#still slowly trying to get back in the swing of things since getting out of the hospital … life is so odd for me right now :/ anyway �� | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

syluss-littlecrow · 5 days ago

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release

where both you and Caleb end up doing more than butt heads about his given curfew for you.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, mutual pinning, mutual obsession & possession, jealous!Caleb breeding kink, multiple orgasms, a lot of cum..., perverted!MC, friends to lovers?, squirting, unprotected sex, morning sex, pure Caleb brain rot, it gets pretty nasty

a/n: Caleb, Caleb, CALEB XIA YIZHOU 😭😭 the way I've been giggling over Caleb while watching his story and going back to my home screen with Sylus looking at me with his arms crossed.... Anyway, enjoy this Caleb brain rot 🥹🩷 I'll do one with Caleb's military air force uniform when I can 😔🫡

I JUST SAW THE NEW BANNER DROP IM NOT OK IF ANYONES WONDERING.

w/c: 3.5K

Effortless. That is what Caleb feels like when his affections come to you. It bubbles and boils over when he thinks he's able to put a lid over it, and it overflows instead. It leaves him so defenseless. Yet, he can't seem to stop. It's the only thing that keeps him going in this hell.

The only thing he feels is the metallic necklace barely weighing on his chest. It almost feels like you're here with him.

And if you are, he wants to keep you here with him. Forever.

His eyes slowly open. His eyes focus on the hologram clock hovering at the side.

You're supposed to be back already.

Caleb contemplated on driving out to find you since he has your location pinging on his phone.

Since when did you have that many friends in Skyhaven? Why doesn't he know about them?

He checks the messages he's sent you, all unread.

Caleb has to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw and biting his tongue.

His stare towards the door grows anxious by the minute. Then he strengthens his resolve and marches towards the door, ready to leave and look for you.

The second he pulls down the door handle, the jingle of the door unlocking from the outside sounds and the door swings open, making you and Caleb jump when he catches you in his arms from bumping into each other.

“Caleb!” You squeal, flustered at the way you completely ran into him. His warmth is radiating over to your skin. “Are you okay? Where were you gonna go?”

You watch a small pout form on his lips. He truly looks like a puppy when he does that, you can't help but think.

“Look for you”, he curtly replies, making sure you've regained your balance before he releases your arms.

You straighten your posture, and sheepishly touch the nape of your neck, immediately avoiding his gaze.

“Ah, right. Well, I got carried away with chatting with my friends and all…”

Caleb crosses his arms. His pout turns into a frown, and his eyebrows are scrunched.

Shit. He looks mad.

You inch closer to him, your fingers grazing over his knuckles.

“I'm sorry, Caleb. Don't be mad okay? I'm home now, safe and sound, in the flesh, aren't I?”

Caleb breathes steadily, keeping his expression the same, but when you take his palm and nuzzle your cheek against it, Caleb feels the anxiety and frustration dissolve. He wants to reprimand you about the curfew, and why he implemented it in the first place. If you’ve stayed missing for a second longer, he would have completely lost it. But the moment his palm nearly touches your lips, it all dissipates, as if it never existed.

Caleb exhales a sigh of defeat, letting it go just this time, alongside the countless times he did.

“Go shower. I left the heater on for you.”

You respond with a cheeky smile that makes something in Caleb’s chest bloom, and he lets you go, watching you disappear into your room.

Caleb hears a knock on his door. He walks over and opens it, watching you coming into view.

“Is there something you need, pipsqueak?”

You squeeze through the crack of the partially opened door and occupy his bed.

“I'm just bored.”

Even though Caleb cocks his eyebrow, he still sprouts his smile, walking over to join you on his bed.

“Not because you're trying to make it up to me for coming back past curfew?”

Shit.

Your smile playfully drops to a pout. “I got carried away yapping with my friends. You know I didn't mean to…”

Caleb crosses his arms again.

“I could tell. My messages were all left unread.”

You curl your fingers to your lips when you realise you've been caught.

Caleb seems upset but you still see the softness beneath.

He sighs.

“I'm doing this for your own good, pipsqueak. I don't like you getting caught up in this.”

Caleb likes to think that it is that way, but he knows that it's more than just that.

“As you can tell–” you’re showing off your body–your arms first then your legs, then your abdomen. But what Caleb didn't expect you to do was lift up your shirt slightly, your skin exposed, and have your shorts hike up your thighs, just to prove your point. “Nothing! You can check me for tracking devices too if you want to.”

Something snaps in him.

“So do you let your friends inspect your body like that?”

He crawls onto the bed, watching the smile slowly drop from your face.

Caleb’s fingers trace your bare skin, drawing goosebumps from how ghostly the touches feel. His fingers slide from the top of your knees, and towards your thighs.

“Do you know how worried I was when you didn't answer my messages?”

You’re about to part your lips to respond, but he cuts you off.

“I was wondering what conversations you were having that you ignored me.”

“Caleb–”

He’s completely trapped you against the headboard of his bed. He's trapped you with his stare.

Caleb inches closer, until he's close enough. His eyes glance down to your lips for a split second before his gaze meets yours again.

Your breath is shaky when he leans in closer.

Then he turns away.

What the fuck?

You watch in disbelief as he pulls away, your breath still caught in your throat from the tension.

Caleb’s signature smile returns and you feel his palm stroke the back of your head.

“You should go back to bed. It's late.”

He turns to open his door for you to leave.

“Maybe I should start coming home later too.”

He pauses in his steps.

“I don't think that's a bright idea, pipsqueak.”

You slide off his bed and walk towards his door.

“Maybe not. But I have brighter ones that consist of escaping your curfew.”

You’re ready to leave the room with your victory, that is, until the door before you completely shuts. You see his shadow tower over you from behind.

You turn to face Caleb, your arms are crossed.

“Didn’t you ask me to go to bed?”

“Changed my mind. I wanna make sure you're thoroughly inspected.”

You’re facing Caleb, back on his bed again. He starts with your face, but he lets his fingers linger around your lips, brushing across your bottom lip. You turn away, and his fingers catch your chin, forcing you to face Caleb.

“No looking away.”

His eyes are devouring every patch of skin that exists on your body. Even though you're clothed, you feel naked when he has his eyes on you this intensely. His fingertips trace back to your lips and he slides it down painfully slowly–past your chin, down your neck, through your sternum, past your stomach, and stops right above the elastic of your shorts.

You want to shift, but you realise you can't–your body suddenly feels weighed down to the bed, and that's when you realise Caleb has you held down with his Evol.

The softness in Caleb’s eyes disappears, and something else replaces it. You watch him tug your shorts off you, and all you can do is watch helplessly.

His kisses tickle from your ankle, and he builds them upwards at an agonising pace, each kiss feeling warmer as he travels up your thigh.

Your heartbeat only accelerates from there, watching Caleb inch closer and closer to your cunt. Your thighs tense up from the sensitivity, the warmth of his lips spreading over your skin when you feel his tongue come in contact with your skin.

“That tickles”, your voice is soft, as if the defiance in your tone before never existed.

Caleb’s lips press against your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you’re trembling slightly, you've completely soaked your panties, and Caleb is more than happy to soak them even more.

He buries his tongue, wetting the fabric even further. The pleasure draws soft moans, but evidently, it's not enough.

“Caleb… Could you lighten your Evol?” You plead. You want to feel him so bad.

Your body instantly lightens, and you almost think you're gonna fall off the bed.

Something else holds you down this time, and it's Caleb.

He tilts your chin up to have your lips meet his, now his kisses melting off the thoughts in your brain. Warmth burns through your skin. It takes you seconds to realise Caleb is lifting your shirt off you.

The clothing article is the next victim tossed somewhere else on the bed.

You take his cheeks to your palms.

“I really need you now, Caleb.”

The softness returns to his eyes momentarily.

“Are you sure you're okay with this?”

“I'll hop off right now and head straight to bed if you don't”, you huff. Fuck, the anticipation is just clawing through your insides, begging for Caleb to do something.

He playfully scoffs.

“We both know you wouldn't.”

Caleb tugs your panties to the side, and lines himself to your hole.

He thrusts into you in one swift motion, and you feel it all the way in. It knocks your breath out of you. Caleb watches you helplessly gasp for air and adjust to his size. He’s just filled you so full.

He’s still supporting you so you don't fucking pass out. He feels you scratch all over his back from the pressure but he stays still, at least, until you've adjusted.

“Shit. You're so fuckin’ warm for me”, he hisses into your neck, trying his best not to thrust into you. You feel so tight for him, he feels so good just staying there.

He stretches you open for him–your pussy fluttering at the feeling of him filling you up. The pressure slowly fades and you quickly adjust to his size.

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you from below–the sensation so overwhelming that it's making you tear up.

“So good”, you sigh, struggling to keep your eyes open–almost impossible when his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again. Sparks burst into your eyelids whenever he hits the spot and it's evident that he knows he’s able to unravel you just like that, so easily.

“Caleb…”, you moan. Caleb’s still fucking you, feeling the way you're just squeezing him, watching the way your fingers have gone clawing his back to his bedsheets, the way your tits are bouncing from fucking you, the way your eyes practically form hearts when he knows he's hit your sensitive spots.

“Faster, please. You feel so fucking good.”

He knows you shouldn't have said that. You're the only person who can rile him up like this. How the hell are you making him break his resolve when he's supposed to be upset with you?

He leans in, practically hovering over you. His fingers cup your cheek and he forces you to meet his violet eyes.

In your fucked out haze, you blink, confused when he slows down. He pulls out completely, and you're about to complain until he rolls your soiled panties off your legs, tossing it to somewhere on the bed.

You gasp when you feel his thumb graze over your wet and throbbing clit.

“I'm gonna make you wonder what the fuck wrong with your body”, Caleb’s voice reaches your ears. His words sends a shiver down your spine.

“Your little pussy is gonna throb every time you think of me.”

That's all the warning he gives before his arms tower over you, holding your wrists down above your head.

He fucks you into an orbit and you're practically helpless–forced to take his thrusts over and over. But fuck, it feels so good. It feels like fucking heaven.

You like how dizzy it makes you feel. You like how he's not stopping, no matter how much tears stream down your face, and how pathetic you sound crying and moaning his name.

“Fuck! Caleb, it's too much–” you whimper, the strange feeling building up in your stomach. It feels like it's about to snap any second.

He acknowledges your words, but he doesn't bother slowing down.

“Didn’t you promise me to be a good girl and take all of it?”

“Caleb–!”

Your voice sounds so heavenly when you call his name.

The fluids fountains out of you, soaking everything near it's vincity–including the both of you. Your orgasm continues to wash over you and more fluids spray out.

Caleb watches you squirm and jolt while you make a mess all over him.

He lets go of your wrists, the slight redness forming onto your skin, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip.

Despite your arms feeling sore from resisting against his hold, you wrap them around his neck, pulling him close to catch his lips. He's taken back for a split second, but he returns the kiss, letting his soft moans drown into your lips while you clench around him.

When you both pull back, it's Caleb’s turn to have his eyes glazed and his cheeks dusted a soft shade of pink.

“y/n, if you keep doin’ that–fuck”, Caleb groans, his fingers closing into a fist against the sheets. His breath is shaky. The euphoria is threatening to spill over–the fact that you're trapping him in like this with you, just the two of you solely existing together right now–he could get high off this feeling. He doesn't need anything else.

“I'm so close. Shit.” You watch the bead of sweat trickle down his temple, down to his cheek, to his chin, and then it disappears into the mess the both of you made below.

Caleb’s voice makes you refocus on him.

His palm presses against your cheek again, his thumb brushing lightly on the corner of your lips.

“You're gonna take all of it like a good girl, yeah?”

You nod, almost too eagerly. Caleb can't help but think that your face after being fucked looks breathtakingly beautiful. It makes him want to hide you further. The world doesn't deserve someone like you.

He crashes his lips with yours, melting into the kiss while he pumps you full with his thick cum–making sure he has himself seated deep inside so nothing spills out. At least, not until he pulls out.

The high slowly descends, and the both of you are left panting, getting lost in each other’s eyes just for that moment before Caleb slowly pulls out.

Caleb then reaches for the glass of water perched on his nightstand to offer you. You take a good few sips of water, and hand it back to Caleb, who takes a couple of sips as well. He notices the way your cheeks are still flushed and that you're blinking more. He plants the empty glass onto the nightstand, ready to carry you to wash up and probably change the sheets after.

In a daze, you notice Caleb’s cum seeping out of your hole in small loads. You wet two fingers and slide them to your pussy–and you push the thick fluids back in, your body jolting in pleasure while you're pretty much fingering your pussy with Caleb’s cum.

Caleb swallows hard while he watches you pleasure yourself. He’s about to say something but you cut him off.

“Your cum keeps leaking out”, you point out, giving him the full view of your cum-soaked pussy. You look up at him with an innocent, poison-soaked gaze–your lashes wet and your thighs trembling from each time you feel his cum leak out of you.

“It’d be such a waste–”, you mutter, shivering one more time when your fingers fuck you again, the room only filled with your voice and the wet squelching sounds from your pussy.

“–if it doesn't stay inside.”

You barely have time to process what happens next. The next thing you knew, Caleb has your hands pinned above your head with one hand, and the other on your cheeks. His legs stop you from closing yours, and you feel his wet thickness hard once more, resting on your pubic bone.

“You know, pipsqueak”, his voice drops an octave lower. His voice is clear, and he makes sure you hear him. “It's okay to just ask for more.” His eyes reflect such a gorgeous shade of wild you've never seen before, and it looks fucking good on him.

No warnings–your cunt is just wet and sopping that Caleb stuffs you to fullness once more–you give up trying to keep your eyelids open, your mind only processing the way he’s fucking so deep into you again and again.

“You know I'll always give it to you.”

The way his fingers are cupping your cheeks stops you from answering. Well, he doesn't need a verbal response, especially not when you’re clenching him so fucking tight when your orgasm hits you for the…how many times was it now?

You feel stings that slowly dull around your shoulders and chest. The bites Caleb’s given you are as red as the ruby on his apple necklace.

The night is drowned with sounds and sensations of both you competing to send each other to the heavens.

What day is it now?

Caleb blinks his heavy eyelids open. He soaks in the atmosphere around him, and it doesn't take him long to realise that you're lying on his arm.

Thankfully, it's not numb. Your hair tickles his cheeks.

He notices the light peeking through his curtains. It's probably daytime.

Caleb presses his lips against the back of your head, while he pulls you closer. He almost jolts when he hears a soft moan coming from you.

For some reason, something feels funny.

He attempts to shift slightly, and realises the predicament–his dick is still hard as fuck, and he’s still nestled so fucking deep in you. Fuck. Did the both of you fall asleep mid-sex? The feeling bleeds into him again.

Are you even awake to realise this?

Caleb bites his inner cheek, the hardness only builds. Shit. Even after all of that, you're still this warm and tight?

He watches your breathing steadily.

He hooks your leg over his arm almost too easily, giving himself easier access to fuck you deeper. Your sleepiness is slowly dissipating, overtaken so fucking quick by the burning desire once more.

His thrusts bear slight friction at first, but somehow that only adds to the pleasure–the rawness, the fact that he's left a mess in you and kept that way, and that he gets to do it all over again in the morning.

“Ca…Caleb..!” You squeal, uselessly fisting the pillows while Caleb rails you from below.

“So perfectly warm for me, y/n”, his morning voice dousing you. He takes advantage to litter more bites to the back of your neck and shoulders, and spoils you with his strained moans when he reflects the way you whimper whenever he hits your sensitive spots.

You sheepishly bury your teary face into the pillows, and Caleb pushes himself impossibly deeper, forcing you to face him when you jolt in surprise. His violet eyes are eating you up. You hear his voice ring in your ears.

“Wanna make you cry more like this. You're so pretty when you cry when I'm splittin’ you open like this.”

More tears stream down your cheeks whenever your g-spot gets abused over and over. Caleb forces you to meet his gaze. His thrusts are slower, but harder.

“Shit, you're really gonna milk me dry, yeah?” Caleb hisses when he feels you flutter around him. Your cum is mixed with his, and drips down his cock, to his balls.

Caleb pulls you tighter, deepening the kiss one last time while he breeds you full over and over for nth time since the last night, devouring your whimpers when the words you muttered to him last night comes into memory. You're so dizzy with pleasure, and Caleb has stolen all of your breaths.

He finally pulls out, his cum endlessly drizzling out of your abused hole, and it almost sets him off again.

Nonetheless, he forces himself to get out of bed so he can get a towel and clean you up.

Another loving kiss he presses onto your temple.

“I'm gonna get a towel, pipsqueak.” His husky whispers send shivers down your body, and the warmth of his touch lingers on your thighs for a lot longer than you realise.

He leaves the bed for the bathroom.

You nuzzle into the pillows Caleb was just lying on, drowning yourself with his scent. The wetness that sticks between your legs–you can't tell if it's your fresh arousal or if it's his cum anymore.

Not that it mattered since steadying your breath when you realised he was still in you when you stirred before him to see what he'd do next, gave you such a big reward.

And you'd do it all over again. You would say things to get under his skin, just to get a rise out of him, just to keep his attention on you, always.

You wanted to keep his strained voice when he called your name, the way he looks at you with so much desperation when he breeds you full, in a bottle and store it for your perverted indulgence.

No one else needs to know that this part of Caleb exists, because he belongs to you.

The dim light catches your attention underneath the thick sheets. You take the device, unlocking the phone with your fingerprint.

6 missed calls.

You swipe them away. You shut off his phone.

He doesn't need to know.

He doesn't need to remember.

At least, not when he's with you.

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sinstae · 4 months ago

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TILL DAWN ᯓ‪♡

Pairings | L&D!Sylus , L&D!Zayne x fem. reader

Genre | smut

Word Count | 6,014 🥵

Warnings | ⚠️ MINORS DNI ⚠️ smut, smut SMUT, dom!Sylus , dom!Zayne, sub!reader, size difference, oral and vaginal sex, throuple! , poly, vaginal fingering, rough sex, soft sex, edging, pet names, use of evol, explicit sexual content! Enjoy! c;

🔖 m.list ♡

a/n ; oml I've had a looooooong hiatus uploading here 🙈 I became a full time reader tbh with how hectic life has gotten since becoming a young adult. Rough transition oof but AAAAA Love & Deepspace is such a nice outlet, LOVE the fics going around so I decided to write one of my own.. hope ya like 😋

I feel disgustingly desperate.

So much so, I can feel that ugly, tight, feeling claw at my chest.

It’s another one of those nights where I try to initiate intimacy with my partners but they both shut me down.

Zayne has been holed up in one of Sylus' spare rooms as a home office since he’d gotten off of work almost three hours ago and Sylus had shown up only twenty minutes ago with Mephisto perched on his shoulder.

We were both in need of one another and in each other’s embrace making out the entire time until now. . .

“Sweetheart. . . Don’t work yourself up, it’s late.” Sylus looks down at me, straddling his lap, with his hands rubbing my hips. I attempted to grind against him to earn that excuse.

For the fifth time this week.

I’m so pathetic.

I move from his touch when one of his hands leave my waist to reach for my face. I use his chest to gently push myself up, swinging a bare leg from his side.

Before I could get far, Sylus snatches my wrist and hip, firmly pulling me back to straddle a single, tensed thigh. I look up at him a bit startled and his brows are pinched together, eyes burning red.

“Sy-”

“Pathetic?” I’m often careless when thinking loudly around him. His face shows that he seems almost offended that I’d thought such a thing. It almost makes me accept whatever he’s gonna tell me but I become slightly upset that he's acting on my thoughts rather than my blatant expression of needing him.

“Yes.” I straighten my back. “Very. I guess I should’ve gotten the hint the third time, right? Instead here I am embarrassing myself for the fifth time.” I try to maintain fierce eye contact with Sylus but I feel my resolve slowly waning the more I think about their rejection lately.

Sylus gives me a confused look then slowly his face relaxes as he chuckles, rubbing my inner wrist with his thumb.

“Have I gotten my Kitten in heat?”

“Sylus, I’m serious.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” He fights back against my pulling with a strong hold and his eyes haze over as he looks down his nose at me. “Enough. Be still and talk with me-”

“I don’t wanna talk!” My voice raises and Sylus grows stiff, the creek of a door in the distance making him huff.

Moments later, the steady shuffling of house slippers grows closer and Zayne walks into the open living room from the long hallway. Sylus has his back to him, only his silver head and broad shoulders visible with me facing Zayne.

“What’s going on?” He asks calmly as he stops short, only walking a few feet into the candle-lit room.

“I-” I begin to speak but Sylus cuts me off.

“Are you showing your face now?” His tone has annoyance behind it and I relax in his hold, caught off guard from him addressing Zayne in that tone.

“Perhaps.” Is all Zayne offers. Sylus scoffs and makes eye contact with me for his next response.

“Y/N, sweetheart, tell him your grievances.” I’m slightly confused as his eyes remain burning into mine until he moves closer to my neck.

“I-I..uh, I’m upset, Zayne, because I’ve been trying to express my needs to you both but I feel it’s not welcomed.” The atmosphere feels thick, like it could be pierced with Zayne’s evol.

“Would you care to share why that is, Doctor?” Sylus sounds a bit playful now. His flickering emotions are almost as hard to grasp as Zayne’s.

“No.”

This clearly enrages Sylus. He’s gentle but quick in his movements as he uses his evol to move me to the soft cushion of the sofa while in an instant he’s at Zayne’s side. I remain on my knees as I lean onto the cushion to watch them.

“For how long will you keep this up?” Zayne lifts a hand to his neck and it’s such a sight to see him be this way. He’s normally composed, at even levels with Sylus, but right now he seems almost.. bashful.

“It’s not purposeful.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’ve had three surgeries this week-”

“Look at me.” Sylus demands him. When Zayne is hesitant to, Sylus reaches out and grabs the man’s face to gently bring his hazel-green eyes to meet his. “At least look at me if you’re gonna give me excuses.”

I swear from here if I squint I can see blush dusting Zayne’s cheeks under the candles they’re standing next to. I can see they’re in some sort of silent/mental conversation and decide to make myself present again.

“Guys?”

Zayne is the first to make a move and tuck his hands into his sweats as Sylus’ hand drops to Zayne’s waist instead.

“What’s going on? Did I.. do something?” At my question they give each other looks before they’re both walking my way. I sit back onto my feet then transition to sitting correctly as they take a seat on either side of me, crowding my space with their scent.

“Sylus and I. . We, uh-” Zayne stammers leaving me stunned at his behavior and from up close I can see that he is blushing.

“We kissed.” Sylus says for him and I whip my head in his direction, eyes surely wide as he’s smirking around the rim of his glass of wine.

“You- you- What?” I can’t contain my shock and I almost feel wrong as Sylus cocks a perfectly arched brow at me.

“What? Don’t tell me you underestimate my influence, Sweetheart.” He leans forward to place the glass on the table and Zayne chuckles so soft it almost sounds like a scoff.

“He’s insufferable even in such vulnerable moments.” Zayne refers to the kiss presumably and I start to grow guilty. I had been so caught up in my own needs that I really hadn’t noticed that something like that had happened.

“Wow- well that’s great! That’s a huge step for you guys, I’m happy for you both.” I grasp their hands and Sylus squeezes mine while Zayne rubs his thumb across.

“Tsk, don’t think our conversation is over. You have to talk as well.” Sylus reminds me and a wave of guilt washes over me once again.

“I’m really sorry about that, Sy. I was just overreacting without knowing-”

“No, no. I heard your thoughts perfectly.”

“What is it?” Zayne speaks up.

“Kitten has been all pent up through your brooding. Normally your absence isn’t an issue but your constant dodging had put me in a mood.” Sylus is sipping another half-full glass of wine.

“You must be in relation to the recent attacks then. You upset the Wanderers nearby.” Zayne’s tone is almost scolding now.

“I’m sure. I also killed them all myself had I not?”

I can barely focus through their banter as I stare at Sylus’ wine stained lips wishing he was leaving his kiss marks to stain my skin. Bite and suck his claim along with Zayne’s frosty touches leaving snowflakes and goosebumps in its wake.

“Y/N?” Zayne’s voice brings me back and I blink up at Sylus who’s smirking down at me with a haze in his eyes.

“Yes?” Zayne moves closer and I feel his warmth at my back, his soft sweater brushing against the exposed skin my short, satin-lace slip wasn’t covering.

“I was talking to you, did you not hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Ever the caring man that he is, why can’t he see through me like Sylus sometimes?

Zayne’s chilled hand comes up to rest on my forehead from behind me and I can’t help but lean back into his touch. Sylus takes his time as he moves about, undoing two more buttons from his dress shirt after he sets his empty wine glass back down.

I watch as he wipes a bit of stray wine from his lips and with that same thumb he presses it to my lips. Once again rendering me to my spot in shock that quickly turns into relief.

Finally I can have them again.

I quickly latch onto his thumb and suck the rich flavor from his salted skin. He looks pleased and his eyes flick up behind me.

“She doesn’t seem fine. We drove her into heat.” Sylus is still teasing and Zayne humors him in playing along.

“Mmm. I see. There’s several remedies for such a thing. . . Does our patient require an eval?” I press my thighs tighter together as Sylus continues to stare into my soul, his large hands slowly drawing circles along my thigh closest to him.

“Y-Yes please, Dr. Zayne.” I moan softly as Zayne’s hand resting on my forehead travels into my hair and along my scalp a few times in a firm massage.

“Comfort levels seem to be just fine. . .” His hand then trails down the back of my ear, along the side of my neck and my breath hitches as he brushes a sensitive spot. “Hm, sensitivity is high.”

I feel like prey in their gazes. They’re enjoying watching me squirm as they touch every bare part of me within their reach. Zayne is the first to lean into me and press a kiss to the area where my neck and shoulder meet, a bit of his tongue brushing against me.

“I apologize. I failed to communicate to you both how I was feeling and ended up having you both doubt yourselves in some way.” He sighs against my neck then rubs his nose with a deep inhale. “I care about you both, so much, it was never my intention to upset either of you.”

The sincerity laced in his words hits me in other places than my heart with their combined touches. This is what I love most about our dynamic, that Zayne will always communicate but only bluntly and when necessary. Sylus is blessed with his hands, even smoother with his mouth. It shouldn’t be such a surprise he’d gotten Zayne to open up, I was as closed off as he was.

Sylus is looking over my head at Zayne and there’s a look in his eyes that contrasts the smirk adorning his lips. His lips. . .

His eyes flicker down to mine and his gaze completely changes. Almost like a predator finding its prey.

“Thank you, Doctor. My unseen wounds are healed. There is however, something very urgent that needs care.” Zayne is able to rest his back against the soft plush of the wide sofa with me pressed against him as Sylus moves to hover above me.

“That is?”

“A wounded Kitten.”

Sylus presses his lips to mine in a passionate kiss, his free hand he isn’t using to prop himself up has started to grip at the thick parts of my inner thigh. My body jerks into his hold as he swallows my soft noises, eventually licking his way into my mouth as his rough fingertips dance higher.

“You’re so responsive, Y/N. I love the sounds you make. . .” Zayne’s voice is breathy in my ear as his own hands start to wander. While Sylus has made his way to my panties, right against my slit, Zayne grips my breast over the thin layer of clothing.

I break away from the kiss with a loud moan puffing from my chest, curling my toes from the intense sensitivity of my hardened nipples and Zayne’s icy touch.

“Please. . .”

“Begging already?”

“I’ve been begging.”

“Tsk, feisty kitty.” Sylus chuckles and presses a trail of kisses from the corner of my mouth down to my neck where he bites my soft spot. A whiny moan forces itself out of me as my eyes roll back, clenching around his two fingers that abruptly entered me at the same moment.

Zayne looks down, shook from the noise that came out of me and Sylus soothes the area with a lick and a kiss whilst looking at him proudly.

“She’s a goner right now, she’ll be back as soon as she feels my tongue.” Sylus is nonchalant as Zayne whispers praises in my ear, lulling me deeper into a pleasured haze.

Two hard spasms around Sylus’ fingers then I’m coming hard. My cum drips down his wrist and veiny arm as he slowly curls his fingers upwards, rubbing a soft patch against my walls.

“Good girl-” They both say at the same time, Zayne in a whisper while Sylus groans from the sight. They make brief eye contact before Sylus is diving down to my pussy, ripping another pair of panties in a haste.

His mouth latches onto my clit and my eyes shoot open, blinking through warm tears as my legs curl up to my chest. Mixtures of whines and moans tumble from my lips while Zayne’s hand found its way under my slip against my bare breast, just resting, with my nipple between two fingers while the other has my cheek cradled while he presses kisses to my temple.

“You’re doing so good, Darling. You haven’t squirmed once while getting cleaned up.” Zayne praises and I blush while biting back another moan. “Can I hear that pretty voice again, hm?”

I look up at him with teary vision and he’s flushed, a bit of sweat making the tips of his hair damp. His eyes are full of awe and love. It makes me clamp around Sylus’ head which earns me a delicious groan against my clit.

“A-Ah! It feels so-oh good.” I can barely get words out as my throat has grown a bit scratchy. It seems to satisfy Zayne as he leans in and presses his nose right up under my ear with another deep inhale.

Moments later he’s pressing a cool, marble sized ice sphere to my lips and I part, humming in relief from the cool temperature and its quick melting that soothes my throat.

Sylus sits up from his feasting, using his handkerchief to wipe my slick from his chin. He tosses it onto the coffee table and starts to rip the rest of my panties off while Zayne gently sits me up to adjust his hard erection.

“However you like tonight Kitten, I’ve had my fill for now. I’m fine to wait in our bedroom.” Sylus’ large hand takes up most of my tummy as he rubs warm circles.

“No- I want both of you. Please. . .” A glint flashes in his crimson eyes.

“Y/N, are you sure?” Zayne gently rakes his fingers along my scalp.

“Positive. Green, very green right now.” I see Sylus look over me at Zayne for a few seconds then he looks back at me.

“Very well. Bedroom. Now.” He plants one foot on the fluffy rug then hauls me up with one arm over his shoulder. I yelp at the sudden change in axis and he playfully spanks my bare ass.

Through my swaying hair I see Zayne following close behind as Sylus leads us to our shared bedroom. He kicks the door open with his foot and slips out of his own house slippers near the entrance.

Zayne shuts us in the darkness then moments later our chamber is glowing in warm changing LEDs. I bounce on the bed a bit from Sylus’ gentle dismount then crawls backwards up towards the headboard.

“Let me-”

“Wait.” Sylus stops Zayne from rushing to me with a firm grip around the man’s waist. Zayne grabs the very arm and looks at Sylus in question, finding an expression with vulnerability. “This is our first time. All together. I’ll let you of course but, don’t neglect me Doctor.”

Zayne blushes from the neck up and his grip tightens around Sylus’ forearm, holding him there before pushing his arm away.

“I’m not your prey.”

I make eye contact with him and he’s got a look in his eyes that doubles down on his words. He uses one hand to pull his shirt off in one swift motion, revealing his detailed, toned body.

He’s been having trouble sleeping since adjusting to staying here more often and Sylus had offered to help with intense workouts. It’s starting to show at this moment as I notice his physique is almost as broad as Sylus’.

Slender, long fingers slip into his waistband and rids himself of his sweats in quick and precise movements. He kicks them to the side then he’s crawling onto the thick comforter towards me.

I catch sight of his scars on his arm as he cages me in against the pillows in a plank and can’t stop myself from pressing gentle kisses. He allows me for a few kisses before he’s grabbing my chin and turning my attention to him.

I know my eyes must be teary with all my pent up dopamine finally releasing. I feel so incredibly happy and safe when I’m in their presence, I feel the urge to express it in the language I know best.

Catching him while he’s off guard, leaning in to kiss me, I quickly wrap my legs around his thick thighs and use all my strength to propel forward into the kiss. I’m mindful to not headbutt him in the process while his body gives in and flips us successfully with me straddling him.

Zayne’s hands steady our rocking bodies with a firm grip on my ass, huffing soft moans and grunts into the kiss. I hear a whistle from behind and it makes me break away slowly, saliva still connecting us as the weight of Sylus joining us makes my hips grind right onto the tip of his dick.

“Ah~!” I gasp, clenching around nothing, aching to be filled up. My need to please Zayne is just as strong. For some reason, seeing him blush like that earlier from Sylus had me slightly jealous that it seems he could get the man to soften in a way I hadn’t before. I must hear his sweet sounds, for me.

“Kitten is digging in her claws. Careful, she might swallow you whole.” Sylus taunts while reaching out, resting his large hand over Zayne’s right one on my ass.

The mix of their hot and cold touch has me reeling into Zayne, pressing sloppy aimed kisses to his lips that he doesn’t seem to mind receiving, returning each one. I feel Sylus other hand start to creep towards my pussy again and it snaps me back.

“W-Wait.” I push myself up and look down to meet Zayne’s gaze. “I wanna taste you.” I don’t mean my words to come out in a plea but it does and I feel his grip on me tighten as he nods his head once.

Sylus gives me enough room to move, Zayne resting in a comfortable half sitting position as I arch onto my knees. As I’m nuzzling my face against his warm cock, a stinging pain shoots across my ass with a loud thwack!

“Ah!”

“Don’t play with your food, Kitten. Be a good girl, and eat.” Sylus’ familiar tone of no-nonsense is back and I do as I’m told, gladly.

Zayne helps me out of his briefs and I quickly toss them to the side, biting my lip as I take in all his glory. He reaches out and drags his thumb along my chin then pulls down, my lip slipping free of my teeth.

“I love when you do that. . . I always know you’re about to treat me better than I deserve.” His words are soft spoken with eye contact unwavering.

“My favorite thing to do is give you everything you deserve.” I take his base in a gentle grip and guide his red, leaking tip to my lips to press a kiss. His breath hitches while he maintains eye contact with me and I begin to kitten lick as another reminding spank makes me wrap my lips around him and suck.

Zayne’s breathy moans fill the room, my gaze landing on him every now and then to see him watching me with a rosy face while he bites his fist. I’m sure to take my hands away and brace myself against his thick thighs then soon transition to a deeper arch as I slide my arms beneath his bent legs to wrap around his waist. Like this he’s able to thrust deeper into my throat, his moans start to turn into borderline whining when my nose hits his pelvis. My eyes roll back from the slight airflow restriction as he pumps a few deep strokes before pulling me away with a fist full of my hair.

I feel my pussy leaking all over my thighs as I’ve been constantly twitching throughout. Zayne’s heated body is heaving as he takes in deep breaths, soothing my hair and puffy lips with his soft touches. I slip his thumb into my mouth and suck the salty taste from it, moaning for good measure.

“Such a cock hungry Kitten. Always need a hole filled, hm?” Sylus is closer now, his warmth at my backside, while his hands reach out and slide up and down my bare sides from where my slip had ridden up.

“Yes- Please Sy-” Another spank. “Sir! Sorry, Sir. M’so cock hungry I can’t think straight.” Zayne’s grip tightens on my chin at my words and I smirk up at him, not too shocked he’d like that title as well.

When we’re intimate we’re mostly vanilla. He loves eating me out and leaving wet kisses all over before he’s satisfied enough to dick me down. Sylus loves to be the one in control, ensuring roles and rules that we both make and agree on so that when we’re in moments of passion we know each other’s limits. He’s keen on the title ‘Sir’ these days after I convinced him to sit with me through studying while he was in his office cleaning off his guns. I’d responded to a question with “Yes Sir” in a teasing tone that resulted in me bent over his desk, homework abandoned. “Don’t think things are different just cause Zayne’s here, Sweetheart.” He takes two fingers and slides them through my wet lips, spreading and closing them to watch my slick drip out. With the same fingers he brings it to his cock he’d been freed long ago as he watched the show. His kitten giving the best head, almost envious of his partner. “Gonna fuck you open and I want you to continue, yeah?” I know it’s not a question as I dig my fingers into Zayne's hips while pressing mine back at the feel of his tip lining up.

"Yes, Sir." I give Zayne a toothy smile, his eyes lidded while he still struggles with his arousal. Seeing how Sylus and I interact with each other is clearly a turn on. His tip is constantly twitching and oozing precum that I lick up eagerly then slide his whole dick back down my throat.

"Fuck!" Zayne grips my hair in a tight, messy ponytail as his hips jerk upwards and he starts to subtly thrust through my bobbing until eventually I let him take the lead guiding my head while I leak all over Sylus's tip that easily slides in thanks to his skilled tongue.

There's many scenarios I'd daydream about when it came to having both my boyfriends at once. One did go a little like this but nothing compares to the real thing. Every little touch has me gushing and eager for the next.

Sylus has entered a bruising pace, he's found a spot nestled deep inside that only he can reach with his thick tip. It's snagging a bit, applying a pressure that we both feel. His huffing and deep moans spur me on, sucking Zayne as a release that earns me a beautiful whiny moan. His face is a deep blush, sweat now completely formed and streaking down his sideburns.

I can see in his gaze he's fighting to stay in the moment, too taken with pleasure. I feel a swell in my chest close to my heart as I moan around him. "Y/N, a-ha. . ." He's panting, unable to communicate and I hum around him, making him whimper again before tugging on my scalp, a cool sensation starting to caress my scalp.

"Zayne." Sylus voice booms in the room and it makes Zayne eyes widen. His arm is coated in soft flurries down to his wrist connecting to my hair which has partially froze at the base of the makeshift ponytail.

I let out a whiny moan myself as he gently pulls me off his dick with my built up saliva dribbling down to his balls. I pout up at him, my pout deepening as Sylus' slowed thrust come to a halt buried against my cervix.

"Zaaayne~"

"Kitten." Sylus warns. When Sylus barely offers any words I know his eyes must be doing the talking. Zayne has gotten control of his breathing, his legs returning flat to the bed.

"He's right, my love. I need to always be in control, I should never hurt you. Not when I can bring you pleasure, which is what you deserve." Zayne's hand falls from my hair as the flurries start to retreat and dissipate. My stiff ponytail melts and drops, cascading around my shoulders and back to meet Sylus' hands resting there.

I hadn't noticed, until I caught glimpse through teary eyes of the flurries vanishing, what happened and why things stopped.

Zayne had lost control of his Evol?

Something about getting Zayne to that point surges another wave of arousal through me. I know he'd never hurt me, no matter the circumstance, and him coming close to freezing my head in place for his own pleasure should frighten me yet. . . it makes me proud.

"Tsk. Just as I said, sick Kitten." Sylus smirks down at where our bodies meet watching and feeling my constant clenching. He delivers another spank, kneading my rosy flesh as it starts to redden into a large handprint. "She liked that, mmph- maybe even loved it."

"This is your doing." Zayne directs his comment towards Sylus.

"Aht- There will be no kink shaming in my bed. I can very well show you who's doing it really is." His eyes cut down to me, reaching a hand out to grip the back of my hair and tug me up against his chest, pushing deeper into my leaking cunt.

"Syl- mmh!" Sylus grips my throat, cutting off my words and a bit of air flow.

"Seems I'll be able to show you rather than play games with you, Doctor. This bad Kitten just can't seem to remember her manners." He lets out an airy laugh, "Clenching me tighter than a fucking Boa. Easy." He grits out while releasing my throat for me to breathe properly, moving his hands to my breast instead. He's kneeling back with me sitting in his lap, arched against his hands, squirming impatiently.

"Fine, since you're so eager to. Ride.'' I lift my hips soon as the words leave his lips and slam back down in relief. Sylus loves when I ride him. He always has me face him, demanding "I need to see those pretty eyes when you come undone". He must be doing this for Zayne, putting on a show for him.

One that he seems to be enjoying. He has his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, stroking up and down in slow, controlled wrist movements. He's using my drool as lube, squeezing when he gets to the tip to push out fresh precum.

Watching his lewd acts makes my hips speed up, hips rising higher towards Sylus' tip to slam back down. The silver haired man watches me in awe, toying with my nipples over the material as he huffs out soft moans.

"My lap is soaked, Darling. Ovulation must be here, hm?" Sylus leans forward to hug me close and lick a long stripe up my neck. I feel my belly burn with a familiar tightness as I clench harder, hips starting to slow as I reach my peak. "Tsk." Sylus takes control and slides his hands down to my waist, gripping firmly before absolutely pounding up into me.

"Ah! Yes- Yes, fuck, S-Sir feels s'good. . There!" Sylus hits a spot he's never struck before, a blinding pain shoots through me and my head snaps down on instinct, a few tears dropping onto a very prominent bulge. Sylus' mushroom tip pokes under my belly button with each thrust and pornographic moans fill the room from all three of us.

I catch sight of Zayne thrusting up into his fist, leaving just his tip in the tightest part of his grasp as ropes of cum shoot from his tip. It lands messily all over his hand, wrist, arm and abdomen. I clench around Sylus one last time before spasms hit as I come hard.

I squeal from Sylus' sudden deep thrust and bite to my neck as he too empties his load in my womb. Another thing he always does. Because of my job as a Hunter, I placed myself on birth control through Zayne but that doesn't affect Sylus' want/need of rounding my belly with his kids.

"Such a good fucking girl. . ." Sylus kisses his bite mark, proud of himself for leaving behind a reminder. "You squirted all over Zayne." Sylus chuckles as I look down with wide eyes to find Zayne covered in my juices, a thick string of it still connecting us. I look up to meet his eyes and he gives me a lazy smile.

"The most beautiful thing I've had the pleasure of being part of." Zayne speaks softly, his voice has an edge to it. His eyes trail down my body, stopping at where my slip falls to cover me when Sylus unwraps his arms from me. "Take it off."

Sylus wastes no time in my stead and I quickly raise my arms. He tosses it to the side and guides my arms back down, engulfing me into a self hug in his embrace. He breathes me in for a few seconds then he slowly unravels, pressing a kiss to my head before using my hips to gently remove me from his still erect dick.

"Come here, my little Snowflake." I can feel Sylus rubbing and gently pushing his cum back into me granting him soft moans. Once he's satisfied he gently nudges me forward and I nearly collapse onto Zayne but he's quick to catch me in a firm grip. "Aw, our sweet girl is tired?"

At the notion of not having Zayne inside of me I quickly shake my head, struggling a bit with shaky legs to crawl onto him. "No- No, please. I need you, Zay. Please-"

"Shh. There's no need to beg," Zayne's playful smile reaches his eyes as they crinkle in the corner and while staring into the comforting abyss of his irises I see his gaze slowly change as his eyes flicker between my eyes and lips. "Let me take good care of you."

He flips us similarly as I had earlier, only he cradles my head while supporting my back. His lips are slow and persistent against mine, I can taste his words. I love you's, I need you's- "I adore you so much, Y/N. This, with you both, means so much." He acknowledges Sylus, who is cleaned with a black towel resting across his waist as he sits against the headboard next to us.

His eyes are soft as he trails his fingertips along my scalp, inching his way down to brush them against Zayne's. While busy lining himself up, he slips his hand into Sylus' as he sinks inside.

"Hah~" His breath is warm against my open lips, soft moans sending him into a steady, needy pace. "Wanna fill you, my heart." His other hand struggles to find a spot to grip onto, over taken by my wet walls. I help him by guiding it to my breast, knowing that he loves to toy with them. Zayne catches on right away, placing a brisk kiss to my lips then trailing down to my neck. He nudges his nose near Sylus' marks then I feel his cold, wet tongue licking the area in prep for his own.

My entire body buzzes from their lustful craze. Both men are extraordinary when it comes to stamina in the bed and having to take them both tonight makes my pulse quicken, pussy clench, and toes curl. I want nothing more than to be completely theirs, forever and always.

"Y/N baby, I gotta move. Relax for me." Zayne's soft chuckle snaps me out of my haze and I blush, embarrassed from disassociating at a moment like now.

"I'm sorry-"

"Shh. . . Never be sorry for that, sweet girl. It's just- I need to release urgently."

I nod, willing myself to relax with a deep controlled breath and slowly I feel my walls loosen and Zayne twitches, grunting as his hips stutters forward, releasing a bit of precum. He presses a kiss to my temple then eases up into a kneeling position. I feel his thick cock slip deeper to my cervix sending a tingle up my spine.

Zayne is gentle and firm with gripping under my knees to push my legs back and onto his shoulders. He continues to rest inside while he leans into my left calf, pressing soft kisses and nibbles. When he hears my hitched breath and soft moans his hips start in slow, deep rolls.

My hands fly outwards to grip onto anything and my right lands on pining my right thigh to my chest while the other brushes Sylus' erect dick. He hisses and catches my wrist before I could do any damage, turning it to rub circles into my wrist with his thumb.

"Don't lose your mind just yet, Kitten." I know very well he's telling me to reserve energy for another round and with how deprived I've been I don't mind if they break me tonight.

I ease my wrist from his grasp and he allows me as I trail towards the black towel, flicking it with my fingertips to reveal him. He's warm in my palm as I struggle to grip him fully thanks to his girth. His touch to my scalp returns and anytime I grip him his fingers tugs deliciously. I try my best to keep with Zayne's thrust that have sped up, he's moved to my feet now, pressing kisses to my in-step arch.

"Fuck! Yes! There, please- Zayne!" I feel my stomach coil as quickly as it snaps, sending me into a quick intense orgasm. Sylus moves quick to kneel beside me, my hand slipping, as I watch him lean forward and grab the back of Zayne's neck. My eyes widen as he leads the flushed man towards him into a clashing kiss. For a moment they're still then Sylus leads the kiss, playing dirty tricks against Zayne to get him to open his mouth and lick into it.

I take Zayne's bruising thrusts and tight grip at my hip, feeling him swell and pump three hard times deep into my womb before spilling his seed. I feel warm, fuzzy and stuffed with cum. I whimper as he continues to rock into me with his soft hair brushing against my clit. Sylus' hand on his throat pushes him back from the kiss and Zayne's head droops as he sucks in air.

"Pull out." He listens and rests his hand on my tummy as he slowly pulls out trying not to bring his cum with him.

"Good-"

"Don't. Finish that." Zayne groans, gently pushing at Sylus' chest. He chuckles deeply, canines flashing as he leans in and steals a kiss from Zayne's cheek.

"Only if you promise to be just that."

And he does. They quickly understand each other as they work around my body for the rest of the night till Dawn.

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tteotlma · 1 month ago

Text

Sugar and Skin

2. Second Impressions || Previous - Next

a simple favor for Steve leads to an unexpected second encounter and a lingering trace of powdered sugar that's harder to ignore than it should be.

TattooArtist!Bucky x Baker!Reader (3.9kw)

tw: 18+ MDNI; mild language, subtle tension, implied attraction, slow-burn, strangers to friends to lovers. a/n: NOTE!!! If u see "{{...}}" then that means i think u can skip it and be fine. and i think i finally decided on a weekly schedule.

“White chocolate macchiato?” Bucky called out as he pushed the glass door open with his back, swinging around to face an empty storefront.

“Don’t judge!” He heard from the back room, as he set the bag and cup on the counter.

“Never pegged you for the type.” Bucky smirked, watching his best friend practically float towards the pastry on the counter. He watched in bewilderment as Steve tore the bag open and took an enormous bite.

“Yeah well, how many years has it been?” Steve asked with a mouth full of bread, crumbs of almond slipping from his lips. Bucky didn’t say anything. Steve took a swig of the hot coffee and melted into the seat beside him.

“It’s like Christmas in a cup.” He held the cup with both hands to his chest, a dopey grin plastered on his face. Again, Bucky just stared.

“Listen, you may not get it but once you actually slow down you start to find things you never even knew you could enjoy.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t say anything.” Bucky held his hands up in defense as he leaned across the counter.

“You didn’t have to, I know that look on your face.”

“Just never thought I’d see you practically jizz in your pants over a cup of coffee, and a danish.” Bucky jabbed at the blonde in front of him.

He watched as Steve stilled in his throat before groaning, dragging a hand down his face as he shook his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“And you’re apparently unpredictable,” Bucky shot back, slouching against the counter with a smirk. “White chocolate macchiato? Really? Who are you, Steven?”

Steve glared at him, from the corner of his eye. Eyebrows furrowed.

“Just never thought I’d see you practically cum in your pants over a cup of coffee and a bear claw, is all Stevie,” Bucky quipped, emphasizing the name as he rocked forward against the counter, arms crossed.

Steve froze mid-sip, his eyes narrowing slightly before he set the cup down with exaggerated care. “Guess you met Y/N,” he said, his tone casual, though there was an edge of something unspoken.

“Y/N,” Bucky repeated, testing the name as he tilted his head, studying him. “That the baker?”

Steve nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. She runs the café with this guy Sam. They’re partners. She handles the baking and the day-to-day stuff; he’s the coffee guy.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, tutting his jaw forward. “Didn’t realize you were so invested in her business model, Steven.” He continues to study his face, resting his leather padded elbows against the granite.

Steve gave him a dry look, shaking his head. “They’re good people, Buck. Been going there for years since before this place opened up. Y/N’s always just somehow been there for me. You know how it is—some people just stick.”

Bucky just stared. He locked eyes with Steve, and watched as the jewelry attached to the end of his eyebrow quirked up as he silently questioned him.

“What’s the big deal anyway? Why do you even care?” Steve finally blurted out, his fingers crinkled the paper bag in his hands, signalling that not only he was getting irritated but that Bucky was behaving strangely. He stepped back, and blinked.

“Nothing—I don’t care—just didn’t expect you to have something like that going on,” Bucky said, his voice quieter now, though his words still carried a pointed edge. He put his hands against the counter, studying Steve’s reaction.

Steve blinked, his head tilting slightly as if trying to figure out what Bucky wasn’t saying. “Something like what?” he asked, his tone casual, but his gaze sharp.

Bucky hesitated for a beat, his jaw working as he tried to shrug it off. “I don’t know,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the coffee cup. “This whole… thing. The bear claws, the macchiato, the… normalcy.”

Steve’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, his tongue brushing lightly over the ring adorning his lip, though a slight furrow creased his brow. “It’s not a thing, Buck. She’s a friend—a good one. Don’t make it weird.” He took another swig of his sweet drink.

“I’m not making it weird,” Bucky shot back quickly, his voice defensive. He shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable under Steve’s gaze. “Just didn’t peg you for it, that’s all.”

“For what?” Steve pressed, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing.

Bucky straightened, his smirk returning though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “For someone who’s got his coffee order memorized by a baker, Steve. That’s all.”

Steve snorted, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re reading way too much into this,” he said, but there was something unspoken in his tone, something that made Bucky’s jaw tighten again.

“Maybe,” Bucky muttered, pushing off the counter as he adjusted his stance.

The sound of the door swinging open cut through the moment, the brass bell bouncing sharply against the frame. Bucky glanced toward the entrance, catching the figure stepping inside, but his attention quickly shifted back to Steve.

Steve’s gaze flickered to the newcomer, then back to Bucky. He squinted slightly, as if assessing something unspoken, before pushing himself up from the chair. Grabbing the remains of the danish, he took one last bite before tossing it casually onto the desk. Without another word, he moved to greet the client, leaving Bucky standing there, the earlier conversation still hanging heavily in the air.

“But it’s still a hell of a danish, apparently,” Bucky muttered under his breath, his eyes flickering to the discarded pastry before walking towards the back office.

Bucky lingered by the doorway, watching as Steve greeted the newcomer with that same easy grin he gave everyone. The client, a guy in his early twenties, handed over a folded piece of paper—probably some Pinterest-inspired design that would drive Steve nuts later.

Steve took the paper with a nod, already slipping into professional mode, but Bucky’s thoughts stayed stuck on their earlier conversation. The weight of Steve’s words hung in the back of his mind.

He leaned against the office door frame, absently running his thumb along a faint tear in the leather of his jacket. It wasn’t the baker herself that was bothering him, he told himself—it was the way Steve had talked about her. Like she was more than just someone who made a good danish.

Bucky huffed quietly, glancing toward the counter where Steve was already sketching something out for the kid. He tried to brush it off, but the thought lingered, like a splinter under his skin.

Pushing off the doorframe, he headed toward the back. He didn’t need to stay and hear more—it wasn’t his business anyway. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

—

{{As you threw your head back to laugh at a joke Sam had suddenly thrown out, the bell above the door jingled lightly catching your attention. You glanced up just in time to see him—the man in the leather jacket—pushing the door open, stepping into the cool afternoon air.

Your gaze lingered briefly, watching as he walked past the window, his broad shoulders hunched slightly against the chill. There was something about the way he moved—deliberate, careful, like he didn’t quite belong here.

Sam’s voice cut through the café’s hum as he leaned against the counter, watching the door swing shut behind the man in the leather jacket. “What was his deal?”

You looked away from the window, your brow furrowing. “Who?”

He gestured toward the door with a sharp nod. “Steve’s “friend”. Looked like he was ready to bolt the second he walked in.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you placed loose napkins back in their holder. “Maybe he’s just not an outside person.”

Sam scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Right. Like that explains the way he was looking at you.”

That made you pause, your hand hovering over the counter as you turned to him. “Looking at me? He wasn’t—”

“He was,” Sam interrupted, his tone flat but edged with something harder. “Like he was trying to figure you out or something.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as you turned back to your work. “You’re imagining things. He didn’t even say more than a few words to me.”

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t looking,” Sam muttered under his breath, the smirk tugging at his lips doing little to mask the irritation in his voice.

Your lips pressed together as you glanced toward the counter, catching Peter juggling cups and fumbling with the register, his expression one of barely concealed panic. You exhaled sharply and jutted your chin toward him. “I think Peter needs your help,” you said, keeping your tone casual, but the shift was deliberate.

As the café settled back into its usual rhythm, you found yourself distracted, your hands working on autopilot as you adjusted the remaining pastries in the display. It wasn’t like you to dwell on customers—especially not ones who had barely spoken a word to you—but something about him stuck.

It had to be the contrast, you decided. Steve was always so easygoing, the kind of guy who fit in anywhere, his warm demeanor making even the busiest days feel manageable. But his friend? He couldn’t have been more different if he tried.

Where Steve carried himself with an open confidence, the man in the leather jacket had felt... closed off. He hadn’t looked uncomfortable, exactly, but there had been something guarded about him. Like he didn’t belong here and was painfully aware of it.

You shook your head, brushing the thought away as you wiped your hands on your apron. That’s all it is, you told yourself. The difference has you caught off guard, that’s all.

Still, as you moved to refill the sugar containers, you couldn’t shake the image of him standing at the counter, his quiet presence somehow filling the space. You huffed softly to yourself, determined to let it go. You had more important things to think about than some friend of Steve’s who probably wasn’t planning on sticking around anyway.}}

“Please, please, please.” You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes, biting your cheek to keep from smiling.

“Steven, I have a shop to run.” You said, switching the “open” sign to “closed” after locking the double doors.

“It’s Wednesday. You guys close early on Wednesdays—Please.” Steve begged over the phone, his tone dripping with exaggerated desperation.

“I already did you a favor by ordering the books for you, and now—“

“I’ll owe you one.”

“That’s what you said last time,” You deadpanned, switching the phone to speaker, so you could begin counting the money in the register.

“And I still mean it. Just add this to the tab,” He said, his obnoxious smirk practically audible through the phone.

“Fine, Rogers you win.” You scoffed, reaching for your phone “I’ll stop by when I’m done.” You hung up and pocketed your phone with a sigh.

“You headin’ over to Steve’s place?” A voice behind you asked, making you jump.

“Sam, you scared me,” you said, counting the last of the dollar bills in your hand before compiling it into a neat pile and handing it off to your colleague. “And yes. I have to drop off that box over there.” You nodded toward a medium sized box on a folding chair in the corner of the back room.

Sam swiftly took the stack from your hand and switched spots with you. “And he couldn’t come because?”

“Said something about back-to-back bookings,” you replied, standing off to the side and wiping the counter for any remaining crumbs.

“You think his friend is gonna be there?”

You paused, your movements halting mid-swipe. “I-I don’t know—” The sudden stutter caught you off guard, and you tensed. “What’s with all these questions anyway?” you added, more annoyed than curious.

“Nothing, just…I can take it if you want.” Sam said, slipping some money into a plastic bag and putting the rest in the register before shutting it with a soft click.

“Oh,” you said, feeling silly for your earlier outburst. “Thanks, but that’s okay. There’s some stuff I have to talk to Steve about anyway.” Was that a lie? Sam looked at you. Crap. It was.

———

The entire walk there, you wracked your brain trying to think of anything you actually needed to talk to Steve about. The books were already paid for, and the pastries were an afterthought—a gesture more for your own sense of courtesy than anything else. There wasn’t anything urgent, not really.

If you were being honest, Sam could’ve just as easily dropped the box off himself if you’d let him.

You adjusted the boxes in your arms, and the purse on your shoulder, feeling the rough edge of the worn cardboard dig lightly into your palm. The other box, filled with leftover pastries from the café, teetered slightly on top as you shifted your grip.

The early afternoon sun filtered through the trees lining the sidewalk, casting dappled shadows that danced at your feet. The air was crisp but not biting, a faint breeze carrying the warm scents of bistros and freshly fallen leaves. It was a pleasant enough walk, you supposed, though you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you were overthinking it.

Maybe it was Sam’s question that had thrown you off. Or maybe it was the memory of Steve’s friend—the man with the leather jacket and the sharp blue eyes. The way he’d lingered at the counter, quiet and guarded, but somehow impossible to ignore.

You exhaled, shaking your head as if to dislodge the thought.

It doesn’t matter, you told yourself firmly. You’re just doing Steve a favor. That’s it.

Still, as you neared the shop, you shifted the boxes in your hands again, noticing the faint warmth building against your palms. The moisture made the edges of the cardboard feel slicker than they should have, and you tightened your grip to steady them.

When you reached the door, you nudged it open with your back, the faint chime of the bell ringing overhead as you stepped inside.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the tattoo machine in the distance.

You looked around the small tattoo parlor, the black furniture standing out in contrast to the white walls. More stuff had been added since the last time you’d stopped by—large and small plants now decorated the interior, their vibrant greens softening the otherwise sharp and minimalistic space. A new piece of art hung on the far wall, bold lines and intricate designs that drew your attention for a moment before your gaze shifted.

The space felt more lived-in now, more personal, like it wasn’t just a shop but a place someone cared for. The faint hum of the tattoo machine came from one of the rooms in the back, mingling with the subtle scent of antiseptic and something faintly woodsy, maybe a candle burning somewhere out of sight.

“Steven?” you called again, balancing the boxes in your hands as you glanced toward the counter.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be tied up with a client, but the shop felt quieter than usual. Setting the boxes down carefully on the counter, you adjusted the pastry box to the side before looking around again.

“Steve?” you called again, your voice louder this time as you leaned slightly over the counter, scanning the back area.

The faint hum of a tattoo machine that buzzed steadily suddenly stopped in the back room, but no one answered. You sighed, stepping back and glancing around the shop once more, your eyes lingering on the plants and new art pieces scattered throughout.

The soft creak of a door caught your attention, and you turned just as someone stepped out from the back.

It wasn’t Steve.

Your breath hitched briefly when you recognized him—the man from the café. Except this time there was no leather jacket adorning his figure, he wasn’t wearing it, just a black t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. His sharp blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

“Oh,” you said finally, trying to mask your surprise. “I thought Steven would be here.”

“He had to step out.”

You nodded, pursing your lips as you glanced toward the counter. “I just brought some stuff for him,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the boxes. “Books he ordered. And some leftover pastries from this morning.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward the counter before returning to you. “I’ll make sure he gets them.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, brushing your hands off on your jeans, though they weren’t dusty. The silence stretched for a moment, the faint echo of the tattoo machine still lingering in the air. You shifted slightly, glancing toward the box of pastries before blurting out, “You… can help yourself too… if you want.”

His brow arched slightly, his sharp blue eyes holding yours for just a second longer than you expected. “Appreciate it,” he said simply, his tone even, though you thought you caught the faintest flicker of amusement in his gaze.

You felt your cheeks warm, and your hand drifted to the seam on the side of your jeans, fidgeting with the fabric as though it might keep you steady.

He didn’t move from where he stood, leaning casually against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His steady gaze made your fingers itch, and your nail dragged against the denim fabric audibly now.

That’s when you noticed the black latex glove on his left hand, the stark contrast of it catching your eye. His arm, adorned with intricate tattoos you hadn’t noticed before, drew your attention—the sharp lines and shading that curved around his forearm and bicep were as striking as they were detailed.

When he crossed his arms, the movement only emphasized the muscles beneath the ink, the casual strength in his stance making it hard to look away.

“You’re Steve’s friend, right?” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. You’re startled by your own voice, and for a moment you wondered why you hadn’t just left right then and there.

He didn’t answer right away. His head tilted just slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was deciding whether or not to engage. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low and deliberate.

Silence stretched between you again, heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. You nodded as you shifted your weight. “Well... I should get going,” you murmured, your tone quieter now. “Just let Steven know I stopped by.”

You turned, ready to make your exit, when his voice cut through the stillness.

“Bucky.”

The name came softly, but it carried weight, stopping you mid-step. You froze for a moment before turning back, your brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

His arms were still crossed, the black latex glove on his left hand catching your eye again as he adjusted his stance. “My name,” he said, the words simple but steady. “It’s Bucky.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling the word catch awkwardly in your throat. You glanced at him, searching his face for a moment, then straightened slightly. “Nice to meet you... Bucky.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but close enough to make your chest feel a little tight. “And you are?”

You hesitated for a second before giving him your name, the sound of it hanging awkwardly between you as you watched for a reaction.

“Y/N,” he repeated, the weight of your name on his lips making your cheeks flush. Before you could respond, Steve’s voice rang out from the back.

“Hey, glad you made it!”

You turned to see him emerging from the back room, wiping his hands on a rag, his grin easy and familiar. “Y/N, can you bring the books back to my room? I just need to finish cleaning my station.”

“Sure thing,” you replied quickly, eager for something to busy yourself with.

“And Buck, mind ringing up this guy while I handle things over here?” Steve added, gesturing toward the lone customer waiting at the counter.

“Got it,” Bucky replied simply, stepping aside to let you pass.

As you moved toward the back room, you felt his gaze linger a little too long, the weight of it brushing against your skin in a way that made your steps falter slightly. You didn’t look back, though the heat crawling up your neck made you wish you had.

Bucky’s focus only shifted when Steve cleared his throat, nodding toward the counter. His sharp gaze flicked toward Steve, a quick, pointed look passing between them, before he turned to handle the transaction, his movements deliberate but unhurried.

You stepped into the back room, the soft scuff of your shoes blending with the faint hum of the tattoo machine in the distance. Steve was already moving to clear off a cluttered table, his grin easy as ever.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, nodding toward the box of books you carried.

“Don’t mention it,” you replied, setting the box down carefully. “Though you might want to remember I’ve been keeping track, and it looks like you’ll be paying me back for the rest of your life.”

Steve let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.”

You smirked. “And you’re lucky I’m nice.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he teased, pushing off the doorframe. “Thanks again, Y/N. Seriously.”

His sincerity caught you slightly off guard, but you brushed it off with a shrug. “No problem, Stevie.”

He raised his hand, palm out, and you met it halfway with an easy high five, your fingers curling briefly around his in a quick dap before you stepped back with a small smile. “See you later,” he said with a grin as you turned toward the doorway.

Pausing just before stepping out, you peeked your head into the front room, your eyes scanning the space. The customer was gone, and so was Bucky. The faint creak of the office door swinging shut must’ve been him slipping into the other room.

Relieved, you stepped fully into the front of the shop, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder as you made your way to the front. Walking past the counter you caught sight of the pastry box slightly skewed with the lid ajar, the faintest crack catching your attention. Frowning, you reached out to fix it, fingers brushing over the edge as you led it back into place. That’s when you noticed it—a missing pastry.

Your hand stilled, your pulse quickening despite yourself. Powdered sugar clung to the rim of the cardboard box, and littered the counter surface, a subtle, almost careless trace left behind.

Your chest tightened, a flicker of heat creeping up your neck. It could’ve been the customer... but your mind stubbornly circled back to someone else. You shook your head, brushing the thought away as you made sure you had your things. The stillness of the space was broken by the low hum of the tattoo machine, its steady buzz filling the air once more.

The bell above the door jingled softly as you stepped out into the cool air, the lingering warmth of the shop clinging to you. Even as you walked down the street, the faint image of sharp blue eyes and a missing pastry hovered in your mind, refusing to fade completely.

----

a/n: please reblog to support! I also love feedback, and comments :)

taglist (lmk if you want to be added!) : @cheezemanz @shirukitsune @miharuwrites

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kiryoutann · 2 months ago

Text

i feel like this was wayyy too cute not to share now, so… sneak peek??? and i'm convinced simon is the most patient girl dad out there.

Walking over slowly so as not to scare her, he then asked, “What’s goin’ on ‘ere then?”

Gianna whipped around in a flash like a criminal caught in the act, her big brown eyes gleaming with a touch of guilt but not a trace of fear. "I dropped my cereal," she confessed succinctly, mirroring a trait she had unquestionably inherited from her father.

He crouched down next to her. “’Ere, let me help you with that,” then reached out, taking the paper towel from her tiny hands and started cleaning up.

Gianna just watched him until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“’S alright, darlin’. Accidents ‘appen.” Simon stated, rising to his feet and tossing the used tissues into the trash can. He then turned his attention back to his daughter. “But you could’ve woke me up. I’d ‘ave helped you clean it up straight away.”

“I know, but you were sleeping. An’ mum says you sleep like a… like a… clog?”

At that, he couldn't help but chuckle. “I think you mean a log, love.” He corrected.

“Oh right!” The little girl exclaims, nodding her head. “Tha’s the word. You sleep like a log.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever yer mum says.” He glanced at the box of cereal still sitting on the kitchen counter, then decided to keep himself and his daughter away from it. “So cereal is no option then. What d’you want for breakfast instead?”

Without missing a beat, Gianna chirps, “Ice cream!”

Simon snorts, shaking his head. “Can’t ‘ave ice cream for breakfast, darlin’.”

Gianna tilts her head to the side, eyes looking up at him questioningly. "Why not?" she asked. “Mummy 'as coffee for breakfast, alllll the time!” she spreads her arms out for dramatic effect—he chuckles at that. Definitely got it from mommy.

“Yeah, don’t be like yer mum, alright?”

The girl frowns slightly. “But why not? Mummy’s pretty, an’ she cooks good food.”

Something he couldn’t disagree with. He nodded, reaching out to ruffle her blonde hair. “That she does, darlin’. But we still don’t want you havin’ coffee or ice cream for breakfast, alright?”

"Okay, then can we go to Uncle John's house?" she asked.

“An’ why’s that?”

Gianna bounced on her toes, her arms swinging. “I miss Buddy an’ Daisy!”

Simon groaned inwardly. Should’ve known she’d bring that up. Ever since that one time he brought her to Price’s place and she met his dogs, Gianna has been begging to go back. Every time after school—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” Every weekend—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” And the thing is, the bloody mutts aren’t even there anymore, not since Price and his missus divorced.

“The dogs ain't there anymore, love.” He watched her face fall.

"Why not?" she asked, eyes wide in confusion.

Simon shrugged. “Cause,” he trailed off, not really wanting to explain the whole messy divorce situation to a five-year-old. “Nevermind that. What d’you want for breakfast?”

Instead of answering, Gianna crossed her arms while frowning. “I don’t want breakfast. I want Buddy an’ Daisy!

A sigh escaped Simon as the results of his parenting bit him in the ass. Bloody hell, he had to stop surrendering to her big eyes and pouting lips—just like her mum. She had learned from the best, hadn’t she? Got him wrapped around her tiny finger. There was only one trick up his sleeve to get her to cooperate.

“If you don’t eat breakfast, then then we won’t be able to go an’ watch yer mum later.”

And sure enough, Gianna’s whole expression lit up, renewed. She gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth in an exaggerated gesture. Seems like he got himself a drama queen.

“We’re gonna watch Mum?!” she asked, full of hope.

Simon nodded, trying to maintain a serious expression but always failing because of her antics. “As long as you behave an’ eat breakfast.”

The five-year-old was cheering, jumping, and doing her little dances in unbridled energy—just like her mum. He guessed it was true what Garrick said that day the lads visited the two of you at the hospital after Gianna was born—“She’s a perfect blend of the both of you.”

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olive-main · 2 months ago

Note

Hi hi! Ive just stumbled across your writing and i adore it so much! You capture Azriel so perfectly!! I don't really have much of a specific request in mind (but trust me, I'll think of one and come back if that's okay??) But could I ask for something with our Az and a super strong, independent, sarcastic reader. I just love the idea of totally smitten Azriel and just all the fluff. I'm so sorry this is so vague but

Happy holidays!!

No Damsels Here

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A fiesty Valkyrie with a sharp wit and the brooding Shadowsinger find their lives slowly intertwined through training, quiet moments, and unexpected gestures, leading them to realize there may be a growing connection they can no longer ignore.

Wc: 2.7k

A/N: Ok be honest, did you hack into my account and read my drafts bcs….I had just the fic for this request rotting for far too long. I hope you enjoy, it’s not my fav since I think my writing is better now hence why it’s been in my drafts lol and it’s like semi proofread—BUT thanks to this request y’all get more fluff. Everyone say thank you! :b

Masterlist

——

The morning air is cool and sharp, biting at your skin as you jog toward the training ring, late as usual. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, its rays barely spilling over the horizon, but Nesta is already there stretching, as she is every morning. Ever the Valkyrie.

“You’re late,” she remarks as you step onto the mat beside her.

“Fashionably late,” you correct, tying your hair back. “Besides, I needed an extra five minutes of sleep. Someone decided to keep me up last night with her endless talking about smutty romance novels.”

Nesta doesn’t bother to hide her smirk. “Don’t act as if you’re not interested in my books.”

Before you can retort, Cassian’s booming voice cuts through the quiet. “Alright, enough about your romance book things. You’re here to train, not gossip.”

You glance over the training grounds, your eyes instinctively flicking toward the familiar figure standing on the far edge of the ring. Azriel is adjusting the strap of his leathers, his wings half-furled behind him as he surveys the weapons laid out with his usual quiet focus.

Nesta catches the direction of your gaze and nudges you with her elbow. “Still brooding, isn’t he?”

“He’s not brooding,” you reply, a little too defensively. “He’s… serious.”

Nesta gives you a knowing look but doesn’t press further as Cassian begins pairing everyone off for sparring.

“Y/N,” Cassian calls, grinning wickedly. “You’re with Azriel today.”

You blink, trying not to focus on how your heart jumped. Across the ring, Azriel’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you see the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

—

Sparring with Azriel is both exhilarating and frustrating. He’s fast—almost impossibly so—and he moves with a precision that leaves no openings. You’re strong and quick on your feet, but against Azriel, every strike feels like a gamble.

“You’re hesitating,” he murmurs, dodging your swing with ease.

“I’m calculating,” you snap back, twisting to block his next move.

His lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile. “You’re thinking too much.”

“And you’re talking too much,” you retort, aiming a strike at his side.

He blocks it effortlessly, his wings shifting slightly as he steps into your space. For a moment, you’re close enough to catch the faint scent of cedar and something darker, something so distinctly him.

“Focus,” he says, his voice low and even, and you can’t help the way your pulse quickens.

But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you smirk and lunge to the left before sweeping his legs out from under him. He lands on his back with a soft thud, his wings flaring slightly to cushion the fall.

“Gotcha,” you say, planting your hands on your hips.

Azriel props himself up on one elbow, looking up at you with an expression that’s almost impressed. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” you echo, laughing. “That was a textbook takedown.”

From across the ring, Cassian claps his hands. “That’s my girl! Show him who’s boss, Y/N!”

You smile proudly at Cassian, bowing exaggeratedly before turning back to Azriel with a proud smirk.

“Again?” he asks, his tone calm but with a flicker of challenge in his eyes.

“Obviously,” you reply, and the sparring begins anew.

—

You’re sitting on the edge of the ring after the session, toweling the sweat from your face as the others disperse. Nesta sits beside you, nursing a bottle of water and watching Azriel, who’s speaking quietly with Cassian.

“You know he likes you, right?” Nesta says, breaking the silence.

You choke on your water. “What?”

Nesta gives you a look, one brow arched in that infuriatingly smug way of hers. “Don’t play dumb. He’s been watching you all morning.”

“He watches everyone,” you argue, though your voice lacks conviction.

“Not like this,” Nesta counters. “Trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s different.”

You shake your head, refusing to entertain the idea. “He’s just… observant. It’s his job.”

Nesta doesn’t respond, but her silence is louder than words.

—

Over the next few weeks, you start to notice the little things. The way Azriel lingers near you during training, offering quiet pointers or stepping in to demonstrate a move. The way he always seems to know when you’re pushing yourself too hard, handing you a water bottle or calling for a break just as your muscles start to protest.

And then there are the gloves. The day before you’d worn down your leather gloves to their last seam, small tears at the knuckles.

You find them waiting for you one morning, neatly folded and left on the bench where you always sit. They’re sleek and well-crafted, the leather soft and pliable. With your name written on a piece of parchment laid neatly on them, in his writing.

“Nice gloves,” Nesta remarks as you slip them on.

“They’re… new,” you say, frowning slightly.

“Azriel left them,” she says, her tone far too casual.

You freeze, glancing at her. “How do you know that?”

Nesta smirks. “Because I saw him put them there.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Azriel approaches, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Do they fit?” he asks, his gaze flicking to the gloves.

You nod, flexing your fingers. “Perfectly. Thank you.”

He inclines his head, his lips curving into the faintest smile before he turns and walks away.

“Hopeless,” Nesta mutters under her breath, but you don’t bother arguing this time.

—

It’s late one evening when Azriel finds you sitting on the balcony of the House of Wind, staring out at the twinkling lights of Velaris below.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft as he steps into the night air.

You glance over your shoulder, surprised but not unwelcome. “Something like that.”

He leans against the railing beside you, his wings folding neatly behind him. For a while, neither of you speaks, the quiet stretching between you like a warm blanket.

Finally, Azriel breaks the silence. “Something is on your mind”

“Oh? Am I that easy to see through Shadowsinger?” you ask, turning to face him.

“No, not always” he says, his hazel eyes meeting yours. “But you only come out here when something is.”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond. But before you can, he continues, his voice low and steady.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “But if you ever want to, I’m here.”

The sincerity in his tone takes you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“Thanks,” you say finally, your voice softer than usual.

He nods, his gaze lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before he turns back to the view.

The silence stretches, comfortable but crackling with unspoken words. You lean your elbows on the railing, the cool metal pressing against your skin. Azriel doesn’t move, his presence steady beside you, a quiet sort of comfort.

“So,” you say at last, breaking the stillness. “Is brooding a full-time job for you, or do you just do it in your free time?”

His lips twitch, though he doesn’t take his eyes off the city below. “Depends. Are you asking because you want tips?”

A laugh escapes you, sharp and unrestrained. “Please, I could out-brood you any day of the week.”

Azriel turns his head slightly, enough that you can see the amusement flickering in his hazel eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, you will,” you quip, straightening up and crossing your arms. “But don’t come crying to me when I leave you in the shadows.”

“I don’t cry,” he replies smoothly, his expression as impassive as ever.

You snort, shaking your head. “No, of course not. The great spymaster of the Night Court doesn’t have emotions, right?”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, and for a moment, you swear you see something softer beneath the usual calm exterior.

“Wrong,” he says quietly.

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. Before you can respond, Azriel shifts, his wings rustling softly as he straightens.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he says, his voice low and even.

“Sure,” you reply, recovering quickly. “I’ll need it for when I take you down in training tomorrow.”

His soft chuckle is the last thing you hear before he disappears into the shadows, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

—

The next morning, you’re determined to shake off the lingering feelings from last night. You throw yourself into training with a vengeance, sparring with Nesta and Cassian until your muscles burn and your breath comes in ragged gasps.

But no matter how hard you push yourself, you can’t ignore the fact that Azriel’s eyes are on you. He’s not overt about it, of course—he never is. But you’ve gotten good at reading him.

“Do you think he’s capable of blinking?” you mutter to Nesta during a break, jerking your chin in Azriel’s direction.

Nesta smirks, following your gaze. “Why? Is it distracting you?”

“Hardly,” you scoff. “I just don’t want him pulling something from all that intense staring.”

“Maybe he’s impressed,” Nesta says, her tone teasing.

You roll your eyes. “He’s impressed by my fighting skills, obviously. Who wouldn’t be?”

“Obviously,” Nesta echoes, her smirk growing.

“Don’t start,” you warn, grabbing your water bottle.

Nesta raises her hands in mock surrender, but you can see the gleam in her eye.

—

After training, you’re stretching near the edge of the ring when Azriel approaches. You glance up, noting the slight crease in his brow as he surveys the scrape on your arm.

“You should get that looked at,” he says, nodding toward the cut.

“It’s nothing,” you reply, brushing it off. “Barely a scratch.”

Azriel doesn’t look convinced. He crouches beside you, pulling a small vial of salve from his pocket.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, reaching for your arm.

You consider protesting, but the look in his eyes stops you. So instead, you sit there, watching as his fingers work with careful precision, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“You know, this is the second time you’ve fussed over me this week,” you say, breaking the silence. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to impress me.”

Azriel doesn’t look up, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Is it working?”

The question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. So instead, you settle for sarcasm.

“Not yet,” you say, grinning. “But keep trying. You might get there eventually.”

His quiet laugh sends warmth curling through your chest, and as he finishes wrapping your arm, you find yourself wishing the moment would last a little longer.

—

Later that evening, you’re in the kitchen with Nesta, raiding the cabinets for a late-night snack.

“So,” she says casually, popping a grape into her mouth. “What’s going on with you and Azriel?”

You freeze mid-reach, turning to glare at her. “What do you mean, ‘what’s going on?’”

Nesta shrugs, far too nonchalant. “I mean, he practically hovered over you all day. And don’t think I didn’t notice him patching you up earlier.”

“It was a cut,” you say defensively. “Hardly life-threatening.”

“Uh-huh.” Nesta leans against the counter, studying you with those sharp eyes of hers. “And the gloves? Or the way he’s always watching you during training?”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m really not,” Nesta replies, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

“Well, even if he does… like me, that’s his problem,” you say, crossing your arms. “I’m not some damsel in distress, waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet.”

“No,” Nesta agrees, smirking. “But maybe you’re someone who could use a little… sweeping.”

You throw a grape at her, and she laughs, ducking out of the way.

—

The realization of Azriel’s attention lingers in your mind longer than you’d like to admit. You try to shake it off—try to convince yourself that it’s just his nature to watch everyone, to care quietly. But there’s a warmth to his gaze when it falls on you, a softness that feels different, deliberate.

And once you notice it, you can’t stop seeing it.

Like during training the next day, when Cassian barks at everyone to do laps. You’re running alongside Nesta, your legs burning and breath hitching, when Azriel quietly falls into step beside you.

“Don’t overthink your breathing,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “I’m not overthinking it.”

His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly. “You were counting your breaths.”

You narrow your eyes, your tone laced with mock offense. “You’re watching me breathe now? That’s not creepy at all.”

Azriel doesn’t rise to the bait, but the faintest smirk graces his lips. “Just trying to help.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, rolling your eyes. But when you refocus on your breathing, following his advice, the run feels a little easier.

—

A few days later, you find yourself in the House of Wind’s library, searching for a book Nesta recommended, the one she had mentioned to you a few days ago. You’re muttering under your breath, cursing the ridiculously high shelves, when a familiar voice speaks behind you.

“Need help?”

You whirl around to find Azriel standing there, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Not unless you’ve got a ladder hidden somewhere,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Azriel steps closer, his wings shifting as he glances up at the shelf. “Which one?”

You point to the book near the top, and without a word, Azriel extends a wing, brushing it against the shelf as he pulls the book down with practiced ease.

He hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “There.”

You take the book, trying not to let the warmth of his touch distract you. “Thanks. I guess having wings is good for more than just flying, huh?”

His smile widens slightly. “They’re versatile.”

“Show-off,” you mutter, but there’s no bite to your tone.

Azriel doesn’t respond, just tilts his head as if studying you. The silence stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable, and you find yourself wondering what’s going on behind those hazel eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask finally, your voice sharper than you intend.

Azriel blinks, as though pulled from his thoughts. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure something out,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

He hesitates, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Maybe I am.”

Before you can press him further, he nods toward the book in your hands. “Enjoy your reading.” And then he’s gone, slipping back into the shadows as easily as he came.

—

The tension between you grows, subtle but undeniable. It’s not something you can ignore anymore—not when his gaze lingers just a second too long, or when his words carry a weight you can’t quite name.

One evening, after another long day of training, you find yourself wandering the halls of the House of Wind. You end up on the same balcony where Azriel joined you that night, the city lights below twinkling like stars.

You’re not surprised when he appears again, his presence so quiet you almost don’t notice until he’s standing beside you.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask, glancing at him.

“Rarely,” he admits, his voice soft.

“Figures,” you mutter, leaning against the railing.

The silence stretches, but this time, it feels charged, as though both of you are waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, Azriel breaks the quiet. “You confuse me.”

You blink, turning to face him. “What?”

“You’re strong, stubborn, sarcastic…” He trails off, his lips curving slightly. “But you care. Even when you try not to show it.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, his gaze meeting yours, “that you make it very difficult to stay in the shadows.”

His words hang in the air, and for once, you don’t have a witty comeback. You’re too busy trying to process the way your heart is racing, the way his eyes seem to see straight through you.

“Well,” you say finally, your voice quieter than usual. “Maybe it’s time you stepped out of them.”

Azriel’s smile is small, but it’s real. And in that moment, with the stars above and the city below, you feel something shift between both of you—something neither of you are sure you can ignore anymore. Not when he feels that golden thread that glows in his chest, connecting his soul to yours.

——

Are y’all interested in a tag list?? I’m gonna be more consistent in posting hehe.

Thank you for reading my lovely humans. Requests are still very open ;)

#oneshots #scenarios #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acomaf #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic

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keferon · 3 months ago

Note

It has been YEARS since I have writen anything. I more so draw. Maybe later if you like I can try but... the Deadlock Mecha au with Ratchet ❤ it goes brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

(Wrote this in three hours. No editing. Spur of the moment dump. Apologizes for the length and how it bounces around. I imagine Deadlock had saved Ratchet and his team somehow. Ratchet in turn tries to save the person inside Deadlock. Finding no human Ratchet instead saves the Cybertonian realizing he is more then a mechine.)

****

Deadlock's optics dart around the bioengineer's lab as he stays crouched on one knee. He keeps his servos flat on the floor to stay steady in the small hanger. He doesn't want to bump into the over head lights any more then he has. He is almost at his limit. When he crawled in here he didn't expect to be surrounded by screaming squishies. He's had enough of the small creatures running around him calling out for help. Let their 'help' come. He will tear apart anything that comes between him and the human that saved his life.

Ratchet, the spitfire of a human had bothered saving him when his own kind left him to leak out in the mud. Cared enough to find fuel and feed him. He had learned quickly that Ratchet has a brilliant and clever processer. He matches Deadlock's glossa with his own with zero hesitation and either has no self preservation or no concept of fear. Which ever one, whatever keeps Ratchet going strong and steady could scare Unicron himself into submission.

Deadlock gives a fond hum as he recalls onlining to a very small hand petting his cheek muttering, "It's ok kid we're getting you out of here. Focus on me. Only me." While the ground shook around them. While screeches from the enemy closed in, almost drowned out the calming grumble of the bioengineer.

He snarls as something pings off his helm bringing him back to the hanger. His lip curls back enough to show a shiny fang. One of the little fraggers shot him with a... should he even call that a blaster? "ENOUGH!" A voice demanding respect and carries weight yells out when Deadlock lifts his left servo to grab the offending toy. Everyone pauses and falls silent. He hears a ting ping ping from his right leg. "Stop that line of thought right now Drift! Hand down!" Deadlock looks at Ratchet as Ratchet gives the plating around his knee a few good wacks with a... piece of wood that had bristles at the end. Deadlock gives an amused rumble and slowly sets his servo back down as he turns his right one slowly till it's palm up next to Ratchet. Ratchet huffs and grumbles but climbs on still wielding the mighty stick weapon. "What the hell are you doing in here you menace?"

"Ratchet~ I missed you. You are late coming to berth. For the sixth time. Iv come to escort you from work." Deadlock purrs as he lifts Ratchet slowly to his optics. He can't help but smirk at the twitching frown Ratchet gives.

"Ain't happening kid. I have a lot to do. Go back to your bed. Rest. You're still recovering." Ratchet says in his, this is not a request but an order, tone. "I don't need you here giving me more work. That's what you'll be doing if you make puddles out of any of my interns. We WILL have words if you do that by the way. Do not smash any of my workers." Ratchet growls back with no more heat then Deadlock has grown use to.

"More of a sad smoosh or splat then smash." Deadlock mumbles. He pauses as the wooden stick with bristles is waved in front of his optic, "Ah.. I mean... isn't scrapping your kind off of things the youngling's job?" That earned him a wack on his optic ridge. He gives a small grunt and closes his mouth.

"No, Firstaid doesn't handle all the dirty work Drift. Even if that was the case don't give the poor kid any more work you numbskull." Ratchet says lowly as the humans optics narrow. Deadlock watches as Ratchet swings the stick servo to servo. "Now get out of my lab or I'll make you."

Deadlock tilts his helm and raises an optic ridge. A devilish smirk spreads across his lips enough for his fangs to poke out. "Right right we're going." He rumbles while cupping a servo around Ratchet as he slowly shifts around to back out. His EM Field spreads out into a smug, pleased pulse as Ratchet yells and curses at him. He ignores the threats. No Ratchet will not take him apart from the inside out. He will go to berth to have the strength to do it in the lightcycle, if he wishes. But he won't, his squishy would never harm him. Sharp glossa, beautiful processer, and pure of spark. Deadlock vows he will protect his squishy with his whole being. "So Drift eh? Think my name will scare your subordinates? Our are we already on nicknames Doc?" He teases with not so well hidden pleaser/fondness.

OH YES THIS AKCNGNJGMGNGNGNGMGMGBDINFBMGGM

#tf mecha universe #ratchlock #Ratchet #Deadlock

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moonchild9350 · 2 months ago

Text

Fade Away

summary: hyunjin is your best friend, your confidant, your lover, these things can't just fade away right? pairing: hyunjin x fab!reader genre: childhood friends to lovers, slice of life, sci fi au, fluff, angst, smut-18+MDNI word count: 8.7k warnings: masturbation, cum tasting, fingering, nipple play, clit play, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, somniphilia, handjob, oral sex (m receiving), multiple rounds, implied shower sex, mentions of memory loss, mentions of abuse notes: this was kind of a dream and thought it would be cool to write it out. let me know what you think of this, I'd greatly appreciate it! I really do value your feedback :)

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

divider by @fanguro

They say a best friend walks with you through everything, whether it’s an uplifting period of life or when it goes to absolute shit, and you can honestly agree with the statement having experienced it yourself.

Hyunjin has been your best friend since you both were little, since he saw you crying on the park bench right outside your house at the measly age of eight. He comforted you in that moment, trying to distract you from your shitty step parents and the abuse you suffered at their hands.

He cheered you up right away, even going as far as wiping the tears from your face, as you looked at him with your snot stained face and puffy, red eyes. Hyunjin didn’t care however, as long as you were ok.

You both sat on that park bench first in silence and then slowly opening up to each other as your legs dangled over the edge of the seat. Hyunjin listened as you told him your story, that you were adopted and never knew who your birth parents were. Your step parents started to turn on you, hitting you, or locking you up in your room when they didn’t want to be bothered by you shortly after their biological daughter was born.

Hyunjin listened as you described your days, unpredictable and unstable, never knowing what type of mood the adults of the house would be in. Now that your sister was older, she joined in on torturing you by getting you in trouble, blaming things she did on you. Your parents believed her every time, leaving you to take the punishment.

As your tale came to an end, you sniffled and wiped your eyes, looking down at your legs, too ashamed to look at the boy next you.

“Well your parents are assholes!” Hyunjin exclaimed, shocking you completely. “If you need to escape, come to my house!”

Once the initial shock wore off at his kindness, you smiled and kicked your feet.

“Ok,” you said in agreement, nodding your head so he could see.

As the sun slowly descended, casting its pretty glow of reds, pinks, and orange, and the moon took its place, you both sat there, talked and laughed, swinging your little legs in tandem as a new found friendship strengthened.

That was seventeen years ago. Hyunjin is still very much your best friend, so much so that you both live together, splinting the rent of your run down apartment in the side of town that isn’t the best to be in.

He’s been your rock, your foundation and continues to be so, even in the throes of adolescence.

You look at him now as he adjusts himself on his stool, his tongue sticking out as he ponders how he should proceed, his paintbrush resting at his side. There’s soft music playing in the background, creating a cozy atmosphere while the rain pelts the windows, masking the sounds of the busy city below.

You don’t want to break his concentration, so you smile and go back to your book, focusing your mind on the events that are unfolding, as the main character and their beau are about to confess their love for each other.

You and Hyunjin were both off today, your schedules aligning for once. Since it was a gloomy day out, Hyunjin suggested staying in and you couldn’t agree more, not wanting to get out in the nasty weather.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours as you both sat in comfortable silence. It wasn’t until you finished the chapter you were on that you moved.

“Hyun! I’m hungry,” you whined as you slammed your book shut.

The loud noise in the otherwise quiet room startled Hyunjin, his paintbrush falling from his hands as he yelped.

“Y/n! Jeez I could have messed up my painting,” hyunjin retaliated with a scowl as he bent over to pick up his paintbrush.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic response.

“Well, you know how I get when I’m hungry,” you said as you walked over to his seat.

You stood behind him and grasped his shoulders, your fingers lightly messaging the tight muscles as you peeked at his canvas. Your eyes roamed over the rolling hills he depicted on the canvas, met with the various little houses painted in detailed on the landscape.

Hyunjin sighed as he relaxed into your hold, his eyes fluttering shut as he enjoyed the massage you were giving him. Hyunjin was talented, gifted with the ability to recreate any scene, person, or object on canvas, telling a story with the various colors and mediums he chose.

He worked full time at the local coffee shop, saving up money so he can attend the art program at the university.

While he was gifted, you worked two jobs, splitting your time between your job at the book store to your shifts at in the lab working as a research technician. You loved science and wanted to make your mark on the world, so you applied to assist a doctor at the hospital with his research.

Both of your days were long and hard, as you worked towards your dreams, using each other as support. When you had time off, you both spent your days together, participating in craft night or movie night, or just enjoying each other’s presence as in tonight.

“Looking good,” you said as you continued to apply pressure to Hyunjin’s shoulders, chuckling as he let out a low moan as you worked a particular tense area.

“Mmm, thanks. I’m not quite done with it. I want it to be perfect so I can add it to my portfolio for when I apply to the program.” Hyunjin said as he opened his eyes to look at his work.

“They’d be stupid not to take you Hyun,” you replied as you walked away, making your way to the little drawer full of take out menus you’ve both accumulated over the years.

“Pizza? Burgers? Thai food? What are you in the mood for?” You asked, peering over your shoulder at Hyunjin.

“Surprise me,” he said as he got up and started to clear up his mess.

You grinned at his response, remembering that he is not the person to discuss options with as he could never make up his mind. You flipped through the menus, looking out for anything that seemed good.

As you came across a menu for the local pizza parlor, you pulled it out and grabbed your phone to order. Once done, you made your way back to the living room, plopping down on the couch next to Hyunjin. You stared incredulously at the tv screen, as Hyunjin rapidly flipped through the various shows and movies, looking for one only he knew.

Finally, he settled on a drama, his attention glued to the couple on screen who were in the midst of a fight. You tucked in and watched the show with him until the food came.

As the night came to a close, your eyes grew tired, the lids closing as you tried to focus on the show on screen. However, between the sounds of the rain pelting the window and the warmth you felt radiating off Hyunjin, you didn’t stand a chance. Sleep was about to win when Hyunjin shook you awake, chuckling as you let out a grumble at being disturbed.

“Get up sleepy head, let’s get you to bed ok?” Hyunjin said softly as he gently stroked your leg.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up, stretching your back from lying on the uncomfortable couch. Hyunjin guided you to your bedroom and picked out your pjs, setting them on the bathroom counter as you brushed your teeth. Once you were done, you slipped into the cozy set he picked out, the fleece warming your skin in the chilly apartment.

Turning out the light, you walked to your bed, the blankets pulled back with Hyunjin perched on the edge.

“Come on sleepyhead, get in,” he said as he patted your bed.

You giggled as you slid beneath the blankets, lying on your side as Hyunjin tucked you in, making sure you were all nice and snug. Once he was satisfied, he smiled and wished you good night, flipping the light off and closing the door as he left. You could feel yourself drifting off, as you thought of how lucky you were to have such a sweet best friend like Hyunjin.

To you, it seemed like your normal routine, Hyunjin looking out for you, making sure you were well taken care of. It was just him keeping his promise from all those years ago. However, to him it meant a little more, a fact that you were oblivious to as you lived your life with Hyunjin.

The next morning Hyunjin wakes up bright and early, the bright sun filtering through his window. He glances at the light, annoyed that his curtains do nothing to keep the sun out, instead it’s nearly for decoration, adorning the otherwise bare room.

He sat up and yawned, wishing he could go back to sleep since he doesn’t have to go into work until second shift. However, he shook the thought away, willing himself to get up so he could prep breakfast for you as you worked first shift at the bookstore today.

Yes, he makes you breakfast whenever you have an early shift, wanting to make sure you’re well fed to endure the long day ahead of you. It’s just one of the many things he does, not minding in the least for helping you out. He’s felt the need to watch over you, ever since he saw you crying on the little bench as kids, sad and neglected by the very people who were supposed to shower you with love and care.

Hyunjin is in love with you and has been for a few years now. His heart beats ridiculously fast whenever you’re near, threatening to leap out of his chest; he feels flutters in his stomach when you wrap your arms around him in a hug, the scent of your strawberry shampoo drifting through his nostrils; he feels soft towards you as you focus on your goals, working two jobs trying to climb to the top, to be somebody in this godforsaken world.

Hyunjin loves you, and he will always love you. He’s scared to have that discussion with you however, nervous that you would reject him, state that you only want to be friends and not pursue a relationship with him. He’d rather play it safe and stay the ever doting best friend.

As he gets up and searches for his favorite hoodie, he hears you stumble around your room, the sound of a door slamming echoing through the otherwise quiet space. He searches more quickly, wanting to get started on your breakfast so it is ready by the time you make it to the kitchen.

“Ah ha, gotcha,” he mumbles as he pulls it from under a pile of clothes he’s left on the chair.

He slips it on and pads to the kitchen, flipping on the lights as he goes. Hyunjin settles into the familiar routine of making breakfast as he cracks eggs into a pan, pulls the bacon out and gets the coffee started. He shuffles around, working swiftly but efficiently, adding the finishing touches just as you enter the kitchen.

“Morning Hyun,” you grumble, heading straight for the coffee.

He hands you your travel mug and says, “Morning sleepyhead. Sleep well?”

“Fair enough,” you say, pouring the hot liquid into the mug, your tone lightening up at the prospect of the caffeine entering your system soon.

Hyunjin plates up your food and sets it down on the table, beckoning you over to sit and eat. He smiles as you do so without fuss, tucking in to your plate. He busies himself with cleaning up the mess he made as you eat, the sound of your fork clanking with the plate occasionally.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he goes and sits down next to you just as you finish up. He glances at you, taking in your simple attire, perfect for the day of work you have ahead. He smiles as you scarf down the eggs, cooked to perfection just the way you like.

Hyunjin takes another sip of coffee before saying, “I’ll be home later this afternoon since I'm working second shift.”

You hum at his statement, acknowledging that you understand.

“Take out then?” You ask him, glancing up at his face.

“If you’d like,” Hyunjin said with a shrug.

He knows you don’t cook, almost burning down the kitchen the last time you tried. He remembers your shrieks of terror as the pan went up in flames, the piece of meat you were trying to cook engulfed in the yellow-orangish flames. After he simply covered the flames with the lid of the pan, he had to comfort you as you burst into tears, babbling about how you didn’t mean to do it.

Hyunjin watches as you finish the last bite of breakfast and get up, taking your plate with you. You grab the to go mug of coffee he fixed you and bid him goodbye as you head to your shift at the bookstore.

The front door clicks softly, the sound of your key in the lock as you lock the door behind you. Silence reigns over the apartment as the sun begins to shine into the living room, ushering in another long day. Hyunjin finishes his coffee and gets up, planning to sketch a little before he has to get ready for work.

He walks back to his bedroom and grabs his supplies before settling back in bed. He opens to a fresh page and brings pencil to paper, moving his hand gently over the paper, the scratch of the lead soothing to his ears. He begins to hum as a person becomes visible on the page, his eyes taking in what he has drawn so far.

His lips turn up in a smile as he glances down at you, gazing peacefully at him from the page. Your delicate features stick out, soft and gentle just like you. Hyunjin has many sketches of you, little doodles he’ll make whenever he can, his heart soaring as he draws in the many beautiful details of your face and your body.

He’s loved you for ages, his heart twisting every time you gave him that soft smile as your giggles filled the space, livening up the place. He wants to love and protect you forever and always. However, he is sure you don’t feel the same, never having given him signs that you love him more than just a friend. It hurts deep down, but he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship you both have, as you are his lifeline and he doesn’t want that to change any time soon.

Despite this, he can’t help but think of you every second he gets and it’s no different now. The thought of your beauty causes the blood to rush to his cock, the length steadily hardening within the confines of his sweatpants. A wet stain appears on the fabric as he leaks pre-cum, his cock twitching in need.

Hyunjin groans and sets down his sketch pad, his hand palming his erection through his pants. He squeezes his cock and whimpers, imaging your hand on him instead, teasing him, touching him until he begs for you to take it out. He teases the skin of his belly, playing with the little hairs that make up his happy trial.

He takes his time before reaching into his sweats, his hands finally making contact with the head. He gathers some precum before smearing it around, his other hand pushing down his sweats in desperation to touch himself. As he pushes his boxers down, he lets out a hiss as his cock is freed and stands at attention angry, red, and leaking.

With a shaky breath his grasps the shaft and begins to stroke, his hands building up a steady rthymic motion as his mind wanders to you. He wishes it were you, desperately wants it to be you with your hand wrapped around his cock, pleasuring him until he’s squirming and begging for his release. He strokes and strokes, wet sounds filling the room as he’s a leaking mess. His moans mix with the sound of him pleasuring his cock, his breath shaky as his orgasm builds up.

As he continues to stroke himself, his other hand reaches down to fondle his balls, giving them a squeeze as they sit hot and heavy in his hand. Hyunjin’s back arches off the bed as his orgasm washes over him without warning, the pleasure so intense he’s seeing stars, his hearing diminishing as he moans out. His pace doesn’t stop as spurt after spurt of hot cum splatters his hand and belly, painting it with the sticky white substance.

Once he’s empty, he relaxes on the bed, his chest heaving as he comes down from his high, the sound of your voice whispering how good he is in his head. He whimpers as he gathers some of his cum that’s starting to dry on his belly and brings it to his lips, tasting the salty liquid on his tongue. He closes his eyes as his hands rest at his side, his now soft cock lying haphazardly as he wills himself to get up and get cleaned up.

He’s down bad for you, yes, but he doesn’t mind. He welcomes the reminder on a daily basis and will continue to do so for as long as it takes.

Hyunjin finally wills himself to get up, making his way to the bathroom to get ready for work. Once dressed and deemed presentable for his shift at the coffee shop, he gathers his phone and wallet and makes his way to the door.

And as Hyunjin leaves his home, he thinks of tonight when he gets home, to you the love of his life.

You are ready to be home, ready to take a hot shower and get into some cozy clothes and relax in front of the tv. Your shift today was not the best, the events of the day replaying in your mind.

It started off good enough, some of the regular customers stopping by, looking for a new read and others were new, curious to see the old fashioned bookshop that is present in the otherwise modern town. You loved to help others find their next read, wanting to help them escape to other worlds, another place then their everyday mundane lives. Your customers could tell of your passion as they asked you for recommendations and had in depth conversations about the latest books and authors.

However, what started off as a good day turned sour really quickly as your friend Tiffany, stopped by, wanting to gossip about her new boy toy. You have been friends for ages, not as long as you’ve been friends with Hyunjin, but long enough. You love her for what she’s worth, but sometimes she can be a little much for you, her bubbly personality taking over, even when the situation is dire.

You don’t agree with her methods of “dating,” and you’ve let her know your thoughts more times than you can count, today being one of those days. However, Tiffany must have found offense as she started to yell and berate you and your opinions. You couldn’t get a word in as she babbled on and on about how you don’t support her and that the reason why you’re still single is because you have a stick up your ass.

You were taken aback by her words, never having heard her have an outburst quite like this. You didn’t say anything as she stormed out of the shop, the door slamming shut with a final tinkle of the bell that hung at the top of the door.

As you made your way home, you mind wandered to Hyunjin, hoping he would be home on time tonight. You wanted to feel his presence, needing to be comforted. You felt the tears crowd the corner of your eyes, the hurt settling in from today deep in your chest. You needed to get home quickly, so you weren’t crying on the side of the street.

Picking up the pace, you arrived home in no time, your hand shaking as you attempted to slide the key in the lock. Softly grunting in frustration, you cleared the water from your eyes and focused on the hole, the key finally sliding into place. You quickly opened the door and slid inside, dropping your stuff haphazaly on the floor as you made your way to the couch.

You collapsed on the cushions and continued to cry, your sobs echoing in the empty room. You let it all out, putting your head on your knees as you squeezed your legs, hoping Hyunjin would come home soon.

As if he heard you, the door opened, annoucning that he was finally home.

“Y/n! I’m home!” Hyunjin shouted, the sound of his keys dropping on the hallway table.

“Y/n?” You heard Hyunjin call out again, this time cautiously.

You remained on the couch, not moving or saying anything waiting for Hyunjin to notice you.

“Oh y/n, what’s wrong?” Hyunjin said, his voice barely above a whisper as he rushed to you.

You felt his arms wrap around you and pull you close, his hand cradling your head into his chest. You gripped his shirt and buried your head in the fabric, breathing in the scent of coffee and Hyunjin, the smell itself comforting. You both sat in silence as Hyunjin rocked you side to side, as he softly hummed. After a while you disentangled yourself from him and leaned back, wiping your eyes in the process.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Hyunjin inquired, his eyes on you as he patiently waited for you to speak.

You’re sure your eyes were red and puffy, but he gazed at you with such tenderness, not caring what you looked like.

“Tiffany and I had a fight…I’m not sure we’re friends anymore. She said some pretty nasty things about me…”

You watched as Hyunjin balled his hands into a fist, his eye twitching as he fumed in anger. You knew Hyunjin never liked Tiffany, calling her a bad influence on you. Deep down you knew he was right, but you had been friends so long with her, you didn’t want to cut ties with her as he suggested.

“You were right about her Hyunjin,” you said as you twiddled your thumbs and looked down at your lap.

“Oh y/n, it’s ok. You only need me yeah?” He said, as he tried to reach for you once more.

You pondered his words, seeking the truth in them. Hyunjin is your everything, has always been. You sniffled and wiped more tears from your eyes. You had no one else in this world, as you were estranged from your parents, your sister. You only had Hyunjin.

“I only need you Hyun,” you agreed, looking him in the eyes.

Hyunjin smiled gingerly at you as he brushed his fingers down your cheek. In that moment, you could feel the dynamic shift between you two as you both came to an understanding. You only needed each other in this world, you only needed to live in this atmosphere that you have both created for yourselves. As long as you both had each other, you’d be alright.

“Do we have enough snacks?” Hyunjin asks, worry etched on his face as his eyes glanced over the various bags full of treats that littered the blanket.

You chuckled at his distress, knowing he needed tons of the salty and sweet treats for the movie.

“Yes love, I think we have enough,” you said as you brushed some of his hair out of his face.

Hyunjin looked up in that moment, his eyes finding yours, a smile gifting his face at your love and tenderness. He felt his heart skip a beat as he took you in, the perfect girlfriend he could ever have.

It’s been a year since that fated day when you both declared that you only needed each other, love laced with each word as you both sealed in your fates. Each day passed the same, your routines not really changing other than the fact you greet him with a kiss when you come home. Hyunjin has cherished each day, engraving each memory deep within the recesses of his brain, never wanting to forget these happy days.

Hyunjin clears his throat and crosses his arms as he pouts, deciding to tease you. “This may be enough…that is if you don’t eat it all angel.”

You giggled and pushed him lightly, his body tipping over and landing on the blanket. “Hey!” He said as he laughed, before righting himself.

“Well, you deserved it!” You said as you grabbed the other blanket and drapped it over your thighs.

You both were at the park, participating in a summer event called movies in the park. Hyunjin had suggested it after seeing an ad on the announcement bulletin board in your apartment complex. You wholeheartedly agreed to going, believing it would be fun. Luckily, you both were able to get that day off from work.

Hyunjin took you to the store and you both piled your cart high with snacks and drinks, giddy with excitement at the outing. He only had to compromise twice, after you begged to get one of your favorite candies, instead of the salty treat he so desperately wanted. It was worth it however when he saw your eyes light up as he agreed to your demands, his cheeks blushing as you placed a soft kiss on the heated flesh.

It was a nice summer night, the kind where the sun warms your skin, but you can enjoy the sensation without sweating, as you breathe in the warm summer air. The park was filled with families and couples, everyone eagerly waiting for the film to begin. It didn’t take long as the sun melted into the horizon, the screen turning on to project the featured film.

Hyunjin pulled you closer, slipping his legs underneath the blanket as well. He smiled as you snuggled against him, grabbing a bag of snacks to munch on as the opening credits began. As the sun went down for good and the stars made an appearance, littering the clear night sky, you both watched the movie enjoying a rare night off together.

Afterwards, you gathered your stuff and made your way home hand in hand. Hyunjin listened as you chattered about the movie, discussing the plot and how you liked it very much. He chattered back with you, equally as invested in the discussion about the movie as you were. You both were yapping so loud that the others who were sharing the sidewalk with you turned to look at you both, their faces in shock.

“Oops,” you giggled as you noticed their stares, “maybe we should tone it down a notch.”

Hyunjin chuckled and squeezed your hand, “maybe so angel.”

You both chattered more quietly the rest of the way, making it back home in record time. Hyunjin locked away this memory, walking home with you on a warm, summer night, after spending a relaxing and fun night with the love of his life.

-- --

Once home, Hyunjin watched as you bustled around the apartment, unwinding from your little outing. He listens as you’re humming a little song, one that sounds familiar, but he can’t quite place where he’s heard it. He loves watching you in these moments, you being you, just for him in this safe space.

Hyunjin feels the need to be close to you so he makes his way over to you and stops you in your tracks as he wraps his arms around you.

“Hyun, what..” You begin until he cups your face as he gazes into your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours, sighing as he’s found his home.

Hyunjin lazily kisses you, pulling you closer, smirking against your lips as he listens to you whimper. He drags his hands up your sides before dragging them back down, his fingers gliding over your shirt and leggings until he reaches your ass, gently cupping the flesh in his large hands. He gives it a squeeze before slapping it, chuckling as you let out a yelp.

He drops his smile however as you bring your hand to his bulge and squeezes his semi-hard cock, his eyes finding yours as you smirk back at him.

“Two can play that game Mr. Hwang,” you tease as you stroke him through his pants.

“You little minx,” he murmurs as he captures your lips in a passionate kiss as you continue to palm him.

Suddenly he pulls back and grabs your hand, dragging you to his room that is now both of yours. He pushes you to the bed and climbs on top of you, his hands reaching to strip you of your clothes, tossing them away as quickly as possible. He needs to see you, feel you bare beneath him, engrave your beautiful body to his memory once more.

He unclapses your bra, your breasts spilling out as he removes the garment, his eyes glued to your hardening nipples. He licks his lips as he finds the waistband of your panties and drags them down your legs, a groan leaving his lips as he notices your soaked as a string of your slick connects your panties to your pussy.

Hyunjin proceeds with removing his clothes, feeling the relief as he rock hard cock is finally free of the restricting garments. Once you both are bare for each other, there’s a moment of silence as you take each other in, in awe of each other’s raw beauty as if it’s your first time. Hyunjin’s cock twitches as you blush, squeezing your thighs together in embarrassment at his gaze, his ears perking up as he hears you quietly whimper.

His hands reach out and cup your breasts, his fingers ghosting over your nipples just how you like, the feather light touch causing you to moan and arch into his touch seeking more stimulation. He continues to tease the buds, not fully applying pressure as he knows you like the soft touches he gives your breasts.

“Hyun…love,” you whimper as you cant your hips towards him, your eyes glued to his leaking cock.

“Ok angel, bear with me yeah?” He cooes as he continues to touch you, his fingertips barely touching your skin.

He draws invisible patterns on your skin, his eyes glued to your rising and falling chest as you try to regulate your breathing, lost in his touch. Hyunjin watches as your hands grasps your breasts and play with them as he continues to torture you. He eventually reaches your thighs as he gently rubs circles on the flesh.

Deeming your ready, he parts your legs baring your glistening pussy to his eyes. He loves that he gets you so wet and needy, your folds just begging for him to touch them. And touch them he does as he drags a finger down the puffy folds, your body shuttering at his touch.

He takes his time as he buries his fingers between your folds, easily finding your clit. He applies gentle pressure to your bundle of nerves, bringing you to your high slowly but steadily. He listens to your moans, as he continues to pleasure you, the sound music to his ears. He knows you’re close as he’s very attuned to your body. Withdrawing his hand, he chuckles as you let out a whine, your eyes wide and on him.

“Want you to cum around me angel,” Hyunjin says as he grasps his cock, stroking the shaft a few times to coat it in his pre-cum.

He brings the tip to your entrance and lightly pushes in, your walls sucking him in instantly. He continues to push his length in until he bottoms out, your walls fluttering around his cock as he stills to let you adjust.

“Move, please move,” you beg as you wiggle your hips, attempting to fuck yourself on his cock.

Hyunjin smiles as he places his hands underneath your thighs, holding your legs open as he begins to thrust within you, his cock easily sliding in and out of your walls. He lets out a whimper as he feels your warmth engulf him again and again, your little hole stretching perfectly around him like you were made for his cock.

He’s not going to last long, always feeling overwhelmed once he’s inside you. What would normally embarrass most, he doesn’t mind and he knows you don’t either as you know he’s going to take care of you, make sure you reach your high.

“Touch yourself angel, touch your clit for me yeah?” Hyunjin begs as he feels his orgasm approaching.

He groans as you bring two fingers to your clit and rub, your wrist keeping in time to his thrusts. His tongue lolls out as he glues his eyes to your pussy and how wet it is, a mixture of your slick and his sweat coating the puffy flesh and dripping down your ass. Your fingers slip and slid, little whines leaving your mouth as your fingers slip off the bud. You quickly replace them however chasing after your high so you can come with your lover.

Hyunjin’s breath hitches as he feels you clench around him, his balls tightening within as he lets go in a flurry of loud moans, his cum painting your walls white and sliding out around his cock. His eyes meet yours as you let go, as your eyes roll to the back of your head and you arch your back as your walls rhythmically clench around his cock over and over. He gently fucks you through your high, pushing his cum back into your pussy.

As you take a stuttering breath, your eyes match his, as you clench around his cock one last time. Hyunjin softly moans before leaning down to capture your lips in a loving kiss, your lips moving together sweetly.

Hyunjin gets up and withdraws his softened cock, clucking his tongue at the sight of his cum leaking steadily from your pussy. He has to tear his eyes away in order to clean you up. Once you’re both clean, he pulls you under the blankets, cuddling you to his chest.

You both lay there breathing in tandem, sleep slowly taking over your bodies. Hyunjin logs away the feel of your soft, warm skin underneath his fingertips as he lazily drags them up and down your back. He memorizes the dips and turns of your body, mesmerized with your beauty as always. As he closes his eyes, he begins to dream of you and the eternity he plans to spend with you.

The next morning, you awake, feeling refreshed after last nights love making and a good nights rest. You look up to see Hyunjin sprawled out on his back, his chest softly rising and falling as he slumbers. As you stare at your lover, an idea comes to mind and as you glance at the clock, you notice you have a little time before you have to get up to go to your second job.

You carefully scoot closer to Hyunjin, careful not to wake him up. He has kicked off the blankets at some point during the night, leaving him uncovered. Your eyes go to the bulge in his boxers, already semi-erect. You gently palmed his cock, your eyes glued to his face to ensure he doesn’t wake up.

You smile as he doesn’t move, but continues to softly snore. You reach into the crotch of the fabric and pull out his cock, your eyes feasting on how how red and angry the head is, as drops of pre-cum drip down and coat his shaft and your hand.

You shuffle onto your knees and lean down to take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around the head. You press your tongue into his slit and then stop for a moment as Hyunjin moans above you, the sound short but audible. You wait a few seconds more before suckling the head as you stroke his shaft, savoring the salty taste of him on your tastebuds.

As Hyunjin slightly jerks in his sleep, you take more of him down your throat and bob your head in earnest, taking him to the base each time, the little hairs adorning his pelvis tickling your nose. You continue to pleasure your lover, alternating between suckling the head and deep throating him, awaiting the moment he realizes the pleasure he’s feeling is not a dream.

It doesn’t take much longer for him to wake up, his hands gripping your hair your sign he’s fully awake.

“Y/n…ah!” He mumbles, his voice deep as it’s laced with sleep.

You hum around him before increasing your pace, wanting him to come down your throat. You clench your thighs together as Hyunjin moaned and thrusted his hips upwards as he fucked your mouth gently. You grasped his balls in your hands and began to fondle them.

“Mmm close angel, don’t stop,” Hyunjin whimpered.

As you licked up his shaft and then swirled your tongue around him once more, Hyunjin grasped your head and pushed it down, forcing you to take him to the hilt, the tip of his cock kissing the back of your throat. He let out a loud groan as he came, spurt after spurt of his cum filling your mouth. You withdrew as he took a shaky breath, his hooded eyes set on you as you swallowed his cum, licking your lips afterwards ensuring not to waste any that may have dribbled out.

“Such a good girl for me,” Hyunjin murmured as he gave you a smile, his hands reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. “Why don’t I return the favor? You have to work this morning right? How about I join you in the shower?”

You couldn’t say no to such an offer as you were dripping, your slick coating your panties causing them to stick uncomfortably to your skin. You’d be killing two birds with one stone too. You giggled as leaped out of bed, grabbing your lovers hands to pull him after you to take care of both of your needs before your shift.

As you entered the lab, you put your phone on silent so as to not have any distractions while working. Your second job was in a research lab at the local hospital. You enjoyed this job as well, the prospect of making strides in the scientific world giving you a thrill.

You pulled out your supplies, grabbing your agar plates from the incubator and settled in. You decided to play some music to pass the time away since you had the lab to yourself today. Getting lost in your work, your fell into the familiar routine of extracting cells, mixing them with solutions, and spinning them down, all to prepare them to extract the DNA.

However, you were so into it, that you accidentally knocked over a bottle that was laying on the counter, the clear liquid spilling all over the counter and you. You shrieked at the feeling, quickly picking up the bottle to stop more of the liquid from dripping onto the tabletop.

You noticed the bottle didn’t have a label, so you had no clue what was inside. Your skin wasn’t burning which you thought was a good thing. You quickly made your way to the wash station, and turned on the water, dousing your arms underneath the stream to get the strange liquid off.

You stayed there for ten minutes before you deemed it okay to stop. Turning off the water, you dried off your arms. Satisfied, you went back to work, picking up where you left off before the accident. The day continued, time flying by quickly as you made progress in your project. As mid day rolled around, you decided to call it quits.

After cleaning up your space and properly storing your specimens, you packed up your bag and left, making your way back home. The apartment would be empty as you got back, as Hyunjin would have already left for work.

Once at home, you changed clothes and decided to read, wanting to have a chill afternoon after your busy morning. As you were settling in, rain began to spatter against your window, the pitter patter soothing to your ears. Your eyes began to droop, slowly but surely until you succumbed to sleep, your book falling from your hands. -- -- “Who are you!?”

You awoke with a start, your eyes wide as you thought an intruder had entered your home. Blinking away the sleep, you focused your eyes to the man in front of you. Standing in front of you was…wait…it was Hyunjin. Why was he asking you who you were? You were y/n, his girlfriend, his best friend in the world.

“Hyun, it’s me…” you said incredulously.

Hyunjin stared at you for a moment, blinking his eyes slowly. After a while, there was a look of recognition on his face.

“Y/n? What just happened?”

You stared back at Hyunjin confused. “You just asked who I was.”

“I did? Why would I do that? I know who you are,” Hyunjin said as he sat down next to you.

You sat there in shock, confused as to what just happened. You could tell he meant what he said, his face telling it all that he had no clue who you were. As strange as it were, you decided to let it go. You latched onto his arm and snuggled into him, sighing at the comfort the warmth of his body brings.

As the night went on, your mind kept wandering to the night’s events, confused as to what transpired. A part of you thought you should have continued to question Hyunjin, ask him why he thought he didn’t know you. As you tossed and turned in bed, you couldn’t help the feeling of dread that lingered as you tried to fall asleep.

Time passed and with each day, stranger things occurred. Over the last few months, Hyunjin has forgotten your birthday, your favorite foods, even your favorite books which you constantly talk about. He always claims he’s not sure what has happened, confusion laced on his face as he ponders why he forgot that information. He’s also forgotten who you were a few more times, but he always recovers and remembers a little while later.

As you were getting ready for work, your mind was a nervous wreck as you considered every possibility as to why he’s forgetting the little things about you and your relationship. You walked to your bathroom to do your makeup when you looked in the mirror. You yelped at your reflection, your eyes widened in horror.

You were there, but your skin seemed to have faded a little, a small outline of your body seeming to glow in the light, almost like an aura. You touched your arm, sighing in relief as you could still felt solid.

What the hell is going on? Are you imagining things? That has to be it, yes. You continued your morning routine, convinced that it was all a hallucination since you hadn’t had your morning coffee yet.

Later, as you entered the kitchen, you found Hyunjin sitting down on the couch, his sketch book in his lap. You stopped in your tracks, confused as this was the first time you worked an early morning shift and Hyunjin had not cooked you breakfast. Even though he didn’t owe you the meal, you still found it kind of odd that he would break his usual routine.

“Love?” You questioned as you entered the living room.

Hyunjin snapped his head up in shock, some coffee sloshing over the rim of his mug and onto his clothes.

“Shit, what?” He asked, his face scrunched up in annoyance at the interruption and spill.

“Oh, nothing, I’m just going to go to work now,” you said quietly, his outburst shocking you.

Hyunjin never snaps at you, he's always gentle and considerate of your feelings. So his actions this morning have definitely shaken you up. You try not to linger on the feeling as you get to work. You immerse yourself in your books, helping out the various customers that come in throughout the day. You only hope that Hyunjin would have calmed down by the time you got home.

Hyunjin felt off. Something wasn’t right and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He knows it has something to do with your relationship, but he can never remember what it is. He spends his days frustrated as he forgets your name, your favorite book, or even your daily routine. He doesn’t understand why it’s occurring as he lives for you, breathes for you.

He can see the hurt in your eyes each time it occurs, how dejected you feel when he snaps at you once again. He doesn’t mean to, he just doesn’t know what else to do or say when these events occur.

He decides to make an effort to not forget, to focus hard to remember, to turn this whole mess around as quick as possible. Hyunjin looks up eagerly as you walk through the door, arriving home after work. You seem tired and run down, your skin dull and lackluster but also a little translucent.

He comes to the conclusion that you’re getting sick and decides to help nurse you back to health.

“Hey, welcome home angel. You look exhausted, let’s get you in a bath yeah?”

You shake your head yes gratefully and let him guide you to your bathroom. He busies himself with preparing the bath, making sure the water is the right temperature, that he fills the tub with your favorite bubble bath. He throws in some bath salts as well before deeming the bath satisfactory.

“Alright angel, let’s get in.” Hyunjin ties his hair up and strips and gets in the bath first.

You follow right behind him, the water slowly rising as you settle in between his legs. However, as you lay back against his chest, he’s not met with your solid body, but yet a more squishy feeling, almost like your skin is moving against him.

He’s startled to say the least, confused as to how you can feel this way. He reaches to grab your arm and is barely able to hold on.

“Angel, what…” he asks, not finishing his question as he’s not sure what to ask anymore.

“I’m not sure Hyunjin,” you sob as you breakdown. “I’m slowly fading and I have no idea why. I think it’s why you forget who I am at times and things about me.”

Hyunjin feels a pang in his heart as you cry, wishing he could wrap his arms around you, feel you as he has in the past. He attempts to comfort you, frustrated that your skin moves underneath his hands. He’s not sure what to make of the situation, but what you have proposed makes sense.

“How did this happen?” He asks quietly as you continue to sniffle.

“M’not sure,” you whimper. “What if you forget me forever? “

Your body shakes as your wracked with fresh sobs, your anguish echoing throughout the bathroom.

“I could never forget you angel, never.” Hyunjin says.

He really won’t, how could he as you’re the love of his life. If he has to write your name down everyday, he will, whatever he has to do to remember you, he will do it. He will help you through this no matter what.

Hyunjin says he won’t forget you, but you know it’s inevitable. You’ve faded away even more now, so much so that you can’t leave the house, scared others around you will think you’re a ghost. You spend your days at home, curled up within a blanket as you stare blankly at the tv.

You’ve made a link to the spill of the strange liquid at the lab to what has been happening to you for almost half a year now. Whatever it was must be altering the atoms of your body, slowly allowing them to spread, causing you to fade away.

You barely lift your head as Hyunjin walks in the house, as he walks right past you without giving you another glance. You wait a full two hours before he notices you, recognition and then shame gracing his face at his mistake.

He walks over to you and leans down to kiss you, but he is met with air. You begin to cry, leaning away quickly at the realization that you will never be able to feel Hyunjin’s lips on yours, his hands on your body, his warmth. You can see the sadness in his eyes as he realizes the same thing.

Hyunjin sighs and walks away, locking himself in his bedroom. You don’t see him for the rest of the night, which leaves you heartbroken. You make your way to your room to go to bed, as you consider today another disappointment.

Hyunjin wakes up, the sun is shining brightly through his window, promising another good day. He sits up and stretches, enjoying the pull on his muscles. He gets up to start his morning routine as he works the morning shift today.

He hums a little song as he washes up, dresses himself and then makes his way to the kitchen. He busies himself making breakfast, the familiar routine comforting. Once he’s done, he sits down to eat, humming at the taste of the food as he scarfs it down.

After the last bite, he takes his plate to the sink and dumps it. Grabbing his wallet and keys he leaves for work, shutting the door behind him.

His day passes without incident, the coffee shop bustling with customers as always. He decides he will sketch when he gets home, needing to finish his projects before the deadline for the art school he wants to apply to.

His boss lets him go earlier which is a godsend to Hyunjin as he can make it home before the rain decides to fall, blanketing the roads with puddles and mud. Once he arrives home, he quickly changes and grabs some juice before sitting down on the couch.

Pressing play on a little remote, soft music drifts through the room, blanketing his world with the sound of piano keys, perfect for his afternoon of sketching. He grabs his sketch book and opens it, the book falling open to some sketches he’s already completed.

He stares down at the woman on the page, her features beautiful and breathtaking. As he gazes at sketch after sketch, he feels as if he’s forgetting something or forgetting someone. Every time he gets close to the answer, it slips away, like silk slipping through his fingers.

Hyunjin can’t remember who the woman is in the sketch, but he’s glad he’s thought of them, wanting to include them in his portfolio. As he picks up his pencil once more, he begins to draw, his hands traveling around the page with practiced ease and familiarity. He focuses hard, needing the details to be just right.

As he finishes, he sets his pencil down, and glances at his sketch. He has sketched the woman again, the woman who seems to plague his subconscious. He gets the nagging feeling that he knows the woman but can’t recall why or where he knows her from.

Despite this, he has captured your beauty, your perfect features in great detail, immortalized forever all within the pages of his beloved sketchbook.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #hyunjin angst #hyunjin fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids x you #stray kids

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desideriumwriter · 6 months ago

Text

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was.

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again.

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred.

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands.

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time.

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud.

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

“What? I’ve just what?”

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison.

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head.

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china.

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open.

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards.

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly.

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.”

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things.

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?”

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug.

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley angst #request #requests

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stevie-petey · 5 months ago

Text

episode three: the monster and the superhero

“Breaking and entering into the school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.” You wince. It’s as bad as it sounds. Tapping Dustin’s shoulder, you break him away from the walkie. “Wait, we won’t need my files, right?” Steve eyes you up and down, shrugging indifferently. “Well–” Hitting his chest, he sputters at you. “Why do you keep doing that?” “You’re not reading my files, Harrington.”

Summary: you and steve can never have a normal conversation, dustin threatens nasa, eddie sadly eats his cereal because youre mean to him, youre once again nancys biggest fan, dustin and steve have an awkward heart to heart, and you and max become felons together and trauma bond (again) !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of blood, trauma lol

Words: 13.5k

Before you swing in: hi hi hi !! so so so sorry for the wait. this chapter was a pain to write and i was so busy with school and work :( promise updates will become more regular soon. i was just simply in the trenches for a hot few weeks. things in the story are heatin up, so get ready gamers. anyways, enjoy !!

–

It’s quiet in Steve’s car.

Streetlights glow faintly, lighting the way home. The windows are down; the thick late spring air fills the car with the bittersweet scent of honeysuckles in bloom. In the dim of the car lies Steve’s faint outline as he drives. His hands rest against the steering wheel, his chest rises slowly as he inhales all the fear that settles inside the car.

No one speaks. The tension is suffocating you.

In the backseat resides Robin with Dustin and Max. The oldest sits in the middle, her fingers drum nervously against the head of your seat. Dustin stares out the window, he hasn’t looked at you ever since promising Eddie you’d be back for him tomorrow. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, he begged you to let him stay in the boathouse, but you wouldn’t let him.

Max stares out the other window. Her eyes are closed, she’s pretending to be asleep. You’ve come to learn what she looks like when she pretends. Her nose pinches slightly, her eyes can never stay still enough to convince you she’s asleep. It’s what she does whenever she doesn’t want to face your questions, your concerns and your fears.

Tension builds in the back of your skull, a dull throb rings within your ears. Exhaustion washes over you, fear pierces her nails into your skin. You can’t get Eddie’s terrified eyes out of your head. The way his voice trembled, the sticky blood on his fingernails from the skin he picked at.

If they’re back again, we need to know.

Vecna’s curse.

The static Eddie felt, Chrissy’s trance-like state. Her bones, the morbid angles they snapped. Barbara Holland, daughter and best friend. Bob Newby, superhero. Billy Hargrove, dearly missed son. Jim Hopper, renown chief and beloved father.

You’re the best of them, kid.

If the gate really has opened once again… Thick molasses grief coats your tongue and fills your mouth with remorse. There has been so much loss, so many funerals you’ve had to attend. Too many bodies buried without answers, without closure.

Over and over again.

“We’re here, Robin.” The gravel of Steve’s voice cuts through the endless dread. He parks the car in front of her driveway, the lights are off inside and you know that Robin is afraid of the dark.

“Need me to walk you in?” You ask her, quiet, but unyielding with all the love you have for her.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m brave, aren't I always brave?”

“The bravest,” Steve smiles at her, soft and unbroken. “Get some sleep, yeah?”

“I’ll… I’ll try.” Her facade slips, the fear that grips everyone tightens its hold. How could anyone sleep at a time like this? She shakes her head again, her smile returns, albeit forced, tired. Then she messily crawls over Dustin to exit the car, ignoring his cries of annoyance and pain when her elbow catches his ribs. “Sorry, little Henderson!”

“I don’t even let Steve call me that–”

“Too late, I’ve already decided to call you little Henderson,” Robin climbs out the car, lands with a soft thud on the pavement. She shuts the door with a glint in her eyes before poking her head through your passenger window. “Hey, uh. Y/N?” Her voice drops low, her eyes skirt to Steve, whose cool gaze meets her weary one. Robin clears her throat, you nod your head at her with slight concern. You know that she knows about your argument with Steve. He adores her, what he doesn’t confide in you, he confides in her. Knowing that Robin means well, you soften your voice. “Yeah?”

Robin hesitates, caught between her two favorite people in the entire world. Steve sees her hesitancy and sighs, turning away to provide some semblance of privacy. Relieved, Robin ducks her head down and whispers into your ear, “Talk to him.”

She’s gone before you can exhale.

Steve starts the car again after Robin has safely made it inside her home. Max and Dustin are quiet in the backseat. As Steve drives, his fingers absentmindedly play with the frayed edges of his leather bracelet. It had been a gift from you, the word constants etched into the material.

Constants. You were Steve’s constant, he was yours. Through everything you’ve been through together, all the heartbreak suffered in order to fall into one another, he’s the constant within your life.

Now you’re afraid that you’re losing him.

There’s still so much Steve doesn’t know. There are stories about your father that you still need to tell him about. Words Jonathan told you last night, the dangerous what if he brought into your life. You’re terrified of how Steve will react, he’s always been so trusting of you and Jonathan even after knowing the history you share.

And yet Steve also doesn’t know that the future you see involves him, that he’s in it with as much certainty as the sky is blue; you just don’t know how to tell him this, how to articulate the abandonment that sits heavy within your chest that prohibits you from getting what you want in the end.

You have to talk to him. Steve deserves to know everything, all he’s ever asked of you is to be honest with him.

The broken lamppost in front of Max’s trailer greets you. Steve slows the car, puts it into park. His eyes find hers in the rearview mirror. “This is you, Mayfield.”

“Thanks,” Max responds quietly. She goes to open the car door, but you turn in your seat and stop her.

“Hey, look at me.” Your tone leaves no room for arguments. She listens, her blue eyes meeting your gaze. For a moment you see Billy’s eyes reflecting within hers. It’s only for a brief second, it ends before you can even realize what’s happened. Startled, you momentarily choke on your words. “I–”

Max raises an eyebrow at you. You’ve been acting strange all night, she doesn’t understand why. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Her words couldn’t be more ironic, more painful to hear. “I-I’m sorry.” Billy is dead, he’s gone. You shake your head, try to get his eyes out of your head. “Just… promise me you’ll call if anything happens, please?”

You know that Max isn’t in any danger, she’s safe at home with her mother, but across the street resides yellow caution tape and boarded up windows. Eddie’s trailer is across from Max’s, the proximity makes you uncomfortable. It’s an eerie feeling, Chrissy died here last night.

Max seems to understand your concern, and she allows herself to nod. She doesn’t want to fight you, not tonight. “I will, promise.”

Squeezing her hand, you leave Max with a soft reminder to get some sleep. She smiles, a hidden joke between the two of you. Both of you know that there will be no sleeping tonight.

Once she’s gone, it’s just you, Steve, and Dustin remaining in the car. Tension creeps slowly upon the three of you. Dustin’s never ending annoyance towards you clashes with all the unspoken words left floating between you and Steve.

Dustin coughs awkwardly. Steve’s fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel. You keep your head down, your fingers pick at the skin between your nails. The ten minute drive from Max’s house to yours is unbearably long. Stuck at one of Hawkins’ only stop lights, Dustin can’t take the silence any longer.

“Well, this is awkward.” He says to no one in particular. “Lots of tension tonight, huh?”

Neither you nor Steve laugh, and Dustin rests his head against the seat in defeat. He understands why you and him aren’t talking, he’s still angry with you for holding a knife to Eddie’s neck. What he doesn’t understand, however, is why there seems to be so much distance between you and Steve tonight.

Normally you’d be all over one another by now. The two of you can never keep your hands off of each other. As much as Dustin hates it, he’s grown used to the way your hands are always intertwined with Steve’s. Whenever he’s in the car with you guys, your hand always rests against Steve’s arm as he drives. At red lights Steve will always turn to you, pulled in by your smile.

Except tonight Dustin doesn’t think he’s seen Steve look at you once during the drive home. Your hand rests softly at your side, balled into a small fist. There’s a coldness between the two of you, one Dustin is ashamed to admit that he hadn’t noticed before.

Then he remembers last night. He’d been too lost in his anger towards you to recognize the tears in your voice. He hadn’t even stopped to consider that you wanted a code blue for any other reason besides lecturing him. His stomach twists with guilt at his own selfish actions.

Something happened between you and Steve, and you had needed your brother last night. But he had abandoned you, denied the code blue you’d needed so desperately.

When Steve’s car pulls into your driveway, Dustin runs out as soon as the vehicle stops. He’s frantic to escape his guilt, to escape the chasm that surrounds you and Steve. Slamming the door, he shouts, “Talk to each other!” Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Good luck, Steve!”

The slam of the door echoes into the night.

It’s just you and Steve, now.

The air stills between you, reminiscent of the night you drove him home from the Halloween party. A year has passed since then, it’s been so long since Steve’s presence made you feel anything other than peace. The strings that have always followed you constrict against your throat.

“We need to talk,” Steve says, but at the same time you say, “We need to talk about Jonathan.”

The words come tumbling out of your mouth, slipping through the grooves of your teeth before you can stop them. They’d been building within you all day, fizzling to the surface. And now they spill out into the silence of Steve’s car.

His head turns to you, the street lights illuminate the shock and confusion on his handsome face. It pinches with bewilderment, he doesn’t understand. He had been ready to apologize to you, despite still not being able to comprehend how you don’t see a future with him. Steve doesn’t want to fight with you anymore, he was ready to just forgive and forget and hold your hand without the weight of guilt behind it.

Steve had been ready to salvage your relationship, and now you want to talk about Jonathan?

“Jonathan?” Shamefully, his voice cracks. He feels like a helpless little kid again, his stomach twists with the foreboding nausea that something bad is about to happen. “Why… why do you want to talk about him?”

The raw frailty on Steve’s face almost kills you. He’s drawing into himself again, preparing for the final blow that will decimate him and everything he knows.

You take a deep breath. This won’t be easy, nothing you’ve ever had to do has been easy. But Steve deserves to know. To hide something from him feels foreign, to lie to him feels like a betrayal.

“Jonathan, he–” Your voice shakes almost as violently as your hands do. Steve is looking at you but you can’t bear to face him just yet. “He called me last night, after our… after our fight.”

“What did he say, Y/N?” Steve knows, even before you tell him, where this is going. The light in your eyes whenever you talk about Jonathan is gone. His name doesn’t grace your face with a smile. Instead, the grimace of guilt replaces it. Steve’s stomach twists into tighter knots. It’s happening again.

Inhaling, you close your eyes and try to commit to memory the before. How Steve looked at you with such adoration before tonight. How his soft hands, laced with trust, felt against your skin before tonight. His open gaze, one filled with vulnerability, stared into you before tonight.

Opening your eyes, you exhale. Nothing will ever be the same again. “Jonathan asked me if I ever wondered if… if we made a mistake. Him and I.”

“A mistake?” Steve’s jaw tightens.

“I think-I think he was asking me if I ever… thought about what could’ve happened between us. If somehow,” you swallow, the words cement in your mouth. “If-if somehow we made a mistake, choosing you and Nancy.”

Steve is quiet. The muscles in his body pull tightly together. He fills with venom, anger and jealousy and hurt; so much hurt. “And you think he’s right.”

It isn’t phrased as a question.

Immediately your body turns to his. “No! God, no,” your hands search for any expanse of his skin you can find. Steve doesn’t lean into you, he doesn’t react to your touch. Panic overwhelms you, suddenly all you can do is talk and plead and beg. “Steve, I don’t think Jonathan even knew what he was saying, okay? H-he was high, and he’s been so lonely and-and he kept saying things were easy between me and him but-but that’s not how love is supposed to work and I know he’s just scared. He’s scared and he’s never been so alone before and I think-he’s just lost, okay? He’s lost and–”

“Why are you telling me this, Y/N?” The hardness in Steve’s voice cuts into you, stings your skin. He isn’t screaming, not like he did last night, but you almost wish he were. The way his voice is leveled, cold and hard, scares you even more.

“Would you rather I didn’t?” You’re helpless against his anger, you know he has every right to be, but you don’t know how to fix this.

Steve laughs bitterly. “I’d rather you not make shitty excuses for the asshole.”

“I’m not making excuses for him, I just wanted you to understand–”

“You are!” His voice raises slightly, almost imperceptibly so, but you hear it anyways. Steve’s chest rises and falls quickly. His hands fly wildly everywhere, he doesn’t know what to do, either. Then, almost as quickly as the anger surfaced, insecurity replaces it. “Is… Jonathan why you don’t see a future with me?”

Your fingers tighten around his wrist, almost as if you’re afraid he’ll slip between your fingers any second now. “I do see a future with you–”

“Pretty fucking hard to believe when you’re wearing the goddamn necklace he got you.” The words drip with acid. They’re hissed out with a jaw clenched so tightly you’re afraid he’ll somehow hurt himself.

The words startle you, catch you off guard. Your hand slips from Steve’s wrist. He’s never once insinuated any jealousy regarding you and Jonathan. He’s always been so trusting of you two together, he’s always been kind towards him. He always knew that he could never touch what you guys have, and yet his gaze now flickers cruelly to the bee pendant that rests against your neck.

What Steve has said hurts you, deeper than he ever intended to. He knows how you love, how deeply you care for others. It’s who you are. Regardless of the hurt he may be feeling right now, it doesn’t give him the right to throw this crucial part of you back in your face.

“I’m made of pieces of everyone I’ve ever loved, Steve. You know this.” The bee pendant rests against your skin as heavily as the charm bracelet does.

And Steve does know that you’re made of pieces of everyone in your life. It’s what he loves the most about you. His eyes follow where your fingers reside, skimming the silver chain that encases your wrist. He hadn’t meant to say what he did, the words had slipped out before he could stop them.

“Y/N…” Your name is spoken as an apology, it’s all Steve can manage in his shame.

But the moment is ruined, you’re exhausted and all you want to do is go home.

You shake your head at Steve, try to hide the tears in your eyes. He sees them anyways. “Can I leave, please?”

The way you ask so delicately to escape breaks Steve. Something in his chest shatters, his mouth fills with the taste of a broken promise. You don’t need his permission, he hates that you feel that you do.

“Yeah,” his voice is softer than it’s been all night, but it’s too late. He knows this. Swallowing, all Steve can do is be gentle with you. “Yeah, of course you can leave, angel.”

Angel.

You nod at him; if you try to speak you’re afraid you’ll break before him.

No other words are spoken between you. Steve watches as you leave.

–

The next morning you sit hunched over a mug of coffee, more exhausted than ever before. You haven’t slept properly in days now. Dustin finds you with dark circles under your eyes and a pathetic bowl of cereal before you. From the dazed look in your eyes, he knows you haven’t noticed his arrival, and he awkwardly clears his throat to get your attention.

“So, uh.” He scratches the back of his neck, your eyes are slow to look up at him. Pointing to your coffee, Dustin raises his eyebrows. “Rough night, I take it?”

You nod, too tired to say anything else. The cereal goes uneaten. Dustin doesn’t think your coffee is even warm anymore, he hadn’t heard you wake up this morning. He’s worried that you never even went to bed last night. You’re pale, sickly so, and Dustin hates that he hadn’t noticed the signs sooner.

“Hey,” he pulls a chair beside you, sits down with a playful shove to your shoulder. He’s your brother, it’s his job to take care of you just as much as it’s yours to take care of him. It’s how the two of you have always been.

For Dustin’s entire life you’ve looked after him, kissing his scraped knees and warding off monsters hidden underneath his bed. When your father left, the depression your mother fell into afterwards left Dustin clinging onto you. You were all he had left.

Dustin leans against you, he used to do this when he was a little kid and could still fit between your arms. Resting his head against yours, shoulders pressed together, the angle is awkward and uncomfortable, but it’s safe. “Is it too late to have that code blue?”

It’s a peace offering, an extension of an apology, and you can’t help but smile at your brother. Hand finding his mess of curls, you ruffle his hair and laugh softly. “Yeah, guess we can have a code blue now.”

“Good, you know I always love to shit talk Steve.” Dustin says with humor. You both know he admires the boy.

“Language,” you remind him as you always do. Dustin knocks his head against yours in response and the two of you break into laughter; laughing with your brother again feels good.

In between sips of cold coffee and bites of soggy cereal, you tell Dustin about Steve. You explain the original argument a few nights ago, how he didn’t understand why you wouldn’t want him to follow you to New York.

“It’s what mom did with dad,” Dustin says, looking down at the table.

You nod at him, you knew he’d understand better than anyone. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Does he know what happened with dad?”

“No, and I know I should explain what he did, but there’s–” You cut yourself off. Dustin would kill Jonathan with his bare hands if he found out about the phone call. Even though it technically goes against the rules of a code blue, you can’t tell Dustin about Jonathan. Not yet, at least. Clearing your throat, you continue. “There’s… other things that have prevented me from explaining dad to Steve.”

Dustin narrows his eyes. “Other things?”

“Other things,” you look pointedly at him, standing your ground about not elaborating. He denied your original code blue. You’re allowed to lie this one time. “And now Steve thinks that I don’t see a future with him.”

“Well then he’s an idiot.” Your brother scoffs. Anyone with eyes can see how much you fawn over Steve. Dustin has watched you fall for him for years now. “You’re practically ready to marry the guy.”

Taking a bite of cereal, you grimace slightly. “Okay, marriage is a little much–”

“Tell that to mom, she’s already started planning the wedding.”

Of course she has. She wouldn’t be Claudia Henderson if she wasn’t already planning the names of her grandchildren from Steve.

The bite of cereal turns into cement, your heartbeat pounds against your throat. With everything going on with Steve, the hurt the two of you have brought down upon the other, you’re not even sure there will be a wedding at the rate things are going.

As the days go on, you can feel Steve slipping away from you more and more.

Dustin must sense that the subject is hurting you, so he stands from his seat and claps his hands together. “Alright, I feel like we’ve covered our bases for a code blue. Checked all the boxes, felt the feelings needed to be felt.”

“I don’t like the feelings being felt,” you mumble, shoving your bowl away. You’re still drawn into yourself, pale and frail and unlike the lively girl your brother has come to miss. He knows things have been difficult between the two of you, a strain that can’t quite be loosened.

Dustin falters, his bravado fades. He sighs again and his hand settles against your shoulder. He looks at you with sincerity, his expression softens. “Look, you and Steve will figure things out. You guys always do.”

And he truly believes this. Steve loves you with such a ferocity that rivals your love for him. Dustin can’t imagine a world in which you’re no longer with Steve, where he’s let go of you and allowed you to walk away.

Except Dustin doesn’t know how to express this to you, but you can understand him anyways. Placing your hand over his, you squeeze it. “Thanks, Dustin.”

He smiles back at you and the code blue is over. The moment lingers for only a second longer before he frowns and sits back down next to you. “Do you think Eddie will be okay?”

And there it is. Eddie fucking Munson again.

Shoving down your annoyance, you force yourself to focus on the situation from last night. As hurt as you are that Dustin wants to talk about Eddie right now, you can understand why he would. Chrissy died in front of him, he’s being accused of murder.

You’re just being childish, easily irritated from lack of sleep and the stress of it all.

“I don’t know, I mean…the cops will be looking for him.” With ease you fall back into strategizing, putting the situation above your own thoughts and feelings. Your mind spins with everything you need to do, trying to come up with whatever you can do to help. “If we have any shot of protecting him, we need to figure out what they know.”

Dustin nods, following along. “Cerebro can tap into the Hawkins PD system, we can easily get intel from there.”

“It terrifies me that Cerebro can hack into our town’s police system.”

“Be grateful I stopped there, Suzie wouldn’t let me use it to tap into NASA.”

You learn two things after using Cerebro to gather information.

One, the radio is far too powerful to reside in your fourteen year old brother’s hands. He’s able to access the PD system with incredible ease, almost as if he’s done so before. It’d be impressive if you didn’t know the horrors that went on inside the kid’s head.

Two, Eddie is well and truly fucked.

He’s the main suspect. They think he’s killed Chrissy and have every man in the force scouring Hawkins to find him. Her death was gruesome, you understand the manhunt that unfolds. Dustin, however, nearly loses his mind when he hears chief Powell instructing his men to search Eddie’s neighborhood for the teen.

“We have to go warn him,” Dustin scrambles to his feet, the chair almost toppling over in his haste. “We need to leave, now.”

There isn’t time to argue, Dustin is already ringing Steve’s number. Either he’s already forgotten about your argument with the teen, or maybe he just doesn’t care. Regardless, the thought of seeing Steve again so soon after last night makes your stomach churn. You want to stop Dustin, make up some excuse to him about why you can’t help Eddie, but you know it wouldn’t matter. Your brother would only beg you to come, your worry for him would force you to listen.

All you can do is drop your head into your hands and sigh.

–

It was your idea to stop and get Eddie food.

Steve had arrived at your house within minutes. Dustin immediately went for the passenger seat, which was more than okay with you, and Steve had mumbled a soft “hello” to the two of you. His greeting went ignored by you, still trying to find your breath around him, and Dustin, who promptly demanded that Steve pick up Robin and Max before returning to the boathouse.

Halfway to Max’s, the silence in the car was thickening rapidly, so you offhandedly suggested stopping at the local grocery store to get Eddie some food and water. You figured he would appreciate the small act of kindness, especially considering the grime news you’d be delivering to him soon. That, and it’d give you an excuse to leave Steve’s car for a few moments and steady your breathing.

The boathouse isn’t nearly as creepy in the daylight, but still you make sure your knives are in your pocket before approaching it. Robin walks beside you, helping you and Dustin carry the groceries, while Max and Steve walk silently behind.

“Think we got him enough?” Robin asks, holding up one of the grocery bags. “I mean, don’t stoners eat a lot? Munchies or whatever?”

Rolling your eyes, you undo one of the buttons on your sweater, allowing the crisp spring air to soak your body. The sun is too warm to be worrying about whatever stoners eat. “If he complains, then he can starve.”

“Cat’s got claws today,” Robin nudges you with her arm. Turning to make sure Steve is far enough away so he doesn’t overhear, she lowers her voice. “Guessing the talk didn’t go well last night?”

“Oh, it was just peachy,” you grit out through a forced smile. “But we have to focus on harboring a murder suspect right now.” Because nothing in your life can ever be simple. If you aren’t hunting monsters, you’re protecting the town. If you aren’t protecting the town, you’re fighting alternate dimensions.

Robin opens her mouth to say something, but Dustin shoulders past her and bursts through the boathouse doors, ending your conversation. “Delivery service!”

Eddie nearly has a heart attack at the abrupt entrance. He jumps out of his skin and clutches at his chest after letting out a very unmanly yelp. The reaction is almost enough to brighten your foul mood, momentarily forgetting that Steve stands behind you.

“Someone’s jumpy,” you sidestep your brother and walk over towards the table. Setting the groceries down, you begin to unload them. “We got you some food, but please don’t eat it all at once. I really don’t want to spend any more money on you.”

“Thanks…?” Eddie slowly approaches you, both relieved for the food and offended you seem so begrudged to have gotten it for him in the first place. From his few interactions with you since last night, he’s coming to learn that you’re far from the girl who showed him such selfless kindness all those years ago.

Eddie doesn’t think you even remember what you did for him. He had been at such a low point in his life, one failed exam away from dropping out of high school and disappointing his uncle, until you appeared. It’d been your sophomore year, Eddie’s failed one, and you had given him your pencil.

The action had been small, meniscal, yet it saved Eddie’s life. He hadn’t brought his own pencil for some stupid English exam. He’d been too nervous for it that he had forgotten his, and Mrs. Greer, the teacher who couldn’t have cared less whether or not Eddie died, threatened to fail him.

The threat sank deep into his bones, freezing his intestines with dread. Eddie had promised his uncle he’d try harder in school, that he’d graduate, and yet he couldn't do something as simple as bringing a pencil to an exam. Close to tears, embarrassed and overwhelmed, Eddie almost hadn’t registered your softly whispered voice.

“Here,” you tapped his shoulder. Eddie remembers turning around, surprised you were even talking to him, and he remembers the immediate relief that sagged his bones when he saw the pencil extended in offering. He had nodded curtly at you before frantically rushing to begin the exam. He’d already wasted five minutes, he couldn’t afford any more.

It would only be later that Eddie learned you willingly failed the exam because you’d given him your only pencil, just so he wouldn’t fail. In the end, he passed. It was the first exam Eddie had passed in a long, long time; his uncle had been so proud of him that he bought him his electric guitar.

Eddie never thanked you for that.

And now you stand in front of him, once again extending your arm out to him with yet another offering, but your eyes are cold. Your body is tense around Eddie’s, he doesn’t miss the wide berth you seem to always give him.

“Thanks,” he says to you again, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He accepts the box of cereal you offer him and he wills himself to smile. “I, uh. Appreciate it. I’d offer to pay you back, but…”

“You’re wanted for murder.” You finish for Eddie.

He drops his head. “Yeah, it kinda ruins a person’s life, ya know?”

“I don’t, actually. Never been accused of killing someone.”

Eddie blinks at you. He doesn’t know what to do with the disdain you display towards him. “Right.” He looks at Dustin for help, silently begging the kid to step in before you gut him with your knives.

“Okay, why don’t you crack open that box of honey combs while we all gather around for a fun story time!” Dustin sets down the remaining groceries and ushers everyone to spread around the boathouse.

“‘Storytime’?” Eddie asks him, looking around in confusion.

“Y/N and Dustin did some detective work,” Robin offers him, trying to make her voice sound as cheery as possible. “They-uh. Well they found-I mean,” she doesn’t know how to break the news to Eddie, she feels awful for the guy. Deflating, she mumbles, “They’re definitely good detectives.”

Eddie only looks more confused by this, and Dustin sits down awkwardly on a stool next to you. “So, we got, uh. Some good news and some bad news.”

You snort at your brother. Steve stands next to you, his body angled away from you so that your skin doesn’t touch. The distance is small enough to go unnoticed by anyone, yet it’s a chasm that your stomach drops into. “That’s really how you’re gonna break it to him?”

“What are you guys breaking to me?” Eddie asks, eyes wide.

Dustin hits your leg and gets the teen’s attention. “Ignore her, look at me, alright? Now, how do you prefer it? Good or bad first?”

“Bad news first, always.” Eddie doesn’t even think about his answer, he responds immediately while shoving cereal into his mouth.

“The bad news is that you’re pretty fucked.” You inform him, arms crossed over your chest. There’s no easy way to lessen the blow of what you overhead from Hawkins PD. The news is bad, it’s all bad.

Dustin snaps his head towards you, “Y/N!”

“I’m not going to lie to the guy or sugarcoat things!”

“Would you just let me handle it–”

“Dustin,” Eddie hasn’t moved from his seat. His hand remains in the cereal box, his voice jagged and defeated. He’s tired. He just wants to go home. “Just say it.”

Your brother’s shoulders drop, the anger in his eyes extinguished. “We… We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you.”

“Chief Powell thinks you killed Chrissy.” Unable to look at Eddie, your eyes trace the ground. As much as you hate him, you can’t help but feel awful for the hand he’s been dealt. No one will possibly believe he’s innocent. “He ordered all his men to track you down before word gets out that you’re the prime suspect.”

“Which leads us to the good news: your name hasn’t gone public yet.” Robin continues for you, her own expression pitying. “But if Y/N and Dustin could find out about you during breakfast, then it’s a matter of time before others do, too.”

“And once that gets out,” you shake your head, you know how cruel a small town like Hawkins can be. “There’s going to be a lot of angry people who know your name.”

Eddie clenches his jaw. You can see tears forming in his eyes; you’re not sure if they’re from frustration or fear. He inhales sharply, licks his lips in disdain. “Hunt the freak, right?”

It’s the way he says it, with so much despair and venom in his voice. The look of resignation on Eddie’s face breaks your heart. He knows his odds, he’s been tormented and abused his entire life by the people in Hawkins. You’ve heard all the stories. The exile he faced because of how he looked, who he would hang out with, the music he listened to and the drugs he smoked.

Eddie Munson, the freak. The moment the town finds out he’s wanted for murder, you’re afraid he’ll never come out of it alive.

The ice-hot contempt you feel for him begins to melt. He’s only a year or two older than you, still just a scared kid with no place to call home anymore. Despite the protests of your body, you step towards Eddie and place a hand on his shoulder. Your hand is tense, your fingers scratch on the rough material of his denim jacket, but he seems to calm at the touch.

“Hey, we’ll protect the freak, alright?” You mean what you tell him, your hand warms his skin. Whatever history you have with Eddie, good or bad, it doesn’t matter right now. He needs you, he’s lost and alone.

Eddie looks up at you, your kindness startles him slightly, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his eyes find yours. They’re brown, almost doe-eyed, with a vulnerability within them so intense that it leaves a lump in your throat.

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Eddie.” Dustin’s voice cuts through, reminding you of where you are. Stumbling slightly, you remove your hand and walk back over to Steve, who gives you an odd, confused look. You ignore him. “We have to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.”

“That’s all, Dustin?” Eddie mocks, he doesn’t stand a chance and he knows it.

Dustin draws into himself, uncertain, before letting out a feeble response. You allow yourself to smile, enjoying his wallowing. You understand where Eddie is coming from. “It is a lot that we have to do in order to clear his name.”

“Okay, I know that everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this before.” Robin tries to reassure him. She’s leaning against a doorframe, she’s trying her best not to let her own uncertainty show.

“We’ve been here before,” you say with slight bitterness. “You’d be surprised how many times we’ve almost died.”

Robin laughs nervously. “Well, mine was more human-flesh-based, theirs was more smoke-related. I didn’t necessarily almost die, but Y/N has some pretty sick scars on her body and Steve has been concussed more times than he’s had girlfriends–”

“Get to the point, Robin.” Steve finally speaks up, no hint of amusement in his voice. His hand rests besides yours, his fingers ache to curl against your skin. You’re wearing a soft blue sweater, tucked into your skirt, and your eyes shine against the spring cold. He doesn’t want to be here right now.

“Right. The bottom line is, collectively, I really feel we got this.”

Unable to bear the itch in his skin to touch you, Steve brings his hand to his face and rubs at his jaw to distract himself. “Except we usually rely on this girl who has superpowers, but-uh. Those went bye-bye, so–”

“And she’s in California, hundreds of miles from here.” You add on, picking at your nails. The topic makes you uncomfortable. With California comes the reminder of Jonathan.

Robin points at you and Steve. “Both good points, so I guess you could say we’re more in the-in the…?”

“Brainstorming phase.” Max supplies, which Steve snaps his fingers in agreement and Dustin hums thoughtfully.

“There’s-uh. There’s nothing to worry about!” Your brother says unconvincingly, voice high pitched and full of lies.

Eddie stares at everyone around him, studying the collective mess that he somehow must place all his trust in. None of you can give him a straight answer about what will happen next, and as you listen to Steve and Dustin try again to make sense of what’s going on, you recognize how hopeless it all sounds.

“We may not sound like much,” you interrupt the boys, trying again to ease the hopelessness Eddie must be feeling. “But we’re kind of your only option right now–”

The distant wailing of sirens drown out your words, loud and piercing. The sound sets everyone into a panic. Robin instructs Dustin to cover Eddie with a tarp while you, Max, and Steve run towards the window. Squished together, you watch as multiple cop cars fly down the street with an ambulance following them; your breath catches.

The last time you saw this many cop cars speeding through Hawkins, they had been a dead body in the quarry. It had been Will’s body, lifeless and pale. You had watched as his body was pulled from the water, you held Lucas and Dustin as they cried.

Only this time Will is in California, far away from danger. The onslaught of cars can only mean one thing.

“I think…” Your mouth fills with syrupy dread, coating your tongue with grief. Breathing becomes difficult. You hope, more than anything, that you’re wrong. “I think someone else died.”

The moment the words leave your lips, Steve grabs his keys and instructs everyone to get into his car. He doesn't ask any questions, he doesn’t question how you know. Dustin quickly tells Eddie to stay in the boathouse while you leave.

Your eyes squeeze shut as Steve drives, your hand clutches the seat in terror. Every second that passes, your body becomes heavier and heavier from dread. Steve’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel. Robin can’t look at you, Max and Dustin don’t say a word.

The white blanket draped over a body is what you see first. A horde of police surround it, there are lights flashing everywhere. People crowd behind a barricade, necks straining to get a look at the body on the ground.

Then you see who the cops are talking to, and your heart drops.

“Nancy,” you breathe out, already opening Steve’s door before he can even park the car. Something terrible has happened. Nancy stands in front of the officers, her arms crossed against her chest as if to calm herself down. She’s never looked so weak, she needs you.

Standing outside the car, the others join you. Steve has parked as close as he can to the crime scene, no one moves. Nancy releases a shaky breath when her eyes find yours. Raising her hand, she waves at you, unsure, and you wave back. She smiles, timid but genuine, and a pit forms in your stomach.

You haven’t told Nancy about Jonathan.

Steve looks away from her, gaze turning towards you, and he’s thinking the same thing.

–

Nancy guides everyone to a park bench at the trailer park. She doesn’t say anything as you all walk, her eyes are exhausted. The police hadn’t wanted her to leave just yet, they had more questions for her, but you’d quickly spoke with the men to let her go.

Sitting around the table, a bitter cold creeps into the air. The sun is out yet winter still lingers. Nancy sits across from you with Robin and Max next to her. You’re with the boys, Steve pushes his weight against you while Dustin sits stiffly beside you.

Seeing Nancy’s sunken cheeks and glass eyes, you reach across the table and grab her hand. “What happened, Nance?”

Tears well in her eyes and for once she doesn’t wipe them away. Nancy’s hand twitches in yours, she doesn’t hold onto you like you do her. She’s grieving, you’ve come to learn all the signs of someone who has lost a friend. “It-it’s Fred.”

She explains what they’d been doing, investigating Chrissy’s death at the trailer park. Guilt laces her words, she didn’t think anything would happen to Fred. He’s always been sweet to her, his crush obvious to you but unknown to her. A shiver runs through you; Fred was smart, he was nice to you whenever you spent your days in the yearbook room.

He didn’t deserve to die. Neither did Chrissy.

“That makes two deaths in two days,” you say out loud, voicing what everyone else is thinking. Death is common in Hawkins, an inevitability of what lies underneath it, but there’s never been such gruesome deaths so close together. “It’s happening again.”

“What’s happening again?” Nancy shakes her head. “I-I don’t understand, you guys already know what’s causing all of this?”

“We have a working theory, but it’s… not great.” Dustin slouches down, he isn’t sure how much he can explain to the girl with all that he still doesn’t know. “We think it’s connected to Chrissy’s death, something killed her in Eddie’s trailer. He told us she had gone into some sort of trance before her bones snapped and her eyes exploded..”

Nancy grimaces at the gory imagery and you squeeze her hand again. “I’m sorry about Fred.”

She gives you a tight smile before turning to your brother. “A trance? Like El? You aren’t… do you really think this has something to do with–”

“The Upside Down.” You and Max say at the same time.

“‘It’s happening again’,” Nancy echoes your words from moments ago. She understands, now. “So this-this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy is from the Upside Down?”

Steve nods at her and Dustin sighs heavily. “We think he attacks with a spell, or maybe even a curse.”

“But we don’t know if he’s under the Mind Flayer’s control,” you point out. “For all we know, he could just be someone with El’s powers. We know the lab tested on other kids, right?”

Max looks up at you and her face twists with apprehension. “I don’t know, something feels different about this, it’s almost like it’s something new. I don’t think it’s anyone like El.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Nancy mumbles.

“No, I think Max is right. Something feels off about all of this.” Your arms draw together, it’s impossibly cold for late March. The chill has set into your bones.

Nancy nods at you, but there’s something else on her mind. “But Fred and Chrissy also don’t make sense. I mean, why them?”

“Maybe they were just in the wrong place? They were both at the game.” Dustin offers, and you shiver again.

Billy had been in the wrong place, too. It’s how the Mind Flayer got him. He’d just been unlucky and alone.

“And the trailer park,” Max adds.

Steve’s eyes widen slightly, he shifts against you and unconsciously moves you closer to him. “We’re at the trailer park, should we… maybe not be here?”

The wind picks up and a crow cries overhead. The barren grass rustles as shadows fall against it. Your spine prickles with nerves. Steve is right to be worried. There’s something eerie about the trailer park, the caution tape that guards Eddie’s door is still too fresh.

You wrap your sweater tighter to your body, cold with unease. Nancy’s eyes flicker around the park as the wind rustles the leaves. “Fred started acting weird the second we got here.”

Robin asks what she means, and when Nancy begins to explain how scared and on edge Fred had been, a dull throb slowly creeps up the base of your neck. The sensation builds until it’s a roar of nerve endings exploding against your temple, and you wince in pain.

Steve’s fingers skim the crest of your wrist. “Hey,” he’s lowered his voice so the others can’t hear, he knows you never like to worry others. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” the concern in Steve’s eyes burns you. He hasn’t spoken to you all day, but still his skin warms yours and he wants to make sure you’re safe. Comfortable. Okay. Even with the anger between you and all the unspoken half-truths, he still cares about you.

You want to tell him that you haven’t slept in days, that the nightmares are back and that they’re worse than ever before. You want to rest your head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It’s the only way you’ve been able to keep the migraines at bay.

But you don’t tell Steve any of this. Instead, you lie through your teeth. “I’m fine,” you reassure him again. There isn’t time for you not to be okay. Two people have died already, your migraines can wait.

Steve doesn’t look convinced. He knows you, he knows how you are and how much you push down for the sake of others, but before he can press you further, Robin interrupts. “Hey, lovebirds, we’re trying to solve a murder case here.”

“I’m listening,” you roll your eyes at her, skin flushing a bit with embarrassment. “Anyways, what if Fred and Chrissy saw something that made them go catatonic? I think we should be focusing on the trace-like state more, it’s a trauma response.”

“What, so they’re insane asylum patients?” Dustin asks with slight displeasure. “I mean, I guess that makes sense. But Vecna can cast spells, at least in DnD. I don’t think they just ‘saw’ something.”

Steve scratches his nose. “If I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone.”

“Would you, though?” You don’t mean for the question to come off as condescending, and you quickly try to alleviate the offended look on the teen’s face. “What I mean is, who would you go to about something like that?”

“I… I think I know who they’d go to.” Max stares down at the table, her eyebrows furrowed together. She’s deep in thought, remembering something. “I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelly’s office. If you saw a monster, you wouldn’t go to the police.”

“They’d never believe you,” you bear your weight against the table. Nostalgia wraps around you at the memory of how scared you’d been to tell Hopper about El, the years it took for you to trust him. “That’s why I never went to Hopper when I first found El.”

Max nods, she’s relieved you get where she’s going with this. “Exactly, but you might go to your–”

“Shrink.” Robin finishes, sending you an apologetic smile for the offensive language against the profession you hope to one day go into. “No offense, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, feeling defensive. “Again with calling Ms. Kelly a shrink. She’s not a shrink, she’s actually really nice.”

“You sound like you know her personally.” Dustin narrows his eyes at you. Nothing goes unnoticed by him.

All eyes turn to you, and you sink down in embarrassment. “I’ve… had a few meetings with her.”

Simultaneously both Steve and Dustin widen their eyes. They hadn’t known you were seeing Ms. Kelly. Nancy looks at you curiously, Robin bites her lip, and Max nods solemnly. It’s a large range of reactions, one that makes you anxious to deal with. “Can everyone stop staring at me, please?”

Steve lets out a quick breath and runs a hand through his hair. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing the school’s guidance counselor, Y/N.”

“She didn’t tell me, either.” Dustin mumbles bitterly. You’ve never hidden anything from him before. He wonders, distantly, when you started to.

“I didn’t want to worry you guys, it really isn’t a big deal.” When both boys bristle at this, you hold your hand up to silence them. “No, I don’t want to hear it. It’s not like I was seeing Ms. Kelly for anything serious, okay? She’s the guidance counselor, so I just. You know. Needed some guidance.”

It’s a horrible lie, you know that no one believes you, but they take pity on you and move on. Originally you really were seeing Ms. Kelly for college admissions help, but after a few sessions you slowly started opening up to her about the sleepless nights. The image of Billy’s lifeless body. Max’s screams.

Nancy clears her throat and changes the topic. She comes up with what to do next, creating a plan to ask Ms. Kelly what she knows, and you sit silently. You’re relieved the attention is finally off of you. Within minutes a plan is formed: you and Max will talk to Ms. Kelly to try and get more information.

Steve agrees to drive to the house. As you’re walking to his passenger side door, he notices that Nancy isn’t following. Instead, she’s going to her own car. “Hey, Nance. Where’re you going?”

Nancy turns around, a guilty but determined look on her face. Her eyes land on you, knowing you’ll be the hardest to convince of her plan. “There’s just-there’s something I want to check on first.”

Predictably, your shoulders tense and your eyes ignite with worry. “Please don’t make me remind you that there are people dying right now. You can’t seriously think it’s safe to be on your own.”

“I can protect myself, Y/N.” Nancy reminds you gently, understanding your concern but knowing it isn’t needed.

“You care to share with the rest of us?” Dustin calls over to the two of you.

“I don’t want to waste your time,” Nancy shoves her hands into her jean jacket. “It’s… a real shot in the dark.”

You frown at this. “If it’s something you think is worth looking into, then it isn’t a shot in the dark. You’ve always been right.”

Nancy blushes at your words, but Steve silently fumes beside you. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you guys out of your mind? No way is Nancy flying solo with Vecna on the loose.”

“I never said that she should fly solo,” you say slowly, not at all liking how he’s twisting your words. You had been complimenting Nancy’s intelligence, restoring her faith back into her work. You don’t understand where this protectiveness from Steve is coming from. “I know it’s too dangerous, that’s why I was going to suggest–”

“You’re right. It’s too dangerous. Bottom line. She needs someone to-Christ.” Steve isn’t listening. He’s too caught up in his head as tosses his keys to Robin, who only barely manages to catch them. “Here, Y/N and I will stick with Nance.”

You cross your arms and glare at him. “I’m sorry?”

Steve doesn’t look at you, he’s too busy staring at Nancy, and for a brief second you truly believe that there’s something soft in his gaze when he looks at her. They’re friends, you know this. There’s a history between them that rivals your history with Jonathan. Nancy was Steve’s first love, and now he loves you, and you try desperately to shake the insecurity that you feel.

If you’re being completely honest, you’re not even sure why you’re suddenly thinking all of this. You’ve never been insecure, at least not in your relationship with Steve. During the almost year you’ve been with him, there’ve been times girls have flirted with him or old flings that have tried to vie for his attention. But through it all your trust in him never wavered, you knew that at the end of the day it was your bed he was crawling into.

And yet there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you that the way Steve is looking at Nancy right now is different; it’s how he looks at you. The voice is darker, more cruel. It’s one you don’t recognize, and yet you do.

Steve seems to come back to himself and turns to you. “Robin can go with the kids to the shrink. Max can talk to her alone, it’s no big deal.”

Robin holds the keys away from her as if they’re poisoned. “I don’t think you want me driving your car.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have a license.”

Steve shakes his head with impatience. “Why don’t you have a license?”

“I’m poor,” Robin shrugs, and you laugh slightly.

Max raises her hand. “I can drive.”

“No!” You and Steve exclaim at the same time, both of you getting war flashbacks to when Max had driven you after Billy had knocked you guys unconscious. It’d been a rough night and waking up to a thirteen year old driving a sports car definitely hadn't helped.

“Please,” you look at Max with genuine longing. “Never, ever drive me ever again.”

“Literally anyone but you–” Steve sees Dustin make a face, offering himself to drive, and the older teen snaps his fingers at him in annoyance. “No chance.”

You shake your head as well. No way in hell are you allowing the kid to drive either. “Absolutely not, Dustin. You couldn’t even drive a golf cart properly.”

“I did a decent job!”

“I still think you’re the one who gave Steve his third concussion with your horrible braking.”

“We were being chased by evil Russians!”

Robin steps between you and your brother, holding her hands up. “Alright, this is stupid.” She grabs Dustin’s walkie from his backpack and marches to Nancy while handing Steve his keys. “Us ladies, sans Y/N, will stick together. Unless Steve thinks we need him to protect us?”

She raises her eyebrows, challenging the teen, and you watch him. He shuffles nervously, ducks his head down. Steve is guilty and ashamed and embarrassed. Your stomach clenches.

“He knows better than to doubt you guys,” you step in for him, saving him. “Right, Steve?”

Nancy laughs at the look of fear on his face and Robin smirks. Satisfied, they turn around and start to head towards Nancy’s car. You wish them luck as they leave, tell them to be safe. They wave back at you, and although you wish you could join them, you know that Max will want you by her side while she talks to Ms. Kelly.

Once the girls are gone, you hit Steve’s chest. “Nice one, buddy.”

He lets out a pained huff, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows he had it coming. With a sigh he follows you back to his car and gets into the driver’s seat. Dustin stares at him through the rearview mirror with a shit eating grin on his face. Tired, Steve glares at him. “Not a word.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Dustin defends himself.

“No, but you were going to, and-hey,” Steve turns in his seat and glares even more at your brother. “Did you make sure to wipe your feet?”

“Yes,” Dustin says at the same time as you and Max say, “No.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and starts the car angrily. His movements are jerky and uncontrolled. “Always the goddamn babysitter!” He exclaims, resentment marring his face.

You jump slightly at his raised voice. He hates being sidelined, you know this. Similar to you, all Steve ever wants to do is help. He does whatever he can, he tries harder than anyone. It’s what you first fell for, back when Steve originally crashed into your life.

It’s because of his kindness and devotion to others that you reach for Steve’s hand. His skin is cold, goosebumps raise at your touch, but you interlock your fingers through his and slowly, piece by piece, Steve relaxes.

He’s missed your touch. You’ve missed his, too.

–

Ms. Kelly, to her credit, tries to mask her surprise when she sees you and Max standing at her door. “Oh, hello, girls.”

“Hi,” you smile kindly at the woman. “We really hate to bother you over spring break, but do you possibly have a minute to talk?”

“With the two of you?” Ms. Kelly knew that you and Max were both grieving Billy, but she hadn’t known that you knew each other. “Y/N, I’m sure you’re aware that this is highly unusual to request.”

You wince. “Yeah, I’m definitely aware that this is a pretty strange thing to ask. It’s just that I was the one who convinced Max to start seeing you in the first place, and now that I’m also seeing you, we figured we could… talk to you together?”

It’s a horrible excuse. The lie is vague and too transparent to believe. Neither you or Max had a lot of time to come up with a convincing cover story during the drive here.

“I don’t know,” Ms. Kelly’s face strains with contemplation.

Max softens her eyes and does her best to look small, pleading. “Please?”

You try to appear troubled as well, though it isn’t hard. Your headache hasn’t left. The pounding in your head has only intensified since leaving the trailer park. Ms. Kelly’s gaze flits between you and Max, reading for any signs of lying or ill-will, before her resolve crumbles.

“Oh, alright.” She opens her door wider, ushers the two of you inside. “Come in.”

Steve and Dustin watch as you disappear inside the house. They’ve parked across the street, opting to be the lookout in case anything happens. You spare one last glance over your shoulder, eyes meeting Steve’s, before Ms. Kelly closes the door.

“Okay, they’re in.” Steve states the obvious, slightly unsettled to be stuck in the car while you’re inside.

“I’m missing collarbones, not eyes.” Dustin snorts. He expects Steve to say something snarky in response, but then he notices that the teen is still staring longingly out the window, tracing Ms. Kelly’s door. He looks pathetic, waiting for you, and Dustin sighs. “So… we gonna talk about it?”

Steve’s eyes linger on the doorway, a far off look on his face. When he realizes that Dustin has spoken, he turns to him slowly. “Huh? Sorry, talk about what?”

“Your temporary insanity earlier today when you basically threw yourself at Nance? In front of my sister?”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not what happened.”

Dustin glares at Steve, defensive over you. “Oh, really? I’m pretty sure it did, there were a lot of witnesses. Y/N included.”

“What are you implying, little Henderson?” Steve rubs his face, too tired for the kid’s mind games. He knows he was being weird earlier with Nancy, but he would never do that to you. Ever. He had simply been overwhelmed and confused and feeling a multitude of things that he still isn’t ready to face.

“I’m not implying anything,” Dustin puts his hands up. “All I’m saying is that I know you and Y/N have been fighting lately and that for some stupid reason, you’re doubting your relationship.”

Steve throws his head back against the seat. Of course you told Dustin about last night. “Look, I’m not-I’m not doubting our relationship, alright? I mean, I love her, man. So, so much. We just… things have been hard, lately. Really fucking hard.”

He isn’t sure how much you’ve told your brother. He doesn’t think you’d tell him about Jonathan, at least not until you know yourself whatever the hell he’d been trying to tell you the other night.

Dustin doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He stares past Steve, his eyes almost seem to glaze over. “It’s because she’s leaving, isn’t it?”

All the air in Steve’s lungs gets knocked out of him. “Yes,” he breathes out. His mouth is dry. He swallows, his tongue feels too thick for his mouth. “Sometimes it feels like she’s, I don’t know, like she’s outgrown me? I-I know it’s stupid, but she’s going so far for college and I’m stuck in Hawkins like some fucking moron and she-she didn’t want me going with her.”

“Did you know that I cried when she got into NYU?” Dustin asks him, a hurt smile on his face. When Steve shakes his head, the boy inhales deeply. “Yeah, cried like a baby the whole night. I mean, I knew she applied, I knew she’d get in, but… you’re right. She is going pretty far. I’ve never,” he wipes at his eyes quickly, embarrassed that he’s crying. “I’ve never had to spend a single day without my sister.”

Steve stares at your brother, finally beginning to understand the distance between the two of you. For weeks now it’s all you’ve complained about to Steve. How much you resented Eddie for being Dustin’s new favorite person, how much you miss singing with him in the kitchen while you baked. But now here Dustin is, teary eyed, explaining to Steve just how scared he is to be without his sister. “It feels like she’s leaving you, too.”

“Yeah,” Dustin wipes his eyes again, nodding. “Yeah, sometimes it feels like she can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Even though we’ll still be here,” Steve says solemnly.

It’s quiet again. A few birds sing in the tree above them. You and Max haven’t returned, yet. After a while, Dustin turns to Steve. “She doesn’t mean it, you know.”

“Who?”

“Y/N,” the boy clarifies, and Steve’s heart skips a beat. “She doesn’t mean it when she says she doesn’t want you going with her to New York. She’s just… she’s scared, and she knows that it isn’t what you really want. Nothing gets past her, it’s really annoying.”

Steve scoffs a bit, fondness running through him. Dustin’s right. Nothing ever gets past you, you notice and see everything. But then he thinks about what your brother has said, the fear he hadn’t known about. “Why would she be scared?”

Dustin stiffens in his seat, his gaze once again blurs. He twists his hands anxiously, fixes his hat. The atmosphere shifts, Steve can see that he’s uncomfortable now. He’s about to tell Dustin that he doesn’t have to answer, but the kid does anyways. “Our parents, they-um. Met in college.”

Steve sits up as well. You and Dustin never talk about your parents, at least not about your father. Steve can’t remember the last time you’ve even mentioned him. He thinks maybe the man had called you once, during Christmas.

“They got married right before graduation. Our mom had been pregnant with Y/N, they got hitched and in their marital bliss, our dad somehow convinced our mom to leave Indiana. She grew up here, but our dad was from Virginia and he insisted that she move there.”

Bitter. Dustin is bitter.

“Everything was fine, I guess. I liked Virginia. Y/N did, too. But our mom was lonely, anyone could see that. We lived in a pretty small town, our dad was basically a goddamn Kennedy there. Everyone adored him, but our mom… things were different for her. She was always in his shadow, but Y/N and I were too young to notice for a long time.”

Steve swallows. “And then… the divorce?”

“The stupid fucking divorce.” Dustin spits out. “It wasn’t a surprise, but somehow we still felt blindsided. One day our dad was charming, cracking jokes with everyone and playing the guitar with us, then the next he just-he snapped. Became bitter, mean. Y/N idolized him, but when our parents started fighting every night and our mom cried over some woman named Carry… I lost my sister, for a while.”

“She told me,” Steve whispers, remembering the rawness in your voice the night you confessed to him that you were once cruel. “I had to remind her that she came back, in the end.”

The corners of Dustin’s mouth turn upwards slightly. “Yeah, she came back.” But then his expression darkens, his mood sours. “Our mother almost didn’t, though. After having to move back to Hawkins with barely any money to support us, it basically destroyed her. She had lost all her friends by that point, her own parents died while we lived in Virginia.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve’s throat constricts. He hadn’t known any of this. He feels like such an asshole now for assuming the worst in you. For allowing his own insecurities to blind him. “I-I didn’t know about any of that.”

“Yeah, well.” Dustin shrugs. “Now you do. And you need to know that Y/N is being her usual selfless self because of our mom and what happened to her. She doesn't want that happening to you, dipshit.”

Steve exhales through his nose, his head is swimming with so many more questions, so many apologies he wishes he could say. Instead, he stares out the window, waiting for you to return.

–

“So, what would you girls like to discuss with me?” The clock on Ms. Kelly’s walk ticks ominously behind her. She’s seated you and Max in her basement den. You can tell by the stack of books and messy desk that she uses the area as her makeshift office.

Max slouches against her seat. “Oh, it’s nothing too serious, we were just–”

“I’m worried about Max.” You interrupt the girl, not daring to look at her.

Ms. Kelly raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I think with all the murders happening, it might be affecting her.” It isn’t necessarily a lie. You have been worried about Max and her behavior. Especially these last few weeks. “It might be resurfacing some… memories.”

Max tries to argue, but Ms. Kelly holds her hand up. “You’ve both experienced trauma, Y/N. She lost her brother while you held his dying body.”

A lump forms in your throat, your lungs feel cold.

The woman turns to Max, now. “And when you keep your feelings in, your pain, bottled up the way you do, it doesn’t take much to trigger them again. I can see why Y/N may be worried.”

Max doesn��t meet Ms. Kelly’s eyes. She swallows heavily and looks down at her hands. “Yeah, I know.”

“You know you can always talk to me, Max.” You say softly, wanting desperately to reach out to her. But you’re afraid it’ll only drive her further away.

She frowns at you. “Like how you talk to Dustin, or even to Steve?”

Her accusation cuts deeply. You hadn’t known that she was paying attention to you. That your disguised “I’m fine’s” weren’t convincing her. Max must know this, because she lowers her eyes again and mumbles a quiet apology.

Ms. Kelly notices the tension and leans between the two of you. “Do you think you’re ready to talk more about that night?”

Max’s eyes gloss over briefly, her face distorts with discomfort. An onslaught of memories overtakes her, just as they overtake you. The echoes of her screams for her brother replay in your mind over and over again. The squelch of Billy’s blood trickles down your spine. You were right next to her when it happened. The blood still stains your clothes from that night at Starcourt.

“I live next door to where it happened.” Max changes the subject, her voice returning. When Ms. Kelly asks for more clarification, she continues. “Next to where Chrissy was murdered. The cops asked me a bunch of questions. Did they talk to you?”

The woman sits up, apprehensive. She hadn’t been expecting to talk about this. You sit there quietly, head still pounding from earlier as Max takes over. She interrogates Ms. Kelly, who does her best to dodge every question, and suddenly the warmth in the room becomes unbearable.

“Excuse me,” you stand up, hand clutching your stomach. Nausea swirls within you. You feel faint, the pounding has increased and sweat trickles down your neck. Both Max and Ms. Kelly look at you in concern, but you ignore them.

Blindly you stumble towards the kitchen you remember seeing when you arrived. Too nauseous and overwhelmed to care about niceties, you dig through Ms. Kelly’s cupboards until you find a cup. After filling it with water, the icey coolness of the liquid settles uneasily in your stomach. You lean over the sink, hands clutching the edge. Everything in your body feels unsteady.

Max comes up the stairs and finds you breathing heavily. “You’re not going to hurl, are you?”

“Trying really hard not to right now,” you breathe through your nose, out through your mouth. “Thanks for the concern.”

No response comes. Instead, footsteps walk up behind you. You hear metal clanking against glass, and when you turn around, you find Max holding up a pair of keys. She smirks, flashing you the white keyring attached to them labeled, “office”.

Your eyes bulge out of your head. “No, we are not stealing–”

Except Max grabs your arm and practically flings you out the front door. She shoves you, urging you to start running towards Steve’s car, and all you can do is stumble over your feet and follow after her. When you make it back to the car, panting from the exertion and thrill, Steve and Dustin turn to you with wide eyes.

“What’d she say?” Your brother asks, noting your frazzled appearance.

“Nothing, just drive.” Max dismisses.

“I just became a felon.”

The girl rolls her eyes at you. “Personal property theft isn’t a felony.”

“Jesus,” Steve does a double take, baffled by this entire conversation. “What the hell did you guys do in there?”

“Steve, drive!” Max shouts at him.

The tires of the car squeal against the pavement as Steve steps on the gas. He steadies the car, a wild look in his eyes. “Where are we even going?”

“The school,” Max holds up the keys she stole.

Dustin looks at her incredulously. “Are those–”

“The keys to Ms. Kelly’s office? Yeah.” You nod grimly. “I told you, I’m now a felon.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic–”

A voice comes through Cerebro, cutting Max off. “Dustin? It’s Lucas. Do you copy?”

Relief washes over you hearing Lucas’ voice. Between tracking down Eddie and dealing with interrogating school guidance counselors, you’d also been slowly worrying yourself to death over the boy. It’s unusual for him to be quiet for so long, and with all the murders now occurring… You’d been terrified.

“Lucas? Where the hell have you been?” Demands Dustin.

“Just listen, are you guys looking for Eddie?”

You and Steve share an uncertain look. Why would Lucas be radioing about him? How much does he know?

Your brother tells Lucas that you’ve found Eddie and tells him where he is, that he’s safe. Immediately, the boy responds, “You guys know he killed Chrissy, right?”

Predictably, Dustin doesn’t take this very well. “That’s bullshit, Eddie tried to save Chrissy.”

Lucas presses further, not believing what he’s hearing. Max snatches the radio from Dustin, tired of all the vague responses. “Lucas, you’re so behind it’s ridiculous, okay?”

“Technically we still haven’t elaborated on the whole Eddie thing,” you point out, which she glares at you for.

“Y/N?” Lucas asks, surprised to hear you’re with them.

You grab the walkie. “Hey, how’s your day been?”

“Awful,” he responds bluntly while Steve snorts at your question. “Why are you guys so sure Eddie didn’t–”

“Just meet us at school. We’ll explain later.” Max instructs, leaning over the car’s console.

“I can’t,” fear leaks through Lucas’ voice. You sit up now, looking at Steve again. He hears it, too. “I think some real bad shit’s about to go down.”

You feel your heartbeat pick up. “Lucas, what does that mean? Are you okay, where are you?”

“Sinclair!” A voice shouts, before the radio cuts into static.

“Lucas? Lucas!” Max shouts into the walkie, but he doesn’t respond. She sounds scared, it’s the most emotion you’ve heard in her voice in months.

You’re no better. You sit in the passenger seat, numb. The voice, you recognized it. You’d know Jason Carver’s voice anywhere. Everything clicks; you remember how Lucas was supposed to go to the party after the basketball game. Chrissy had been Jason’s girlfriend before she was brutally killed. The cops would’ve questioned him, they would’ve told him how her body had been found in Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie Munson, the town freak everyone hates.

“What shit could Lucas get into?” Dustin questions, annoyance twinged with worry for his friend.

You try to steady your breathing, nausea returning. You almost don’t recognize the sound of your own voice. “It’s Jason. He’s-he’s angry.”

The words settle in the car, linger in the air, before they crash heavily upon the four of you. The realization dawns on everyone, the inevitability of what will happen next is an unbearable weight.

Steve steps even harder on the gas. He knows the basketball team, how cruel teen boys can be.

–

Every time you’ve snuck into one of Hawkins’ schools, it’s never led to anything good. The first two times had been in the middle school for Will. Neither time involved very pleasant memories. This year you’re sneaking into the high school in order to violate your classmates’ privacy and read their deepest, darkest secrets.

“This feels wrong,” you huff under your breath, barely keeping up with Steve and the others as they run through the hallway. “I’d hate it if anyone read my file.”

“Would you rather risk anyone else dying?” Max responds, giving you a pointed look.

You frown but don’t say anything, figuring she’s right. As much as you hate to do this, it’s objectively the lesser of two evils. You’ll apologize to the students after this is done. If they question why you’ve baked them brownies, you’ll simply lie and say you had extra laying around.

“Dustin, do you copy?” Robin’s voice carries over the radio. Your heart skips a beat hearing her, you’ve missed her today. After your brother responds, she starts to explain what she and Nancy found. “So, Nancy’s a genius.”

“What else is new?” You say, and Robin laughs.

“My thoughts exactly, pretty girl.” She clears her throat. “Anyways, Vecna’s first victims date back all the way to 1959. Her shot in the dark was a bull’s-eye.”

The new information startles you. Vecna first started killing in 1959? Why didn’t you hear anything about it until now, and why didn’t El sense him before?

Dustin looks equally unsettled by the news. “Okay, that’s totally bonkers, but we can’t really talk right now.”

“What are you doing?”

“Breaking and entering into the school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.”

You wince. It’s as bad as it sounds. Tapping Dustin’s shoulder, you break him away from the walkie. “Wait, we won’t need my files, right?”

Steve eyes you up and down, shrugging indifferently. “Well–” Hitting his chest, he sputters at you. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“You’re not reading my files, Harrington.”

Meanwhile, Dustin urges Robin and Nancy to meet you guys at the school. By the time their conversation wraps up, Max has unlocked the office door. She heads straight towards the drawers, long familiar with the layout; you follow after her.

Steve and Dustin look around while you and Max dig through the files. They mumble something about Watergate, but you can barely hear them over the rush of blood in your eardrums. Max’s fingers rest on a specific file. The name printed on it makes you feel sick.

Fred Benson.

“Holy shit,” she exhales, grabbing it.

“Found it?” Dustin stands next to you now, neck peering down.

You struggle to breathe. “We didn’t just find Chrissy’s file.”

Dustin tilts his head, he doesn’t understand, and Max holds the file up. “Fred was seeing Ms. Kelly too.”

Steve and Dustin freeze. You can practically see their heartbeats still. The air in the room goes stale. Their eyes linger on you, they wish they couldn’t piece it together. Chrissy and Fred were seeing Ms. Kelly up until their deaths. You and Max have been seeing her, too. It’s one hell of a coincidence.

But that’s all this is. A horrible, awful coincidence.

“Y/N…” Steve breathes out, but you shake your head at him.

“Please,” your lip trembles. Not here, not now. He can’t look away from you, but you can’t bear to look at him. Instead, you grab the remaining files and hand them to Max. “We need to go through them. All of them.”

Dustin sits at the desk, Steve’s hand rests on the small of your back as you lean over Max to read the files. He shines a flashlight for the two of you, Chrissy’s file is the first one you read. The image of her once vibrant and alive smile stares back at you. There’s a column of writing to the left of her photo, the handwriting is neat, orderly, and it catches your attention.

“Are those…?”

“Symptoms.” Max softly answers, eyes skimming down the list.

Past trauma.

Terrible migraines.

Difficulty sleeping.

Headaches.

Max’s entire body tenses, her muscles pull taut against you. Your own body shakes, the tremors misalign your bones. Slowly, she looks up at you. Her eyes silently beg you to tell her that you’ve gotten it all wrong. Max’s blue eyes plead with you to tell her that none of this is real.

“Steve,” your voice catches, unable to inhale. “Can we see Fred’s file?”

He softly agrees, handing you the file immediately. You take it from him. The paper trembles in your unsteady grasp. Laying them down, you open the file and Fred’s photo burns you. Next to it is a list of symptoms.

They’re the same as Chrissy’s.

They’re the same as yours.

The headaches. Sleepless nights. The trauma you’ve been through, the nightmares that will never truly go away. Everything you’ve experienced within the last week.

Nosebleeds is starred, and for a moment your heartbeat settles. You haven’t had a nosebleed since you were five. It isn’t one of your symptoms; it can all still be a coincidence.

“This-this can’t be right.” You don’t know if you say this to reassure Max or yourself, but when you look down at her, you know. She has a far off look in her eyes. She doesn’t react to what you’ve just said.

It’s only then that you remember her nosebleed from earlier this week; it hadn’t been a coincidence.

“Max?” You shake her shoulders, tears already in your eyes. You know better than to be so naive, so blindly ignorant. You should’ve known better. You should’ve known that something was wrong.

Dustin and Steve try to wake Max, but she’s already left her body. She’s unresponsive, lost in whatever trance she’s in.

“Y/N, what’s happening?” Steve demands, fear in his own voice.

You’re hysterical, screaming and sobbing for Max to wake up. Her body is so small against yours, she’s frail and weak and her skin has never looked so translucent. Over and over you shake her, your palms rest against her cheeks and you cry.

You’ve come to know what fear is. How it can blind a person, leave them stricken with such raw anguish. Fear takes whatever air is left inside you and it poisons it with sulfur and leaves you choking.

The day Will went missing, the only air left in your body had been blood.

When inside the tunnels defending your little brother from monsters, the air in your body had been carbon.

Starcourt mall and the fireworks that exploded over Billy’s dangling and bloodied body left only just enough air in your lungs to scream.

But this fear, seeing Max unresponsive to your pleas, this fear doesn’t spare you any air.

Gasping and choking, you’re a wreck. “Max!”

Faintly you can feel Steve’s hands on you, or maybe they’re Dustin’s. Someone grabs you, pulls you away, but all you can do is scream.

It all makes sense now, Nancy’s question from earlier rings in your ears. You know why Chrissy and Fred were targeted. Why Ms. Kelly was somehow the center of it all.

The symptoms they experienced prior, the same ones that plague you and Max. You know what it is.

Venca’s curse.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #bdyr #m's writing #oh dear this chapter has so much. like wow #all the conversations .....#whew

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