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adancingalien · 2 months

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𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Benjicot/Davos Blackwood x bracken!reader

summary: after learning of your impending betrothal to another, you and Benji make a plan to stop it

warning: smut 18+ no use of y/n this fic revolves around pregnancy and has some light breeding kinks towards the end. the reader in this is able to get pregnant and is described as a woman.

word count: 3.9k

note: its finally here! i've really enjoyed writing this fic, its been a while since written one and i've never written smut so if its not the best sorry lol. thank you for everyone's support! i hope you guys like it <3 next time I post it will be on this account @dancingaliensfics so if you like this follow that account. also a couple people asked me to tag them so here you go x @alifeinspiredd @gotranting

It's Early in the morning when your father gives you the news. The sun had risen only an hour prior, the days growing short as winter approached, and your mother sat across from you.

Marriage.

You spend some time considering the thought whilst eating your porridge. In any other case, it would have been good news. The list your father had created so far was filled with well-suited men. You recognised some, two Bracken cousins you knew well, a Mallister boy you’d met at a tourney. They were all reasonable ages, only one was older than thirty and he seemed to be an afterthought. Your father assured you that he'd consider your opinion in his choice.

Truthly you were lucky, if it was a year earlier you'd be excited. But the one name you wanted, the only man you would ever consider marrying, wasn't on the list and never would be.

Benjicot Blackwood.

Heir to Raventree Hall, the seat of your enemy house, the man who'd captured your heart 10 moons ago.

And so you sit in silence, eyes distant, as your father speaks to you of balls and meetings and gifts. Your mother watches you quietly, although what goes through her mind you cannot say. Eventually, the conversation fades to noise as you watch the last streaks of pink fade from the sky.

You meet with Benjicot in the same spot you always do. A field of clover and wildflowers, sheltered from the gaze of Stone Hedge by a small patch of woodland. He brings you a bouquet of dandelions, dittander and hedge bindweed he picked himself along the path. Every time you meet he brings you one and each time he hands it to you with that grin before hiding his face in your neck. You love it, and after all this time you still feel your heart flutter at the sight, no matter how torn and pathetic the blooms themselves usually are.

Gods, you love him. And you're certain you'll never love anyone else the same. Still, you hope he hasn't found the bindweed from near your gardens, it's beautiful but so quickly consumes all other plants.

He flops onto the grass and then beckons for you to do the same. Benji wraps his arms around your side and you lean your head on his chest as he begins to tell you about some skirmish at the hedge stones.

“Those Brackens think they can do whatever they please whenever they choose. You’d think they'd have learnt their lesson after the beating we gave them last time.”

As he speaks you pluck at blades of grass beside you, tearing the seeds from the stem. He often forgets your heritage, as you do his, and the reminder makes you anxious.

“Still,” you mutter, “I wish you wouldn't rush so quickly into battle.”

Benji turns his head to look down at you and you feel his breath on your face. He pauses for a few moments, watching you closely before responding.

“You needn't worry, dove, I can hold my own, especially against some Bracken bastards.” His words are harsh and said with a grin but you can feel the sentiment behind them. Still, his answer doesn't satisfy you.

“You're not the only person I stand to lose in a battle.”

The two of you tend to speak little of the different sides you sit on, choosing instead to focus on your shared qualities. But since your father's announcement that morning, you find your heritage is all you can think of.

His hands tighten on your side and he begins to shift in the way he often does when unsettled. “Tell your bracken brethren to stay on their side of the lines then.”

“Yes because it is such a simple thing, to announce our ties to my whole family!” You turn from him with a huff pulling hard on the piece of grass in your grasp. You regret your words immediately but find yourself unwilling to apologise.

Benji pulls his brows tight, running his fingers over the hem of your skirt. He looks like a scolded dog, his face sullen and eyes moving quickly.

“I’m sorry.” He looks at you softly for a moment. “Will you tell me what's bothering you love? You've been down all day.”

You pause for a while, having pulled away all the grass in your little patch, leaving your fingernails stained green.

“My father gave me news.” You lift your head to look at Benji, his eyes watching you closely. “He's finding me a husband.”

“No.” The response comes quickly and with strong conviction.

Baffled by his response, your brows furrow. “What do you mean no?”

“I simply won't let it happen. You're mine and I'm yours and we were destined to be together, I know it. You will not be with anyone else.”

You pull a pained face, turning away from him. How can he say that with such certainty? That he simply won't let your father marry you off as though it's such a simple thing. It's both endearing and irritating.

“It's not so simple you know.” You look out at the setting sun as you speak, “I've been trying to think of ways to avoid it but truthfully, I have nothing to complain about. What can I say to stop it? I've spent so long thinking of options but nothing seems right.”

Benji takes hold of your hands, gazing at you with such intensity it catches you off guard.

“We'll run away together, you and me, right now.”

Your eyes widen and you stumble on your thoughts. What an idea. It's a pleasant thought really and part of you is compelled to accept, to leap up and run away with Benji in that moment. But it is not this part of you that speaks.

“What- Benji- I cannot, we cannot! Where would we even go.”

“Essos, the free cities, the North, gods I'd go to the Iron Islands if it meant I could marry you. Anywhere in the world where the names bracken and blackwood mean nothing.” your heart skips at the thought, that Benjicot Blackwood would abandon his title and land and family to be with you. Travel to an unknown land and begin again. It's a feeling that quickly spreads through your body leaving you warm and filled with a joy so strong it again compels you to accept and leave in that moment.

You run your fingers over his knuckles, feeling the healed cuts and scrapes that cover them. You consider your own family, of your mother, sat at her window, waiting for you to return home. Your father, sending out his men to fruitlessly search across all of Westeros for his beloved daughter.

“I can't Benji.”

“Then we'll go in a few days instead, you can pack your things, and I'll think of a plan of where to go-”

“No Benji.” you look into his eyes. You see in them a future and a path you cannot take at this moment. “I couldn't do that to my family, couldn't leave them forever and you couldn't either. It would break your mother's heart.”

Your words sour his mood and he visibly shrinks. You take his hands fully in your own and reach over to kiss him softly on the cheek. You can feel slight stubble and realise he must have rushed out after receiving your letter. How you love this man.

It isn’t long before you see a new thought arrive in his mind and it's clear he does no further thinking before sharing it.

“I'll just take you then!”

Truthly, your expectations were not high but you still find yourself floored by the stupidity of his ‘plan’.

“What.” You can simply find no other words.

Benji turns to face you fully, squeezing your hands tightly. He has a crazed look on his face and you wonder if this is what your Bracken brethren see on the battlefield.

“Listen, I’ll simply take you with me to Raventree Hall and we will wed there.” He must notice your unimpressed look as he quickly continues. “That way you don't have to go too far and your family will know you're safe. Sure it'll take some time for those Bracken curs to accept it but eventually they'll have to and then you can see them when you please.”

“Safe? Benji, you've come up with some terrible ideas but this is a new level. It would be war! You really believe that my father, that any bracken would simply accept a blackwood taking their daughter in the night?”

“Then war it would be. I'd kill a thousand men to keep you.”

“A thousand of my men, my blood! Yes, what a beautiful honeymoon it would be, setting the funeral piers of my family.”

He falls silent at this and looks down at his hands. You can see him thinking but he has the sense to keep his thoughts to himself. After a few minutes, you sigh and take his hands back in yours, having dropped them at some point during your rant. Leaning over, you capture his lips in your own for just a moment and when you pull away he follows after you.

“Just… leave it to me. I shall think of a plan for us. We can keep yours as a last resort, yes?”

He brightens at this, happy to trust in your judgement. He agrees quickly before closing the small space between you.

It's a week later when you send a raven summoning Benji. As a child, you had discovered passages within Stone Hedge which had long been forgotten and often used them to pass in and out of the castle. Now you and Benji used them to visit each other in secret. It's a few days before he is able to make his way to Stone Hedge, having been corralled by his father into some dull political nonsense you couldn't care less about. By the time he makes it to you, slipping into your chambers using the passage hidden behind large tapestries, you feel truly desperate for him.

It's overwhelming really, how much you love him. Your entire body aches for him, your mind thinks of him at all times. The thought of marrying another leaves you ill and to imagine laying with a man that isn't Benji is truly mad. He knows you in ways no other has, and, if you get your way, never will. So really it's not a surprise that upon seeing you waste no time in pressing yourself to him. As your lips meet you can feel all the stress of the past days leave your mind and you quickly forget what it was you summoned him for. It seems Benji has found himself in a similar position to you as his hands begin to explore your body through your evening gown. His soft touch turns rough as you run your fingers through the coarse strands of his hair.

You pull away, moving toward to settee. He trails after, lounging next to you with his around your shoulders, fingers toying with your hair.

“I’ve had much time to think,” you say hands resting on your lap. “And I believe I've thought of a solution. It’s mad truly, but it is the best chance we have. I am certain I want it but if you do not you must say and that will be final. It is not a decision to take lightly.”

At your serious tone, Benji straightens and looks at you fully. You are nervous, such a proposal is hardly made easily and yet you feel certain in your bones that he will accept. You know he loves you, there is no doubt about it. You only wonder if he is truly ready for a life together.

“I would do anything to be with you, dove. Tell me and it'll be done.”

You sigh at his words, both from frustration and adoration.

“Do not say such things before you hear the proposal.”

“Then tell me it so that I may say them with informed certainty.”

You look him in the eyes then, struggling to find a way to say what you mean.

“I would have your child.”

Benji pauses at this, and you can see confusion in his eyes before he speaks.

“Yes. when we wed we shall have many children, as many as you wish.”

“No Benji,” you squeeze his hands tightly and push yourself to speak. “My father will never choose you as my husband so we must give him no choice. If I was with child, with your child, he would have to accept a marriage or risk shame upon myself and our house. I know my father well and I am sure he would choose my happiness over tradition.”

At this, Benjicot stops and his face falls blank. It's as if his mind is —- and you wait patiently for his response.

“It is…” he stops and then restarts “I would love nothing more than to have a child with you. It is something I have dreamt of and I truly believe myself ready for such responsibility. I do not doubt the longevity of my love for you. So please do not think it is commitment with gives me pause. It is just…” he begins to play with your fingers, nervous energy flowing through him. He stands quickly, releasing your hands though you are used to his restlessness and simply wait for him to return. He paces in a small circle, running his hand through his hair and then returns to his seat.

“I would not do that to you,” he says finally. You look at him in surprise, his answer seeming nonsensical to you.

“You have done it to me many times.”

“No not that,” he says quickly, covering his face in his hands as he thinks again how to phrase what he means.

“I wouldn't put you through such treatment! As an unwed woman to father a child by you. No, I couldn't dishonour you like that.”

“Dishonour me? Benji, you have dishonoured me more times than I could count. By simply being here in this room you dishonour me. We have laid together, many times. If this was a concern of yours, you should have voiced it long ago.” your words are tinged with amusement.

Benjicot stands again, moving his arms wildly.

“And what of how you would be treated? Not just by your parents but every member of the court, the servants, anyone who knew of it. You would be shamed and shunned by others.”

“You think I care what others say of me?”

“I think you will care when it happens.”

“Do not make assumptions on my behalf. I am my own woman, I can make my own choices. And I do not need you, Benjicot Blackwood, to decide such things for me.”

You pause, breathing deeply in an attempt to remove the heat from your voice. It isn’t your intention to force Benji to do this with you and you fear if you continue to argue your meaning will be lost.

“If your reasons to not go forth are your own, because you do not feel ready or because you do not want to, then that is fine and I will accept it.”

Your attempt to calm the situation backfires miserably and your words light a fire inside of Benji.

“Of course not, didn’t say I would marry you in that field? That I would give up everything to be with you. Do not doubt my love.”

“I do not doubt it, Benji. But if you are willing to give up your titles and home, go through battle and fight hundreds to have me, why can't you trust that I would endure the shame of a pregnancy outside of wedlock for you?”

At last, Benji returns to his spot next to you. He looks into the fire but his gaze is distant.

“I can protect you from danger, from enemies. I can kill any man that threatens you. I can stand with you in fire and pain. But I can’t save you from cruel words and shame. This is… it's something you’ll have to bear alone. And I hate the thought of it.”

At last, you understand his meaning. Benjicot Blackwood is not a man who often loses control. He is fierce and strong and can slay any man who comes in his path.

“I am strong. And I can protect myself, just this once. And you will be stood with, at my side, to give me strength when I fail.”

“I know, I just fear you aren’t ready.”

“I am ready.”

A coy smile spreads across your face.

“Let me convince you.”

At that you kiss him, one hand placed on his cheek and the other on his chest. He quickly reciprocates and you move closer until you can throw one leg over his lap. His hands find your hair, attempting to undo your intricate braids before pulling away in frustration and glaring at the strands. You laugh lightly, moving to remove your pins as he reaches for your neck, leaving a firm bite before his tongue lathes over the area. His ministrations pull a soft moan from your mouth and as he lifts your skirts to run his hand up the soft skin of your thigh, your hair is released.

His other hand quickly finds its way into your hair, fingers weaving into the strands before your head is pulled back allowing better access to your neck. As Benji continues trailing kisses across your neck and chest, you begin to move yourself on his lap, grinding against him as you feel his cock harden beneath his breeches. How you long to feel him inside you, and the thought of him staying even as he reached his peak, seed spilling inside you, has you moving with increased vigour. Benji begins to let out his quiet groans and pants to match your soft moaning and it's not long before he has your behind held firmly in his grip.

His mouth reaches the neckline of your dresses and begins to suck marks onto your skin while you fumble with the fastening of your gown. Once the bodice is undone and the stays are loosened, he pulls them down, taking your breasts into his hands. His mouth quickly latches onto one of your peaks and his tongue swirls around them. He shows you no mercy in his actions, hands pressing so tight they are sure to leave bruises. Benji moves his hand to your core, fingers covering themselves in your wetness before pressing against your clit. They move quickly, circling your bud for some time before travelling towards your hole. His thumb moves to take its place, pressing firmly against you as it rubs. His fingers prod gently at your hole, before one slips inside. He stays like this, easing his finger inside of you until you're ready to take another. His fingers move inside of you for a few minutes, your walls clenching around them as they stroke, before they increase in speed, beginning to curl deep inside of you. Benji continues to assault your chest, relishing in the moans and whines he pulls from your lips.

It isn't long, however, before he pulls away from your chest to speak.

“I need you, my love.” he lifts your chin so that your eyes meet. You lean forward and kiss him, giving your answer through your actions. He removes his fingers from you, wiping them on your dress much to your disgust before standing, holding you with his hands beneath your ass and your legs around his waist.

He moves quickly towards the bed and, though he's strong, you can see him focusing on not dropping you. You take the chance to join your lips to his neck, leaving your marks there. Although you know him to be faithful to you, you can’t stand the thought of any Blackwood whore making a pass at him and the hickeys serve to claim him as yours. Gods, you think, you must stop thinking in such ways, you’ll be a Blackwood yourself soon. The thought leaves you giddy and you grin at his neck. Benji drops you rather unceremoniously onto the bed before staring at you with a bemused look on his face.

“What you grinning about him?”

“Just the thought that I will soon be your wife.”

His grin widens at that and he leans down to capture your lips once again.

“Yes, my wife and I'll be your husband.”

You kiss him again, biting his lip and tugging on it slightly.

“All mine.” your words pull a deep moan from him.

It isn’t long before both of you have stripped completely and you find yourself lying back on the sheets, Benji between your legs. He moves quickly above you, rubbing his cock against your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit with every stroke. You moan wantonly, fingers reaching up to pull Benji towards your lips by the hair. Your firm grip causes him to groan deeply into your mouth and his movements increase in speed. It isn't long though before you pull away.

“Benji, darling, I need you inside of me please.”

You're expecting him to tease you, and make a joke about your begging and neediness but instead, he lets out a long breath, before reaching down and taking himself in hand. He runs the tip of his cock along your wetness once more before pressing inside of you. Your body accepts him eagerly and it isn't long before he fills you. How could you ever marry another when even your body is moulded perfectly to him? The sounds of your pleasure harmonise as Benji begins to move inside of you. His thrusts are fast and deep as always, his hips snapping against yours with every thrust. You feel your mind slipping as your sounds increase in volume. Your hands roam his whole body. Filthy words spill from your lips.

“Benji please my love- ah- I must have you. Please”

“You have me sweet one, you have me.”

You pull roughly on his hair at his words.

“No I must have all of you, please I need your seed. I want you to cum inside me.”

His hips stutter before his thrusts continue with increased fervour.

“Fill me please Benji, it will feel so good.”

Benji lays his head in the crook of your neck moaning without restraint. You feel yourself reaching your peak quickly and want him to cum with you. You lift your legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, moaning, turning to shrieks.

“I love you so much Benji,” you cry out, fingernails leaving scratches down his back. “I love you and I want your baby, please cum inside me.”

At your words, Benji lets out a choked sound, hips pressing firm against you, and feels the warmth of his release spill inside of you, pulling you to your peak alongside him. Your eyes squeeze shut, but if they hadn’t you would have seen the most delightful look on Benji’s face and he finished inside of you. It takes some time for his cock to stop twitching and even longer for the both of you to come back to the world of the living. Benji begins to lift himself off of you, but you tighten your legs.

“Stay.”

A simple command that he follows without question.

#benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #davos blackwood #benjicot x reader #davos blackwood x reader #hotd

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pin-k-ink · 2 months

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prey // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ dub-con, possessive!hoshina, mutual masturbation, fingering, implied masturbation (male), breeding kink, hoshina has a shit ton of fantasies about you, unprotected sex, squirting, voyeurism

wc ⇢ 3.7k

From the very start, you stuck out like a sore thumb in the Defense Force - a delicate little lamb stumbling into the wolves' den. Hoshina noticed everything about you that screamed "doesn't belong". The timid way your trembling hands could barely keep a grip on the standard-issued sidearm. How you were always the last one struggling to pick yourself up off the dirt after drills, clothes disheveled and cheeks flushed.

He knew the only reason you got admitted was because of his glowing personal recommendation to Ashiro. "Yeah, the kid's greener than spring grass, but c'mon - ya know we need a pretty young thing around to inspire the new recruits' efforts, if ya know what I mean," Hoshina had said with a shameless grin, openly ogling your picture right there in Ashiro's office.

What he didn't let on was the real reason he'd stuck his neck out for you. From the moment those big, innocent eyes met his heated stare during your entry tests, Hoshina felt an overwhelming fascination take root deep in his core. An utterly primal, possessive instinct bleeding through about wanting to claim you, corrupt you, make you his in every salacious way.

Of course, you never seemed to notice the molten heat blazing in Hoshina’s eyes as they raked over your form hungrily. You were too busy trying not to drop your rifle or stumble through the drills. It just made you even more irresistible in his mind - this fragile, clueless gem in desperate need of his skilled hands to mold and defile you.

So Hoshina took his role as your personal instructor very seriously during those "private lessons" he insisted on. During these sessions when he would "help" adjust your stance, he imagined bending you over right there and taking you from behind until you sobbed his name. Just picturing your pretty pink lips falling open in a shocked little 'o' as he claimed you roughly was enough to make his pants feel unbearably tight.

"That's it, beautiful," he'd rasp in your ear, feeling you shudder at the rough timbre. "Don't ya feel safer wrapped in my arms like this?"

The way you shivered at the endearment and instinctively pressed back against his chest nearly shattered Hoshina’s restraint. He had to bite the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper to keep from grinding against your pert little ass with a deep, possessive growl. From rutting against you like an animal in heat until you were a writhing, whimpering mess begging for his cock.

On missions, Hoshina positioned you as far from danger as possible not just to protect you - but to prevent anyone else from catching even a glimpse of the obscenely filthy thoughts devouring his mind. Just the idea of you, his sacrosanct prize, being leered at by those other brutish soldiers made his blood boil in a possessive frenzy. No, you were meant for his eyes only, a pure virgin just begging to be defiled and debased into his personal cocksleeve.

He just liked the thought of you waiting obediently on the sidelines, perfect and untouched, until he could return and use that lush, biteable mouth for more devious purposes. You existed only to be guarded, pampered, and most importantly, thoroughly ruined by his thick cock splitting you open over and over until you were bred full of his seed.

In his most depraved dreams, Hoshina saw himself pinning your nude form beneath him on the very training mats meant for conditioning. Having you splayed and whimpering for him to defile every intimate crevice, then dressing your pliant, ruined body in nothing but one of his shirts before parading you through headquarters. Letting everyone know just whom you belonged to with your swollen lips and tell-tale waddle as evidence of his ownership.

Hoshina had to actively force himself not to stare too hard whenever you shifted or bent over around him, biting his tongue until he tasted copper to keep from growling outright at those teasing glimpses of lace or bare skin. It was torture having his wet dream made flesh within arm's reach daily yet still so untouchable and forbidden.

Mealtimes were always a special kind of torture for Hoshina. He would observe you from across the hall, seemingly indifferent, while in reality he was devouring every tantalizing detail. The way your tongue peeked out to chase a stray crumb across those plump, glistening lips. How you would unconsciously suckle the tip between your teeth while studying reports, utterly unaware of how it made his cock throb heavily imagining that lush mouth stuffed full of his girth. More than once, Hoshina had to abruptly excuse himself before ripping his pants open and fisting his crudely aching erection right there like some baseless animal.

But the worst for his tenuous restraint were the nights he patrolled the residential halls. Hoshina always made sure to pass by your quarters, ears straining for any tiny sound that might indicate you were awake. Or better yet, touching yourself with those delicate fingers he constantly fantasized about replacing with his stiff, calloused digits. Working you open for his thick cock to breed you properly like the innocent little fuckpet you were always meant to be for him.

On those nights when your muffled whimpers or gasps did reach his ears, it took every ounce of Hoshina’s willpower not to simply break down the door and barge in. To finally claim what he'd been lusting over and fantasizing about for so long - bending you over your tiny bunk and rutting into you until the only sounds were your shrill cries and the obscene squelch of his cock slamming against your ripened cunt.

At least, that was the routine Hoshina had grown accustomed to - right up until the night his darkest cravings nearly consumed him whole. He was passing your door during his rounds when the unmistakable cry of unrestrained hopelessness pierced straight through the bulkhead and into his core. A delirious sob of pure, untamed desperation in your voice that could only indicate one thing...

You weren’t able to get yourself off.

Hoshina didn't even realize he had frozen in place, painfully hard erection tenting his uniform as needy little pants and moans assaulted his senses in a torrent of aural obscenity. In an instant, scorching images detonated in Hoshina’s brain - you splayed out wanton, small fingers desperately working into your creamy cunt as you mewled his name, trying to chase your own pleasure because you knew nothing else would sate you now. That single revelation crashed over him like a breaking dam, his military conditioning fracturing as those pornographic little gasps and whines drove him into a frenzy...

Then, before any rational thought could intervene, Hoshina was already shoving open the door, eyes blown wide and fixated on your nude form. You were spread-eagled on the bed, fingers furiously stroking between your thighs as a thin sheen of sweat made your skin glow in the low light. Your hair was mussed, your pupils dilated, and those soft lips were parted in a wordless cry as your head thrashed back and forth.

But what really caught his attention was the obscene amount of slick that soaked your inner thighs and dripped onto the sheets. You were utterly drenched, and from the look of it, had been at it for a while judging by the frustrated tears trickling down your face.

It took you a while to notice his presence, but once you did, your fingers immediately stilled and those gorgeous eyes snapped to his. They were wide and fearful, the look of a frightened rabbit pinned in a snare. You couldn't possibly understand the sheer extent of his need, his primal urge to own and possess you, but there was no way he’d rush in and risk scaring you off now.

"Vice-Captain! W-What are you doing here?" You stammered, hastily tugging the thin sheets around your nude form. It was such a pointless gesture, given how much of your body had been exposed to his gaze. Still, your shy modesty only served to inflame Hoshina’s desire further.

"Just makin' my rounds," he answered, his voice an unintentional growl as his cock pulsed hotly against his uniform. "And heard someone having trouble sleepin', so I thought I'd offer some assistance."

He could practically hear the hammering of your pulse as he closed the door behind him and stalked towards the bunk, the air thick and heavy with his carnal intent. You shrank back against the headboard, and Hoshina couldn't help but admire the sight of your body trembling before him like a helpless prey animal.

"I-I don't know what you mean, Vice-Captain," you tried to protest, but the blush staining your cheeks and the way your thighs rubbed together in a vain attempt to alleviate the pressure betrayed your arousal. You knew exactly what he meant, and it made Hoshina’s cock throb harder, leaking a wet spot onto his uniform pants.

"Oh? But it's my job to ensure every recruit's needs are taken care of," he purred, looming closer and enjoying the way you quivered under his gaze. "Especially one as pretty and helpless as you."

Hoshina relished the sharp gasp that escaped your lips as he pried the covers away, exposing your bare, quivering form. "Tell me, sweetheart," he murmured, tracing his calloused fingertips along your jawline. "Have ya been havin' bad dreams? Yer soaked through. I'm sure it must have felt awful tryin' to handle it yerself."

Your only response was a choked whimper as Hoshina’s thumb stroked over the seam of your lips. "It's alright. I’ll teach you how to properly satisfy yourself," he crooned, pressing the digit past your plush lips until you obediently began sucking, eyes glassy and unfocused.

"That's a good girl. Ya want my help, don't ya?"

Hoshina was met with a tiny, frantic nod as his thumb popped free. A low groan ripped through his throat when he saw the line of saliva connecting his thumb to your swollen lips, a perfect little preview of what was to come.

"Spread those legs for me, princess," he ordered, not bothering to hide the ravenous lust dripping from his tone. "Let me see just how much of a mess ya made."

Hoshina had no patience left to wait for you, roughly gripping your thighs and prying them apart, groaning at the sight. Your pussy was slick with need, the lips puffy and flushed as it pulsed, hungry for attention.

He couldn't help but tease his fingers over the swollen folds, and you gasped, hips bucking up against his touch.

In an instant, your hand shot out to grasp his forearm, a tiny moan leaving your lips as his rough skin brushed over your sensitive cunt. "I-I wanna do it myself," you murmured, but Hoshina couldn't suppress a derisive chuckle at your words.

"Very well then, sweetheart? Show me how well you can use these little fingers," he teased, guiding your hand between your thighs until your fingertips were pressing lightly against your soaked slit. "Go on. Open yerself up."

You swallowed nervously, slowly parting your folds with your delicate digits, revealing the dripping hole to his burning gaze. The sight alone was enough to make his cock leak obscenely into his uniform. He wanted nothing more than to pin your pliant, trembling body down and thrust into you relentlessly, filling you up with his cum until it dripped from your abused pussy.

But no, he should savor every second of this, wait and see how far he could push your limits until you were utterly undone.

"Don't be shy," Hoshina cooed, his hand wrapping around your smaller wrist to guide one of your digits into the tight hole. "Be a good girl and show me how deep you can take it."

He groaned at the lewd squelch of your finger slipping into the silky, tight heat of your pussy, his cock throbbing in anticipation. You were so wet and tight around just a single digit, he couldn't imagine how heavenly your cunt would feel wrapped around his cock, sucking him in.

"Put another one in," he ordered, and you obeyed without a second thought, moaning as a second finger joined the first, your walls squeezing around the intrusion. Hoshina’s other hand dipped down to palm his aching erection through his pants, a low hiss escaping him at the slight relief.

"Now curl yer fingers a bit and see if ya can find yer sweet spot," he murmured, his gaze rapt and hungry as he watched your fingers disappear into your tight hole, slick and sticky with arousal.

"I... I can't!" you whimpered, frustration evident in your tone. Hoshina’s mouth stretched into a feral grin at the desperate pitch.

"Of course ya can, princess," he purred, reaching out to wrap his larger hand around your wrist, guiding your motions. He slowly pumped your fingers in and out, making sure you could feel every ridge and crevice along the soft walls. "Here, let me show ya..."

You moaned brokenly, arching your back off the bed and pushing against his hand as he made you curl your fingers, the rough pads brushing over the spongy, hidden spot that had you keening.

"V-Vice-Captain! Ah!" you cried, writhing under his firm grip as he began thrusting your fingers in and out faster, hitting that same spot every time. Your legs thrashed on the bed, heels digging into the sheets.

"Right there, huh? I bet it feels good to have yer fingers inside ya," Hoshina growled, watching you buck and gasp under his touch, your fingers fucking in and out of your dripping cunt. He was so close to claiming you, just a bit more and he could finally bury himself into that perfect, virgin pussy.

To stave off his mounting desperation, Hoshina reached down to unzip his pants, sighing in relief as his cock sprang free. He hissed at the first brush of his calloused hand along his weeping shaft, precum oozing from the swollen tip. He could easily imagine it was your tiny, wet hand wrapped around his girth, stroking him with clumsy enthusiasm.

"V-Vice-Captain..." Your breathless, high-pitched plea shattered his control, and before Hoshina could stop himself, he was leaning over and yanking your fingers out, his thick digits immediately taking their place. He snarled at the velvety heat clamping around his fingers, the obscenely wet sound as he pistoned his fingers into you mercilessly.

"Holy shit, sweetheart. Yer so fuckin' tight," Hoshina panted, his eyes glued to where his fingers were pumping into you. Your pussy was dripping, coating his digits with thick, pearlescent slick that dribbled down your inner thighs and onto the bed. "I bet my cock would fit so nicely in here."

Your breathy moans were punctuated with little "ah"s and gasps as Hoshina’s fingers worked deeper into your needy cunt. You were so lost in the sensation of being filled, his fingers stroking the soft walls, rubbing over the most sensitive areas and making you shudder and arch your back off the mattress.

"Please..." you whimpered, grinding yourself against his fingers. "More."

"Oh? Does my baby girl want more?" Hoshina growled, and you nodded desperately, unable to string together a proper response as he began to scissor his fingers apart, stretching your dripping walls. You cried out at the sudden burning sensation, hands clawing at the sheets.

"So tight," he rasped, his other hand fisting around his leaking shaft, stroking from root to tip as he imagined how those velvety walls would feel wrapped around his girth. You looked so pretty and helpless spread beneath him, legs splayed open and shaking with need as his thick digits continued their assault on your soaked cunt.

Fuck, he can’t take it anymore.

"Hold still, sweetheart," he crooned, his voice hoarse with lust as he climbed onto the bed, his large form eclipsing yours as he hovered above you. While you were distracted by his fingers, Hoshina used his other hand to tear off his belt and shimmy his pants down his thighs. He let out a satisfied groan as his cock bobbed free, hung and heavy between his legs, the swollen tip an angry shade of red.

The sudden feeling of his thick fingers withdrawing from your cunt made you cry out, a disappointed whine escaping your lips as your walls clamped around nothing. You weren’t given a chance to miss the sensation, though, because as soon as Hoshina was finished kicking his pants off, his cock was already pushing against your soaked slit, the thick head slipping in easily.

"V-Vice-Captain," you whined, trying to pull away from the sudden intrusion, but his iron grip on your hips kept you in place. Hoshina growled and yanked you towards him, his hips snapping forward as his cock forced its way past your fluttering walls. He felt the way your body seized up, the walls clamping around him tightly as he sheathed himself into you fully, your pliant body pinned under him.

"F-Fuck," he panted, his fingers gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises as he bottomed out. He could feel every inch of your soft walls gripping his length, pulsing and rippling around his cock, and it was absolute torture not to fuck into you mercilessly right then.

"Ah, ah, it's too much!" You cried, clawing at the sheets as you tried to squirm away, but his grip was too strong. Tears were welling up in your eyes, and Hoshina couldn't help but think how absolutely adorable and fucked out you looked with his cock buried inside you.

"Just breathe, sweetheart. Breathe and relax," he rasped, forcing himself to keep his hips still while your body adjusted to his size. Your walls were squeezing him so tight, he could feel every pulse and shudder as they rippled around his girth.

"It hurts," you sobbed, trembling as you tried to catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks. Hoshina’s hand reached up to gently brush the hair out of your face, his calloused fingertips lingering along the curve of your cheek.

"Shh, I know, baby. I know. But yer bein' such a good girl f'me, aren't ya?"

He cooed soft praises and encouragement into your ear, stroking your hair as his other hand traced patterns on your hip, soothing the tense muscles. He thrust his hips shallowly, his cock sliding in and out of you as you gradually relaxed, the pain morphing into pleasure.

"That's it. So good," he groaned, feeling your walls relax and flutter around him, allowing him to bury his cock in you even deeper. He couldn't hold back anymore, the desire to pound you into the mattress overriding his concern for your wellbeing.

"You feel so fuckin' good, sweetheart. So hot and tight for me," Hoshina snarled, his hands gripping your hips tight as he slammed his hips against yours, his thick shaft bottoming out inside you. You moaned at the lewd squelch of slick dripping down onto the bed, your walls fluttering around him as his cock rubbed against the most sensitive spots.

"Mmm, that's a good girl," he praised, watching the way your tits bounced and jiggled as he thrust into you, his balls slapping against your ass. The sight of your pliant, ruined body beneath him only fueled his depraved fantasies, his mind filled with a torrent of vulgar thoughts.

Hoshina had imagined you like this countless times, and seeing you so utterly debauched and pliant beneath him was beyond anything he'd ever dreamed. He wanted to fuck you until your body was imprinted with the shape of his cock, wanted to see how many loads he could pump into your perfect, tight pussy. Wanted to see you full and bred, your stomach bloated with his seed.

"Ah, a-ah, Vice-Captain, please!" you sobbed, the pain long gone and replaced with sheer bliss as his cock hit all the right places. His balls were slapping against your ass as his thick shaft speared into you, the lewd squelch of each thrust sending tingles of pleasure down your spine.

Hoshina didn't respond, too lost in his own pleasure as his cock slid in and out of your cunt. It was hot and tight, the perfect sleeve for his thick shaft, and he could feel the tell-tale sign of his orgasm building. He wanted to see you stuffed full of his cum, watch it drip out of your used cunt.

He growled and picked up the pace, his cock pistoning in and out of you rapidly, the air filled with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin. Your hands scrambled to grasp at something, anything, and finally settled on gripping the sheets as his cock drove into you relentlessly.

It wasn’t long before you felt your walls start to flutter around him, the coil in your belly tightening until it finally snapped. Your entire body went taut, back arching off the bed as the orgasm crashed over you. Hot, fragrant liquid gushed out of your hole, drenching Hoshina’s thighs and the sheets beneath.

"Oh fuck, that's it, baby. Squirt all over my cock," he groaned, his fingers gripping your hips tighter as he fucked you through your climax, the hot spray of your juices coating his cock. He couldn't hold back any longer, and with one final, brutal thrust, his cock throbbed and spilled inside you. Thick ropes of cum coated your walls, filling you up completely as he bottomed out.

He shuddered, his cock twitching as it emptied the last of his load into your soaked pussy, a low moan rumbling in his chest. It felt like heaven being buried inside you, his cum dripping down his balls. You whimpered and clenched around him, milking his cock, and he could feel your pussy clenching and sucking around him, hungry for more.

When he finally pulled out, you whimpered at the loss, his thick cum leaking out of your abused hole. You looked absolutely debauched, and he couldn't resist leaning down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and tangling with yours.

"Mm, ya did so good, sweetheart. Feel better now?"

You nodded weakly, your eyes drooping with exhaustion. He could see the tiredness on your face, the way your eyes were starting to close as your body sank into the bed, spent and used.

He chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. He could feel your breath against his skin, the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slowly drifted off.

"Sweet dreams, baby."

#kaijuu no. 8 x reader smut #kaiju 8 smut #kaiju 8 x reader #kaijuu no. 8 x reader #kaijuu no. 8 #hoshina soshiro x reader smut #hoshina smut #hoshina x reader smut #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro smut #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina x reader #soshiro x reader smut #soshiro smut #soshiro x reader

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freyaphoria · 30 days

Note

hey luv!! not sure how much are you into 'spanking' but, I was wondering if you would make a reaction of Yan!Matz, Seonghwa catching you escape while Hj is not at home so Hwa spanks you/punishes you?👉👈

I know that Hwa would probably tell Hj but I would really like to see how Seonghwa would punish her😭

(btw i'm in love with ur stories, keep going and take some time to rest🖤)

a/n: When you sent me this request at night, I screamed and started writing at 4 a.m. This request may have opened up my writer's block thank you soooo much♡

Dark Side (partI)

tw: spanking, restriction with ropes, dragging, failed escape attempt, yandere!Seonghwa, hair pulling, kinda force feeding, hurt-comfort, punishment and aftercare, crying

wc: 3.7k

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto

Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you grasped the handle of the back door, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. How could they have been so careless as to leave it unlocked? The realization dawned on you as the cold air rushed in, caressing your face with its crisp touch. You stood there, frozen in disbelief, as the door swung open, revealing the vast expanse of the backyard and the towering pine trees that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. This moment felt surreal, as if you were standing on the precipice of a new reality.

This was the first moment you found yourself so close to freedom. For the first time, you felt that escape was truly within reach, especially with Hongjoong away from the house. In a normal situation, you would have been settled on the couch watching TV while Seonghwa busied himself in the kitchen preparing dinner. But your mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of escaping.

You thought about telling Seonghwa and escaping together. But what he told you yesterday showed that he was gradually deteriorating psychologically, that his admiration for Hongjoong had escalated to a concerning level, one that left you feeling uneasy about his willingness to escape alongside you. Convincing him to leave in that moment felt impossible. Maybe, in a few weeks, you could plant the seeds of doubt in his mind, but right now, it just wasn’t feasible. You simply could not let this opportunity slip away when it was right in front of you. When you came back with the police, you were going to save Seonghwa and put the evil in jail.

With each silent step towards the door, the possibility of freedom made your heart race even faster.Could you truly manage to escape? You had lost track of how long you had been trapped here, and you questioned your ability to readjust to the outside world after such a prolonged period of isolation. All these thoughts filled your veins with more adrenaline, and you could hear your heart beating.

You found yourself standing at the threshold, that thin line separating captivity from liberty. Instinctively, you glanced back, scanning for any sign that Seonghwa might have noticed your absence. You imagined the scenario if he had caught you: his gentle voice calling out, "Angel, come here," followed by report to Hongjoong. But to your relief, there was no sign of him. You were alone, unobserved, with the path to freedom clear before you.

Your foot made contact with the small marble stone at the entrance of the garden, its cold surface sending a shiver through your body, it was a sensation both foreign and familiar. You started to walk quickly and felt that soft grass beneath your feet that you hadn't felt in weeks, maybe months. You moved quickly through the garden, the taste of freedom already filling your spirit. The ability to move without fear, without the looming threat of Hongjoong, was intoxicating. But there was something you missed: The kitchen window looked out onto the backyard.

When Seonghwa saw you speeding through the backyard, he muttered a curse under his breath and quickly left the kitchen. The back door hung wide open, a reminder that he had forgotten to close it when he stepped out earlier to tend to the flowers. Seonghwa was shocked to see you walking past the edge of the yard and heading towards the thick forest nearby. He knew he was in big trouble. The thought of Hongjoong returning home in this moment made his stomach drop; if he found both of you outside, he would kill both of you. Seonghwa knew he had to go after you. Hongjoong had told him to do whatever it took to keep you here while he was gone.

He didn't call out to you, thinking that if he called out to you, you would panic and start running faster. Instead, he ran towards you silently but quickly, his footsteps muffled by the soft grass beneath. Your heart raced in your chest, and your breaths came in quick bursts, anxiety coursing through your veins. In an instant, Seonghwa was upon you. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around your waist, and with a forceful motion, he threw you down onto the soft grass. The air was knocked from your lungs as you hit the ground, and confusion set in.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Seonghwa's voice was sharp and raw with emotion as he positioned himself over you, pinning your arms to the sides, using his body weight to keep you down. His eyes, normally warm and inviting, now showed both anger and distress, with his messy hair falling over his forehead from the effort of chasing you. The sudden aggression from the usually calm Seonghwa caught you off guard, causing you to instinctively lash out. Your legs flailed wildly as you attempted to kick him off, your mind momentarily confusing him with Hongjoong in your panicked state. "Are you out of your mind?! Did you think you could escape that easily?!" Seonghwa's grip tightened as he shouted, one of his hands released your arm, only to grasp your face roughly, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "Seonghwa, what are you doing?! You’re the one who’s out of your mind!" you cried out, struggling against his iron grip. "Let me go! Your voice grew higher with panic. Seonghwa, out of breath, kept holding you down and grew frustrated trying to make you understand the seriousness of the situation. Your pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Let you go?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with disbelief. "What do you mean by let you go?" His hand released your face, only to seize your arm once more as he began to forcibly drag you back towards the house. "Don't you understand? You belong to me just as much as you do to Hongjoong. Did you think I’d just let you escape from us?!”

His words hit you like a jolt. You had never witnessed this side of Seonghwa before—so unyielding and forceful—but amidst the chaos, fear for your safety was absent. You thought you still had time before Hongjoong arrived to learn your escape attempt and avoid the fallout, and that Seonghwa would save you from Hongjoong's ruthless punishment. But in that moment, you couldn't have been more wrong.

Your arm throbbed with pain as you struggled against Seonghwa's iron grip, his strength far beyond what you had imagined. "Seonghwa! Please, it hurts!" you cried out, your voice laced with desperation. As he forcefully dragged you across the ground, your clothes caught on the rough terrain, tearing and collecting smears of grass and dirt. "Shut up, you asked for this!" he barked back, his tone sharp and harsh, devoid of any hint of sympathy or concern, as if he were completely indifferent to your suffering.

The journey home was too quick, and you realized you couldn’t get very far. As soon as you reached home, he threw you to the ground, knocking the air out of your lungs. Seonghwa then slammed the door with a force that echoed through the house. You winced, rubbing your sore arm from his tight grip. "I can't believe you," Seonghwa's voice cut through the air, harsh and devoid of its usual warmth. It was as if the gentle Seonghwa you knew had vanished, replaced by a doppelganger channeling Hongjoong's ruthlessness. "I thought I could trust you. I thought I didn't need to watch you 24/7." He closed the distance between you and knelt down, his hand gripping your hair, pulling your head up to meet his gaze. "But I was wrong," he said, his voice heavy with rage. Fear crept into your spine as he hovered over you, in this moment, he seemed even more terrifying than Hongjoong. While Hongjoong's actions were often predictable in their cruelty, Seonghwa now resembled a ticking time bomb, leaving you uncertain of when or how he might explode.

"Seonghwa, why are you so angry—" you began, but he cut you off. “You ran,” he said, tightening his grip on your hair until it became painful. You squirmed, desperate for the agony to cease. “I'm sorry!” you cried out, your hands fumbling to loosen his grip. “I didn’t ask if you were fucking sorry,” he retorted, his tone deeper, more menacing than you had ever heard. Fear began to course through your veins, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Seonghwa was thinking about what he would do to you; he stared at you with a stern expression, his mind racing with worries about what could happen next. If he told Hongjoong about your attempt to escape, he would face serious consequences, especially since the escape happened because of his own mistake. He might even risk damaging his relationship with Hongjoong. After a moment of thought, Seonghwa decided it was best to deal with the situation on his own and not inform Hongjoong.

His jaw tightened as he watched you tremble more and more with fear. "Get up," he commanded, finally releasing his grip on your hair. "Hwa-" you started to protest, but he cut you off sharply. "Get up and go to the basement." Your eyes widened in disbelief and fear. The basement? Seonghwa had never before demanded such a thing from you. "What are you saying-" you stammered, only to be interrupted once more. "If you want to keep this from reaching Hongjoong, you'll go to the basement. Now!" he snapped, urgency dripping from his words.

You began a slow, hesitant walk towards the stairs, but Seonghwa's patience had evidently worn thin; he forcefully shoved you down, your feet stumbling to maintain balance as he flung open the heavy metal door. The chill of the basement air hit you like a wall, and the darkness felt heavy.

You dared not speak; his demeanor had changed to someone frightening and dominant, similar to Hongjoong when he's stern. Seonghwa closed the door behind you, the sound echoing loudly, and then grabbed your arm, pulling you toward an old couch in the dimly lit room. With Hongjoong still hours away from returning home, you realized how vulnerable you were. Seonghwa had the power to do whatever he wanted with you during this time, without anyone to stop him or even make a peep about it, sent a shiver down your spine. The basement suddenly felt more stifling than ever, closing in around you as you faced the unknown intentions of this new, frightening version of Seonghwa.

He settled into the couch, an aura of dominance radiating from him. Just as you were about to ask him what he was going to do, he yanked you onto his lap, positioning you face down with his knees pressing into your stomach. "Seonghwa! What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Panic filled your voice, but he was unfazed. In a swift motion, he tore off your already tattered shorts, fabric ripping as though it were paper. The moment you opened your mouth to protest further, he silenced you by crumpling your shorts and stuffing part of them into your mouth. You were taken aback, the fabric blocking your protest. Your hands instinctively went to remove the makeshift gag, but before you could, he seized both of your arms and bound them tightly behind your back with a rope you couldn’t even begin to fathom where he had found it. Now, you found yourself in a vulnerable position—sitting on his lap, face down, your backside fully exposed while your shorts muffled any cries for help. With your arms securely tied, you could do nothing but wait in confusion and dread for whatever he had planned next. The rush of blood to your cheeks was overwhelming as you squirmed, trying to regain some semblance of control, but he had you pinned, and the ropes tightened with every movement you made.

“Let’s get this over with before Hongjoong shows up,” he murmured with a hint of urgency, “I can’t have him finding out it was my fault the door was left open.” With that, he grasped the sides of your panties, adjusting them with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers down your spine, fully revealing your exposed skin. You wriggled slightly, desperation creeping in, but his grip was unyielding, and he quickly absorbed your resistance. His warm hand glided across your backside, gently at first, before suddenly delivering a sharp slap that echoed off the walls of the room. A muffled scream escaped your mouth as the pain shot through you—both a shock and a burn that lingered. He began to rub the spot he had just slapped, the gentle caress contrasting harshly with the sting. Each time you attempted to shift away, he would pull you back down into position, maintaining control over you.

“Hongjoong won't know about your little escape attempt or that I’m punishing you. Do you understand?" His words were firm, filled with a mix of warning and authority. The heat of embarrassment surged up your neck and across your face as you tried to understand what was happening. It was all too much. When the next slap landed, intensifying the throbbing pain in your ass cheek, you flinched involuntarily, mixing fear and humiliation. “Understood?” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. You nodded frantically. “Good girl. Now be a good little girl and accept your punishment.” Each blow that followed wasn’t just a physical hit but a toll on your spirit, the redness spreading across your skin becoming unbearable as tears threatened to spill.

"How many steps did you take outside? Fifteen? Twenty?" His grip didn’t loosen as he began to cup and rub your sore skin, contrasting sharply with the pain he had just caused. When he finally removed the fabric from your mouth, you coughed and struggled to catch your breath. His hands were soon back on your skin, delivering another loud slap, the echo causing your heart to race. “I asked you a question!” The authority mixed with anger in his voice had you trembling; you felt completely vulnerable and utterly at his mercy. “I-I don’t know!” you stammered, desperation clawing at your insides as the pain continued to radiate. “Give me a number or I’ll treat you as if you took a hundred steps and punish you accordingly.”

It all clicked into focus—he intended to deliver a spanking for every step you confessed to taking outside. Panic washed over you as you scrambled for a response, understanding that each number corresponded to another blow. “Maybe… eight? Nine? Hwa, I’m so sorry! I promise it won’t happen again!” You winced as another strike landed hard, pain surging through your entire body. A shrill scream burst from your lips, tears streaming down your face as you felt utterly broken. “You can’t even make it to the basement door in eight steps! You definitely took at least twenty.” The realization of how many more strikes you would have to endure set in, fear gripping you tightly. “Seonghwa, please! It hurts!” You could feel the ropes digging into your wrists as you writhed in discomfort, helpless under his control. “Count!” His voice was steady but filled with a tone that no longer held any traces of affection. There was now a different Seonghwa standing before you, far removed from the person you once knew. The Seonghwa that Hongjoong had molded through his rigorous training and relentless expectations had emerged, bearing the marks of his newfound identity. Park Seonghwa, with his warmth and kindness, was a ghost of the past, replaced entirely by Kim Seonghwa, terrifying and merciless, with traces of Hongjoong in his personality.

"I'll take it as four so far. Count from here. But if you miss, you start over."

You were lying down with a cold compress pressed against your swollen eyes, a result of the tears that had flowed so freely just moments before. Your eyes were puffy and red, and the ice was meant to numb the sting and reduce the swelling and since you couldn’t sit down, you were lying down and eating the fruits that Seonghwa had prepared for you to comfort you and apologize in his own way, which he forced into your mouth even though you shook your head as no. Your favorite show flickered on the TV screen, providing a backdrop to the tense atmosphere. Your head rested in Seonghwa's lap, his hands multitasking - one soothingly rubbing your back while the other continued to offer forkfuls of juicy peach to your lips. The silence between you was palpable; you hadn't uttered a word since the punishment, your last spoken syllable being the final count of "twenty."

There was about an hour until Hongjoong arrived and in that hour, you both had to put everything back to how it was and act like nothing had happened. You could find an excuse for crying, but you didn't know what excuse to come up with for not being able to sit at the dinner table. After Seonghwa finished shoving the last remaining slice of peach in your mouth, the taste still lingering, he tenderly caressed your hair, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on your head. “I need to get back to making dinner before he arrives. Can you manage to stay by yourself for a bit?” You didn’t respond; silence enveloped the space between you, your gaze fixed on the TV screen, your mind hardly registering anything at all. The sharp, burning sensation in your lower body remained, a reminder of everything.

"Angel, please say something. You're making me worry," Seonghwa said, his voice filled with concern. You looked at him and saw his worried eyes and guilt. You reminded yourself that Seonghwa was just following orders and his feelings were shaped by manipulation. He was just doing his job and wasn’t to blame for this situation; he was a victim of Hongjoong's manipulation too. You knew running away would lead to punishment, and you had indeed been punished harshly. Your feelings towards Seonghwa were complicated; you weren’t really angry with him, more so upset by the dynamics that had forced you both into this situation. Yet, the tension was thick in the air. If only he had chosen to overlook your escape, perhaps downplaying it with a simple warning 'not to do it again'. However, that wasn’t Seonghwa’s way. His sense of duty drove him to enforce the rules. The thought of what Hongjoong might do if he discovered your escape hung over you like a dark cloud. Past punishments had left scars—physical and emotional—and the fear of more severe consequences loomed large over you.

“Seonghwa?” you finally broke the silence, your gaze still intensely focused on him. “You won’t tell Hongjoong, right?” Fear crept into your voice as the thought of another punishment sent chills through your spine. Your body was still recovering, aching from the last punishment, and the thought of enduring more pain was unbearable. "As long as you don't make it obvious, I won't have to tell him," Seonghwa assured you. You understood the implication - if Hongjoong sensed anything amiss, there would be no stopping him from digging deeper, and Seonghwa, unable to bear the weight of it all, would be compelled to share everything that had happened. You found yourself desperate to maintain a façade, aware that any hint of suspicion could unravel everything. Despite the persistent pain, you knew you had to summon the strength to act as though nothing was amiss - to sit through dinner and participate in whatever activities Hongjoong might propose afterward.

Seonghwa gently took your hands, examining your wrists and massaging them softly. "There are no visible marks here," he observed, placing a kiss on each wrist before carefully returning them to your sides. "You should rest now. If dinner isn't ready when he arrives, he'll grow suspicious." With careful precision, he lifted your head from his lap, placing a pillow beneath it before kissing your forehead once more. “If you need anything at all, just call out, and I’ll be right there,” he promised, his tone filled with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the icy fear that gripped your heart. If only Hongjoong could show just a fraction of that care. Even when he punished you, if he could take the time to heal the wounds he inflicted and offer a shred of comfort, perhaps you wouldn’t harbor such deep-seated resentment towards him.

This was the first time you saw Seonghwa’s dark side and the first time you witnessed Seonghwa's darker nature, and it filled you with a deep sense of fear that you had never felt before. Up until this moment, you had held onto the belief that he might be an ally in your desperate situation, someone who could empathize with you. After all, Seonghwa himself had been a victim of that crazy bastard, just like you. You once thought that if a chance arose for escape, he would be the person to help you, or at the very least, he would choose to ignore your attempts to flee. However, that hopeful perspective began to shatter before your eyes.When he caught you trying to escape and forcefully pulled you back into the house, you still clung to the flicker of hope that perhaps he would guide you to safety. Maybe he would suggest taking the front entrance. But after telling you to go to the basement and punishing you for almost an hour - because you forgot what number you were at halfway through and started over - you realized that Seonghwa was actually just like Hongjoong, only more merciful. And as your idea of running away with him was completely ruined. The realization that you had to tread carefully around Seonghwa was a harsh lesson learned, leaving you feeling more trapped than ever in this nightmarish reality.

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moondirti · 3 months

Note

I have to ask about the sheep reader bc my god your brain is so wrinkly and now the images won't leave my head ahhhh love your writing so so much

hybrids. manipulation. brief smut. referenced neglect

it was that or cult leader price which i feel like has been done before so,,, idk man. something about sheep girl! reader being gifted to him by a hybrid averse neighbour, trussed up in the back of their pickup, soft belly up, eyes quivery and wet with tears. though he does not need an addition to his flock — certainly not one that would require extra care — he notices the abrasions sectioning your bare patches of skin (consequence of crowding in with the more animal individuals of your kind), and chubs up upon realising how easy it would be to soft-soap you into submission.

all it takes is a bit of kindness. he herds you into his home, bathing you in a galvanised steel tub with shampoo made for human women. his hands are large and rough, work-worn, but they weave into your wool gently as to not tug on the knots that have accumulated with neglect. you bleat in the novel attention, peering up at him shyly when he works the soap down your back, cupping between your legs to make sure he gets the dirt spoiling your privates.

freshly clean, you’re a pretty thing. round in the most mouth-watering places, teeth healthy upon inspection, plump lips perpetually cast in a pout. price goes so far as to tell you while he detangles your hair with an animal comb, petting your bare cheeks to feel the way they warm. loveliest lamb i’ve ever had the pleasure of caring for. set to be my favourite, at this rate. the most special.

that’s what the collar he buckles ‘round your neck seems to argue, too. fashioned himself out of full grain leather, dyed pink, antique buckle making a sturdy hook for the bell he will eventually procure.

you give in like he’d brought a meat tenderiser down on your flesh. pull apart like a well-cooked feast, unspooling all your ripe sentiments on his lap. as he sups on lamb chops — seated on his arm chair with you by his feet, making you suck his fingers clean — he tells you what to expect in your new home. the schedule, the other animals, your place within it all. you will not be given this treatment daily, yet it does not mean he loves you any less. most winter days, he’ll lay a bed of straw in the barn, assuring you that it’ll be away from the rams and their meddling horns, and come to check in on you when you can. that way, you’ll make friends who can keep you company while he’s busy.

and the way you nod, nose twitching under his heavy palm, hesitant but so trusting of the only kindness you’ve ever known — he can’t help but skip a few steps. promises you that if you get along with everyone well enough, if you’re good, he’ll reward you with a nice bath, trim, and private meal weekly. it’s the right thing to say, too, because your hips jut excitedly at the suggested luxury. just one taste of it and you’re so easily conditioned.

he can’t imagine how eager you’d be if he were to give you more. more; like fondling your doughy pussy as he is so tempted to do, kneading until you’re sloppy and soaked through your wool. like giving you a taste of climax, fingers foraging expertly within your walls, stretching your hole out to eventually supplant them with his cock. you’d move so well underneath him, fluffy and malleable, legs moved up and out of the way to press against your teats. if he knows anything, he knows sheep acquiesce to handling like butter to the knife. he could bend you, tie you, pick you up in whatever way he sees fit, and you’d take it. all he has to do in return is make you squirt messily onto the soft grass, and pump you full of his seed until you cannot clean yourself out without the help of his hand and a hose.

all in due time.

#༄dee answers #there’s a place for shepherd dog gaz here somewhere #farmer price is just so special to me okay :’)#he deserves a pretty thing that blindly trusts whatever he says #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #hybrid!reader #john price #sheepgirl!au

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trashmouth-richie · 5 months

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 :: part 1

꧁ eddie x female reader :: part 2 here

a multi chapter mini series— based on thoroughfare by ethel cain

listen here (apple music) + here (spotify)

summary: jumping into his truck at seventeen, eddie takes a journey in hopes to find love. years pass with no such luck, along the way he stumbles across you, a timid drifter who reluctantly agrees to join him, heading west. you’ve never trusted men, but something in those kind, deep colored coffee eyes stirs up a feeling you’ve never felt before. strangers to lovers trope, one bed trope.

triggers: 18+ smut

author’s note: no upside down, eddie was raised by his mom and dad in florida and they were in love.

The wet shell of a sunflower seed stuck to the tip of your finger. Slicked with salted spit and the tart bite of cherry chapstick, you hung your hand out of the passenger window, waiting for the western wind to blow the husk from your finger.

His thumb rubs against the rough edges of the flint wheel of his zippo, the sweet tang of tobacco invading your nose as the flame sparks leaving a burning cherry on the white paper. A slight chap to his lips from too much sun yesterday at the motel pool in BullHead City, you had supposed. Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The only time you could was when his eyes caught yours, daring you to look away.

The way he stared at you with a smirk twisted on his mouth took every bit of breath from your lungs. Holding your gaze in a cozy embrace with the deep warmth of his russet colored eyes until you finally forced yours to break away and look out the window instead. Bottom lip bit between your lips as a growing heat travels over the apples of your cheeks.

If you would have looked back at him you’d have noticed the way he licked his lips as he watched you sigh as if you hadn’t been breathing. Snapping another sunflower seed between your teeth before putting them on the crest of your lips to put them out of the window— he had your movements memorized. Each more tantalizing than the next.

Neither of you were able to deny the tension between you lately, letting it build and fester, aching for relief in the form of pleasure.

The last eight weeks had started to wear heavy on your chest, and you found yourself daydreaming about the beginning of this adventure, like a record on an endless spin to your favorite song.

Not a single radio station would come in wherever the hell it was in Texas he was right now. With every crank of the tuning dial, only the agonizing noise of static strained through the speakers to keep him company as he drove along this highway that never seemed to end.

He cursed himself for not buying a map at the gas station he filled the truck up at this morning. His gut instinct usually guided him on which roads to take, and today was no different. Only today felt like he was pulled by something else, something deeper within himself.

The sky was a mix of cyan and cotton clouds, already hot for May, he was just about to give up on the radio before he popped over a hill and an oldies station came in clear as could be. And something else came into view, plenty far away yet.

Hot wind whipped at your shirt, providing next to nothing for comfort as you trudged along the broken asphalt. You now understood why this place was called the Lone Star State, because you haven’t seen a damn soul in miles. For today, you didn’t mind the loneliness. Leaving home, years ago, you didn’t have a destination in mind, only the knowledge that you needed to get the hell out.

Whatever highway you were on looked to be deserted. As if the state built a multi-laned monstrosity elsewhere and gave up on this slow, lonely stretch, leaving it to the elements. Prairie grass poked through the splintered road, tumbleweeds swayed in the ditches, collecting and tangling as one like a tawny bundle of barbed wire.

Looking behind you, a vehicle showed in the distance like a wavy mirage in the desert. You had half a thought to stick your thumb out and catch a ride to the nearest bus station, but when the vehicle got closer your conscience took over, and anxiety thumped in your chest.

Please don’t stop, please please.

The engine hummed to a lower gear, and you automatically put a hand on the pistol at your waistband. Moving further over to the side of the road where whoever was driving could see that you weren’t interested in their good deed, you kept your head down and kept walking.

Tires slowed and you went into a small panic, wishing you had something sharp to hold between your fingers, but the barren highway offered no such vice.

You heard faint music as the vehicle got closer, crawling almost to a stop as you quickened your steps hoping they would just keep going and leave you be.

“Pretty hot out today… need a lift?”

The voice felt like velvet on your skin, a warmth you’d never known. Endearingly charming, no southern twang like someone from Texas would have. You ignored him, letting the crunch of gravel on your worn boots answer instead.

You had never been given the luxury to trust someone, and you’d be damned if you were gonna start today with some stranger on the side of the road. Heart rate kicking up, you all but bolted to avoid him.

“Baby don’t run, I’ll take you anywhere,” his drawl wrapped around you like a vice, soft and pillowy, and finally your curiosity got the better of you, as you came to a halt. You wanted to look this asshole in the eyes and flash him the pistol you kept, maybe fire a warning shot over the hood of his truck so he’d get the message. That no, in fact you did not need a ride, not from him.

Stopping so his passenger window lined up with you in the center you eyed the only other beating heart on the side of the road.

His hair was past his shoulders, brown and wavy, more than likely frizzy in high humidity. Eyes that were shaped like Bambi’s colored like a bottomless cup of coffee without creamer. His nose sat with a fading sunburn painting along his cheeks, each dwelling a poked dimple in the center. And you swore the key to Heaven was buried in his smile.

When he spoke it was clear that his intentions weren’t to cause you any harm. Minutes ticked by as he waited for your answer.

“Hey, do you wanna see the West with me?”

It was a simple question asked from the quirked mouth of a guy you’d never met before, you would have remembered those eyes in any setting. He leaned an elbow out his window as he threw the truck in park, twisting in his seat to face you a little more. A cigarette dangling from his large hand.

The butter colored sun shone against his caramel curls like a breakfast roll full of sticky sugar, the same light changing his eyes into a whiskey auburn.

He was a complete stranger, but what was even stranger was your one word answer that spread that million dollar grin further onto his face than you thought humanly possible.

You moved your hand from that handle of the gun in your tattered jeans, bearing more holes than actual threads of denim. It was meant for situations just like this, and you had nabbed it from your dad right before you walked out the front door for the very last time.

Instinct told you to run, but something in those dark eyes brought you a wave of calm, whispering out as if you’d known him for years. Your boots had already blistered your heels from walking this far, so what the hell?

Pressing a thumb into the release of the door handle, you swung yourself and your knitted bag into the moth-bitten navajo rug that covered the seat.

His smile didn’t fade, never so much as creased into a frown as he waited for you to get situated. Before he put his truck into drive he explained where he was going.

He was making the grand gesture of looking for love like the kind he grew up watching with his own mom and dad. Explaining that love like that was out there waiting for him, and he was determined to find it, no matter the distance.

Suspicion jumped to your brow, and you tried to stifle the scowl on your lip. “What?” he chirped, a little twist to his lips, “don’t believe in stuff like that?”

This bastard clearly didn’t know heartache the way you were practically related to it. You sigh lazily before looking over at him. Trying not to break his dreams before he even had the chance to realize what a waste of time it was, you simply murmur, “honey, love’s never meant much to me, but I’ll come with you if you’re sure that’s what you need.”

After years of living and growing without being loved, it had become almost useless, something heard in songs or read in books, surely it wasn’t real. But hell, you’d humor this man whose smile danced like a western sunset against a salty ocean breeze, what was the worst that could happen?

A large calloused hand reached across the cab of the truck, and you shook it with a small grin as his voice rubbed like silk across your soul, “I’m Eddie.”

And so it began, the journey to find a love daring to be something greater than anything he’d ever known, hell bent and determined it was out there, wherever that may be.

He had asked about your life. Never pushing when your answers were too short, or ended the conversation entirely. Letting you have your space, he built a trust between the two of you that you weren’t sure about at first.

The roads were desolate, and you couldn’t imagine walking along them alone. You thanked whoever cared that your thoroughfare crossed into his, almost as if destiny had placed you there. Knowing you needed a friend after leaving the only thing you’d ever known and not having a single soul to rely on.

But as time went by, you realized just how much you could rely on him.

That first day, he drove until the windshield bled to ink. Stars dotted across the sky once the sun went to rest, and he encouraged you to follow suit, pulling a hooded sweatshirt from behind his seat and tossing it towards you. Your hesitation told him all he needed to know, that the uncertainty of him was rooted deep. Too deep for you to let your guard down around him.

That pearl handle poked out from your hip and his kind eyes met the scared look in yours. He rubs his lips together before he speaks calmly, “you uhm,” he looks over at you to show how serious this was to him, even if you couldn’t see it in the dark, “you don’t have to worry about using that with me… I’m not that kind of guy.”

His innocence spoke through his eyes in words he hadn’t said, showing you that he wasn’t lying, that you could trust him. You took a deep breath, wondering if you were insane for feeling comfortable with a guy you just met, but it wasn’t long before you whisper, “okay.”

When you snuck a peek over at him, his face was lit by the dim lights of the dash, a smirk nestled on his lips, cheeks welled with the deepest dimples you’d ever seen, and your shoulders eased for the first time since hopping in.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the night. Your head resting on the window, his sweatshirt rolled under your neck as you fell into a sleep so tender and warm you felt like a baby being lulled to bed as he sang along to the radio.

The heat from the window warmed your cheek when you woke, leaving a less than glamourous mark. Letting out an embarrassingly long yawn, you stretch your arms above your head, feeling your back crack into submission.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, how long did I sleep?” you ask, covering your mouth again from another yawn.

Eddie smiled tiredly, his hair was wrapped into a bun at the base of his neck, sunglasses topping his nose, pushing up from his cheeks as he grins, “don’t apologize for sleeping when you’re tired,” he said, shrugging, “besides, you probably would’ve woken up if I crashed.”

A chuckle hits your dry throat and you cough, “where are we?”

“Still in Texas believe it or not,” he groans, turning it into a long yawn, holding a hand to his mouth, swallowing a bit, “I hoped we could’ve made it to New Mexico before I pulled over but I’m starting to think that ain’t gonna happen.”

You figured he would have stopped to sleep at some point in the night, even if it was just for a few hours. Guilt throttled you at the thought of him staying up while you were asleep. “I can drive while you take a nap.”

“Nah,” he says with a lazy smile, looking over at you, “not that I care if you drive my truck or not, I just think we could both use some decent sleep, watch a little tv, eat, plus… I need a shower.”

Taking a whore’s bath in the gas station sinks had kept you clean, but you almost cried outright at the thought of water, cold or hot you couldn’t care less, running down the length of your body. But the lack of money burning in your pocket stopped that dream in its tracks.

You had a couple hundred bucks left after selling off your car before leaving home. The cost efficient option would be to drive while he slept. “It’s really not a big deal, I promise I’m a good driver.”

The charm you tried to emanate when pulling out your license to show him that you indeed weren’t lying, fell flat as Eddie waved you off, “deodorant only lasts so long before we’ll have to ride with our heads outta the window.”

He laughs in your place as you stare out of the windshield, mind racing over the trouble of being able to afford a motel room.

“C’mon,” he smirks, that same lazy smile stretched on his face, you wondered if he ever got mad. “We survived almost a whole day together, if I was gonna rob you I would’ve done it already.”

“It’s not that,” you say, picking at your nails, fighting the urge to bite them to shreds, “I wasn’t walking because I wanted too…”

Wheels turn in a tired mind as Eddie nearly chokes when he realizes what you meant.

“Don’t worry about it,” he confirms, brushing you off as if it wasn’t a big deal that you’d be bunking with him for free, and when your facial expressions didn’t change, he lowered his voice, and took off his sunglasses, “seriously sweets, you’re doing me a favor keeping me company, ‘m not gonna make you pay for a trip you didn’t plan, okay?”

You sighed, and shook your head yes.

The nearest motel was a hole in the wall type of place. Adhering to the kind of people that either paid by the hour or stayed for weeks at a time. The perk being it was next to a gas station where you refused to let Eddie pay for the armful of snacks he had carried to the counter. Including two hotdogs that you couldn’t be bothered wondering how long they’d been spinning in the warmer.

His boots clunked against the sidewalk as he jumped from the bed of the pickup hauling his duffle bag over his shoulder, the hotel keys wrapped around his forefinger. Outside of you both relieving yourselves on the empty shoulder of the highway last night, this was the first time you’d seen just how tall he was.

He squints in the sun and cocks his head, “bet you a dollar the carpet is orange.”

Room 8 consisted of two full sized beds, a lamp between the two, an arm chair and a small television. A stiff neon brochure for adult channels lay next to the remote, and you scrunched your nose as Eddie pushed it to the floor with the heel of his boot.

Laying out the snacks neatly on the table, you hand him the other hot dog, licking a drop of mustard from your palm. He thanked you, and took a bite consuming almost half of it before dropping onto the bed closest to the door, laying flat on his back.

Having four walls around you gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t been expecting. Slipping off your shoes you wiggled your bare toes and sat on the bed facing away from him, rolling your socks into one another.

“How’s the hotdog?” you asked over your shoulder, moving your bag between the side of your bed and the wall for the bathroom.

A muffled sound comes from the other side of the room as he shovels another bite in, “rubbery, but not too bad for having been made at midnight.”

You snort and swing your legs into the bed. Grabbing the hotdog from the comforter and peeling back the white paper around it, taking a small bite. It was warm, and tasted a hell of a lot better than the moldy ham sandwich you ate yesterday. A satisfied hum leaves your mouth and you giggle.

“Hotdogs for breakfast… don’t think I’ve ever had this before.” You laugh again before taking another bite of the squishy snack. Eddie looks up as he chews the remaining bite, realizing this was the first time he’d ever heard you laugh loud enough for him to hear, what a beautiful sound.

“Stick with me, we’ll have breakfast for dinner, too,” his tongue pokes out to lick a smear of ketchup from the corner of his lip, and he yawns loud and proud.

You cross your feet beneath your legs, a content little smile on your face. “Do I still owe you a dollar if the carpet is also brown and green?”

Your combined laughter echoes across the wood paneling and the pictures of dogs playing poker. The two of you joke about the severely dated room, agreeing that this was probably the place to stay in its prime. But the sheets were clean and that’s about all you could ask for at this point.

Eddie’s eyes were nearly closed as he scrubs large hands down his face, his voice strained, “mind if I shower ‘fore I fall asleep?”

“Not at all,” you say, jumping from the bed and looking through the snacks to find the licorice, “take all the time you need.”

He tosses the remote to your bed and unzips his bag, pulling out a toothbrush and a clean pair of boxer briefs, a minute passes and he scratches his head before diving back into the bag, yanking out a folded pair of sweatpants.

Sighing as he peels off his boots, he walks to the bathroom door and before shutting it, he pokes his head back out, a curious little grin on his lips as he asks earnestly, “you’re not gonna run away, are you?”

You swallow the bite of licorice and smile back, “think you’re stuck with me, if that’s cool with you?”

His grin broadens to a cheshire smile and he says he won’t be long, promising to save some hot water.

Neither of you can quit the grin on your lips until the door unlocks, and Eddie mutters “cool,” to himself before leaving the steamed bathroom.

Diners with smudge stained windows and siding that was warped from the sun's rays, came few and far between on those lone, dust covered roads. Eddie had pulled into almost every one. “Never know when the next one will pop up, sweetheart,” he smirked, sending a wink your way that had your stomach fluttering.

Each menu, although stickier at some places than others, was relatively the same. Eggs, Bacon, Toast. Waffles at the fancier joints or maybe a bowl of fruit alongside a flapjack.

He watched you intently as your eyes scanned the menu, keeping his promise of having breakfast for supper a few week into your trip. His own stomach had been grumbling since you packed up from the last motel somewhere on the border of Oklahoma and New Mexico. A wrong turn near McCamey had taken you North to Amarillo, three hundred miles in the completely opposite direction.

Instead of screaming about the wasted fuel, Eddie had only shrugged. He was excited to cross into the panhandle, and to make a check along the list of states you’d scribbled onto a napkin a few days into the trip to cross off as you came through them.

That quiet, suspicious drifter he had picked up three weeks ago seemed to blossom with life the more he peeled back the bricks that you had surrounded yourself with. But Eddie was charismatic, easy to talk to, and you found yourself deep in the throes of explaining things to him you haven’t talked about in years.

When your cheeks would heat and embarrassment creeped up your neck, you apologized for talking too much. He only shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he said that he didn’t mind, he wanted to know more.

The waitress strolled back over with a cigarette hanging from her lip, a gray ash practically a mile thick on it as she grumbled about the specials and set glasses of water on the table—ice already melted besides a sliver of a stubborn cube.

“I’ll take a cup of coffee,” he charmed, folding the menu placing his hands on top of it, “two eggs hard fried, a couple of sausage patties and wheat toast, also one of those slices of lemon meringue pie I saw in the display window.”

Without so much as a grunt, the waitress lifted her eyes to look you over. Setting down the vinyl menu, you place your order and lick your lips at the thought of the homemade lard crust on the rhubarb pie.

Looking out the window to the dry landscape, you sigh with a breath of content. You had never been this far west before, never been anywhere really besides the small town you grew up in.

Two coffees sit in front of each of you and Eddie thanks the waitress, a dimpled grin on his cheeks as he opens a packet of sugar. Warm eyes look at you as he stirs the coffee into a swirl, “Nothing like home, huh?”

A smile presses to your lips and you sip the bitter liquid, chipped porcelain against your front teeth, “definitely not, the air is dry here.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, slipping the spoon into his mouth to clean the coffee up, taking a big gulp of the burnt— probably microwaved— concoction, “it is, but that’s the beauty in the journey, exploring different places, meeting new people.”

He tucks a curl behind his ear, a tiny silver hoop in his lobe, you hadn’t noticed before and you ask, “you keen on picking up strangers on the side of the road?”

A laugh bubbles from his throat, and he smiles big showing all of his teeth, “in all the years I’ve been on the road, I never have, not until you,” he takes a sip of his coffee, a pretty blush rides on his cheeks, “guess I haven’t run out of luck just yet.”

You hide your own smile, itching your nose, “how long has it been?”

Eddie thinks for a minute, “well, I left Florida when I was seventeen..,” he adds up the years on his fingers with this thumb moving to each one, “… shit,” he says with a smirk, “almost nine years now.”

He was older, not by much, but you had both left at a younger age. Calling the open road and warm air home for years. Living like a Steve Earle song sporting a two pack habit and a motel tan, it seemed like fate put you on the same road that he was traveling that day.

But you push that thought away, Eddie was looking for love, and you were just tagging along like a pet, a friend at best.

“Do you ever miss it?”

He stretches himself across the booth, arms on the back of the peeling seat, pearl snaps straining against the denim from the broadness of his chest, and you find it hard not to look, “Nah, I’ll go back someday, me and my girl.”

That flutter happens again in your stomach and you feel almost nauseous at how infectious his smile is.

You spend the rest of dinner that way, trying to shove down a grin with each bite of breakfast food as the sun fell behind the mountains. Letting the butterflies swarm, with each time he looked into your eyes.

Not knowing that Eddie was also slowly losing his own battles, leaving with something more in his stomach that was sweeter then the stiff meringue on that damn lemon pie.

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#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie drabble #eddie blurb

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stevie-petey · 5 months

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episode two: the mall rats

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

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

Rating: general, some swearing

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

Words: 13.2k

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

There are dandelions all around you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

“I haven’t seen Steve in a month!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Billy doesn’t say anything.

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

Neither one of you talk about this.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, did Jonathan finally wash his bedsheets?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wince. “Oh, that’s never good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopper is quiet as your words hang in the air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

It’s the Henderson charm, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, five minutes too long.”

“Your breath reeks.”

“You have a pimple on your chin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s Suzie?” Steve asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dustin sighs. “They ditched me yesterday.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With what?”

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course Robin caught onto what you were doing.

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

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

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

“Steve isn’t my boyfriend–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wish you could tell her the truth.

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

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

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

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve got our first sentence!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, likely story.”

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

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

“Okay–”

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

“I think she looks nice–”

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

“What is she, your little pet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe it’s a code?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honesty, I think it’s great news.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like a super secret spy code.”

“That’s a total stretch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Evil Russians.”

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

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

“Do we stop them?” She asks the teen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or a person.” Robin theorizes.

“Or a weapon.”

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

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

“I need–do you have a quarter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Care to share with the class, dinguses?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dustin sighs and Steve drops his head.

Somehow, you always end up here.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hope it’s enough.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #nya #m's writing #this one foreshadows loooooads #like so much #i feel so sneaky

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shrenvents · 4 months

Text

Guard Dog II

Part one

Warning: minors dni, fluff, smut, fingering, penetration, no protection, language

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x you

Summary: You and Daryl have started seeing each other, but not much has changed between you two. Yet, all you can think about is how much you need it to —need him to touch you, but he hasn’t made a move. Thus, you take charge.

Word count: 1.6k

…

Though it hasn't been said, flat out, you and Daryl are dating. And although nothing about your dynamic has altered, you’re still fairly certain, you're dating now.

But, the routine is just the same. You go somewhere, Daryl follows. However, nowadays you talk regularly, and he's visibly more comfortable. The others even started to notice your relationship and the changes in Daryl as well. One of which is, according to Eugene, is he seems happier, lighter, like a weight has lifted from his shoulders.

So, how is it that you feel something missing? You guessed a relationship with Daryl would be nothing less than this. But deep down, you expected him to at least touch you. And all you really wanted, was a kiss.

Sometimes, when he's close enough, you feel his warmth radiate over your very being. Sometimes, you sense his touch from when he grabbed your wrist, and held you in his arms weeks ago.

It left you craving more. Perhaps it did for him too...

Various times you swore his hand would hover over your skin, debating whether to reach out to you or not. Other times, he follows you to your house, but never steps foot inside, not since that day. He continuously stops short at your front deck, giving you a prolonged nod for a goodbye.

You’re shy in many ways, as is he, so if things were to change, you figure you have to be the one to take the reins. After all, he did admit to "wanting" you, so what did you have to lose?

…

Sighing, you open your door, squinting to welcome the blazing sun.

As of late, your mornings consist of this smouldering summer shine, and a mouthwatering, sleeveless Daryl Dixon, leaning against the pillar upholding your porch, waiting for you to wake.

"Morning!" You greet cheerfully. Daryl looks at you, and his scowl instantly softens. "I'm thinking we should do something today, together," you boast, trudging off the porch. "You know, switch up our usual routine somehow." Pausing thoughtfully, you notice how patiently Daryl observes you, waiting for your word, without any interruptions. It almost shocks you how docile he truly is, beneath that dim, tough exterior.

Your eyes explore Alexandria's landscape, catching areas with dull greenery. Your mouth opens in 'ah!'

Daryl appears disquiet and you holler, "Gardening!"

"No," he contradicts, quickly shutting down your idea. You huff, hindering a small smile. "Oh please, it would be fun!" You persuade, "This place needs more character, it's too-" desperately searching for a word, you make Daryl smirk a bit. "Colourless right now," you proclaim.

"And adding some flowers, will make this place look less like a 'dump'?" He mocks plainly.

"I don't think it's a 'dump,' it just needs some," once more, you seek the appropriate word, and Daryl expels a breathy chuckle. "Sprucing," you finish, and he nods with a tiny shake in disbelief. "Let's go!" You shout, heading to a plain field of grass.

"Yes ma'am," Daryl grumbles behind you, and you giggle.

...

The both of you spend hours outside, digging up weeds, replanting flowers, and spreading plant seeds across the lot. The whole ordeal left you both filthy, decorated in dirt. Though it's nothing new for Daryl, you feel pretty disgusting, not to mention 'hideous.'

Engrossed in your obsessive thoughts, you miss the way Daryl longingly watches you. That’s until you feel a plant stem, tuck your hair behind your ear. You spy Daryl’s calloused fingers, gently placing a pink flower there. His pinkie lightly coasts down your locks, to your shoulder.

You peer into his eyes, struck by his tenderness. His dilated pupils hold so much depth, that you get lost in them. So absentmindedly, you shift closer to Daryl.

His eyes roam your face, down to your lips, focusing on them.

A short breath escapes you, heart dropping, and he stands up. Now on his feet, Daryl brushes the grime on his hands in a clap, then lends one out to you. “You’re covered in dirt,” his throat bobs, “Let’s call it a day,” he heaves you upright, “take a shower.” You nod in agreement, kind of discombobulated.

Hand in hand, you silently walk to your house. Once you get there, he retracts his palm from yours and scratches his crown awkwardly. “You’re not coming?” You mumble shyly, and his wide eyes shoot to yours.

You fight to remain calm, staring at him. He licks his lips, once again, looking at your parted ones. “Separate showers, or...?” He asks airily.

“Whatever you want,” replying in a whisper, you slowly back up your steps, intently watching him. He refuses to break eye contact as he follows you inside.

When the door clicks shut, the only audible sound is his breathing, which is more like panting.

“You sure about…?” He trails off, delicately admiring your face. When you faintly mouth a 'yes,' his eyes train to your figure. You leisurely stride towards him.

“You’re so,” before he finishes, you peck his lips. He jerks his jaw moderately, and his gaze struggles to decide, whether to look at your eyes, or your body.

“Touch me,” you practically beg, nudging his abdomen with your knuckles. His sharp breath fans your face, and his expression distorts right before he instinctively, crashes his mouth into yours. Tongues mingling together, he grunts quietly, and you hum a whine in return.

Bodies pressing hard against each other, his hands tangle into your tresses, cupping your head. He rolls his hips rather harshly and you whine louder.

Breaking away with his name on your tongue, you clutch his hand and haul him upstairs.

Reaching the top of the staircase, he hugs you from behind and buries his face into your neck, breathing in like you're his lifeline.

“Daryl,” you sigh then gasp when he suddenly lifts you up. Your toes drag on the floorboards while he sucks on your nape. “Bathroom,” he rasps.

“To your left,” you huff in response, pushing your backside atop his crotch. Daryl just about growls, hastily carrying you into the bathroom.

Putting you down nicely, he forcibly tugs the shower curtain to the side. You spin to look at him and see him surveying you, staring down at your frame like he's in heat. You bite your lip, raising a hand to push away the black hair blocking his eyes.

“Can I?” He asks politely, gesturing to your clothes.

“Yes,” you nearly moan.

Together, you remove each other’s garments, one by one, piece by piece. Eyes equally wandering, to every newly revealed section of flesh. Daryl adorns your naked body and his lip tilts. You lean towards him to turn the shower knob.

The shower head roars, and Daryl tenses when the tips of your breasts graze his chest. “God,” he groans then takes your dome in his hands again, yanking your mouth upwards.

Your fronts fix together, and he palms your ass, reddening the skin there. His hard-on rubs your cunt, and he ambles you both under the flowing stream of water.

“Fuck,” you moan wildly when your spine hits the cool wall.

“Ya feel amazing,” he resounds into your ear, kissing it with a swipe of his tongue. You grind onto him. “Like that baby, again,” he instructs hoarsely, almost pained.

Moving in sync with each other, his cock continuously moves over your clit. You whine his name over and over, scratching your nails across his biceps. You moan out appraisals and smooch a trail from his chin to chest.

His hushed tone chants your name, trying to get your attention. But, when he gets tired of you ignoring him, his digits abruptly slip into you. You instantly cry out, then move in rhythm with his fingers, riding them. He begins to elicit an orgasm, so you pull away from his aggressive kiss. “Wait, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Good,” he groans with a smirk, trying to capture your mouth again.

“No, no, I wanna cum with you,” you plea, whispering, "on you," barely coherent. His fingers immediately slow and withdraw, at once, replaced by his girthy cock.

You scream a yelp and Daryl releases a lengthy, unreserved, animalistic groan. “So, tight,” his dark voice grates your ears. He cups your breast, playing with its nipple, and you sob while he mutters how badly he needs this.

After a moment of adjusting, Daryl starts thrusting. "Harder!" You express, and his hips lunge into you, untamed and vigorous.

Though his bottom half ruthlessly takes you, his hands and mouth are kind and attentive. His palms glide over your torso, holding you securely, and he kisses your features.

“Daryl, I love it,” you exclaim, then repeat yourself.

“Y-yeah?” He stammers, pinning his forehead to the side of your skull, and you grip his muscular biceps. “Yes, you’re so good.”

He growls your name, pumping even faster, evidently getting closer to his climax.

His hands move to squeeze and spread your ass, and ever-so-slightly, his finger sweeps across your unfilled hole, circling it. You squeal and huddle into him, and he murmurs something so quietly, that you can hardly hear it.

“What?” You gasp, craning your neck back.

“-fucking love you,” Daryl moans roughly, hoisting up your leg by its thigh. “Shit.” Pushing into you one last time, he pulls out to cum on your stomach.

Daryl's confession strikes such a cord, that you also cum when he removes himself.

Blanking, you aimlessly watch him stroke himself, and he grits his teeth at the sight of you flushed and wet.

Eventually, his meaty arms embrace your trembling form, snaking around your curves firmly. And after a short while, you hug him too, burying your face in his sternum.

“Can you, say that again?” You ask meekly, and as if he can hear your smile, he chuckles. “Later,” he pauses to kiss your scalp, “Lemme catch my breath first baby.”

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astraystayyh · 1 year

Text

If the world was ending

Felix x reader. Estranged childhood best friends to lovers. Angst and happy ending. highly recommend listening to If the world was ending while reading :)

Felix has always been there with you, from the moment you've met him when you were 8 years old, until he suddenly no longer was, and you were left to grapple with the consequences of his absence- and those of his return.

cw: description of a car accident, reader has a fear of loud noises.

skz song series masterlist

12 march 2011

Screeching brakes, a jarring collision, glass shattering all around you, shards of it embedding into your tender skin. You are too young to understand it all, but you know it's bad. You are suddenly upside down, the only thing helping you stay put is the seatbelt fastened around you. You didn't really like seatbelts but your mom always insisted on you wearing one.

Your mom, you can't see her face, she's upside down too, and she isn't talking. That's unusual because you're crying and she isn't turning around to comfort you. Someone is screaming outside of your car, and then you are pulled out. You don't know who's touching you, and you want them to stop. Where is your mom? Why did they not pull her out too?

An ambulance approaches you; its loud sirens feel like pine needles drilling into your skull. You try to cover your ears but your hands are covered in blood. The world around you is painted red- the flashing lights of the sirens and the liquid oozing from your cuts. It’s no longer your favorite color.

27 may 2011

You are playing in the playground near your home, waving at your mom from the top of the slide. She's gotten better, she smiles more easily at you now. And you are trying to be a good kid too; you help wash the dishes and you clean your room all by yourself. You don't want your mom to feel sad again and go back to that dreaded hospital.

You slide out, happy giggles leaving your mouth, before climbing up the tiny stairs once again. But as you reach the top, an ambulance rushes by the playground. You don't know what's happening, but you suddenly feel shards of glass on your skin once again. Your hands are shaking as you sit on the floor, curling around yourself in a ball.

"What's wrong?" someone asks and you lift your head tentatively. It's a young boy, he's looking at you worriedly, a tiny pout on his lips.

"I don't like ambulances," you hiccup, burying your head in your knees again.

Suddenly, small hands cover your ears, muffling the shrill sound of sirens. They are warm and sticky from the red popsicle he’s still holding.

"Now you can't hear them," he giggles, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents. Despite your raging fear, a smile finds its way into your lips.

"What's those on your face," you ask with a small voice, pointing at the faint marks dusting his cheeks.

"They're called freckles," he says proudly and you nod.

"They're pretty."

"Thank you!" he grins at you, his hands still covering your ears. The tightness in your chest seems to dissipate slowly before his kind smile- the shadows never stood a chance in front of the sun.

"What's your name?"

"Felix. And you?"

"Yn."

"We should be friends," he beams and you grin back, agreeing wholeheartedly. "We should."

15 november 2021

You are sitting on the grass of that very same playground, Felix still by your side. The night breeze is cooling as it brushes against your bodies, and you're wearing his red sweater. It smells like his cologne and your perfume- an intoxicating scent you've come to memorize by heart.

His nose tip is rosy from the cold, and you can't resist tapping it playfully. "Your nose is pink," you giggle, and he smiles, gently bopping yours in return.

"So is yours."

You look at him as he gazes up at the stars above. You love Felix, it has always been crystal clear to you. From the moment he planted the seed of his friendship into your soul, and throughout the years when it bloomed into something more, bigger than the two of you. It wrapped around your being entirely, binding itself into your every atom, until all you saw is his reflection in you.

And you were tired of treading the line between friendship and something more. You wanted, no craved being with him, your yearning so intense it spilled from you each time he was around. In rosy cheeks and shaky fingers and eyes that soften only when they rest on him- evidence of your love imprinted all upon you.

You take in a deep breath, before laying your hand gently on his cheek, turning his face to meet yours. His eyes widen slightly at the soft touch, and you lean in closer to him. You brush your nose against his, slowly, "to warm it up," you whisper, as his breath hitches in his throat.

He's close, he's so close, you can almost taste the brownies you shared earlier on his lips. You can see his freckles ever so clearly, constellations you often find yourself getting lost in. Your hand is still on his cheek, and you can feel it burning up under your palm.

You close your eyes, as his lips are now just a breath away from yours. It's electrifying- having him so near to the way you've always dreamed, fantasized about. But he needs to be the one to take the jump, all he has to do is lean in a bit, and you'd kiss him. You won't ever let go.

"Lixie...," you choke out, "kiss me."

"I want to." His voice is hoarse with emotion, as if fighting with himself for self-restraint.

"So do it," you ask, swiping your thumb gently across his cheek. Your breaths mingle with one another in a dizzying dance.

"I'm leaving," he says so faintly, you believe for a second that you've imagined it.

"What?" you ask, leaning a bit away to be able to look at him.

"I'm leaving," he repeats, his eyes tightly shut. "We're moving to another country, for my dad's job."

"You're leaving me?" you ask, bewildered.

"I'm not leaving you-"

"But you are. You won't be here anymore." You drop your hand, taking hurried steps away from him. Touching him didn't feel electrifying anymore, it felt horrible and nauseous, because you won't get to do it again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to-"

"How long have you known?"

"Yn..."

"Felix," you say, tone stern. "How long?"

"Six months," he whispers and a bitter chuckle escapes your lips.

"When are you leaving?"

"In a week."

The pain becomes unbearable, and you turn your back to him so he wouldn't see your rapidly falling tears. You are angry, as a disguise for the sadness threatening to drown you. Him leaving tasted like the salty water you gulp when you dive in too quickly into the ocean. And you did dive in, in him, in his soul and everything that made up Felix. And now he was leaving you, with no anchor to help you float again.

"Is that why you insisted on spending so much time with me lately? Because you were leaving?"

"You need to understand I didn't know how to tell you, I- I don't even know who I am without you." He pleads, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears, reminding you of tiny diamonds. That's how it is with Felix, you found beauty in everything he did- even tearing your heart in half.

"Maybe you should've thought of how I would feel. You were thinking of leaving me while I..." Your voice breaks and you take a shaky breath. "While I was falling in love with you."

"I'm in love with you too," he quickly says, reaching out to hold your hand. "I love you, I always have." He's wrapping his arms around you, and you're letting him because it feels safe and secure. Because he’s still your Felix, even if he's leaving you behind.

You wonder what you must have done in a past life, what a horrible person you could've been for the universe to treat you this cruelly. To hand you everything you've ever wanted in a silver platter, and snatch it from your hands before you could dare to grab it.

"We'll make it work," he mumbles into your hair, placing a tender kiss on your temple. "We'll talk and we can be together."

"No, we can't. I'll just hold you back from living your new life, I can't have that."

"Don't talk like that, please," his voice wavers, words barely managing to slip out of his mouth. Regret overtakes your body so suddenly at the thought of his lips- you shouldn't have tried to kiss him. Maybe then he wouldn't have told you he was leaving.

"It's the truth. we'll grow to hate each other, distance will put a strain on us. I'd rather not talk to you than have you resent me."

"But-"

"Just hold me," you cut him off. "As if nothing's happening, please."

And he complies because Felix always does. Because he loves you and as much as he doesn't want to, he knows you're right.

•••••

It's been three months since Felix left- the days passed by agonizingly slowly, and yet the months went by in a blur, a hauntingly vivid reminder of what once was. At first, the texts between you two were frequent, but as time wore on, the messages grew sporadic, from your end, mostly. Seeing him flourish in his new life felt like salt on an open wound, a reminder that he was moving on while you were still anchored in memories of him.

You saw him in every corner of your city. The smell of brownies that he's made countless times, each time you felt sad. The way he kissed your cheek each time he won a game, while you were lying on his bed, bored. The way he hugged you whenever you were sick, gently tucking strands of your hair behind your ear. The way he covered your ears instinctively at each loud noise, knowing how scared it made you still.

And you've felt each of these emotions since he was gone. You were sad and bored and sick and happy and scared. And he wasn't here with you through them. Each moment away from Felix seemed to magnify what could have been- what should have been between the two of you.

There is a building construction next to you, loud cement blocks crashing to the ground. And you are curled around yourself in a protective ball, covering your ears with your hands, because Felix isn't here to do it anymore for you.

You and Felix have grown with one another, your soul carefully woven into his, like two threads intricately stitched into the same tapestry. Him leaving felt like half of your body was cut off from you, and you were left alone to figure out how to function with an incomplete heart.

17 july 2023

Summer break meant coming back home and sleeping in your childhood bedroom once again. Memories of Felix still lingered in there- posters he has given you and his red sweater that you've never found the courage to throw away. It doesn't hurt as much to remember him, the sharp pain morphed into a dull ache you've grown accustomed to by now.

You're watching the TV mindlessly when someone knocks on your door, and you go to open it without a second thought, expecting it to be your parents. It wasn't.

"Felix?" you stammer, stumbling back in shock. You blink repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to make sure he's not a figment of your twisted imagination. You haven't uttered his name in so long, and the syllables felt both foreign and familiar in your mouth.

"It's me," he smiles sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

"You are here," you whisper, stating the obvious. He didn't change much, his kind brown eyes and freckles still as captivating as before. But his features were sharper, prettier, and the sight of him is making you dizzy once again.

"I am."

"What are you doing here?" You ask cautiously, opening the door a bit wider to let him in.

"I requested a transfer to your university. I wanted to come back. I missed home, and I missed you," he adds softly, making a turmoil of emotions surge within you.

You clear your throat. "So, you are back for good?"

"I am," he says, smiling slightly at you as if to gauge your reaction. You stay silent and his grin falters; his tongue resting against the inside of his cheek, a habit he hasn't let go of apparently. He then walks to the kitchen and you follow suit. You don't have to show him around, he knows your home like the back of his hand. He spent most of his childhood here after all, even though his house was only a few blocks away.

"How have you been?" he asks as he opens the cupboard to take out a glass. He closes its door softly, careful not to make it thud.

"I'm good. It's summer break so I'm finally back home, what about you?"

"I'm good too. It's nice to be back."

Your conversation is strained and awkward, so unnatural of you both. There was so much to say, so much to ask about, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. He felt like uncharted territory to you now, one you didn't have the strength to discover once again.

"It's your mom's birthday tomorrow, right?" he smiles and you nod.

"Should we make her our cookies? Like we used to before I..."

"Before you left," you finish, bitterness dripping from your tone.

Hurt flashes in his eyes and you feel your heart suddenly clench in your chest. It was unfair for you to treat him this way. He was only seventeen and if your parents were to move away you would've followed them too.

"Okay, let's do it." You smile sincerely for the first time since he came back to you.

You both move seamlessly in the kitchen, each knowing your tasks like a choreographed dance. This was a tradition that started when you were twelve years old. You'd brown the butter while he beat the egg and sugar together. He'd sift the flour while you cut up chocolate. He'd mix it all while you preheat the oven. And then you'd roll the dough together.

Your hands brush against one another as you shape up the cookies, and it feels so intense you almost drop to the floor. You miss him, you miss him so much and he's near you and you can't seem to think straight anymore.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, he silently washes the dishes while you dry them. He abruptly pauses, hands still covered in soap before turning back to you.

"Can we talk? Please?" he says too quickly as if he's been overthinking asking this question.

"I'm busy today," you scramble to think of an excuse, you weren't ready to face him yet.

"Tomorrow?"

"I'm staying with my mom, then there is Han’s party."

"I'll be there too. We can talk then, please?" he asks, eagerness evident in his voice.

"Fine. Let's talk there," you concede and he nods, awkwardly shifting in his place. He finishes the dishes before drying his hands. You avoid his gaze and he sighs softly. "I'll get going. Tell your mom happy birthday from me."

"Will do." You smile tightly and he does the same, before finally leaving your home, and in his trail, a maelstrom of emotions you weren't certain how to deal with.

18 july 2023

You're at the reunion party Han is hosting with all your high school friends. You watch as Felix takes turns talking to everybody. He fits right in here, a puzzle perfectly clicking in place as if he's never left. He's telling a joke to Chan who laughs loudly, hitting Minho's arm repeatedly. Everyone is happy he's back, because they never had to gravel with the consequences of his absence. Because he's never ripped their heart out.

Felix is looking for you around the room- he hasn't seen you in a while. He assumes you're somewhere around the house, and that you'd like to talk when time has passed. The knot in his stomach tightens as the weight of your conversation dawns on him, he longs to be with you, to undo the past two years he has spent away from you. But he's afraid to mess everything up, once again, so he stays near his friends who are now pulling him outside of the house.

"We have a surprise for you," Han says excitedly before pointing at the sky, "look."

Fireworks, a dazzling show of blue, red and yellow. And Felix feels as if the colors were drained out of his face and splattered into the night sky before him.

"Where is yn?" he turns to Chan, eyes wide.

"Inside, I think. Why?"

"Stop- stop this, don't start any more fireworks," he urges the boy who's looking at him worriedly.

"Why, what's wrong? We have a warrant to start them, don't worry."

"No, no you don't understand. Yn hates loud noises," he explains frantically, before bolting inside the house.

He's yelling your name, and you are nowhere to be found, the sound of the fireworks so loud he isn't even sure you can hear him.

He opens door after door, and after painstakingly long seconds he finally finds you in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, your head buried in your knees. Just like you were twelve years ago.

Felix doesn't waste any time, kneeling in front of you to cover your ears with his hands, you look up at him, waterline brimming with unshed tears.

"It's okay, I'm here. Just focus on my voice," he smiles reassuringly at you, and you clasp your hands on top of his, doing your best to muffle the sound of the explosions.

"Your hands are still small," you attempt to joke, as hot tears trail down your cheeks. You hated how scared you still were.

"The perfect size to cover your ears," he smiles at you, his eyes softening when they take in your distressed state.

You hiccup, overcome by a new wave of emotion- for an entirely different reason this time. "You came."

"I'll always come. Even if the world was ending, I'll... I'll come to you," he smiles, biting his lower lip to stop his own tears from falling.

"It'd be useless if you came then. There would be nothing for us to do," you manage to say through shaky breaths.

"But I'd be with you," he insists, gaze unwavering, "It will be scary for you. I imagine it will be loud, the world can't end silently."

"Mine did, when you left." Felix's eyes go wide at your words, and you don't care that you are baring your soul entirely to him. "Please don't leave me again. I hate goodbyes with you."

"Why would we ever say goodbye again, hm?" he reassures, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly. "I'm never leaving you, as long as you'll have me, I'm here," he whispers, before pulling you into his chest.

Your hands find his back, and his cheek rests on top of your head. And you both close your eyes, an exhale of relief leaving you both at the same time. The world grows dark around the two of you, the only thing you saw was his heart and the overflowing love he still bore for you.

You felt as if you were wandering blind and you could finally see again, as if the string tying you to him wrapped tightly around the both of you, trapping you in his warm embrace.

You don't know what will happen next, but he's holding you now, and he'll hold you when the world is ending, and that is enough.

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frogchiro · 1 year

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Ok so about cow!reader and soap i wanted to get into bit more detail

Bull!Soap is mounting cow!reader all day because he could smell her hea was getting close he was following her around all day and kept messing with her until farmer!price had to step in and took reader away

Bull!Soap is so cheeky!! He has no shame at all and may seem like a bit of an airhead, more muscles than brains but he's stupidly brave and cunning in his own way, an example of this is when he managed to break through into your pasture one sunny day😭

How he did it no one really knows but all Soap cares about is finding you!! He could smell you from far away, your sweet scent tinged with a more heavy note-you were near your heat! A perfect time for him to finally get to you and breed you so that way Price won't take you away from him since you will be a mated pair with a baby, it's a genius plan!!

When he finally finds you he swears he hears angels singing; you're laid out like a meal on the soft grass, the sun giving your soft skin and fluffy coat an etheral glow as you lay calm and happy among tiny white flowers and only move when you hear Johnny call out to you and you moo softly back.

You shift a bit from your position and prop yourself up on your elbow as you watch the large bull approach you, his heady musky scent making your pussy clench and ache and you curse softly; Soap's your friend but your incoming heat is clouding your mind and the quick thought of being mounted by one of the strong bulls here on the farm comes and goes in the blink of an eye and leaves you flustered, your tail lashing behind you.

Soaps smirks at your form, much more twitchy and fidgety than before and from then on it's game on for him. For the rest of the day he'll be flexing and preening before you, showing off like crazy and scenting you even more, releasing as much of his musky scent as possible to push you over the edge and get you into heat, he's so so ready to mate :(( He'll be nuzzling against you insistently, desperately wanting you to present yourself and smell like him, draping himself over your back and trying to hump you, listening to your whines and soft moos as he tries to fit the tip of his cock inside your aching cunt but in his desperate state he always misses making his cock slide over your swollen lower lips and smearing his seed all over you.

By afternoon you basically won't be able to get him off of you, being on the brink of your heat clouding your head and almost sending Soap into an early rut but he still can't seem to get inside you :(( Your hole just seems too tight and slippery with slick making his cock slide over it and only just managing to hump you, your poor pussy and lower tummy covered with his seed but none of it inside you where he wants :((

Just when Soap was starting to get angry with impatience and desperation, his need to breed overtaking any rational thought he was suddenly pulled back roughly by his horns by and even angrier Price who was basically fuming. How the fuck did this even happen? How did Soap manage to get into your pasture in the first place?? But Price guessed it didn't really matter at that point, his main priority was getting you safely to your private pen/stable to get you safe and comfortable with your heat and send Soap back into his shared barn with the other bulls and punish him to hell and back. He'll have to do a pussy inspection on you now too to make sure Soap didn't stuff you full with his seed but that's more of a pleasure for John than a chore <3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #poor soap getting cockblocked by his own desperation and then price too😭#cod x reader #cod mw x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john price x reader

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mallowmaenad · 10 months

Text

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl With Eyebags whose wearing an Oversized Black Sweater: I recently remembered all of my past lives. Most of it was spent as various plant life and fungi in the same twenty foot radius in a forest by a rural interstate route until a robin ate the seed containing my soul and flew to another forest where I reincarnated as her child. I would then die a tragic death at a young age to a local fox where I'd live a long life as her kit and eventually die of old age, I then spent several generations as various plant life and fungi in that forest which was eventually destroyed by industry.

I was a tree during that time and my plant fibers were processed to manufacture paper used to make a sticker placed on an orange whose peel was placed in a compost bin, eventually leading me to the dark yet decadent life of a worm until I then eventually expired and awoke as a tomato plant in the care of a kindly older woman, it is that life whose memories I treasure the most.

She was a very skilled and warm woman, and many of my cycles afterwards were spent as my own kin in generations of tomato plants in a blink of an eye. One day she took me into her car in a pot, I remember how she spoke to me. At the time she had named me Reynolds, she had set into a trend of naming me after Hollywood actors she found attractive. It was the day before her daughter's birthday and I was to be her gift, I could not feel bittersweet about this a the time, because I was a tomato plant.

She buckled me into the back seat of a car as if I was a child of her own and drove down a rural interstate route, illuminating the black sea of the night sky with her headlights as the shadows seemed to drown out anything but us. A deer with bone wasting disease stood in the road like a grim reaper, white eyes shining as her aching foot tried to react in time on the break peddle.

The two embraced in a bloody collision, I remember the deer in its last moments weakly nibbling at her flesh as they both bled out in an agony they were ignorant to, I wilted and died in that car along with her and that deer, I do not know what the journey of my soul was like, but my next life was as a patch of semi-feral grass on the side of a similar road caught in the mouth of a possum eating a partially full discarded box of Wendy's fries who was then promptly turned into road kill, when the day was new a burly Appalachian man whose stern demeanor hid a soft heart would legally and cleanly collect the cadaver and break it down, using the remains for a meal some yuppies would find ghastly. This man was my father- or rather my father in this cycle of life.

I know in my heart of hearts that you were that old woman who nurtured me so many times as her beloved tomato plants, you had the rare privilege to live your life as an incinerator at a crematorium, but the march of technology and nut after bolt you grew broken, a death by a thousand cuts, a death by a thousand bodies. Your massive metal cadaver was melted down over time, the raw materials eventually finding itself to a factory that manufactured bullets, a life of darkness in a cardboard prison only to be shunted into a pistol's magazine... your entire existence is interesting, stretching the meaning of what it means to be eaten and to live. The meek 24 year old boy thought nobody would mourn him when he was gone, you lived as an amorphous patch of greenery ahead of his grave stone.

A curious thing would happen during a visit to this boy's grave, his childhood dog either in embarrassing coincidence or a moment of sentience began to dig at where the body was, being wrenched back as it began to desperately sink his teeth into the soil, ripping you asunder. Almost as divine penance, you lived your next life as a member of this dog's litter, you'd be named after the boy, despite being a girl. Maybe the dog was given some precognition and wanted to eat the boy and take his soul into its mouth to get her the life she always wanted. You were unfortunately born with a chronic condition that led you to a young death, the girl's mother crying just as hard after the vet put you down. You were buried lovingly in her back yard where you became a tomato plant, your same mother not being as much of a green thumb as mine but she devoured your fruits all the same, eventually giving birth to another meek boy after growing pregnant during the time when your last tomato was picked off your wilted stem. I have pursued you since that day with my whole body and spirit, one part unintentional one part in this moment of enlightenment. I love you, and I will love you for the rest of forever.

Trans girl who dropped out of high school to make Hello Kitty breakcore who has her girlfriend's dick in her mouth and is high as fuck right now: Waash dat?

Their shared girlfriend sitting across from them playing Wario Land Shake It on her modded Wii U: Was I the deer with bone wasting disease?

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl: ... Yeah...

#long post #microfiction #cw car accident #cw death #cw dead animal #cw suicide

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nana-au · 17 days

Text

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part three

𝜗𝜚 Summary: satoru doesn't understand why you aren't the one to wake him every morning. he becomes moody in your absence, haunted by a fear that isn't fully realized. satoru spends his days confused as he wanders the grounds in search of you. he has no idea what to expect when he finally gets you alone. story summary based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, heavy angst, intense emotions, suggestive topics (mention of flashing & teen masturbation), meal skipping, satoru has a panic attack

𝜗𝜚 wc: 3,486

𝜗𝜚 an: part three!! come get yall's food lol

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p4┊

“Who do you want to marry when you grow up, Satoru?” you’re smiling at him when you ask, looking up from the dandelion that rested in your small grip; wispy white seeds blowing away with the wind. Satoru watches the fuzz carry on into the open field from where the two of you were sitting, his own wispy white strands tickling his neck from the random gust of wind causing a shudder to ripple through his small form.

“Satoru, are you listening to me?” you giggle, covering your mouth as a blush creeps up his chubby face.

“Of course I was,” he insists, cheeks getting brighter as you continue to giggle at him; you were used to Satoru getting distracted by the littlest of things. You pick up another dandelion, scooching closer to his face before giving it a hearty blow and Satoru frantically waves his hands in front of his face - trying desperately to vanish the fluff in front of him. “I was listening,” he states, exasperated. “You just didn’t give me time to think,” he pouts and your giggle fit kicks in again. “Stop it!” he begs, crossing his arms in a huff.

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you tell him, reeling in your humor and straightening out your face. “You don’t have a favorite Princess already in mind?” you ask, daydreaming about his romanticized future. You were always there while his parents talked about all the possibilities Satoru had to look forward to. Even in their young age many of the Princesses were ‘radiant beauties’ who would make ‘perfect wives for a lucky Prince’. You all but sighed imagining the lavish wedding full of blooming flowers and a flawlessly flowy veil.

“No,” he scoffs at that idea, “Only girls care about that mushy stuff,” his fists dig into the dirt to distract himself from the blush that he couldn’t seem to shake off his cheeks.

“Not even a little bit?” you ask him, hiding your knowing smile by biting your nails.

“Only sometimes,” he concedes and you perk up a little; still cautious about riling him up again.

“What do you think about?” you subconsciously lean in closer, worried his words would get carried away with the wind.

“That it won’t be fun….” he pauses, pulling strands of grass out from the ground while he readies himself, “Without you there.”

“Of course I’ll be there silly,” you’re quick to remind him. You wouldn’t miss his wedding for anything. Hell, practically the whole world would be watching and you’d be no different; cheering for the Prince as he found his Princess; securing their place as soon to be King and Queen of the kingdom.

“Not in the way that I’d want,” he sighs, opening his fist and letting the pile of grass fall back down onto the ground. Your eyebrows furrow, unsure what to make of his statement. You notice how crestfallen he looks though, and you move onto the next thing to busy his thoughts with. It’s easy, it always has been easy to distract the Prince; but every so often you see his lips purse and eyebrows knit as if he’s remembering an unpleasant thought.

𝜗𝜚

Satoru wakes up early the day after the ball; alerted to the strange man in his room opening his curtains at the first sign of dawn. “Who are you?” he asks, voice full of unease while he watches said man cross his room back to the door he arrived through.

“Peter, your highness,” the man bows to him, “Breakfast is awaiting you in your private dining room,” he scurries off, leaving Satoru even more confused. Anxiety quickly starts to eat at the features on his face as he sits up, deep in thought. Where could you possibly be? He couldn’t remember you requesting time off…. perhaps you had fallen ill? His thoughts did a number on his heart, feeling his pulse quicken and his chest vibrate from the heavy thumps the organ was producing. He shakes his head, slowing his thoughts and thus his heart, focusing on getting dressed to make it to breakfast. He all but runs throughout the palace, bare feet pattering against the marble floors while he makes his way down the winding halls until he arrives at his destination; hastily pushing open the doors of his dining room. He sees Peter again, standing against the wall like all servants were trained to do before pulling out a chair for the Prince. Satoru’s vision blurs. You had never not let him know your schedule. If you weren’t going to be there for his day you always told him. Always. Usually weeks in advance too. His palms perspired and he rubbed them on the fabrics of his pants. “Please, eat well, Princ-” Peter talks and Satoru immediately cuts him off.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” Satoru tries to steady his tone but his voice shakes and Peter clears his throat before excusing himself, leaving his questions unanswered. He should know better than to get all worked up over something he has no information on yet, but he ignores his meal anyways and heads back to his room, his appetite suffering from the anxiety gnawing on his insides.

𝜗𝜚

Peter had a hard time getting Satoru ready for the day, the stubborn Prince making it purposefully more difficult the longer he went without the information he seeked. The poor servant does his best - sticking out Satoru’s backhanded comments and incessant teeth sucking as he grew more and more frustrated with the man. He still goes to his classes for the day, not without waving his hand at Peter as he follows him around like a fruit fly to an orange; desperately trying to get the man off his back,

“Fetch me my tea and biscuits early,” he snaps, frustrated even before putting brush to canvas as his art teacher squirms - not used to such a volatile attitude from the Prince aimed towards a servant. Peter jumps from his tone, rushing to please the fuming royal. When Peter comes back with the wrong biscuits Satoru is quick to insult him, calling him a ‘bumbling idiot who needs to put his head on straight so he can go and find you to smooth over his mistakes’. Peter perspires heavily, bowing repeatedly and apologizing before seeing himself off, desperately trying to think of which biscuits the Prince was referring to as the correct ones.

During his dance lessons Satoru starts to grow dizzy - seeing Peter’s face every time he spun around in his direction did little to settle his stomach. He held no ill will towards the man - but the longer he went without seeing you the harder it was to quell his anger. The fact Peter seemed clueless to your whereabouts was doing him no help either. “I need a glass of water,” Satoru stops his teacher, removing his hand from her waist and making his way to the door. Peter calls after him when his body makes it past the threshold but Satoru doesn’t look back and Peter gives up the chase before it even starts. Exhausted from a day of following the grumpy Prince around.

𝜗𝜚

Satoru doesn’t know what to expect when he enters the kitchens, but your sunken shoulders and red eyes was definitely not one of them. “Thank God,” he says, alerting the busy kitchen staff to his arrival. He strides across the room, making his way towards you with a look of relief on his face; knowing that you were still in the palace settled his nerves just a little. Your face looked anything but relieved - your figure tenses upon seeing the Prince and your throat tightens watching him make his way towards you. You’re frozen, unable to move when you feel a harsh pinch at your side. You turn to see your mother, eyes communicating clearly with yours; you needed to make yourself scarce. Your heart skips a beat and you hardly notice you’re holding your breath. Once the Prince was almost directly in front of you, you jumped to action, setting down your paring knife and hastily leaving through the back door of the kitchen.

Satoru doesn’t have any time to call out your name, his mouth opens in an attempt but the swinging door of the kitchen is already stilled by the time he processed what happened. His head tilts, not believing it. Your mother interrupts his thoughts with a polite bow, “Prince Gojo, how may we be of help?” Her smile is gentle but her eyes are wild while they search the Prince’s features - trying to read what his next actions might be. He studies her own features just as much as she does his - taking in her full cheeks and narrow eyes. You resemble your father more, but you have your mother’s nose and his heart constricts again at the realization you had walked away from him.

“Just a glass of water, ma’am, thank you,” he all but whispers.

𝜗𝜚

“Stop talking about my wedding!” child Satoru stomps his foot at you. The two of you were in the middle of an intense game of checkers when you were feeling a bit giddy about the conversation that occurred during breakfast.

The Queen had droned on and on about the beautiful Princess of a neighboring nation to the two of you. You ignored the food under your nose as the Queen described the unknown girl; curly blonde hair with beautiful bright blue eyes, with a passion for the piano. You sighed in awe, already fantasizing about the lucky Princess - pondering if she liked chasing frogs like Satoru and you did, or if she preferred the comfort of the indoors. Your elbows hit the table while you imagined the other little girl in your head and the Queen was quick to snap at you. “Manner’s child!” your girlish smile fell as your hands hit your lap, apologizing for disrespecting her.

As you were about to king yourself, you stopped, mentioning the Princess before the moment you stacked your piece onto the other, irritating the ever competitive Satoru. “Just king yourself already!” he groaned, wanting nothing to do with the conversation you were striking up. Surely you had to be doing it just to rub in your impending victory.

“She would look so good in your family’s color,” you sighed, continuing the game while you fantasized yet again about the Prince’s perfect future. A girl with blue eyes and fair skin like Satoru surely would look amazing in the Gojo’s signature blue.

“I don’t care!” he shouts, visibly irritated by the conversation’s topic. You shake your head, assuming he was just being a boy about it; refusing to entertain the idea of a wife and a whirlwind romance. You didn’t know and you wouldn’t ever know but Satoru didn’t like the idea of a picture perfect wedding and a throne to call his own because he just wanted to play with you forever. It was childish, sure, but he was a child when he first realized where his thoughts were on the matter. He hated the idea that you would eventually become like a picture on the wall, always there in the background but never to be seen or heard from. It wouldn’t be until he was a little older that he realized being married doesn’t sound all that bad if you really enjoy their company. If he could be himself and they could make him laugh. ‘That wouldn’t be too bad’, he told himself.

As you both grew together, his body went through awkward phases - causing strange urges he couldn’t seem to satiate for the longest time - always missing something he couldn’t quite place until the day he accidentally saw the supple skin hidden under your skirt. Things really started to heat up from there and he spent far too many days ‘sick’ in his bed with his fists under the covers. Of course you would be there afterwards with a cool towel to wipe the sticky sweat from his face after checking up on him. It was then he realized there must be more to a wife than simple friendship.

𝜗𝜚

Satoru’s days pass without much purpose, He essentially ignores Peter upon realizing the man was utterly useless, choosing to dictate his own day much to everyone’s dismay. He skips scheduled lessons, lets his food go cold during meal times, walks aimlessly around the gardens, and most of all checks in the kitchen for your face. He doesn’t see you any of the countless times he checks and he scoffs louder every time he peeks his head in just to see your figure missing among the sea of silver pots and pans.

Satoru ‘excuses’ himself from his untouched dinner on the last day of the week, heading to the stables and saddling up his own horse before taking off down the field and into the forest he took you through just two weeks before. Riding his horse had been the only solace for him while his thoughts seemed to eat him from the insides. The uneven earth beneath the two of them managing to ease the rising tide of his emotions for the time being. He spent a while out in the forests bordering the Gojo’s land, finding the winding path capable of maintaining his attention and giving him no time to ponder the reality he was facing back at the palace. He doesn’t want to head back but his bones start to ache and his mouth begins to parch so he makes his way to the stables, hopping off his stallion as he got closer to its open doors.

It’s there that he stops abruptly, seeing you for the second time that week. Satoru couldn’t recall a time he went that long without seeing your face. You hadn’t noticed him yet - too busy dragging a bale of hay twice your size into one of the many stalls the stable held. You were out of breath, covered in dust and sweat, your hair falling out of its ribbon that you used to keep it back and your face red from the constant strain of overworking your muscles. He decided to take a different approach from when he saw you in the kitchens, abandoning his horse to sneak up behind you, grabbing a strand of your ribbon and pulling it away, causing your hair to cascade down. You shoot up, turning around and seeing the Prince directly in front of you. The two of you were so close that your noses almost touched and you stood, frozen in fear yet again. Your heart beat rapidly; joining the chaotic rhythm Satoru sported the moment he finally saw you after all these days apart. “Let me help you,” he murmured, messily collecting your hair into a bundle at the back of your head, concentrating hard as he tied the ribbon tight into place. “There,” he purred, petting your head as he tried to smooth out any bumps and you felt your resolve just about shatter from the tender touches of his slender fingers against your skull.

“Prince Gojo,” you almost dry heave when you finally speak, “That was inappropriate,” you speak so softly, not believing in the words that come out of your mouth. His eye twitches at your words, taken aback from the title you used with him. The two of you were alone and yet you saw it fit to call him that? The title he begged to be removed from your vocabulary even against his parent’s demands. The one you never used in an empty room such as this.

“Why haven’t you been waking me each morning?” he asks, dumbfounded even by his own words. He wanted to ask what was with the disgusting title. He wanted to ask why you practically ran when he saw you in the kitchens. He wanted to ask why his best friend all but vanished from his life only to be inhabiting the halls he walked for hours, searching for you. You don’t meet his frantic eyes when you mumble something about taking on new responsibilities and he doesn’t mean to but he shouts, “Why would you do that?!” He isn’t sure he can swallow down the crashing waves of acid threatening to spill from his pretty pink lips due to the way you were staring down at your shoes instead of into his pleading eyes. Betrayal is hot on his mind and accusations sit heavy on his tongue when you don’t respond but he collects what little control he has left; unwilling to accept you could be so indifferent to him. “What could possibly cause you to act like this?!” his voice is shaky and his eyes turn glossy waiting for your response.

You want nothing more than to cling to his body, to feel the protection of a man with choices in his life but you can’t cling to him and none of his choices are his to make. His whole life had been paved for him the moment his head crowned and the Gojo’s welcomed their baby boy into the world. You reflect on the Queen’s warnings and focus on the truth of the matter. Satoru had no say in his life; bound by rules and customs created long before his tentative eyes could take in the size of his fortress. One day he would be required to marry - against his wishes if it came down to it because as the only heir he had no choice. You weren’t just saving your parents from a life on the streets or yourself from being forever shunned as the girl who dared tried to dirty the Prince - you were saving Satoru from the heartache of watching that happen to you. The words you were about to say needed to be said. No matter how loud your pulse was in your ears threatening to make you go deaf. “I grew uncomfortable with our closeness,” his eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, immediately scoffing but you continue on, “It’s inappropriate and wrong and it is dirtying your image.”

He is completely aware of how loud he becomes this time, “I don’t care about my image!” His legs feel like jello from how terrified your words make him. You almost lose all your logic upon seeing his tall body collapse in on itself, his shoulders slumping and knees buckling as his world turns upside down. He looks like a frightened child and you want nothing more than to embrace him and tell him you didn’t mean any of it. But you have to. For you. For your family. For Satoru. You have to mean your next words.

“I care, Satoru. I care that people think you might like me-”

“And what if I do?” His face is unusually red when he says this. You realized later after he walked away that this was his way of finally speaking the unspeakable out loud. The thing the both of you knew yet neither of you mentioned. The tension that turned the air thick and made it hard to breathe without him. He had revealed his heart that beat solely for you.

“I don’t feel the same,” his world collapses at your words but he doesn’t show it. His face finally steels and his jaw sets. He says nothing. He gives you nothing. Choosing to walk away and get back on his horse rather than get on his knees and beg you to admit that you don’t mean the words you say.

𝜗𝜚

His ride through the forest follows the same path; his horse jumping over the same thick roots in the ground and weaving through the tall trees that hid the estate from wandering eyes. Instead of the usual peaceful breeze of every ride he’s had before, the wind seems to knock the air from his lungs instead of filling them; causing him to cough and splutter as he desperately tries to fill his failing organs. His body racks with sobs and his tears hit the white mane of his favored horse. He doesn’t bother to wipe the snot from his nose when he can hardly keep himself steady; refusing to stop in fear he may lay down onto the earth and never arise again.

Against his better judgment, Satoru’s body is found lying on the dank forest floor at around half past midnight. The servants sent out to find the Prince are in awe at the pitiful scene in front of them: laid flat on his back, staring up at the starry sky between tree branches, face swollen from hours of crying, and body shivering from the unforgiving temperatures of the night. They scoop him up without a fight and carry him back. He doesn’t bother to explain himself to the servants.

No one comes to visit him once he’s finally tucked into bed.

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p4┊

taglist: @bubera974 𐙚 @dahliawarner 𐙚 @phoenixisdabest 𐙚 @designerpvssy 𐙚 @leaderwon 𐙚 @elilovesall 𐙚 @alicebleu 𐙚 @sleepykittycx 𐙚 @abcdbleh 𐙚 @waka-babe 𐙚 @fanficsforkicks 𐙚 @boothillglazer 𐙚

(ty for all the support! comment to be added/removed)

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