fluttered as you gulped.

"Y-Yes please," you murmured and swayed your hips side to side. Your jaw went slack when he suddenly tugged your pants and panties over the globes of your ass.

You shivered as the cold air rolled over your exposed skin while Hobie slipped his hand between your soft thighs. You keened and arched your back as Hobie gently circled his fingertips over your slick, needy hole. You trembled as he pecked over your neck and slid his long, heavy fingers up and down your juicy slit. You moaned and wiggled beneath your lover as he spread your folds apart, the small squelch sending a pulse of heat through your dripping snatch.

"Keep making those noises f'me, baby. Love hearin' your sweet voice," Hobie purred before puckering his lips over your neck. You gasped and mewled as he suckled on your pulse while smoothing his fingers over your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Mmm, good girl," he groaned before lathing his warm tongue over the fresh hickey adorning your neck.

"Hobie, please," you pouted and shifted your hips as he continued to tease your puffy clit with his digits. You felt him smirk against your pulse as he trailed his fingers further down your slit. You squeezed your eyes shut and ducked your head into your arms as he gently prodded your entrance wide open with two thick fingers.

"God, you feel so fuckin’ warm," Hobie rumbled before sucking over your neck once more. You panted as you felt him sink his digits even deeper inside your wet heat, feeling every inch of his long fingers drag along your velvety walls.

“H-Hobieee~,” you keened as you felt your tight hole being stretched by his nimble digits. Your walls pulsed as he peppered your neck with wet, sloppy kisses. The deep groan that reverberated inside Hobie’s chest made you quiver as he began to slowly pump his fingers inside your dripping sex. A sharp cry fell from your lips as he scissored his digits within your tight heat.

“Such a sweet girl,” your boyfriend murmured as he skillfully curled his fingers with a wet squelch. You squirmed as he slipped his other hand up your burning body, his fingers taking a greedy handful of your breast before giving it a tender squeeze.

“F-Faster, please,” you begged him while slapping your ass against his palm. Hobie’s snicker reverberated against your neck before he slammed his fingers down to the knuckle. You squirmed and keened at the delicious push and pull of his digits against your sensitive, velvety walls.

“Fuck,” you choked out as you ducked your face into the pillow. Your body jiggled each time he thrusted his fingers back into you, drawing out heavy sighs and sonorous moans from your pretty lips.

“Yeah, that’s it baby girl,” your boyfriend praised as he snaked his other hand around and began to draw sloppy shapes around your clit. You tensed beneath him as your walls fluttered against his long, curved digits. “Don’t hold back - I want you to cum on my fingers before I fuck this cute little pussy of yours,” your lover rumbled in a low, husky voice before nipping at your earlobe.

Your eyes rolled back as he rubbed your clit with even more fervor, each stroke bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your sweet release.

“H-Hobie,” you writhed as he tugged the collar of your sweater to the side. A small gasp left you as Hobie nibbled on your shoulder before lathing his warm, wet tongue over the tiny bite mark. Your legs violently shook as your boyfriend's fingertips brushed against your gummy cervix, the sensation causing the band inside you to violently snap.

“Fuck yes!” you cried out and threw your head back as your pussy squeezed his digits in a greedy vice - soaking his nimble fingers with your warm, delectable nectar.

“Christ,” Hobie cursed as he slowly dragged his fingers inside your puckering hole. “Makin’ such a mess, babydoll," your lover drawled. Your jaw went slack when he curled his fingers against your g-spot; a massive wave of pleasure rolling through your fluttering cunt as you mewled. “I fuckin’ love it,” Hobie murmured while smirking against your shoulder.

You felt like your limbs were turned to jelly by the time your walls stopped pulsing around his thick digits. Your breath hitched as your boyfriend slowly pulled out his deft fingers, leaving your entrance raw and oozing with your cream. You slowly opened your eyes when you felt something warm and slick against the corner of your mouth.

"Go on, lovie: see how good you taste," your lover rumbled. You parted your lips with a heavy sigh before Hobie slipped in his slick-coated digits. You moaned softly as the sweet taste of your own cum washed over your delicate tastebuds. Hobie groaned and pulled his boxers down as you curled your lips over his fingers and suckled on them tenderly.

"Fuck, that's a good girl," he praised as you swirled your tongue around his thick, long fingers. You fluttered your lashes as he pulled his fingers towards the inside of your cheek. You mewled and thrusted your ass back as you felt the cold bulb of his cock piercing rub up and down your drenched slit.

"You still want me to stretch out this cute pussy with my thick cock, hm?" Hobie chuckled as he teased your needy clit with his throbbing tip.

"Fuck, yes!" you slurred against his fingers as you threw your ass back. You could practically feel the smirk on Hobie's face as he slipped his fingers from your mouth with a wet "pop". You shivered as he traced his wet fingertips along your spine before smoothing his palm over one of your supple asscheeks. You squirmed against your lover's touch as he lined his tip to your weeping entrance. The ache to be filled with his long, veiny cock drove you into a lustful frenzy as you whined.

"Hobie, please! I-I need you," you mewled your cheeks jiggling against his taut hips as his bulbous head just barely slipped past the rim of your tight hole. You shivered as his hot breath fell against your neck.

"I'm here, baby," he murmured gently as he spread your cheeks apart. You gasped and instantly curled your fists against the soft, cotton sheets as Hobie slowly pushed his girth inside your needy cunt.

"Fuck, Hobie!" you moaned and squeezed your eyes shut as your walls stretched and molded to the perfect curve of his length.

"God, you wrap around me so fuckin' perfectly," Hobie grunted as he squeezed your bum. A shiver ran down your spine and straight to your core when his sharp hips became flush against your ass, his whole length stuffing you to the limit. You swallowed thickly and mewled as you felt his heavy balls rest snugly against your puffy clit: the light pressure enough to make you nearly fall over the edge again.

"Oh my fuckin' God," Hobie groaned as your walls pulsed around his shaft. Your eyes shot open as he dragged his cock half-way out before slowly thrusting it back inside your tight, squelching hole. "Pussy feels so good, lovie," he moaned as he rocked his hips at a steady pace.

"F-Fuck," you keened at the delectable, wet friction of his dick gliding along your silky walls. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you felt your cunt spasm and clench around his cock. "No, not yet," you begged internally before gasping as he slammed his cock down to the hilt.

Your moans nearly shook the walls as Hobie's pace began to pick up, the tightness in your core growing with every drag of his dick. Your legs trembled as you felt his Prince Albert kiss and rub against your cervix with each eager thrust.

"S-Shit, babydoll. Huggin' me so tight," Hobie grunted as he dug his nails into your hips, the pressure enough to surely leave bruises tomorrow. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as stars began to dance in your vision.

"God, yes - k-keep going," you moaned and arched your spine as you felt every nerve ending in your body glow with pleasure. Your body instantly stiffened when Hobie slipped his fingers against your engorged clit.

"Hobie!" you screamed as the cord inside you violently snapped. Your eyes rolled back as waves of pleasure crashed and tumbled over you - a riptide of bliss tearing your mind to shreds. Your legs quaked as your pussy clenched down on his dick - gripping it in a deliciously snug vice.

"Oh God," Hobie grunted as his thrusts faltered, your walls pulsing and soaking his cock with your warm slick. You babbled his name incessantly as he began to snap his hips forward once more. "You're so fuckin' hot when you squirt all over my cock, baby," your boyfriend moaned while pounding into your puffy cunt.

You could only manage a strangled mewl as your body was shaken with wave after wave of overstimulation. Your jaw went slack at the sound of your cheeks clapping each time Hobie's hips slapped against your body.

"Want me to fill you up, sweet girl?" Hobie purred as he began to rub messy circles around your bundle of nerves. You released a strained cry of pleasure when his cock twitched between your snug walls. "C'mon, baby: let me here you," your lover coaxed before gently pressing his soft lips to your shoulder. You parted your lips as you slightly tilted your head to the side.

"Y-Yes," your voice cracked as you felt yourself already growing tight again. Only Hobie could do this: make you cum so many times before he eventually filled you up with his thick, potent seed. "Yes, H-Hobie. Please stuff me so full that your cum leaks from my pussy," you mewled. You felt him smirk against the patch of goosebumps over your skin as he continued to thrust his heavy length into your aching, stretched out hole.

"That's my girl," Hobie's breath stuttered before he latched his mouth onto your skin. You threw your head back and keened as you felt the gentle suction of his lips against the tender bite mark left from before. Your mind was too far-gone with pleasure to even register the sound of your bed loudly creaking and groaning as your lover's thrusts began to falter.

"Fuck, (Y/N). Cum with me, lovie. Cum with-" Hobie cut himself off as he suddenly slammed his cock down to the base. Both of you moaned in unison as waves of pleasure rocked you to the core. "Fuck yes," Hobie gasped as his cock pulsed inside your drenched cunt, painting your walls with ropes of this thick seed. Your head spun as he panted against your shoulder, his fingers now digging crescents into your plush waist.

"S-So good, Hobie," you shuddered as your body was ravaged with euphoria. You panted heavily as your pussy sucked him deep inside you, his piercing pressing against the gummy plug to your womb as his cock continued to throb. Your heart pounded in your ears as you drifted back down from your high, your body coated in a thin sheet of sweat as Hobie groaned.

The room was filled with the sound of your combined, heavy panting as the two of you caught your breath. You whimpered as he slowly began to pull out.

"You okay, lovie?" Hobie asked as he smoothed his hands over the marks he dug into your hips. You sighed as you soaked in every dip and curve of his body pressed against yours: from his calloused fingertips lingering on your skin to his softening cock still trapped between your cum-coated walls.

"I...I just want us to stay like this," you said while biting your lip, your heart pounding against your sternum as you fluttered your lashes. "Please?" you cooed. Hobie chuckled softly as he gave a slow nod.

"As you wish," he hummed. You squeaked when he suddenly wrapped his lanky arms around your torso and plopped onto his side.

"Hobie!" you laughed as he pecked your neck while pulling you flush against him. You giggled at the cheeky smile plastered on his face as he peppered your neck with slow, lazy kisses. Your body glowed with warmth as he sighed and traced his fingertips over the curves of your stomach.

"You're so special t'me, y'know that?" Hobie said, his voice hoarse yet also endearingly soft. You slowly turned your head and gave him a gentle smile.

"You're special to me, too, Hobie," you murmured before kissing the tip of his pierced nose. Your boyfriend grinned ear-to-ear as he closed his eyes and nuzzled his face into your neck.

"Love you, babydoll," Hobie murmured as he slowly closed his eyes. You giggled when he suddenly let out a loud snore, the sound rumbling through your ear as his chest rose and fell. You cooed and pecked his cheek before pulling the covers over your worn bodies.

"Love you, too, Hobie," you whispered gently.

————

Thank you for reading! 💖

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