#like i saw a fly and screamed my head off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlightkun · 3 days

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➠ word count: 13.5k ➠ warnings: scenes of a child crying if you don’t want to read that (nightmares and stuff), also people are called mommy/daddy in this so if you can’t be normal abt that please skip this one ➠ genre: fluff, angst? but like around them in terms of life not within their relationship, established relationship, parents sungchan/reader, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), part of the buzzer beater series (after freezing the puck, or if you’ve only read buzzer beater & 27jsc, this should still make sense!) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i can’t believe we’re finally done omg. i miss them so much already 🤧 thank you so much to everybody who has followed along with this series! i wasn’t expecting this to be a whole series, nor for so many people to like this fic that i started when i was feeling super frustrated with my migraines. it was definitely something that was super personal and specific to me that i was blown away by how many of y’all liked it and told me you related. so thank you, again!! ➠ series masterlist

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Binnie, are you ready to go see Daddy?” You asked your son excitedly as you unbuckled his seatbelt, helping him out of the backseat and onto the parking lot pavement.

“Yeah!” He yelled out, the small sound echoing impressively in the open area. The five-year-old ran ecstatic circles around you as you walked calmly towards the university’s ice rink. “Mommy, am I skating with Daddy today?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him nicely after he’s done working,” you informed Woobin as he skidded to a half-skip half-walk next to you, grabbing your gloved hand with his.

Walking into the hockey rink that you knew like the back of your own hand at this point, you saw the Raptors still practicing, and guided your son into the bleachers so you two could watch. Woobin climbed up on the seat next to you, standing on it so he could actually see, and you offered a hand for him to keep himself balanced. He used it until he felt stable, then pushed it away insistently. A few of the players waved at you two, and you both waved back, your son as enthusiastic as ever when he got noticed, waving practically with his entire little body.

Sungchan was on the ice, directing two players with his back to you, and as he skated backward away from them for them to line up and continue practicing, he happened to glance over his shoulder and in your direction. You raised a casual hand in greeting, and he waved back. Woobin sent him a zealous, flying kiss with his whole arm, and Sungchan visibly laughed and immediately went to do it back. After the two players that he’d been instructing had presumably corrected the issue, your husband gave them both pats on the shoulder before skating over your way.

Woobin screamed out a “Hi Daddy!” so loud you were sure the entire campus could hear him, and every head on the ice turned around to look. You burst into laughter, rubbing his back fondly at his enthusiasm, and Sungchan covered his face as he chortled as well.

A few minutes later and Coach called practice, the players slowly starting to filter off the ice and into the locker room. You guided Woobin down through the bleachers towards the gate, where Sungchan was waiting for the two of you.

Your husband had already opened the gate to the ice, standing on the flooring just off it, where you and your son were walking. Woobin flung himself at his legs at full-speed, and Sungchan easily picked him up, beaming as he kissed his forehead.

“Hey, buddy!” Sungchan grinned, readjusting your son’s beanie.

“Hi, Daddy!” He chirped back, bouncing in his arms.

“Hi, hon,” he kissed your cheek, and you gave his a quick peck in greeting as well.

“Hey, Channie.” You slipped your arm around his back in a one-armed hug. “Little dude wants to ask you something.”

“Oh really?” Sungchan focused his inquisitive eyebrow raise at your son.

“Can I skate with you? Please? Pretty please? Pretty pretty please?” Woobin immediately put on his best pout and puppy dog eyes, a display that always made you wonder how he wasn’t genetically Sungchan’s. The two of you had agreed some time ago that with your chronic migraines having a genetic component, you didn’t want to risk passing it down, and had looked into fostering initially. Woobin was your first placement at just a few days old, and he never left, the adoption going through right before his second birthday.

“Mr. Coach ended practice early, so we do have a few minutes,” your husband qualified his acquiescence.

“Yay!”

“You joining us, hon?”

“Sure.”

After fetching yours and your son’s skates from his office, Sungchan helped Woobin put his on, then double checked yours as always. Having married a former collegiate hockey player turned collegiate hockey coach, you’d gotten proficient enough at lacing up your own skates, but he wanted be sure every time that you weren’t going to twist your ankle, or have them come untied, or something else unfortunate.

Coach was still on the ice with the current goalie and center on one end, so you and your family kept to the other side. Woobin squealed and yipped with delight as Sungchan half-carried and half-pulled him around on the ice, you trailing behind with a fond smile on your lips as you watched on.

“Mr. Coach!” Woobin suddenly called to the other end of the rink.

“Oh, Binnie, Mr. Coach is working right now,” Sungchan tried to divert him. “We should leave him alone for now, buddy.”

“What was that, champ?” Coach’s gruff voice responded, the older man starting in your direction.

Woobin was absolutely thrilled to have his attention now, trying to pull Sungchan that way. “Mr. Coach! Mr. Coach!”

“I’m right here, kiddo,” he smoothly stopped right in front of your son. “I’m old but I’m not deaf yet. What do you want to tell me?”

“Mommy signed me up for my own hockey team today!” Woobin told him proudly. “Are you gonna be my coach too?”

“I don’t coach every hockey team in the world, you know.”

Woobin looked down at his skates dejectedly, as if he hadn’t considered this possibility before now.

“But… I did let your dad talk me into being his assistant coach for a certain little league team this season. Was that yours?” Coach asked teasingly, making the boy let out a loud gasp of realization.

“Was it, Daddy? Was it?” He looked up at your husband with wide eyes.

“Maybe…” Sungchan replied with a sly grin.

Woobin rounded on you, buzzing with excitement. “Did you hear that, Mommy? Mr. Coach is gonna be my coach!”

“I heard, buddy. Just like he was your Daddy’s coach,” you chuckled. Looking up at the older man, you added, “How does that make you feel, Coach? Teaching multiple generations?”

“Like my back is going to give out any day now,” he groaned and grabbed his lumbar. “Don’t remind me, Y/N, please.”

You laughed, making a motion of zipping up your lips and throwing away the key.

“Anyway, let me finish up with these two,” he gestured to the two Raptors still milling about on the other end of the ice. “Are you locking up, Jung?”

“Not today, got some errands to run before buddy’s naptime,” Sungchan explained.

“I’m five, I don’t need a nap anymore!” Woobin insisted.

“Hey, champ, look at me,” Coach requested, and waited until he had his attention before continuing. “How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, like a hundred?”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, grabbing Sungchan’s arm for support as he at least had the decency to cover his mouth to hide his chuckles.

Coach nodded, not breaking eye contact with your son. “Exactly. I’m like a hundred, and I still take naps.”

“Really?”

“Really. You need them to make sure your brain—” he poked the boy’s forehead “—and your body—” he poked his belly, making him giggle “—are at their best. Especially a growing kid like you.”

“So why do you need them? If you’re not a kid anymore?”

“I’m saying you need them extra because you’re a kid. Grown-ups need them sometimes too.”

He pouted thoughtfully for a moment, then pointed up at you. “Mommy takes naps when she has a migraine. That’s when her head hurts really, really bad.”

“There you go. Told you they weren’t just for kids.” Coach stood up straight, cracking his back with a satisfied groan. “I’ll see you all later, okay?”

“Bye, Mr. Coach!” Woobin waved enthusiastically.

“See you Monday, Coach,” Sungchan nodded to him.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him, and he shot you a wink over his shoulder before skating back over to his players, his voice immediately souring as he started barking out orders again.

With the excitement of his upcoming little league team on his mind, your son insisted on having Sungchan show him moves and maneuvers today. You were of course the default practice dummy both for Sungchan to demonstrate, and your son to practice. Which only worked so well since none of you had sticks or a puck or gear of any kind except for your skates, but Woobin was having fun, so you were happy.

Coach eventually finished with the guys at the other end, and as you saw him start off the ice first, you called out to him, “Done for the day, Coach?”

He turned back to you. “I wish! Got some paperwork to finish up in the office! If somebody’s bleeding—call 911, not me!”

You laughed, giving him a final wave as he headed off. About to turn to your family to suggest that you leave to do your errands as well, you spotted the two Raptors players still loitering by the goal, no longer practicing, and yet still not rushing to leave.

“You boys need something?” You asked them knowingly.

“Well, if it’s alright with you, Professor…” the goalie, who had been in your Intro to Literary Theory and Criticism class last spring, began.

“We were wondering if we could see if we could skate with the MVP too?” The center finished hopefully.

“Just for a little! We heard you telling Coach you guys had errands to run before his naptime!” His friend rushed to add.

Woobin’s focus had already started waning on his impromptu lesson from his dad, and as you looked over, you could see Sungchan beginning to wind down on his instructing as he realized this. You checked the time on your phone, then looked back to the two college boys. “Sure, you can ask Binnie if he wants to skate.”

They erupted into celebratory hoots, chest-bumping before practically tossing aside their unnecessary equipment. Suddenly realizing themselves, they collected themselves and turned to you, bowing their heads politely. “Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re welcome, boys,” you replied with humor in your voice, watching as they took off, seemingly racing each other to Sungchan and Woobin.

You could hear bits of their conversation from where you were leaning against the wall halfway down the rink, and watched fondly as your son’s face lit up with enthusiasm, then the Raptors players started pulling him down the ice with them, his delighted laughter bouncing around the rink.

Sungchan leisurely skated over and stopped in front of you. With a great flourish, he bowed and offered his hand out to you. You laughed, placing your hand atop his, and he dropped a kiss to the back of your gloved fingers. He stood up straight again, pulling you off the wall with little resistance from you, before taking both your hands and beginning to skate backwards in front of you, guiding you along with him. Neither of you chose to mention the fact that you knew how to skate just fine, playing along with the fun of the moment as he easily took you around the rink that you were sure he could navigate with his eyes closed at this point.

“Oh, do we have dishwasher pods on the list?” You suddenly asked as soon as the thought popped into your mind.

“We put it on there last night when we loaded the dishwasher and saw that we were almost out,” he reassured you, not even breaking stride.

“Right, thanks.” You smiled, giving his hands a squeeze.

“I also put dish soap on there this morning, by the way.”

“I love you.”

He slowed the two of you down on the far side of the rink, letting go of one of your hands to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer. “I love you too, baby.”

After doing a few things out and about, the three of you headed home.

“Hey, buddy,” Sungchan called for your son’s attention, his hands occupied with groceries. “Do you want me or Mommy to help you get ready for your nap? Or are you going to try to do it yourself?”

“Mm…” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Mommy!”

“Alright, help with the groceries then I’ll help you, Binnie,” you bargained, putting a bag down on the ground in his reach.

As Woobin dutifully put the bags of chips and boxes of gummies on the lower shelves of the pantry that he could reach, you and Sungchan quickly put away the rest of the groceries. When there was just cleaning and other household supplies left, your husband grabbed those and nodded towards your son.

“Go put buddy down, I’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Channie,” you pecked his cheek before turning to your child. “Lead the way!”

Woobin was able to get into his pajamas by himself, so you were really just there to tuck him in and kiss his forehead. You never bought into the “cry themselves out” mindset from the get-go, and to this day would sit with him until he fell asleep if he asked.

Except this time, he didn’t get into bed at all, standing next to the piece of furniture with you and staring at it like you were about to cliff dive instead of nap. He looked up at you, and you already saw his bottom lip quivering.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m right here, my sweet,” you promised, kneeling down in front of him so you were eye-to-eye. “What’s wrong?”

He threw his arms around your neck, taking quick, shallow breaths as he very bravely tried to communicate with you. “I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna…”

“Okay, I won’t make you right now,” you promised, rubbing his back. “Will you tell me what’s making you upset? Is it the nap? Going to sleep? Did you have a bad dream?”

But he had already devolved into incomprehensible sobs, and you bit your lip at the twinge in your chest. “Alright, sweet, how about we go to Mommy and Daddy’s room? Hm? And I’ll read you something. If you don’t want to nap, you don’t have to today, okay? Sound good?”

You could feel him nod into your shoulder, and that was all you needed to pick him up and settle him on your hip to carry him out of his room. As you passed by Sungchan putting away new bottles of dish soap and dishwasher pods under the sink, he gave you a concerned look. You mouthed a ‘later’ to him as you took your son across your house and into your room. As you passed by your bookshelf, you quickly selected a book, then sat down at the head of your bed, Woobin on your lap. Pulling your blanket up over you two, you let him get settled in and comfortable, still very much crying all the while.

Holding your book with one hand and resting the other on his back, you started reading. After a while, his sobs died down to hiccups, which petered out to just the occasional sniffle. But you could see that he was still awake, his eyes open and following your place as you read. Then, after a while longer, they started to slowly fall shut and his chin would tilt down, then he’d quickly open his eyes again and jerk his head up. Finally, he couldn’t fight the heaviness of his lids, and he fell asleep. You put your bookmark in where you were just before his eyes closed, but kept reading past that, just in case. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the door handle slowly turn, and your bedroom door inch open before Sungchan peered in.

Your husband pointed to the boy in your lap, then made a gesture of pretending to sleep on a pillow, lifting his eyebrows questioningly after. You nodded, still reading softly.

Sungchan slipped in the room, closing the door quietly behind him as well. Having come to a stopping place, you finally closed your book and set it aside on the one you already had on your nightstand.

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Getting married to a lit professor, you pick up a few things.” He then looked down at Woobin. “What happened?”

You sighed and readjusted slightly to hold him tighter now that you had two free arms. “I don’t know. He couldn’t tell me. As soon as he had to get into bed for his nap he just… broke down.”

A deep frown cut across Sungchan’s face as he stroked your son’s hair, but he said nothing else. He left the room, and you heard him moving around throughout the house as you picked up the other book from your nightstand. Eventually, he meandered back in, sitting on his side of the bed and setting up his laptop to quietly work beside you as your son continued napping on your lap and you continued your book. In addition to doing research at the university and being the assistant coach for the hockey team, Sungchan had picked up teaching a couple of Intro to Biology for majors sections, and you could see him answering emails from his students out of the corner of your eye. You were rereading the material for the Direct Study you were leading next semester.

Eventually, Woobin slowly started stirring, grumbling, yawning, and rubbing at his eyes before burying his face back in your chest with a sigh. You stroked his back, attention still on your book. He turned over in your arms when he finally decided that he was awake, blinking his eyes open and staring off into the middle distance.

“Hey, Binnie, you awake?” Sungchan asked quietly.

He nodded slowly, stretching his arms up, and you had to duck your head out of the way to avoid getting smacked in the face by a stray hand.

“Sleep good?” Your husband kept talking to him.

He nodded again, letting out another adorable little yawn.

“Of course you did,” Sungchan chuckled, gently pinching the tip of his nose. “You got the best seat in the house right there, bud.”

Woobin made grabby hands at Sungchan, and he moved his laptop to the side to transfer him from your lap to his, pressing a kiss to his forehead once he was settled in against his chest.

“Uncle Chenle is going to be over soon,” you reminded your son of your plans for the night. “Are you excited?”

He perked up at this. “Yeah! He said he was gonna bring me back a souvenir!”

“He does love to spoil you,” Sungchan shook his head, ruffling the boy’s hair.

As Woobin busied himself with his toys in his room, the horrors of naptime all but forgotten, you and Sungchan were having a fervent, whispered conversation in your bedroom.

“Should we even go tonight?” You asked, pulling your outfit on.

“I know, I’m worried about bedtime…” Sungchan sighed, nevertheless assisting you with your zipper.

“Chenle’s really good with him, and you know how much he dotes on Woobin.” You paused in front of the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles. You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or your husband at this point.

“I know, I don’t doubt how much he loves our kid, or how much buddy loves him,” he replied, fidgeting with his tie behind you. “I just… would hate to not be there.”

“Me too,” you replied quietly, turning around to fix his tie yourself. “I can practically feel the stress migraine coming on thinking about it.”

“Okay, well don’t do that, baby,” Sungchan insisted, resting his hands on your waist to pull you closer. “I mean, that didn’t happen at bedtime yesterday, did it?”

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed. “Or naptime yesterday…”

“Who’s to say it’ll happen at bedtime today?” He suggested. “Might’ve been a one-time thing. Or only for naps.”

“Right.” You breathed out, having finished with his tie, and now looked up at him questioningly. “So we’re going?”

“Seems like it.”

“We should still give Chenle a heads-up.”

“Of course.”

Chenle pulled up in his sleek luxury car soon after, and you made sure to greet him at the door while Sungchan helped Woobin put his toys up.

“Whew! Look at you!” Chenle whistled as he pulled back from hugging you, grabbing your hand and twirling you around. “MILF! MILF! MILF!”

You laughed, shaking him off. “Quiet! You’re a menace, I swear. You better be filtering around my child.”

“Of course, of course.” He held his hands up in surrender, and you saw that one held a gift bag. A rather large gift bag.

“And what did you bring him this time? Milan, was it?”

“A model of the Arco della Pace for us to build together, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” You shook your head fondly, but couldn’t stop the worry from overtaking your mood. “Chenle, I do have to tell you something.”

Your friend immediately matched your change in mood, furrowing his brow with concern. “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“When I was trying to put Binnie down for his nap today, he couldn’t get into his bed. He couldn’t tell me what was wrong, he just started crying and saying he didn’t want to. He had to take his nap in our room with the two of us. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I wanted to give you a heads up, in case it happens again at bedtime, since I know you always say he’s really good for you. If it does, just call and we’ll come right back, okay? Don’t feel bad at all, it’s not your fault.”

Chenle listened carefully and nodded thoughtfully as you explained the situation to him. “Okay, yeah. Are you two sure you even want to go? We can all have a really fun hangout with Uncle Chenle and then I can peace before bedtime if that’s what needs to happen tonight.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, but ultimately shook your head. “We told Ten we were going to be there. I’d like to at least try to see him accept the award.”

“Of course.” Chenle patted his chest. “I won’t take it personally if he starts crying for Mommy at bedtime tonight.”

“When you put it like that I really don’t want to go.”

“Go,” he insisted. “We’ll be fine.”

“Uncle Chenle!” A delighted squeal came as your son ran in, wrapping himself around Chenle’s legs like a koala.

“Hey, Binnie!” Your friend beamed down at him, squeezing his cheeks in one hand. “How are you?”

“I’m good!” His words were a little garbled as Chenle smushed his face.

“Hey, Chenle,” Sungchan greeted him as well, patting him on the shoulder as he walked by to get to your side.

“Hey, Sungchan!”

“Are you ready to go, hon?” Your husband asked you as the other two started an enthusiastic guessing game of what Chenle brought Woobin back as a souvenir from Milan.

“Yeah.” You nodded. Raising your voice slightly to address the others, you announced, “Alright, guys, we’re heading out. Binnie, Daddy and I will be back after you’re asleep, okay?”

“Goodbye and goodnight!” He darted over as you and Sungchan knelt down to each give him a hug, and two more kisses—one for goodbye, and another for his goodnight kiss, since you wouldn’t be putting him to bed. Really, when you came home, you two always checked on him and gave him one last peck goodnight then, but he of course didn’t know that.

The award for Literary Theory Journal Editor of the Year had barely been placed in Ten’s hands when you saw Sungchan’s phone light up in his lap out of the corner of your eye. He squeezed your shoulder in a silent ‘be right back’ before standing from your table and quietly slipping out of the ballroom. You kept your eyes on Ten as he gave a short and charismatic acceptance speech, clapping when everyone else did, though you stayed keenly aware of the empty seat next to you. Your friend got his picture taken and shook lots of hands on his way back to your table, and your colleagues at your table all rose to greet him when he finally returned.

“Congrats, Ten,” you hugged him, your eyes straying over his shoulder to the door that Sungchan had left through.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he patted your back, pulling away still with a wide grin. “I saw Sungchan get up, is everything alright?”

You waved off his concerns for now. “Chenle probably set off the smoke alarm or something.”

Sungchan returned just a moment later, staving off his clearly concerned face for long enough to give Ten his congrats as well.

“You missed my hilarious acceptance speech, Sungchan,” Ten clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Damn, maybe next year.”

“Ooh, you think I’ll win next year too?”

“Why not?” Sungchan shrugged. “I don’t know how all the other editors could suddenly get better than you in a year.”

“Great point.”

The awards had continued, and everyone took their seats, though your focus was only on Sungchan and whatever that call was about. He leaned over to inform you quietly, “That was Chenle. SOS for buddy’s bedtime, sounds like the same as naptime.”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“I’ll get the car,” he murmured before giving your shoulder a fleeting touch and leaving your table.

You turned to Ten to give him a real reason behind your sudden departure. “Hey, that was Chenle, and Woobin is—”

“It’s all good,” your friend cut you off with a smile, patting your arm. “Go be good parents, you’ve already been good friends. Promise.”

“Thanks.” You could feel the relieved smile on your face. “Congrats again, Ten.”

After giving your hushed goodbyes to the rest of your colleagues, you hurried out of the ballroom. Sungchan didn’t complain about the anxious death grip you had on his hand the entire ride home, simply smoothing his thumb over your knuckles as the fingers of his other hand tapped out impatient rhythms on the steering wheel at every red light you got stuck at.

Finally, you arrived home, and you didn’t even have to go searching for Woobin and Chenle, as you were barely in your foyer and Sungchan hadn’t even had the chance to finish locking the front door behind him when a small form came running in, barreling into your legs. Chenle was a few steps behind your son, entering right after him. Woobin was blubbering and sobbing against you, beyond the point of any sort of intelligible speech. You sighed forlornly and rested a hand on his head, feeling your heart break as you looked down at him, not knowing how to help him.

Sungchan immediately took your purse from your other hand, rubbing your back briefly as he passed by. As he and Chenle went to talk in the living room, you hooked your hands under your son’s arms and heaved him up onto your hip, carrying him into your room with you. You maneuvered to support him with one arm so you could take off your shoes with the other hand, tossing them in the vague direction of your closet door. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you readjusted him so that he was sitting in your lap, crying into your neck, and you gently stroked the back of his head as he shook in your arms.

“I’m right here, Binnie. I’ve got you. Mommy’s right here,” you told him softly, a hard lump growing in your throat. “You’re okay, my sweet. You’re okay. I promise, I’ve got you.”

Eventually, you heard Chenle and Sungchan’s hushed voices pass by, then the front door open and close. A couple minutes later, there was a soft knocking at your bedroom door.

“Hey, that’s Daddy,” you informed Woobin. “Is it okay if he comes in and stays with us too?”

Woobin nodded from where his face was still hidden in your neck. His sobs hadn’t stopped, and at this rate, you were worried he was going to make himself throw up with how much he was crying and hiccupping.

“Come in,” you called out.

Sungchan had already discarded his suit jacket and tie elsewhere, you realized as he slipped into the room. A pained look quickly took over his features as his eyes immediately found the two of you. He set the no-spill cup he’d brought in with him—Woobin’s favorite cartoon characters printed all around the outside—down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you.

“Hey, buddy, it’s me,” Sungchan said quietly. “I brought some water; I thought your throat might be hurting a little.”

You son let out a couple sniffles, as if contemplating this for the first time.

Your husband continued, “Do you think you can sit with me and drink some water while Mommy changes into her jammies?”

“I won’t leave the room, sweet,” you assured him. “I’ll be right here with you and Daddy.”

In lieu of a verbal response, he nodded again and loosened the vice-like grip he’d had around your neck, letting you shift him over into his dad’s arms. Before you could go run and do the fastest change of your life, Sungchan grabbed your hand, pulling you around to look at him. As you gazed down at him, with Woobin bawling inconsolably in his lap, the two of you exchanged a brief, unspoken moment of uncertainty, unknowing, of knowing that neither of you knew what to do for your son. Your hand was shaking—or maybe that was his—as you clutched each other tightly for just a second.

Then you had to let go of him to rush to change, and Sungchan tried to gently coax Woobin into taking a sip of water. You could hear him coaching your son through taking just one little sip at a time and not chugging, or he’d make himself sick. You, meanwhile, were throwing clothes into the general vicinity of where they needed to go as you pulled on new ones. The nice material now had snot and spit all over them, you were sure they’d need to be dry-cleaned anyway, so you didn’t care about the wrinkles they’d garner from being crumpled up on the floor for the night. You then rushed through taking out your hair and brushing your teeth, keeping the en suite bathroom door open all the while.

Back over with your husband and son, you saw that the task of sipping water had forced his crying to slow down considerably, and you took a deep breath to not pass on your stress back to your child. The last thing you needed to do was get him going again just because you were so worried. He also had his favorite stuffed animal tucked under his other arm, the only one that had survived from his infancy to now, a deer plushie. You didn’t even remember seeing Sungchan bring that in with him, your brain was so scrambled.

“Here, Binnie, Mommy’s back. I feel left out, I’m not the only one not in my jammies,” Sungchan joked, which didn’t even earn a giggle from your child as it normally would’ve. “You want to go back to Mommy and I’ll get changed?”

Woobin nodded, and Sungchan let you get into a more comfortable position up by the headboard before depositing your son into your arms. You could at least see some of his face from the new angle of him sitting sideways in your lap, and it was of course red, puffy, and covered in tears. Sungchan must have already cleaned up some of his snot, as you spotted several discarded tissues on the nightstand.

“Did Puck come to make sure you were okay, too?” You asked quietly, gently tapping one of the plushie’s soft antlers. Puck the Buck, as he had been so brilliantly named some time ago.

Another nod and a sniffle.

“That was nice of him.” You stroked the deer’s head. “Thank you, Puck.”

Woobin patted the deer’s head, too, and as you watched more tears fall down his cheeks, you pressed a long kiss to his hair, silently apologizing for not knowing how to fix it all right now. Sungchan came back from the bathroom just a moment later, scooting onto the bed from the other side.

“Okay, Binnie. What do you think? Do you want to watch an episode of your show?” He suggested. “Or Mommy can finish reading you Bisclavret? Or…”

As he tried to think of other options, you gave him a bewildered look over your son’s head at the fact that he apparently knew which Breton lai you were reading earlier. That was something to address later, though.

Woobin shook his head, though.

“No?” Sungchan said questioningly. “No to what? Do you want Mommy to read?”

Head shake.

“Do you want to watch an episode of your show?”

Head nod.

And so you, Woobin, Puck, and Sungchan all settled in under your covers to watch an episode of his favorite cartoon. Except you and Sungchan didn’t have a TV in your bedroom, and both of your laptops were charging across the house in your home office, so you all had to scoot in close to be able to see it on the much smaller screen of Sungchan’s phone. Puck took up a considerable amount of space when crowding around a phone to watch something, and from your vantage point mostly behind your son and the plushie, you couldn’t see a thing past the deer head and antlers, but you didn’t really care about catching up on the children’s cartoon. You were much more preoccupied with listening for Woobin’s sniffles to cease, and watching as his breathing evened out. He was still awake after one episode, but quiet, calm, and Sungchan went ahead and played the next one.

You gently rubbed his back, smiling to yourself when you heard his first yawn of the night. When his second came before the five-minute mark, you knew he wouldn’t last the whole episode. And sure enough, he was out before the halfway point. Sungchan turned his phone off and set it aside. The two of you were curled up on either side of your son, with Sungchan facing him and you.

Your husband reached a hand up, and you thought he was going to stroke Woobin’s hair, but he kept going and gently wiped a thumb under your eye instead, at the fresh tears that had just brimmed there. You placed your hand over his, turning your head just enough to leave a kiss on his palm.

You woke up early in the morning with a stress migraine. When you shuffled into the kitchen to get a glass of water, the stove clock read 3:03. You quickly chugged your first glass of water, then refilled it to take back with you. Walking through to your bathroom, you retrieved your bottle of rescue medication from your drawer. This one was a muscle relaxer, so you didn’t see any point in keeping it in your purse, as you weren’t able to drive after taking it, which you typically needed to do when you were out and about. You knocked back a tablet before screwing the lid back on and putting it away again. After taking a few more sips of your water, you slipped back under the covers with your family.

Your head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, but you still blearily opened one eye to look at your son, watching as his chest rose and fell peacefully. He was on his back now, and you couldn’t help but lay a hand on his front, feeling his even breaths under your palm. Sungchan’s foot tapped yours under the blanket briefly as he readjusted in his sleep, and you smiled to yourself. And then it happened again, and you peered over to the other pillow suspiciously.

In the low light, you could see Sungchan looking right at you. He pointed to his own head, then raised his eyebrows.

You lifted your hand in a ‘meh’ gesture, then held up 5 fingers to rate it out of 10, before setting your hand back down on Woobin’s front. Sungchan found your arm under the covers, gently squeezing your forearm. You tapped his foot in return, a silent exchange, before closing your eyes and settling back in to sleep.

Two hushed voices woke you up for the second time that morning. Well, one hushed voice, and one who hadn’t quite mastered whispering yet.

“What do you think Mommy—”

“Quiet, buddy, remember?” Sungchan’s words were barely discernible from behind the closed bathroom door. “Your mom’s got a migraine, and—”

“—and Mommy needs to sleep when she’s got a migraine,” Woobin finished dutifully, his voice a notch quieter than before. “So her head feels better.”

“That’s right, bud. Now come on, breakfast.”

“That’s what I—” Your son stopped himself as his voice raised with his excitement. He continued, in his best half-whisper, “Sorry, Daddy. I know: We gotta whisper. Quiet. I was asking what Mommy wants for breakfast?”

The two of them were quiet, and you heard the bathroom door open, then one pair of feet quietly tread across your room to open the bedroom, then shut it softly. You could hear their voices slowly fade as they walked further away.

“I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“Because you always bring me breakfast in bed when I’m sick!” Woobin’s voice was back to it’s normal volume as he tried to emphatically get his point across to his dad. Sungchan must have gestured for him to quiet down again, as he dropped down to a part-whisper once more, “It’s Mommy’s turn.”

“You’re right. Let’s see what we can make…”

When you first got Woobin, you only got a migraine a couple times a year, a significant drop from when you were first diagnosed. The frequency fluctuated over the years and seasons, though, and there was a short period of time after becoming new parents, that you had been getting them weekly. You knew that put a strain on Sungchan, since a spouse with noise-sensitive migraines and a crying baby didn’t exactly mix. You of course would go through any migraine pain to take care of your son, but your husband couldn’t stand seeing you do it if it could be avoided. After some medication changes, you were fairly consistent with one every other month now. When Woobin was a toddler, and couldn’t quite grasp the concept of needing to play quietly when he wasn’t napping, Sungchan would take him on “field trips” while you rested. You’d decided to give him a simple explanation of a migraine to him when he was a little older, so he could easier differentiate between the migraines that you got, and when he might have a headache from a cold, or because his body was telling him he needed to drink some more water. He was also now your designated band-aid picker for your monthly injection, and had a better grasp on when, why, and how to keep quiet when you needed it.

Your head unfortunately still hurt, though your heart was warmed by your kind-hearted kid. There were lots of times where you and Sungchan felt like you had no clue what you were doing—like your current predicament with bedtime—but you figured you were doing a pretty alright job overall.

You contemplated getting up to take another dose. The only plans you had for today were a family trip to the park and some chores at home. Your husband would probably insist on you skipping the park for today, but if the second dose worked, you could probably get some things done around the house at least. Unfortunately, your days of laying in bed all day when you had a low-level migraine were long gone. If you could open your eyes, you usually had something that needed to get done.

But for this morning, at least, for now, you could close your eyes for just a little longer. You rolled over, away from the window where a thin strip of light had gotten in through a gap between your blackout curtains that Sungchan must have pulled closed.

You didn’t quite go back to sleep, but you dozed somewhere in between as you fondly listened to the sounds of Sungchan and Woobin trying to make breakfast as silently as possible. The running of the sink, sizzling of something on the stove, beep of the microwave before it was hastily shut off, fridge opening and closing, Sungchan’s quiet murmured directions to Woobin, and your son’s inquisitive tone in return.

Eventually, you heard someone shuffling up to your bedroom door, sounding much too small to be your husband. The door very slowly creaked open, and he tiptoed over to your side of the bed.

“Mommy?” His whisper had gotten better over the morning, though it didn’t matter much, since he was definitely right in front of your face.

You cracked open one eye, and offered him a soft smile. “Morning, buddy.”

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m awake,” you chuckled, propping yourself up on one elbow and rubbing your eyes.

“Daddy and I made you breakfast, hold on!” And he darted back out of the room.

You looked at the empty doorway fondly, slowly pushing yourself up into a sitting position at the head of the bed. Sungchan and Woobin reappeared a moment later with a tray filled with various breakfast foods.

“Morning, beautiful,” Sungchan greeted you quietly, pecking the crown of your head as he went to set the tray down in your lap.

“Mm, morning, Channie,” you kissed his cheek before he could stand all the way back up. “This looks wonderful, thank you guys.”

In one corner of the tray you spotted a colorful assortment of pills, all of your morning doses plus what looked like a couple of your acute medications from your purse that was definitely in the dining room. You grabbed your water from the nightstand to get that out of the way first.

“We’ll let you eat in peace,” Sungchan declared, patting your son on the head to start to usher him out.

“No, it’s okay,” you stopped them. “It’s not so bad. I want you two to eat with me.”

Woobin’s face lit up, and he wasted no time in clambering up on the bed with you. You held the tray steady as he wedged himself in next to you.

“Alright, I’ll go get mine and buddy’s plates.”

Woobin was still earnestly pointing out each piece of food on your tray to you, explaining exactly how he had helped Sungchan prepare all of it when your husband returned. Sungchan sat down in front of you, and as he handed your son his plate, you noticed that there was nothing on it that could make too much of a mess if it happened to capsize.

“Sounds like you were a big help,” you praised your son, stroking the back of his head.

“He was,” Sungchan agreed. “Breakfast in bed was his idea.”

“Really?” You feigned surprise as Woobin nodded proudly. They didn’t need to know that you’d heard their entire bathroom conversation. “Thank you, sweet, it was a very good idea.”

After a very quiet breakfast, Sungchan took the plates into the kitchen, and you started making your mental list of tasks for the day. No vacuum—you weren’t a masochist—but there was laundry to do, and if Sungchan started the dishwasher before he left, it would be done and ready to put away before they got back from the park.

Just as you had put your feet over the edge of the bed to get up, with the bathroom as your destination, you were caught off-guard by Woobin trudging into your room with an armful of toys. He dropped them onto your mattress before hauling himself up after them.

“Hey…” You greeted him with an air of question. “What are you doing, Binnie?”

Sungchan must have spotted him on his way over, as he poked his head in right then, already laser-focused on your son. “What’s all this, bud?”

“We can’t go to the park,” he said matter-of-factly, beginning to sort out the toys that had gotten all mixed up in being carried over and dumped into a pile. “I’ll be quiet, promise!”

“I didn’t say we weren’t going at all,” Sungchan clarified. “I just said Mommy needed to stay home this time, because she’s not feeling well. You and I are still going. Minha and her dad are going to be there too.”

“I don’t want to go. I don’t like the park,” he declared, a stern pout creasing his face.

“What? You don’t like the park?” You asked.

“No,” he mumbled. “I hate it.”

You exchanged bewildered looks with Sungchan at this sudden development. Deciding to try again, you said calmly, “Binnie, I’ll go with you next time, okay? I promise. You have lots of fun at the park.”

“No. I don’t want to go.”

“Okay, no park,” Sungchan acquiesced. “But it’s such a nice day out, I think a walk sounds good. What do you think?”

“No.” He crossed his arms.

“Ah, you know, my head feels good enough for a walk,” you said brightly. “I think I’d like to go on a walk. Are you sure you don’t want to go, buddy?”

“Well… okay.”

“Alright,” you beamed at him, patting his cheek as he finally looked up at you. “Mommy’s got to shower then I’ll be ready to go.”

“How about you get out of your jammies too, Woobin?” Sungchan suggested.

“Go ahead, sweet,” you sent him off with one more pat.

Your son wordlessly got off the bed and left your room. As soon as he was gone, you look at Sungchan, utterly at a loss.

“What was that?” He whispered, following you into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you two.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“He loves the park! I mean, he loves going to the grocery store! He’s one of the most go-with-the-flow kids I’ve ever met!”

“He was obviously lying about hating the park. But why? His best friend’s going to be there, he’s been talking about it since we planned it at pickup on Friday.”

“You think it’s related to what’s been going with bedtime and naptime?” Sungchan paced in front of you. “I mean, what if it’s like separation anxiety? Or something?”

“But he loves you.”

“I know, I know.”

“He even went through that phase when he was a year old where he wouldn’t let me put him to sleep, it had to be you every time.”

“I know, I know.” He held his hands up. “I’m just saying… we might have hit a new phase.”

“But I could at least take him to the park without you. And he went to daycare. Now…”

“Hey, tomorrow, I’ll drop him off at school,” Sungchan said. “You know, so it’ll be gradual. The two of us at home, then just me, then he’s at school.”

“Channie, he wouldn’t let you take him to the park today.”

“I just think that if your choice is between leaving him crying at VPK or not, you’re going to be getting a new little TA in your classes tomorrow.”

You chewed on your bottom lip before sighing and nodding. “You’re right, you’re right. Okay, we’ll try your way tomorrow.”

“We’ll figure this out, hon,” he reassured you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. “But not right now in our bathroom while you’ve got a migraine.”

You hugged him back, burying your face in his neck and taking a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just worry about today right now.”

After your shower, you got dressed in peace and meandered out of your room to find Sungchan and Woobin by the front door. Woobin hadn’t quite mastered shoelaces, so your husband was helping him out. You slipped your own shoes on, and grabbed a pair of sunglasses on the table by the front door.

“Alright, ready?” Sungchan asked, having finished with your son’s shoes.

“Ready!” Binnie chirped.

You offered a thumbs-up, silently reaching to unlock your front door. Woobin went out first, eagerly bounding down the steps of your front porch. You followed after him onto the sidewalk as you listened to Sungchan lock up behind you, then catch up to the two of you with just a few large strides. The sun outside was painfully bright, even with your sunglasses on, and as you held up one hand to cast a shadow over your eyes, you reached your other out to grab Sungchan’s hand. He held yours firmly, even as you squinted and winced against the light, nearly missing a step when you walked in a brighter patch between shadows of trees, keeping you upright and on the paved path.

Woobin was just a couple steps in front of you, seemingly having a great time. He was talking to himself, interspersed with some singing, and of course pointing out anything he found remotely interesting to the both of you.

“Snail!” He yelled out enthusiastically, pointing to said small creature on the ground.

“Cool, buddy,” Sungchan responded encouragingly.

“Worm!”

“I see. Careful, we don’t want to step on him. He’s using the sidewalk too.”

That made Woobin giggle, giving the worm a wide berth as he stepped around it. You stepped over it.

The boy suddenly gasped, and stopped in his tracks as he pointed to a flower in one of your neighbors’ gardens. “Butterfly! Mommy, do you see it?”

You squinted in the direction he was pointing, finally seeing which one he was indicating. A dark butterfly on a bright yellow flower. “Yeah, Binnie, I see it. That’s a swallowtail butterfly.”

“Swallowtail butterfly,” he repeated, slowly to make sure he was pronouncing it right.

“That’s right.” You patted his head with your free hand.

“What other kinds of butterflies are there?” He asked as you continued your walk.

“Oh, lots,” you mused. “Your dad might know a butterfly expert, you know.”

He looked up at Sungchan with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, Dr. Hwang, one of my co-workers, she’s an entomologist.”

Your son furrowed his brows in concentration. “Entee— enah— innamolologiss.”

“Come on, let’s sound it out, bud: En,” Sungchan talked him through it. Despite his earlier teasing of you reading Breton lai to your son, your husband was just as much to blame for Woobin’s inflated vocabulary, always taking the time to teach him lengthy scientific terms for things.

“En.”

“Tah.”

“Mol.”

“Oh.”

“Gist.”

“Entah.”

“Molo.”

“Gist.”

“Entomologist.”

“Enamolgist.”

“Yeah!” Your husband beamed, holding up his hand for a high five.

“What’s an enamolgist?” Woobin asked.

“A scientist that studies bugs. Like butterflies.”

“Butterflies aren’t bugs!” He insisted.

“They are.”

“But how can they be bugs? They’re butterflies!”

Sungchan laughed. “When you meet Dr. Hwang, you can ask her and she’ll explain it. She can also tell you all about all sorts of butterflies. Okay?”

“Your dad studies fish, remember?” You added. “Way different than bugs and butterflies.”

“And you study books!” Woobin said. “And stories! And reading! And writing!”

“That’s right.” You chuckled fondly. “Way, way different than bugs or butterflies or fish.”

By the time you got back to your house, you could barely open one eye enough to navigate the steps and get through the front door. It felt like you were being stabbed in your left eye, the pain shooting back through the entire left side of your head, and you patted Sungchan’s arm before wordlessly heading off towards your room. You beelined for your bathroom, knocking back another dose of the rescue medication you had in there.

As you clutched your eye with one hand and gripped the bathroom counter tightly with the other, the door was pushed ajar. You quickly went to drop your hand and throw on a smile, then saw it was Sungchan, who put another tablet into your hand, your second rescue medication in the dining room.

“Thanks, baby,” you mumbled, taking that one as well.

He sighed, but said nothing else as he rested a hand on your back. You covered both of your eyes as you turned into his chest, feeling when your fingers quickly turned moist. You took deep, shaking, quiet breaths. One of Sungchan’s hands cradled the back of your head while the other slowly rubbed up and down your back.

“Eye mask?” He murmured, referring to the cooling eye mask you kept in the fridge to help with migraine pain. It could also be microwaved if you wanted it warm instead.

“What’s Binnie doing?” You sniffed.

“Picking a movie for me and him. You’re going to lay down. Do you want your eye mask?”

“Yes, please.”

And so Sungchan grabbed the mask from the fridge for you as you crawled back into bed, handing you your earplugs from your nightstand drawer first.

You tried to refuse, eyes drifting towards your bedroom door. “No, but—”

“I’ve got him, hon.” He opened the case and pushed the earplugs into your hand. “You’ve done plenty, Supermom. Okay?”

You nodded slowly, pushing the earplugs in one at a time. He helped you adjust the eye mask, then pulled the covers up over you. You felt as he stood up from the bed and gave one final pat to your arm.

You woke up to find that the medication and nap had taken the edge off the migraine, at least. There was still a dull ache in your head, and you felt like shit, but it wasn’t the worst that you’d ever felt. You pulled the room-temperature mask off your face and set it on your nightstand before rolling over, fully intending on burying your face in your pillow and going back to sleep if you could.

You weren’t expecting to see Sungchan lying next to you on top of the covers, hand tucked under his cheek. His eyes were open, watching you.

“Hi, Channie,” you said quietly, taking your earplugs out and setting those aside as well.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, voice barely above a murmur.

“I’m alright. Still hurts, but not as bad,” you replied, reaching a hand out towards him. He grasped it, gentle but steadfast. “Where’s Binnie? Down for his nap?”

“Snacktime. I called in backup, though, my dad’s here.”

“I’m—” You stopped yourself before you could apologize, biting down on your lip before mustering up a smile. “Thank you. For taking care of me and buddy today. More than you usually do.”

“I wish I could’ve done more for you, baby,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“You were making sure our son was okay. He can’t use the microwave, I can manage my ten-thousandth migraine on my own.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s not your fault,” you insisted. “You’ve been Superdad and Superhusband today. So relax, okay?”

“Alright.”

“How long is your dad staying?”

“He brought ingredients to make dinner. My mom’s coming when she gets off her shift.”

You smiled fondly at your in-laws’ kindness, and lifted the blankets up. “Five more minutes?”

Sungchan joined you under the covers, immediately wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. You held him close, savoring his familiar warmth and the comforting pressure of him laying practically on top of you. You curled your fingers in his hair, resting your cheek against the crown of his head.

“Ten,” he mumbled against your skin. “Ten more minutes.”

“Hey Professor, mind if we hang out in here?” A familiar pair of heads had poked into your office, two freshmen Raptors players who definitely weren’t in any of your classes this semester.

“Is there somewhere you should be?” You asked, gesturing to the couch across from you nevertheless. It made no difference to you if two adults decided to skip their college classes, you were more-so just curious. “It’s a bit early to be getting to campus if you don’t have a class…”

“Well, we usually have Coach Jung’s class right now, but he just sent out an email cancelling,” the left wing explained, dropping into one corner as his friend splayed out across the remaining two-thirds.

“And our next class is in this building, so we thought we’d see if you were in,” the right wing finished.

“What class do you have in this building?” You tried to keep a casual tone as you checked your phone for any missed calls or text from Sungchan that would clue you into why he’s suddenly missed his class this morning.

As they proceeded to rant about the 2000-level Grammar class they had signed up for in order to fulfill their Gen Ed requirements, mistakenly thinking it would be easy since it was only a 2000-level, you sent a quick text to your husband.

[you: just checking in. did drop-off go okay?]

Woobin once again slept in yours and Sungchan’s room last night, and though he was a little confused at his dad taking him to school today since you usually dropped him off on Mondays, there was no meltdown when you gave him his goodbye kiss. So far so good, until now.

“What classes are you teaching in the fall, Professor?” The left wing asked you.

“Oh, uh, I’ve got Lit Theory, Direct Study, and I’m teaching a Special Topics section in Contemporary Short Stories. We’ll mostly be focusing on magical realism, surrealism, that sort of thing,” you started rambling, still half-focused on your dark phone screen, waiting for it to light up with Sungchan’s reply. “I know neither of you are Lang majors, but it’s my first Special Topics class and I enjoyed having both of you last semester, so if you have a free slot in the fall, I’d appreciate it if you considered enrolling.”

“Hell yeah, that sounds cool,” the right wing grinned. “Is it going to be like, a bunch of essays, though?”

“There will be a final paper, but it will be mostly Socratic discussion, and the occasional short, one-page synthesis assignment,” you clarified. “No tests, no quizzes. As long as you read and participate enthusiastically, you’ll pass.”

“We’ll be there!” The left wing promised. “We loved your intro class. You’re like, one of the coolest professors ever, that’s why we asked.”

“I’m honored, boys, thanks,” you laughed.

“Coach Jung is cool too,” said the right wing, then he exchanged a mischievous grin with his friend. “But you’re cooler.”

“Oh, I’ve known that for quite some time, I assure you.”

“How long have you two been together?” The left wing asked curiously.

You twisted your wedding ring contemplatively. “Let’s see… We’ve been married for seven years, we started dating our senior year of undergrad, so… fifteen years? Yeah, it’ll be fifteen years this fall.”

“Wow. I didn’t even think you were that old.”

“What? Fifteen?” You chuckled, eyes straying to the picture on your desk of you, Sungchan, and Woobin from the party you held to celebrate his adoption being finalized.

“I mean, like, old enough to have been in college fifteen years ago.”

“Surprise.”

“So you met in senior year—”

“No,” you shook your head. “That’s when we started dating. We met freshman year. First day of classes, actually, if I’m remembering correctly. In one of Dr. Son’s classes, so that tells you how long he’s been teaching.”

“Wow, he needs to retire,” the right wing snorted. “And I mean that with his best intentions at heart.”

“Why are you two so interested in me and Coach Jung all of a sudden?” You questioned, tilting your head and folding your hands over your lap.

“Well, we see you and Coach Jung and our MVP all the time but, you know, we don’t know a lot about you, outside your jobs,” the left wing shrugged. “You two seem cool, you know?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. “Where are you guys from?”

As they informed you that they were both from the same small town about five hours away, you nodded in understanding. Freshmen that hadn’t seen their parents since the holidays, a break that was only made even shorter by their being on the hockey team.

“You two are more than welcome to pop into my office whenever you happen to see me in here,” you reassured them. “And talk to me about whatever you want.”

By the time the players had left to go to class, you still hadn’t heard back from Sungchan, and you had your own class to teach. It was your Direct Study, which usually met in your office anyway since it was just two students. The conversation in this one was student-led, so as they evaluated what they thought the developing themes in the book were, bouncing ideas off each other, you tried to listen and engage earnestly, even as you stayed painfully aware of the lack of response from your husband.

You never forced them to stay for the entire block of time allotted for the class if the conversation didn’t need it, so when they were about done only forty-five minutes into the hour and a half block, you gave them the next chunk of the reading to do before next week, and bid them farewell. Then immediately left your office.

The Science building was across from the Lang building, and you headed for Sungchan's office first. If he was teaching a class right now, you knew it would be an Intro class and, therefore, most likely in one of the large lecture halls on the first floor, but you weren’t going to interrupt his lecture because he hadn’t replied to your message. You just wanted to check to see if he'd made it to campus yet. His office was on the second floor, past some of the teaching laboratories.

When you tested the door handle, you found it unlocked, and pushed it open. His desk lamp was on, illuminating the pictures he had there: one from your wedding day, another of the three of you from a hockey game, decked out in blue and orange Raptors gear, and a third of just you and Woobin from when he was a baby, the exact occasion you couldn’t pin down. He wasn’t in the office, but his backpack was on his desk chair, so he had at least made it to campus.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you looked to see that it was Sungchan calling.

“Hey, Channie,” you answered.

“Hi, hon,” he sounded a little out of breath. “Where are you?”

“Uhm, I’m actually at your office. I got worried…” You admitted.

“Oh, okay. We went to your office but couldn’t find you. Stay put, we’ll come to you.”

“Okay—Wait, ‘we?’”

“Yeah, uh, buddy’s with me,” he sighed shortly. “We'll be there in just a sec, okay? Bye, love you.”

And he hung up.

When Sungchan’s office door opened a few minutes later, Woobin was, in fact, the first thing that came through, immediately running to wrap his arms around your legs. Sungchan stepped through the door a moment later, looking disheveled as he took your son’s small backpack off his shoulder and put it on one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Hey, Binnie,” you greeted your son brightly, despite your alarm and confusion, hugging him back tightly. The harrowed look on Sungchan’s face was enough to let you know that this was something for you two to talk about later.

“Mommy!” Woobin was practically buzzing with excitement. “Mommy, guess what!”

“What, buddy?”

“Daddy said I can meet an enamolgist today!”

“Wow! That’s awesome,” you patted his head. “Did he say when Dr. Hwang was available?”

“I was just about to call her,” Sungchan answered. “We wanted to find you first, hon.”

“I saw some cool posters in the hall, Binnie,” you let go of your son and offered him your hand. “Let’s go look at those while your dad makes his call, okay?”

“Okay!” He took your hand and let you guide him out into the hall, shutting the office door behind you.

The first one you found was a diagram of a wetland ecosystem, taller than your head, and spanned the entire wall between two offices.

“I can’t see it,” Woobin craned his neck to look at the poster. “Can you pick me up, please?”

You hoisted him up by his underarms and onto your hip. “Is that better?”

“Thank you!” He then pointed to an animal. “What’s that?”

“Here, it’s labeled. Do you see?” You showed him the black line connecting the animal to its common name and scientific name. “Can you read that first one?”

“Spotted… sal… uh… man… der?”

“Spotted salamander, good!” You confirmed.

“So this one is a…” he pointed to another animal, following the line to its name. “Green… ana… con… da. Green anaconda!”

“That’s right, Binnie.”

The two of you were still on that same poster sounding out animal names, when Sungchan poked his head out from his office just a few doors down. Woobin was in the middle of a name, so you indicated to your husband to wait a moment before listening to the boy continue to sound it out. Sungchan walked over to join the two of you as Woobin had just finished his first attempt at the bird’s name.

“That was a good guess, it does look like the words ‘her’ and ‘on,’” you said. “But the animal is pronounced heron.”

“Hair-in,” he echoed slowly.

“You got it. Can you put it together now?”

“Great blue heron.”

“Good job, buddy,” Sungchan praised him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, buddy.”

“Did you get a hold of Dr. Hwang?” You asked.

“Yes, she’s in her office right now and has some spare time.”

“Yay!” Your son cheered, starting to wriggle out of your grip.

The three of you trekked to the third floor to get to Dr. Hwang’s office. Dr. Hwang was an older woman who welcomed you in warmly.

“Daddy says butterflies are bugs,” Woobin said very seriously. “Is that true?”

Dr. Hwang looked at Sungchan very judgmentally, before turning her attention down to your son. “Butterflies are insects, yes.”

“But how? They’re butterflies!”

“They’re just one kind of insect,” she explained patiently. “What’s your favorite fruit?”

“Mm… Grapes!”

“Are grapes fruit?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And fruit is food, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Grapes are a type of fruit, and fruits are a type of food. Does that make sense so far?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the same thing with butterflies. Butterflies are a type of insect, and insects are a type of animal.”

He seemed to think very hard about this for a moment, then nodded satisfactorily. “How many kinds of butterflies are there?”

“There are about 180,000 different species of butterflies and moths. That we know about.”

His eyes practically bulged out of his head. “Woah…”

“Would you like to see some?”

“Can I?” He then looked back at you and Sungchan. “Please? Can I?”

“Of course, buddy,” Sungchan smiled, then looked up at his colleague. “If it’s alright with you, Dr. Hwang, my wife and I are going to step out for a moment.”

She waved you off. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thank you,” you nodded to her gratefully. Patting your son’s head, you informed him, “Daddy and I will be right back, buddy.”

As Dr. Hwang directed Woobin’s attention to a book, you and Sungchan stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind you quietly.

“What happened?” You asked him fervently.

Sungchan pulled you a little further down the hall, keeping his voice low when he finally spoke. “He was doing fine until we got into his classroom. Got his arms around my neck, wouldn’t let go… Kid’s strong for a five-year-old.”

“Two of your students ended up in my office after you cancelled class.”

“Yeah, I stayed for the first thirty minutes, to try to ease him into it, but then when I tried to leave again, the same thing happened except worse… Kept asking for you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was too much of a distraction, we had to leave. He didn’t stop crying until I told him we were going to see you.”

You nodded in understanding, not upset with Sungchan in the slightest. If you’d been in his position, you probably would’ve done the same thing, if not, gave in even sooner.

“Do you think…” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Do you think we should take him to see someone? See if it’s a phase or… something more serious? I mean, even if it is a phase, he’s clearly getting really upset about something…”

“Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea,” Sungchan agreed.

Dr. Kwon Hayoung was a younger woman, definitely no older than yourself and Sungchan if you had to guess, her posture relaxed as she sat in her mustard yellow armchair. Her entire office was colorful, filled with various toys, whimsical artworks, and plush, patterned pillows on the couch that you were currently sitting on with your husband. After lots of research, various recommendations from friends and colleagues at work, and an entire two weeks of Woobin being attached at the hip to one of the two of you, you had finally settled on taking him to Dr. Kwon. After an initial interview with all three of you, then just you and Sungchan (a task that was aided by the fact that Sungchan’s father had come along and occupied him in the meantime), she then evaluated your son, which required several breaks for him to see you. But finally, she had finished with him, and he went back to play with his grandpa while Dr. Kwon brought you and Sungchan back once again.

“There is nothing serious for us to be concerned about,” Dr. Kwon declared, her tone calm.

You and Sungchan exchanged an uncertain look. You cleared your throat, “Uhm…”

“I don’t mean to downplay the problems that your family is facing right now,” the child psychologist promised, readjusting her lavender purple frames on the bridge of her nose. “However, Woobin is developing typically for kids his age, which is good news.”

“Then why is he…?” Sungchan trailed off, his question obvious. Why is he doing all of this? So suddenly?

“You have been very open about him being adopted.”

“Yeah, we never wanted to hide it from him,” you said. “He even gets two parties every year, his birthday party, and we celebrate the day his adoption went through.”

“But he knows that he’s our son and we love him,” Sungchan added, shifting forward as his voice carried a slight edge to it.

“Of course, of course he knows that.” Dr. Kwon’s tone hadn’t lost any of the gentle kindness she began the conversation with. “Both you and he told me about another kid, in his class, who was not so understanding.”

“Yeah, it made buddy a little upset, but he seemed fine by the next day.”

“I do think he was fine. Until he had a recent dream, about falling asleep in his bed and waking up in someone else’s home,” she informed you, and you felt a harsh twinge in your chest as you realized that your son hadn’t even told you about that. “He’s not afraid that you two will give him away so much as he’s afraid that somebody will come take him from you.”

“Oh…” You breathed out, feeling yourself grimace as you thought about how scared your son must have felt since then.

Sungchan reached over to hold one of your hands. “What can we do? What are our options?”

“We can work on his anxiety, coping skills, attachment in sessions. Since it’s affected your daily lives as a family so much, I recommend starting at three times a week, and we can adjust from there. I would like both of you to attend as many as possible.”

“Of course,” you nodded quickly, squeezing Sungchan’s hand tight.

That night, after helping Woobin brush his teeth with his toothbrush and toothpaste that had migrated into your bathroom, you took your nighttime medication, then tucked it back away into the childproofed medicine cabinet. Sungchan was doing some late-night grading in your home office, but you had a five-year-old to put to bed on time, so you had started on that without him.

Woobin clambered up into his place in the middle of the mattress first, and you lifted up the comforter and blankets to slip in next to him. With the thoughts of his nightmare still weighing heavily on your heart, you called out to him quietly, “Binnie? Can Mommy cuddle with you?”

“Of course, Mommy!” He chirped, immediately taking it upon himself to scramble over to you under the covers and wrap himself around your middle like a koala.

You laughed, enveloping him in your arms to hold him to you even tighter. Pressing a long kiss to the top of his head, you then tucked him under your chin. Yeah, this was exactly what you needed. You had his next appointments set up with Dr. Kwon, and she hadn’t told you to change anything you were doing yet. So tomorrow you’d continue your new routine of bringing your son to campus with you and passing him between you and Sungchan—usually whoever was in office hours had him, or if you were both in a class, whoever had the smaller class. You had tried dropping him off at your parents’ house once, but as soon as he realized that you were leaving without him, he wouldn’t let go of your leg, his eyes started watering, and you immediately folded. Preschool was a no-go, as he had a soft, indefinite ban for the foreseeable future until he was no longer going to be a disruption. They were continuing to hold his spot at no charge to you, at least. It had been stressful, and there hadn’t been very long stretches of time in the past two weeks where you had been apart from him, but there wasn’t once where you ever felt resentful towards your son himself, you realized. He’s what you did this all for.

“I love you, Binnie,” you murmured, kissing his hair again. “Love you so much.”

“I love you so much too, Mommy,” Woobin mumbled back sleepily, his words punctuated by a yawn.

You smiled fondly, listening as the sounds of his breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep. Not much later, and your bedroom door slowly creaked open. Sungchan quietly went about his own nighttime routine before finally shutting the bathroom light off and closing the door behind him. You were a little confused when he walked over to your side of the bed, though, thinking your son’s sippy cup that was sitting there might’ve needed a last-minute refill. Then you felt him raise the sheets and start squeezing himself in behind you.

“You’re going to fall off, Channie,” you whispered, trying to bite back the giggles bubbling up in your chest.

“Then make some room, baby,” he responded, his quiet words even more hushed by the fact that he was pressing his face into your shoulder as he readjusted.

You gently scooted further in on the bed, trying to jostle the child attached to you as little as possible, not wanting to wake him so soon after he’d fallen asleep—if he woke up now, he’d definitely be awake for another three hours at least. Sungchan scooched with you, molding himself around you after you’d gotten settled in again, and burying his face in the back of your neck. He slung an arm over your waist, his hand finding one of yours where it was resting on Woobin’s back, slotting his fingers with yours.

After some time, when you were sure your son was deep asleep, Sungchan spoke again, “I had a student ask me what death of the author is.”

You craned your neck to try to look at his face out of the corner of your eye. “In your bio class?”

“Yeah, I thought it was weird too.”

“Are they… in one of my classes? And thought that you would know because we’re married? And knew that we’re married?” Obviously there were pictures of you, Sungchan, and your son in his office, but since classrooms and labs were shared spaces at the university, professors didn’t decorate or keep personal belongings in there. The average Intro to Bio student wouldn’t have any reason to know that you and Sungchan were married just from attending lecture.

“That was my first thought, too. Turns out he had you last semester.”

You scrunched your nose in confusion. “Then why…?”

“Apparently, in your class, he met this cute Lang major, but she didn’t seem too impressed with him. Thinks he’s a dumb jock.” Sungchan’s chest vibrated with his chuckle.

“Because he doesn’t know what death of the author is? Is he failing your bio class, perchance?”

“No.”

“Did she actually tell him she thought he was a dumb jock, or is he just assuming?” You asked pointedly.

“He seemed pretty convinced.” Your husband grinned and nudged you with his shoulder. “Sound familiar?”

“What are you—Oh my god, you think that sounds like us?” You rolled your eyes. “I did not think you were a dumb jock! I just… didn’t think about you really at all.”

“Ouch.” His pout was still very visible in the dim light of your bedroom.

“Not my fault you opted to pine for three years like a loser instead of talking to me.”

“Words hurt, you know.”

You shook your head. “So were you able to tell him what death of the author is?”

“No. But he’s apparently trying to read along from your Brit Lit I syllabus.”

“So that’s why you knew Bisclavret the other day. He won’t get very far on his own, even translated, Old English can be pretty awkward to get through,” you warned.

“Yeah… So do you have any study guides?” He batted his eyelashes at you, and you once again rolled your eyes.

“Seriously? You should tell him to talk to her like a person. He won’t get anywhere if he’s constantly thinking of both of them one-dimensionally. Him as the dumb jock, and her as the smart Lang major,” you scoffed. “Sound familiar?”

“That’s a no on the study guide?”

“The Internet exists. And you didn’t get me by making me swoon over your knowledge of Breton lais.”

“True.” He clicked his tongue in the back of his mouth. “I’ll ask him if she has any chronic illnesses to tend to.”

“You didn’t stay with me during the Halloween party as some elaborate scheme to get me to date you. At that point, you still thought you were friendzoned. If my memory serves me.” You pointed out.

He yawned and nuzzled his cheek against your shoulder. “Perhaps…”

“You stayed with me because you’re a good, sweet guy, always have been,” you continued, taking your hand that he had been holding back to reach behind you and poke his leg. “That’s how you got me.”

“Aw, you still know how to my heart flutter, baby. Even after fifteen years.”

You smiled to yourself as he kissed your shoulder. “Yeah, you’re easy.”

“And still know how to wound me with so few words.”

“I love you, too, Channie,” you chuckled softly, taking his hand again under the covers.

“Only this easy for my girl.” He murmured, dropping another kiss to your shoulder. “Love of my life.” Another kiss, this one on your cheek. “Can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“We’re already married,” you said humorously, wiggling your entwined left hands pointedly.

“So? I can only talk about spending the rest of our lives together before we sign the marriage papers? Can’t do it while we’re actually living that life together and raising our son?”

“Well when you put it like that…” You turned your head to catch his lips with yours in a soft, sweet kiss.

Sungchan hummed into the kiss, pecking the corner of your mouth when you pulled away.

“I love you, my Sungchannie,” you professed as you’d done thousands of times before, each time thinking that you could never be more in love with this man than you were in that moment, and yet each time it felt like your love had only grown exponentially since the last time you said it.

“I love you too. My girl,” he replied, resting his forehead against yours. You didn’t need him to speak to know what he was thinking. The two of you were going to get through this. Even though right now, you don’t know exactly how, you would.

➠ series masterlist | blog masterlist

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humanpurposes · 23 hours

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Initial thoughts on Season 2 Episode 1

I understand there's a big cast, there are more locations, we're introducing new characters, but the scenes really need room to breathe and just exist within the story. There was so much jumping around, compared to 1.1 which was a lot more focused in terms of storytelling, but then we've got a lot more going on here.

The visuals are gorgeous, there are some really good interactions, but overall I'm somewhat underwhelmed.

I loved starting off in the North, the raven flying to Winterfell while Goodbye Brother played genuinely made me tear up. And for what little time we got with Cregan Stark I liked his conversation with Jace. Look at these two kiddos taking their responsibilities head on!!

Rhaenys ate Daemon up hehe. Daemon's still a loser.

So you could give me Criston "muff muncher" Cole but not a single line of dialogue from between Baela and Jace :/ I love the idea of Alicole being canon, but I expected their relationship to be a bit more subtle, a bit more tentative rather than having two sex scenes shoved in our faces with no explicit buildup from season 1.

I love Aegon trying to be a dad and how he looks at Jaehaerys in the small council. I like that he's more willing to take on the role as King, and whether he is looking for validation or if he's being strategic, it's interesting that he points out the importance of keeping the small folk happy, because he's absolutely right.

The disconnect between Aegon and Helaena breaks my heart. It's the point Tom and Phia made about them being parents, siblings and spouses, and they still can't find common ground. What gets me as well is that they're both trying to be good parents. They clearly love their children despite the terrible example of parenting they've had growing up, and the fact that they themselves are so young.

Otto's done with everyone lmao.

I wishhh we got more of the immediate fallout of Storm's End on the Greens' side. I wanted to see Aemond get berated, I wanted more panic from their side when they realise they're heading for war and the danger that will put them in.

Rhaenyra's limited screentime was really effective for me. Her finding Arrax's wing, her reuniting and grieving with Jace, the funeral, Emma plays those silent moments so well.

Blood and Cheese... I'm trying not to judge this too harshly because to be fair, I did have an idea in my head of what this scene was going to look like. I thought there would be more hysterics, and then it all happens so... simply. Phia did an incredible job with what she was given, and I do find it convincing that Helaena would shut down a little bit, that she'd go into this state of shock and want the situation to be over with as little fuss as possible. That's the thing with trauma as well, it's not always melodramatics and screaming and crying, sometimes it is just as simple as, "this awful thing is happening."

I wish there had been more buildup for this as Helaena's moment. As @ai-megurine said, this scene should have been told from Helaena's POV, her sharing a moment with both of her children not knowing these are Jaehaerys' final moments. I appreciate they tried to create a bit of an emotional connection between him and the audience with him in the small council chamber, this really could have set us up for a really gut-wrenching moment. That being said, sound will always get me, hearing the sawing was horrific, and the muffled crying killed me.

Is it a bit of a cop out that the assassins were the ones who decided to kill Jaehaerys and not Aemond? Daemon's the one going "a son for a son," so in a way it feels like a "will no one rid me of this troublesome priest" moment. They were technically following orders. I like this illusion of control when it comes to violence. Rhaenyra is as cautious as she can be in 1.10 because she knows things will get out of hand if she acts on her grief. It makes perfect sense that she wants Aemond dead, but then she's made the order for bloodshed and she can't fully control what happens next. Just like Aemond may not have intended for Luke to die the way he did, but he acted on impulse with terrible consequences.

#house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon season 2 #hotd #hotd fandom #me when i overshare

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hikeyzz · 4 months

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wild that i can be bleeding internally for six weeks and it's just ... fine?? i just keep working like everything is normal?? that's cool. just like, let me know at what point to be really concerned .. i guess?!

#when you thought the kidney infection went away but somehow you're still bleeding from your kidneys?? or your bladder or ... somewhere?!#what the fUuuUck dude #now i have to go see a urologist and who knows how fcking long i'll have to wait for that #and i am not convinced that my abdominal pain is from the lingering small bleed in my urinary tract #so what the FUCK else is wrong with me???#and why are my doctors still saying shit like 'if it persists into next week follow up with me'#ITS PERSISTED THE LAST SIX WEEKS IF YOU ARE GOING TO DO SOMETHING NOW IS THE TIME NOT NEXT WEEK #god fuck i just #am trying to cope and deal and process this and it's very very hard when i am like begging for help and everyone is just acting #like i saw a fly and screamed my head off #and then finally when someone says oh shit i see the bear too i'm like holy shit you do?!#and then they can't confirm the bear bc all their tests failed so they just go 'ehh we'll try again if the bear's still there next week'#THE BEAR COULD ATTACK AT ANY SECOND AND I AM SUPPOSED TO JUST SIT HERE AND WAIT?!#i just can't dude i just fcking can't #disabled lyfe #hikey

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moonpaw · 1 year

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dogs caught what i believed was some kind of black bird up until i whisked it away and realized it was a hawk or falcon chick? i had to relocate it 3 times because they kept finding it again before i finally plopped it down into our open shed which conveniently gives a little birdie plenty of hiding spots

but i was still worried about it possibly starving and it was unclear if the parents were near or not so i put down some water and leftover bird feed (even though i doubted it would probably eat it) and left it alone

checked up on it today and not only does it sound healthy, it looks like one of its parents is keeping an eye on the little guy 🙏

#it couldnt even peep anymore by the time i moved it for the last time so now that its nice and LOUD when it heard its parent fly in and out #i assume its getting fed and taken care of #i wasnt sure if i shouldve taken it to a wildlife center or not #its like? half grown i think?#and if its parents are taking care of it once it can fly im sure it'll be alright #i can pop in every few days i guess to see if its still screaming its little head off #or at least make sure my dogs dont get a hold of it anymore #poor guy was stubborn and got smacked around for a while before i eventually woke up and snatched it away #but man i wasnt sure if it was still there #i snooped around and didnt hear or see anything for a few minutes until i stood still for a bit #and saw another falcon pop in; see me; and flew right back out #but after it did that the chick started to scream lol #ur fine little buddy #oughhgh ok i stayed up way past my bedtime just to wait to go check on it #mimis time...

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triptuckers · 6 months

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dawn - percy jackson

Request: nope Pairing: percy jackson x child of apollo!reader Summary: percy wakes early because of a nightmare and you're not next to him Warnings: swearing, mentions of nightmares, percy being scared :( Word count: 900 A/N: SHIFTING INTO PERCY JACKSON MODE AGAIN !!! I cannot wait for the show !!! also this is based on a head canon I saw once and now it's my favorite, enjoy!

percy hears you scream again. he needs to find you now.

he's been running for too long now, you've been screaming for too long. he could tell from your screams you had gone from scared to absolutely terrified.

and he knows you've been through as much as he has. it took a lot to make you scared. and something has made you terrified.

percy runs around the corner, gripping his sword tight. up ahead he can see a shadow. that must be you.

he takes off running again but as he gets closer to the shadow, it's not you. it's someone - or something - that is holding two very long, very sharp swords.

percy turns around and bolts through a door. you scream again. and again. he can't get to you. gods, he's going to lose you.

with a start, percy's eyes fly open.

he's breathing heavily and his hands are gripping the bedsheets. percy's chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to calm himself. he reaches out to you, but you're not next to him.

what if it wasn't a nightmare? fuck.

he pushes himself up with one elbow and notices the door to his cabin is slightly open. he can see you sitting just outside.

percy closes his eyes and lets himself fall back onto his pillow. he frowns when they're damp. great, he was sweating. that means it was a really bad one.

'shit.' he sighs, dragging a hand over his face. there's no way he's getting any sleep now. at least not with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

he can tell it's very early in the morning. the sun is starting to rise, but it's still pretty dark outside. percy looks over to you again and notices a mug in your hands, steam rising from it.

after the nightmare he had, he just needs you close. so he gets up and puts on a sweater and boots before joining you outside.

you look up when you hear footsteps on the wooden floor.

'hi. did I wake you?' you say, reaching for percy and pulling him down to squeeze into the chair next to you, careful not to spill your drink.

'no.' his answer is short.

'nightmare?' you ask, noticing the collar of his shirt that sticks to his sweaty neck.

'yeah.' he moves to get closer to you, needing to be near you.

'want to talk about it?' you say, lazily running your fingers through his hair near the back of his neck.

percy sighs softly. 'lately it's the same one.' he says. 'you're somewhere, I don't know where, I can't see you. but I can hear you. you're screaming for help, for me to come get you out of wherever you are. but there's this big guy chasing me and I can never get to you in time.'

he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drown the image out.

'it's okay.' you say. 'I'm here now.'

'I know you are. you think I can ask any of the gods if they can stop the nightmares?'

you chuckle softly. 'it's worth a shot.'

'hey, wait. why weren't you next to me when I woke up?' he says, remembering the moment the nightmare shook him awake.

he turns slightly so he can look you in the eye, brows slightly furrowed. 'do you still have nightmares?'

'sometimes.'

'but they didn't wake you tonight?'

'no.'

'wait, so you willingly got up at the ass crack of dawn?'

you smile. 'also no.'

'you're usually up early, though. even on quests when you're exhausted but we need to go on, you're always the first one awake. perks of being apollo's kid?'

this time you laugh softly. 'no, more like downside of being his kid.'

percy frowns again. 'what are you talking about?"

'well, everyone wakes at dawn. look, will's awake as well.' you say, pointing to your cabin in the distance. 'michael is just coming back from getting his coffee. I saw lee as well.'

percy still looks confused. you're tempted to give him some weird reason and have him figure out I fit's real or not. but he might not even believe the truth.

'you know how apollo uses his chariot to ride across the sky to give us the sunrise, right?' you say.

'yeah, you told me about that.' says percy.

'well, when he does that he blasts heavy metal at a frequency only apollo kids can hear. so we can see him in the sky in all his glory.'

'seriously?'

'his words, not mine.'

percy laughs. 'that does sound like apollo, yes.'

'it's nice, tough. waking up before everyone else does. especially the younger kids.'

'hey, next time, wake me up okay?'

'I prefer to let you sleep. that's why I always get up quietly.'

'I know, and I appreciate it. but this is nice, just us.'

'us and all of my cabin.'

'well, yeah, but you're the only apollo kid sleeping in my cabin.' says percy, nudging your shoulder an smiling.

'and it better stay that way.' you say, smiling as well. 'I call dips on the shower.'

you lean in to kiss his cheek and get up, letting percy enjoy the rest of the sunrise on his own.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#percy jackson #pjo #Percy Jackson x reader #Percy Jackson fanfic #Percy Jackson fanfics #Percy Jackson fanfiction #Percy Jackson fic #Percy Jackson fics #Percy Jackson oneshot #Percy Jackson oneshots #Percy Jackson x apollo!reader #pjo fanfiction #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfics #pjo fic #pjo fics #pjo oneshot #pjo oneshots

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signedkoko · 5 months

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Could I get a Mammon, Vox and Husk with a S/O who gets harassed on the street and their reaction? You can have full creative control over what type of harassment!

I love your fics- if this isn’t getting the creative juices flowing just let me know and I’ll request something different <3

🦷 anon

Husk | Mammon | Vox [Romantic]

In which some loathsome idiot thinks they'll get away with harassing their beloved s/o.

One of your favourite date nights is spent bar hopping

Pop a drink or two in each one, sometimes sharing one cocktail, his wing draped around you, your head leant on his shoulder, humming to the music surrounding you

Both of you had a preference for the less popular spots, the kinds of places you got the weirdest combinations, where he could be inspired and you could give him thoughts

The plus side of the smaller joints was that the music was never too loud, drinks were cheaper, and there was always a few spots free at the bar

Downside was that most places had their regulars, the kind of people who couldn't get in anywhere else

The kind of desperation that builds and spreads like mold in the corner of a dark room next to a leaky pipe

On a few occasions, someone would harmlessly ask to buy you a drink and would turn tail when Husk gave them his usually 'fuck off' look

But this time, the guy would just not get the hint

" What? Already claimed dibs on the bitch? "

Yeah- no, that attitude towards you is not going to fly

Not even three seconds and there's a bottle smashed on the drunk demons head, and three cards flying back into Husk's hand

That's when the bleeding starts

You slap a 20 down for your bill and jump straight up, already being dragged by Husk out the door

Insists if he stayed there you would have both gotten banned anyways, and he likes that spot

You guys don't really go out so casually without a good reason, or just for old times sake

A sin and his spouse on a city street in greed was just asking for bad things to happen

But still, if you asked and he had nothing that day, Mammon would always rather get quality time with you and people watch

Thats most of your conversation, pointing out demons and joking about what you think they are like, what the do, how they speak

It's always a fun game, until some newcomer saw you laughing at him and marched right up, clearly on something and clearly ready to have a go at someone

The moment he reaches for your wrist, his thumb falls to the floor, a messy and jagged cut the only sign of attack besides one of Mammons spider legs now revealed

Before he can even realize the pain or what's happened, Mammon lets out a menacing laugh

" Every extra inch towards my broad is another finger. "

That demon was already screaming and running away, most the crowd on the street that was watching now hurrying in any direction opposite of you and Mammon

" I'm only worth one finger? "

" Nah. Just being generous for once. "

Not really a street guy, but unfortunately some press conferences and events require mingling and interacting with others, which he never liked

Thankfully, with you he has an excuse to stay away from others, or show you off

He usually goes for the latter

He's all 'Have you met my wife?' 'My wife loves x and y!' 'Isn't my wife absolutely gorgeous?'

You are the first topic he speaks of after his company; you'd be the first if he didn't have to waste so much time being a salesman, but that is how the cookie crumbles

Sometimes when there's specific press releases, he has to send you off for a moment, where you usually go and mingle with some of the others in his industry you befriended

During one such interview, he couldn't help but spot out the corner of his eye, some lousy business woman drape her arm around your waist and grab at your hip

" Sorry yeah, this interview is over. "

Literally shoves his way over, sparks and electricity flying, to rip you out of her arms

" Baaabe, is this a friend? Whatever the case, we really gotta get going! "

Jealousy 3000

He's glad he stepped in after he overhears that lady had a habit of harassing other attendees

New clause in every interview; they have to include you or provide security over you while he is busy

Author's Note - Tooth anon comes in for another PIPIN HOT request!! I actually feel so bad because every time I take a break form writing is on yoru request and that really makes it look bad I am so sorry 😩

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #mammon #mammon x reader #vox #vox x reader #husk #husk x reader

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mysunshinetemptress · 4 months

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I love you

Alexia Putellas x sisters best friend reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst,

Alexia hadn’t always liked you let alone love you, to her you where her little sisters annoying best friend who would do anything possible to annoy her daily. She would huff and roll her eyes every time you would bounce over and ask for her to watch a dance both yourself and Alba had just come up with, or slam her bedroom door in your face anytime you knocked, you where a constant pain back then.

But to Alba you were her best friend who had been there for her through her worst and best times. Alexia and Albas father had died when Alexia was 18 and Alba was 15 with you still being 14 and you had been Albas constant being there from the beginning of their worst nightmare until Alexia decided to shut you out. It was something you always brushed off stating it was understandable you weren’t family and Alexia simply wanted to mourn such a massive loss with her sister and mother in private much to Albas dismay who constantly stated she needed you and Alexia had no right to push you away in that manner, especially when she knew how much you loved her sister.

Alva had been there for just as much as you had for her especially when her sister had began to date her teammate Jenni Hermoso breaking your heart in the process. Alexia didn’t know of your feelings swearing Alba to secrecy but her constant show of affection towards Jenni at the Putellas family home saw you avoid the house much to the older girls delight.

Alexia didn’t think she could dislike you anymore until in her words you “tried to take Alba away from her home.” You had been accepted into the Paris Opera Ballet School at the age of 18, she had screamed at you much to your, Eli and Albas horror, once again you had left the Putellas house on the older girls wishes only this time you didn’t return, instead you said goodbye to your best friend and boarded a plane. A year later Alba flew out to you and never looked back instead she began flying around the globe with you as you began your professional Ballet career stating you need a reminder of home (her).

But now at the age of 25 you where heading home for the first time, you where taking a well deserved break before your next contract started up opting to travel home to spend time with family and friends.

That’s how Alexia found you relaxing on the couch in her family home “Y/n.” You turned looking at the eldest Putellas smiling softly “Hola Ale.” Alexia looked at you stunned “you…you are home.” You nodded “Sí for a while I have a break in my contract so I thought why not.” Alexia nodded unable to take her eyes off of you “well eh..it’s nice to see you.” You smiled brightly at her “it’s nice to see you too Ale.” Alexia let out a nervous laugh before rushing into the kitchen to find her mother as Alba trotted down the stairs “what was that.” You let out a huff “that was me realising I might still have feelings for your sister Al.” Alba smacked you laughing “dios mío, y/n you told me you where done with her the night you left.” You shook your head “I know but Al, I forgot how hot your sister was.” Alba through a pillow at you head as you laughed.

You spent nearly every day at the Putellas house like the old days only this time Alexia didn’t seem to care as much, maybe it was the fact she had her own place now but you often found her sitting watching movies with you and Alba or sitting at the dinner table having coffee in the morning. What blew your mind altogether was when she invited you on a night out with her teammates, “Alba will be there, but I just thought I would ask you know incase you wanted to meet them or just go out for the night.” You smiled happily nodding “I’d love to, eh I’ll be here at 7pm.” Alexia couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach “sounds good Osa.” You couldn’t help but blush at the nickname remembering back to when the word adesoso used to follow after it.

You had been panicking since 4pm on the phone to Alba “I don’t have clothes Al.” Alba huffed “yes you do amor, wear the black corset and trousers you know the leather ones and your boots you look hot in them.” You rolled your eyes “ok are you sure.” Alba rolled her eyes “you could wear a bin bag and Ale would think you are hot.” Three hours later you were stood outside the Putellas house nervously talking yourself up to ring the doorbell looking up suddenly when you head Alexia’s voice “Joder, eres preciosa.” You looked down as your face reddened “Gracias Ale.” You finally looked up staring at the older girl “wow Ale you look wow.” Alexia shook her head before grabbing your hand and pulling you in the door shouting out to Alba that you were here and ready to go.

Arriving at the club you scanned the room before catching eyes with Barcelonas best known defender “Mapi.” Maria turned on a dime laughing as she ran to scoop you up “Bebé pequeño.” You laughed at the nickname you kissed her cheek as she put you down not turning as you felt a hand on your back thinking it was Alba “how are you amor, what are you doing here, oh I have someone I want you to meet.” You laughed at Mapi’s excitement “Más despacio,Maria.” The hand left your back as Mapi dragged you towards the crowd “Mi Vida I have someone you have to meet.” You froze slightly at the sight of the tall Norwegian until she smiled brightly at you “Maria did you kidnap a ballerina.” Mapi looked confused “eh no, this is Y/n mi Bebé pequeño.” Ingrid shook her head “no you kidnapped one of the best Ballerinas in the world.” You laughed shaking your head before putting your hand out to shake Ingrid’s hand “Hola, I’m Y/n.” Ingrid looked surprised as you leaned into Mapi “how do you two know each other.” You both looked at each other and laughed “Ale and Alba.” Ingrid looked even more surprised before you began to explain “I grew up with Al, and then when I moved to Paris to study Alba followed me over a year later.” Ingrid looked stunned “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched you perform either live or on screen you are incredible.” You felt your cheeks reddening at her compliment before a hand grabbed your back again, once again assuming it was Alba you relaxed into their arms “My friends are actually trying to organise seeing you in Vienna.” Finally the voice behind you spoke causing you to stiffen “Vienna.” You turned looking at Alexia “sí, I leave in two weeks to begin rehearsals and then my next show is in Paris and then my agent said something about dancing in London.” Alexia felt her stomach drop “so when are you coming home.” You looked at Alexia confused “probably not for a while, why you aren’t going to miss me.” You laughed half heartedly but stopped at Alexia’s frowning features “of course I will.” You shook your head “you hate me.” Alexia sighed “I don’t hate you Osa, I’ve never hated you.” You wanted to push further but Alba grabbed your hand “Come on show off those moves we all know you’ve got.” You couldn’t help but look back at Alexia eyes softening as you looked at the frown spread across her face.

You had been dancing for hours getting lost in the moment with Alba like you both normally did, although this time you couldn’t help but look for Alexia sighing every time you noticed her talking to someone else before shaking your head and going back to dancing. You stiffened suddenly as an unknown hand wrapped around your waist before someone began speaking to you “Hola, guapa.” You turned looking at an unfamiliar face before smiling nervously “hola.” You turned looking for Alba before seeing her talking to a girl “it’s ok she’s with my friend.” You looked at the strange woman confused “ehh ok.” You quickly looked at the table of Barcelona players trying to catch someone’s eye but finding no one, you couldn’t help but squirm uncomfortably as the girls hand stayed on your waist squeezing it before you turned to Alba grabbing her hand “Al Por favor.” Alba simply brushed you off to busy batting her eyes at the girl she was flirting with “Al.” You tried again only to feel the random girl pull you towards her “hey why don’t we go get a drink.” You shook your head “no gracias.” But she wasn’t taking no for an answer as you put your hands on her shoulder trying to push her off you. You gasped quickly as you were pulled into a different pair of arms relaxing immediately as you took in Alexia’s perfume unable to stop the gasp you let out “Ale.” Alexia ignored you pulling you before she grabbed Alba “Al we are leaving.” Alba turned to argue before she caught your eyes and a worried expression spread across her face “what, what happened Y/n.” Alexia huffed “you would know if you took your head out of that girls ass and stopped flirting with her.” Alba huffed pulling her sister back towards her “why do you care.” Alexia shook her head “leave it Alba, I’m not doing this here.” Alba shook her head not taking that “no we are, you have hated Y/n since our friendship started, you haven’t made it a secret so don’t try to deny it.” Alexia huffed “I don’t hate her.” Alba cut her off “yes you do.” Alexia was getting angry “no I don’t, I love her.” Alba looked at her sister surprised “I love her, I’m in love with her.” You looked surprised at Alexia “you love me.” Alexia turned to you shocked “well….i…..ehm.” You grabbed the older girls face pulling her into a searing kiss “I’ve wanted to do that since I was four years old.” Alexia laughed kissing you again “let me take you home Osa.”

You groaned lightly turning to see Alexa’s relaxed features as sleep took over her body until she groaned at the sound of the knock on door until Eli pocked her head in “Gracias a dios, you grew a pair Ale.” You couldn’t help but laugh “hi Eli.” Eli smiled at you “Papa would be so happy.” Alexia looked at you smiling softly “I know, he told me if she wasn’t going to be his daughter in law he would disown me.” You laughed pulling the older girl into a kiss “slow down mi amor, you only admitted to your love to me yesterday.” Alexia sighed happily “yeah but I know this is forever.”

#awfc #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #alexia putellas x you #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso community #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso couples #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #alba putellas

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javier-pena · 1 month

Text

pull (a joel miller drabble)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 854

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You discover something new about Joel.

Notes: lmao I just quickly had to write this, inspired by this first look at season 2 that made me feel like a Victorian lady who needs to go to the seaside for her constitution, @ravensmadreads - I saw your tags and on my post from like half an hour ago, so here it is.

***

"That's it, that's it," he groans, his eyes closed tightly in concentration as he focuses entirely on feeling you around his cock. You want to focus too, on how he fills you, on how firmly you can clench around him, but there is something you want more – to stare at him in wonder and adoration.

That he came back to you today is a miracle, that you are straddling him now while he sits on your couch, legs spread widely, letting you roll your hips against him … you never want to take that for granted again. Usually, when he almost dies or you almost die, you don’t fuck like this. Usually, he takes the lead, more determined, sometimes more violent than you, until he has made sure you will not disappear from beneath him, that you’re real and solid and here. Today is different.

His breath hitches as he moves beneath you, and changes the angle ever so slightly. You clench around him, hard, your mouth falling open to shape a surprised O. That’s when his eyes fly open and he smirks up at you, a look you could paint from memory, one you can see so clearly even in the dimness of the room.

“You’re always so tight for me,” he mumbles against your neck, kissing you first just below your ear, then right above your collarbone. And then he bites down, ruthlessly, right into a tendon jutting out of your neck.

Your breath hitches as pain shoots through you. There it is, that brutal, almost violent side of him you love so much, and your world starts to make more sense again.

He’s licking the spot he bit, the one that will probably show the marks of his teeth for a while, when you raise your hand and dig your fingers right into his curls, pulling him away from you. His neck, stretched by the sudden movement, is all exposed now, his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he assesses the challenge you’re presenting him with.

Like a cat trying not to get caught, he moves his mouth closer to your throat again, not breaking eye contact, silently daring you to do something about it. You let go of his curls, brush them back, relishing how smooth they feel beneath your fingers, how they curl tightly at the back of his neck. And that’s where you dig in next, yanking his head toward the backrest of the couch.

He groans, so lost in the sensation he forgets about your little game. He thrusts up into you, meeting the roll of your hips, coming as close to relinquishing control to you as is possible for him.

You tighten your grip. “Kiss me.”

His hand closes around the back of your head immediately as he brings your lips down for a kiss. You smile, unable to hide your pride.

“What?” You feel the question against your lips more than you hear it.

“Guess you like it when I do this,” you whisper back, and yank his curls a third time, right on the this.

He growls, a sound that makes your hips stutter and your stomach curl tightly every time you hear it. “Careful, sweetheart, you’re playing with fire.”

“What are you going to do about it, big boy?” you ask, knowing full well what will happen if you use those two words.

He rolls you over faster than you can consider the consequences of your own actions so your naked stomach lands against the couch. You hear his belt buckle jingle as he kicks off his jeans, then climbs above you. You shake, actually shake, with anticipation, your whole body charged with an energy that’s impossible to control.

He's so so big when he takes you like that, and you press your face against the couch to muffle your scream as he pushes into you, spreading you so wide you’ll still feel him tomorrow. The whole couch shakes as his thrusts become erratic, chasing his own pleasure while putting yours on the back burner. That's the side of him you love the most – the one that lets go and just takes.

He doesn’t pull out when he comes, doesn’t try to hide the desperate stutter of his hips or the deep pants he makes when he empties himself into you, the ones you love to hear but he always tries to suppress. You lie still, finally in a position to focus on the sensations.

When he pulls out, you expect him to sit down next to you, to tell you, “Give me a minute,” like he so often does. He never forgets about your pleasure, but he needs to collect himself after an orgasm. Today, he glides of the couch onto his knees and pulls on your arm until you sit up, ears still ringing from how hard he fucked you.

“Come here, sweet girl,” he says softly, wrapping your legs around his shoulders, his eyes on the mess he made of you. “I need you to hold on now.” And then he buries his face between your legs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #don't look at me

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stevie-petey · 2 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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haveihitanerve · 3 months

Text

Calling for Dad

um.. so i saw this post a while back about how the Robins all call for bruce on patrol and i unfortunately cannot find it to reblog off of, but uh yeah. i wrote it so-

this post-

Dick breathed deeply through his nose and whirled, sending his foot flying into a nearby henchman's side. The man went flying back, cursing up a storm that ended quickly as his head connected with the wall. Out cold. Dick brushed his hands off in satisfaction. They were almost done, and he could see bruce tying up and fighting a few extra henchmen only a few feet away, at the same time. Dick turned, planning on tying up the ones he had finished, when something cold and hard slammed into his cheek. Dick reeled backwards, landing hard on the ground. He looked up. A henchman was standing over him, a nasty smile on his face, brass knuckles glinting. Dick could feel tears pooling in his eyes. “Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry’ dick chanted in his head. But his lower lip was trembling. And, maybe it was just some survival instinct, maybe it was just some primal knowledge in dicks little gecko brain, but before he could stop himself, his mouth was open and he was crying. “DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!!!!” All he spotted was the pale face of the henchman, before a black blur went flying into it. Bruce was at his side a second later, a soft hand on his cheek, a tender brush of fingers across his forehead, a gentle kiss to his head. Dick didn't even feel the injury anymore, it had been more of a shock than anything else, but Bruce didn't finish patrol that day. And dick stayed wrapped up safe and warm in his fathers cape the rest of the night.

Jason yawned, sending his right fist into the gut in front of him. He had an exam tomorrow, and Bruce had told him to stay home, but Two Face and Penguin had decided to strike a deal in the warehouse, so they had had to show up. Jason knew B regretted bringing him. And would blame himself if jason failed, but honestly, jason just enjoyed spending time with his dad. Whether it was fighting crime or not. He would take the bruises over passing his exam any day. Jason yawned again. The gut was suddenly back on its feet in front of him. Jason startled back, but too late. He hit the ground. Hard. Boots scraped the floor in front of him and Jason could no longer see Bruce. His heartbeat started to accelerate. There was a hand on his ankle and he was being turned, dragged forward. Jason opened his mouth, and screamed. “DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!!!” The hand on his ankle froze. Then was ripped away. Jason couldn't hold back his sniffle of fear and suddenly bruce was there, a protective hand on his back, an arm under his butt as bruce lifted him and pressed jason's face against his chest, holding him close and whispering sweet nothings into his boys ear and jason lapped them up like a starving kitten, mewling and pushing closer to his dad, safe with the knowledge his father would always have his back.

Tim knew he shouldn't have been out alone. But he was doing some reconnaissance on the bane and it couldn't be that bad. Right? Wrong. Next thing he knew the young Drake heir was face to face with the dangerous villain, with nothing but a bo staff in his hands. “Ooh.” cooed bane. “Little robin, flown too far from your nest have you?” He snickered, and the sound sent a cold chill down tims spine. “Well well well. Lets have some funnsie shall we?” And before tim could move the bane had grabbed his staff and snapped it over his leg, tossing the remains aside. Tim stared at him open mouthed. Fear. Fear was coursing through his veins like sharp ice. Tim was scared. And there was a crack and Tim guessed it was either his ribs or skull as hot fiery pain swept through his body and he screamed, head colliding with the wall. And he couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe couldn't breathe. But he managed to gasp just enough air into his lungs to muster up one single word. “DAAAAAAAAD!” Bane was on the ground faster than tim could blink. And he started to apologize, begging for forgiveness, to stay robin, please, ‘please bruce don't send me back to the Drake estate’ but bruce lifted him gently and carried him slowly and when tim awoke he was still at the manor, not on the doorstep of the Drakes and Bruce was sitting at his side, holding his hand. And when he started to speak tim felt fear clutch him immediately. But the man wasn't telling him to leave. He wasn't kicking him out. He was telling him about the other Robins who had called dad before him. It was the first time Tim heard bruce speak about Jason so plainly. Without anger or guilt or regret. But rather with warmth. “You are my son Timmy.” bruce whispered quietly. “My son.”

Stephanie knew she wasn't as experienced as she needed to be to be robin, but bruce had still let her on the streets with him, and she would be damned if she disappointed him. After all, it was just Black Mask. What harm could he do? “Apparently a lot.” Steph thought dryly as she leapt around the man who was swinging wildly at her. She was bleeding from a gash in her thigh, and was pretty certain she had at least two broken ribs. They were really slowing her down but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. Wasn't handling. Except. Except she couldn't handle it. Black Mask swung his bat, and Steph didn't make it out of the way in time. The metal connect full force with her side and steph went flying, slamming hard into the concrete wall. She wheezed. Now there was definitely some internal bleeding. Her nose was running and before she could get up, a boot connected with her face. Now it was running with blood. Her teeth felt lose. Stephanie's mouth was so dry. Black Masks taunting face appeared above her and Steph could do nothing more than whimper as pain wracked through her body as he started to beat her. She could taste the throw up in her mouth. Could smell the overpowering stench of iron, from her own blood. Her heart was battering so loudly in her ears from fright if she hadn't heard it she might've thought she was dead. But she wasn't. Dead. She was definitely afraid. She and Bruce had never discussed what they were. She had a dad. He had kids. A daughter. They had never broached the subject of adoption, or even being anything more than slight friends. It didn't matter that she saw him as a father figure. A better one than she had ever actually had. It was this thought, above all others, that rose to the front of stephanie's mind while black mask bloodied her. And it was this thought, above all others, that made her lick her dry lips and scream, with all the air she had left in her lings. “DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!!!!” Black Mask laughed at her. “Authur ain't gonna save you!” he sneered. Arthur Brown had never even crossed Stephanie's mind. Black Mask lifted his fist, ready to bring it crashing down on her head. But it never connected. Not with stephanie at least. But rather with a very large, very angry, Batman. She had never seen Bruce throw anyone. Much less through two walls. But here they were. Hands touched her. Warm hands. Kind hands. The same hands that had cradled her after nightmares. The same hands that had handed her snacks and wordlessly pulled her into a hug when she had shown up on his doorstep, wistful and ashed, slightly bedraggled, begging for sanctuary. The warm hands of her father. “Dad.” She choked. “Shhh.” bruce soothed softly, stroking her hair as he lifted her, like a newborn calf, into his arms and carried her home. “Its alright sweetheart. I've got you.”

Damian had never called Bruce dad. It just wasn't done. Mother was Mother, Grandfather was Grandfather, and so naturally, Father was Father. He knew other kids didn't agree. Had heard his classmates shriek with joy and cries of “DAD!” And “papa!” when greeting their fathers. Even his siblings did so, whether Cassandra threw herself at him with a cheerful “daddy!” or jason tossed an arm around his shoulders with a heartfelt “hey pops” or tim and dick, who had no issues with plopping themselves into his lap and purring “daddio.’ when they needed something. Even Barbara had taken to calling Bruce ‘dad 2.0’ from time to time. Damian had never even considered calling his father dad. Much less on patrol. Except. Except he had heard his brothers chatting about it. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But they hadn’t exactly tried to be quiet either. “B don’t love me!” Jason had shouted, plopping with an over dramatic sigh onto the couch. Dick didn’t even look up from whatever he was working on, just laughed. “Sure jason. Remember that time you called for him on patrol?” Tim chuckled, walking in as well and sitting on the couch opposite his brother. “Oh yeah.” He let out a high pitched scream and imitated a young Jason. “Dad!” They all laughed. Jason couldn’t contain his smile. “Yeah yeah. I know. He loves all of us. It would be nice if he showed it differently than just arriving when we need him, but it’s sweet all the same.” “Aw.” Dick cooed. Jason threw a pillow at him. Tim laughed. “Robin calling for his Dad is still the scariest thing a villain can hear.” The others chimed their agreement. Damian filed the information away carefully, planning on testing that. To see if father reacted with the same rage his brothers had described for him as he had for them. Damian had never seen his father snap. Had never seen his ruthless side. According to his siblings that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Damian huffed, throwing a quick and effortless punch to the man in front of him. He hit the dirt without even managing a sound of pain. Damian smirked in triumph, but the man was up again. Damian flinched as the foot connected with his face. He went flying back, slamming into the chimney of the roof he was on. The man stalked towards him, grinning evilly. Damian scrambled back. For the first time, fear coursed through him. “BABAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” damian screamed. His brothers hadn't been lying. The mans face paled in fear a split second before an angry bruce slammed into him, fists flying. Damian wasn't entirely certain his father had stuck with his no killing rule. But that didn't matter. Because Father was here now, holding him close, snuggling damian into bed, kissing his head. And Damian started calling Father Baba.

#robin #batman and robin #bruce wayne #batman #good dad bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #stephanie brown #tim drake #damian wayne #im tempted to redo it but with all of the kids #like add cass and babs and duke and yknow #maybe #we'll see #batfam

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leviathanspain · 1 year

Text

his embrace

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: finnick odair, capitol sweetheart and the thorn in your side

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standing on the plate, you nearly broke your neck looking for him. frantically you looked, your eyes straining to see across the water, it was no use as the timer went off, and you had forced yourself to dive into the water.

your lungs felt like the could burst, but you ran towards the cornucopia, lifting yourself just over the edge only to be pulled back into the water. a career tribute was on you, you could tell as you fought him in the water. but you were losing, as you weren’t able to catch your breathe before you had been pulled back in.

only did the sight of a knife though the career’s chest did you feel some relief. someone had saved you. your body relaxed slightly, and your chest stopped trying to fight for the oxygen, and your eyes closed, your body feeling heavy as you passed out.

the buzzing of arguing flooded your ears. water had them plugged, and as you sat up, coughing up water, you heard the arguments cease, as other tributes rushed to your aid.

finnick was the first you saw, and he grabbed your shoulder, patting your back as you tried to spit out all the water.

you took a good inhale of the air and realized that you were deep in the jungle. along with finnick was katniss and peeta.

without saying anything, you embraced finnick. finnick laughed, hugging you tightly.

you pulled back and kissed him, “i thought i was dead. no one this pretty would be in my version of the afterlife.”

finnick laughed, “you wound me, darling.”

katniss and peeta shared a look, but stayed silent. suddenly the reasonings for why finnick had argued with them to keep you alive was now ever so obvious.

you looked at them, almost forgetting they were there. “katniss, peeta. normally my greeting wouldn’t be so half assed but, then again i’m not normally fighting for my life.” you offered a smile and only peeta gave back a weak one.

days and events had passed by you, and you were getting more and more irritated with your situation. you didn’t think that you would end up arguing with finnick over your safety, after offering to head into the jungle for some wood to build a fire.

“i can do it, finnick.” you rolled your eyes, hoping that he would relent as he usually did. but he wasn’t going to this time, especially with such danger all around.

“no. i alreayd lost mags, i cant lose you.”he shook his head, and you rolled your eyes, “finnick, do i have to remind you that i’m not entirely defenseless? i won my games too.”

but finnick wasn’t budging, and instead he pulled you back towards katniss and peeta, “i said no. im not letting you go in there.”

“if you’re jealous that i’m the one with a cool nickname just say so, don’t start acting like some sort of keeper.” you grabbed one of the knifes he had lying around on the beach and moved into the jungle, “don’t wait up.” you called.

finnick had followed you in, but you had mastered silent footsteps, and you were hard to track.

as you ventured deeper into the jungle, you felt regret in your stomach as you thought about finnick. you had disregarded his comment about mags, and you felt like an asshole.

you stopped, and thought about going back. but you had already left, and you couldn’t go back empty handed. but the screams are what sent you into a run. his screams, your name in the screams had you screaming back.

“y/n! help me!” his voice was on your ears and you ran, “finnick? finnick where are you?” as you tried to run back to camp, you heard birds wings flapping, and you realized that it was jabberjays, and as you swung your knife around to get them to stop, all you could do was listen to the rest of his screams, his mixed in with your families screams.

finnick had heard you scream, and realized he was a lot closer than he thought. you were crying, sobs recognizable as he ran, seeing you cursed up in a ball with a group of birds flying over you.

he realized as your screams intensified what they were. he pulled you up to your feet and practically picked you up, running with you back to the beach.

as he ran, you clutched onto him, crying and muttering apologies, he set you down just a few feet away from katniss and peeta, “stop. it’s not your fault. it’s okay, see? im fine, i’m right here baby.” he kissed you, and finally you calmed down, nodding as tears fell from your eyes.

“oh, finn.” you hugged him, “that was so stupid. im sorry, i promise i won’t do that again. i won’t leave you again, finnick.” you reassured, and hugged him, just as katniss and peeta neared the two of you, questions about your well-being buzzed in your ears.

#finnick imagine #finnick odair smut #finnick odair #finnick odair oneshots #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst

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marvel-redemption-omega · 3 months

Text

Adam x Bratty!fem!reader

Reader is afab/female, explicitly used

Established relationship; you're Adam's wife

Summary: Y/n has started popping off to everyone lately, but mostly to Lute and Adam, which has caused a few scenes. Sera warned them to get their act together before she has to intervene. Adam thinks he knows just the thing to reel Y/n back in.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY

Explicit content under the cut!

Warnings: Adam, lots of cursing, brief Dom!Lute, mentions of guitarspear if you squint, vague mentions of Lute x reader if you squint, Dom!Adam, Brat!reader, soft!Adam, BDSM/bondage, wing kink, thigh riding, edging, orgasm denial, slight praise kink?, you get used, idk what else you want me to say, there's some fluff in the midst; Adam fucks you senselessly into submission for being a brat, idk if there's more warnings. It's over 10k, I've lost track now.

Word count: 10,792

Make Me

(Not my gif, pulled from Google. If it's yours please lmk and I'll edit to credit!)

“The fuck you looking at, Saint Peter? Do I need to get Adam? Move,” you growl, shoving past the poor angel as you head towards the training grounds for the exterminators. Saint Peter looks after you, rubbing his wing where your own clipped his, sending a worried look after you before flying off to who knows where.

You slam open the doors, spreading your wings and launching yourself at the first exorcist you see. She is coming up to greet you, hand out for a handshake, when you grab it and fly up. Ignoring the startled scream from her, you try to keep steady as you twist, somersaulting a couple of times, and sling her towards a group of other exorcists headed right for you. They try to stop the one you sent flying at them, their wings tangling. You watch as they all plummet, hitting the ground with a harsh thud.

“Y/n!” Lute's voice has you turning to face your lieutenant. You smirk and bow your head slightly, wings twitching just the slightest as you hover and land before her.

“Lieutenant,” you grin, walking around her, wings partially folding behind you as you circle her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?” Sarcasm drips from your words. You rest your hands on your hips and watch as she turns with you, her eyes never leaving you.

“This isn't your normal behavior. What's gotten into you? Have you forgotten that we're all a team? We work together as one, and when you break that uniformity, it creates chaos,” Lute glares, voice cold as she approaches, her own wings stretching out. You know you're her subordinate, but you can't help taking the bait she's dropping. Her wings fully spread and you take the opportunity to taunt her.

“What's the matter? Don't like the fact I'm more brazen? I thought you said I needed to be more like you,” you snip, fully extending your wings as a show of defiance to her dominant display. Her eyes narrow and you both move quickly, flying towards each other. However, in your senseless agitation, you forget that Lute is your superior, in both ability and technicality. She easily gets the upper hand and wrestles you onto the ground, pinning your wings to your sides and you to the ground.

“You seem to be forgetting your place,” Lute warns, her tone sharp and hinting at something else you don't quite catch. The group of angels you sent in a heap arrive, all talking over one another to try and tell Lute what happened. She silences them with a look, not moving from atop her perch on you. “Hush! I saw what she did. Don't worry, Adam and I will be dealing with her,” she dismisses the group with a wave of her hand. Only once they're gone does she let you up, one hand gripping the base of one of your wings tightly, forcing you to back up to the side of the building as she extends her wings, making herself look bigger. You bite your tongue at the feel of her hand in your feathers, walking back until she has you pinned, your own wings shrinking and folding as best they can with a hand in the way.

“What now? You've got me alone? Why don't you just beat me and be done?” You snap, glaring at her boots. She steps into your space, forcing you to look at her. You press yourself back to the wall, irritation written on your face.

“You've got some nerve! You're lucky that you're one of the best I've trained. And you're even more lucky that Adam has a soft spot for you, otherwise I'd leave you broken on this fucking ground,” the lieutenant growls, twisting the hand she's got on your wing ever so slightly. Something crossed between a yelp and a moan escapes you as she pushes against you. “Since you think you can just barrel over anyone, you're going to be waking up extra early with me to do drills. We start tomorrow.” With that, she releases the hold on your wing, keeping hers flared behind her, before taking off. You hear her call for the ones training today. With a mocking snort, you take flight and leave the training grounds, deciding to be anywhere else but near Lute.

“Stupid Lute yelling at me. I didn't do anything. Why's she gotta take her anger out on me,” you grumble, landing back on the promenade. You know that's a lie, you're being a brat, but it's not your fault, you reason. You fold your wings, tucking them under your arms as a habit you adopted from Adam. “Fucking tell me I've gotta do early morning shit. Fuck her, she's not the boss of me,” you continue to rant to yourself, completely missing the golden winged angel. His eyes widen as he watches you storm by, none the wiser to his presence. He glowers before white wings cover his face, momentarily confusing him and turning him around.

“Whoa! Sera! I thought we agreed you wouldn't fucking sneak up on me again!” Adam says, looking up at the seraphim. She crosses her arms as she meets his eye.

“Adam, get your subordinate back in line. She is being rude to the other angels and if this behavior of hers continues, I will be forced to intervene. Saint Peter is not the first to have a complaint with Y/n and her behavior,” Sera warns, watching as Adam turns to watch you. Sure enough, you're shoving others aside, using your wings to try and create more space around you as you walk.

“Yeah yeah! I'll go get her! No need to jump down my throat, that's my job!” Adam dismisses Sera, crouching lightly as he spreads his wings. Sera grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“I'm serious, Adam. Reign Y/n back in or I will have to pull her from the extermination team and move her elsewhere. And if she doesn't calm down there, well, let's not let it get that far,” Sera releases him, turning to greet Emily who is flying up with two ice cream cones. Adam, unfortunately, loses sight of you in the time Sera is talking to him. He groans and heads to find Lute.

Lute is sparring with five exorcists at once, pointing out their flaws as she takes each one down. Adam, not particularly keen on getting a sprained wing again, waits out of the way until she notices him and dismisses them to work without her.

“Sir?” his lieutenant questions, wings folding behind her as she walks up to him.

“Have you seen Y/n? Sera's bitching ‘bout her. Something ‘bout she's being mean or some fucking shit. I wasn't really paying attention,” he admits, shrugging as they walk back out the training facility. Lute smirks at his typical behavior.

“Yeah. She came here earlier and assaulted some of the others. Sera is right though. Y/n was deliberately being disobedient,” she reluctantly agrees with the seraphim about you. To be fair, normally you'd go straight to Lute for a good, challenging spar, so to go after some of the younger and less experienced exorcists was a dick move on your part. Adam sighs and groans, glancing down at his lieutenant.

“Hey, Lute~”

“No.”

“What the hell, you don't even know what I was gonna fucking ask!”

“I know you. I don't need to know what you were going to ask.” Adam just stares at her for a moment, his mask switching to a deadpan expression. It quickly switches back to his usual, cocky smirk.

“Oh yeah? If you're so smart, what was it along the lines of then, Dangertits?”

“You were thinking of having me deal with Y/n instead of you, Sir.”

“Don't say it with such confidence. Bitch,” he throws in the last word as an afterthought, realizing she pegged him pretty well. She stopped and turned to face him, brow raised in question.

“So am I wrong?”

“Shut up. No. Let's just fucking go,” he grumbles, spreading his wings and flapping twice to get into the air. Lute smirks and follows silently. She might be his subordinate, but they both know she's right more often than not.

They finally find you at the local barbecue pit, in the reserved section. Reserved for him, Lute, and you. Lute looks up at Adam, wings folding behind her as she waits for his orders. “C'mon, Dangertits,” he mutters, making his way to you. You don't bother looking up when you're sandwiched between two bodies. The familiar touching of wings against yours immediately tells you it's Adam and Lute. You flip them off and continue eating your plate of ribs.

“Umm excuse the fuck outta you, Sugartits. You have some damn nerve acting like you're so fucking high and mighty all of a sudden. The fuck's got your panties in a twist?” Adam reaches over you and takes a rib, expertly dodging the fork you try to stab him with. Lute remains quiet, eyeing you as you glare at Adam, dropping the fork.

“None of your fucking business. And get your own damn plate of ribs, asshole,” you bite out, wings shifting in annoyance. Adam grins and reaches for another rib, holding your gaze while he does so.

“Fucking make me,” he retorts, grabbing the rib you start to reach for. Your eyes narrow, wings fluffing up fully behind you.

“You fucking absolute prick. What the hell is wrong with you?! I said to leave me the fuck alone. I was eating alone just fine until you two showed up,” you yell, drawing unwanted attention and eyes towards the three of you. You let your wings lift you from between your superiors, glaring down at them. “Stop fucking following me!” You leave the duo with your half eaten plate as well as the bill, hands clenched at your sides as you fly out the doors.

Emily finds you on a cloud, well away from everyone. She flies into your vision, giving you a warm smile. You can't help but return it. No matter how mad you were, Emily always seemed to make you want to smile and try to be happy for her sake. She was like a little sister to you after all. You gesture to another cloud beside the one you're on, letting your wings fluff out in contentment. Emily accepts your silent invitation. Heaven's sun warms your wings as you sit in peaceful silence with the young seraphim. It doesn't last long though. You feel Emily's eyes on you and you know she has something she wants to say.

“Everyone's worried about you, you know. Sera's worried that you're going to fall. Adam and Lute….they're worried something is wrong. Something like you don't want to be here, in Heaven, anymore. Saint Peter also said to let you know he wants to see you when you get the chance,” the seraphim rambles, one of her hands finding yours. You allow her to link your fingers, listening to her. Yeah, you have been a little shit lately, you know that. There was only one person who could help and he was still as clueless as ever. Adam. Well, that's not true. Lute could most definitely help too, you just preferred if it were Adam.

“I promise I'm fine, Em. You can tell Sera that I'll be okay. I'm just….going through something,” you grin, swinging your joined hands. “But, for you, I'll try and not cause any more trouble.” You mean every word. You don't want to give Sera a reason to cast you out. You actually like it here in Heaven. Hell, you even like your misogynistic, egotistical, dumbass husband. Why, you don't know, but there's just something about him that draws you in and keeps you coming back for more. He'd definitely say it was because he's the Original Dick.

“Eee! I know she'll be happy to hear that! I'm gonna go tell her you're okay! Okay? Bye!” Emily lurches forward to give you a hug before racing off to find her older sister. You let out a chuckle at the young seraphim's antics. For someone at least a millennia old, she still had a childish air about her. It was refreshing, a nice change of pace from her older sister, Sera.

Your peaceful mood doesn't last too long. You remember Lute telling you that you have to be up early for extra training due to your outburst earlier. Honestly, you know you can't blame anyone but yourself, but that doesn't mean that you like it. With a defeated sigh, you make your way back to your house.

You slam the door to your home, grumbling and cursing Lute and several other angels. In your anger, you completely miss two angels in your kitchen. Adam and Lute watch you pace in your living room, wings fluttering about. They have a silent conversation before Adam's smiling and Lute is trying her best not to, shaking her head. Finally, the light from your kitchen catches your eye.

“What the hell? I can't go out without running into you and now I can't even be in my own fucking place?!” You groan, feathers floating around you as your wings puff up in your annoyance. Adam smirks, lacing his fingers and folding his hands, resting his chin on them as he watches you.

“Babes, this is our house, not just yours,” he corrects you without hesitation, watching as you shake your feathers and fold your wings. Lute watches you both, only here to act as the middleman if needed to separate a fight. You turn your back to them and head back to the couch, falling face first onto it.

“Fuck off. I'm so sick of seeing your ugly mug,” you snarl, head turned to the side so they can hear you. Adam turns to Lute, nodding to the door. She gives him a look, but he shoos her as he gets up, making his way to you.

“Adam, I don't think-”

“Lute, just go. I can fucking handle this. I think I know just the fucking thing to correct her attitude,” a grin appears on Adam's mask, a ripple running through his wings as he pushes his chair back. You fluff your wings, letting them sprawl, one hanging off the back of the couch and the other dangling on the floor. Lute doesn't offer any further complaints, just opens the door and gives him a look before shutting it behind her.

“Go away, Adam,” you huff, feeling his presence hovering over you. You crack an eye open to see his face inches from your own, mask discarded somewhere. You yelp in surprise at the proximity, your wings flapping frantically to help you pull back and away from him. His grin widens as he slowly stalks towards you, his golden wings unfurling and shaking out behind him.

“You've been rather busy the last couple weeks huh? Been fucking with me and Lute and raising hell up here. Care to enlighten me as to why?” His gold eyes narrow as you search for a way around Adam or out of reach of him and his wings. You know he will use his wings to pull you close if you get too close.

“N-no. I haven't,” you lie poorly, slowly crawling backwards on the couch, and off the far side over the arm. You both stare at each other as your feet land on the cool hardwood flooring. A subtle flutter of his wings has you turning and darting down the hall, wings helping as you try to keep out of Adam's reach, hoping to get to the bedroom before he reaches you.

“You're such a shit liar,” he snorts at you, catching up to you quickly. You don't stop to see how close he is, you don't need to. You can feel his feathers brush against yours just before they fully envelope you.

“Adam!” You squeak out as his arms wrap you in a tight hug, face burying in the crook of your neck. Trying to steel your resolve and not break from such a small interaction, you use your wings to push against his, earning a chuckle from him.

“S'matter, Babe~? Need something?” His sharp teeth nip at your neck and it takes all of your willpower to not cave and moan at the sensation. The feel of his chin stubble combined with his teeth make your knees weak. Thankfully you have wings that help keep you balanced.

“Not from you,” you manage to scoff, still trying to get out of his grip, though your attempts are more feeble with each bite to your shoulders. In the small power scuffle, Adam has managed to walk you to your bedroom, nudging the door open fully with his wing.

“Mm, don't fucking be like that. I came all the way here from work just to help you,” he growls in your ear, voice dropping as he talks. You pause in your escape attempts, a chill running up your spine and through your wings. Adam doesn't miss the shaking of your feathers at his words, gold eyes glinting in the setting light filtering in through the window. He quickly takes advantage of your lack of fight, easily hefting you into his arms bridal style, letting your wings free of his hold. You blink up at him, arms instinctively going around his neck.

“Bullshit. Your head is too far up your own ass to care about me,” you sneer at him, grabbing his collar and pulling it tight so it comes close to choking him. He grins and leans his face closer to you, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“I'm gonna make you eat your fucking words, Babe,” he mutters. He tosses you onto the bed after breaking your hold on his collar. His wings stay spread, displaying his dominance to and over you.

You turn to him, on your knees, and spread your own wings in defiance. You grin smugly at him, crossing your arms as he makes no moves to change your mind. When he does move, you don't see him. He turns you around faster than you expect. It's easy to pin you, and when he moves to grab something from under the bed, he keeps you down with his wings. You struggle under him until you feel cold metal on your wings. A gasp escapes you as Adam moves to secure your wings so they stay flared out, the metal frame locking as he puts the spines of your wings into each arm. You try to pull away, only for the metal brace to force them to stay.

“A-Adam!” You whine, realizing what kind of hole you dug for yourself. He ignores you, making sure your wings are secure before rolling you onto your back.

“You want to show disrespect to your superiors? Don't worry, I'm going to remind you of your place,” he chuckles, moving to grab something from the nightstand.

You whimper. You know you're fucked. You pushed your luck, especially with Adam, and went overboard with your bratty attitude. But fuck if this isn't what you wanted. Adam had been ignoring you after all. He was always ‘too busy’ with work. Maybe you were jealous of the time he spent with Lute, not like you should be, you knew their relationship, but it did bug you sometimes. Especially when you're his wife. You're aware and more than ok with the swing style relationship you both share with Lute. It was something you accepted readily when you met her after a date with Adam. There was hardly ever one without the other, no matter which way you looked at it.

“You're going to be begging me to stop before I'm through with you. I'm going to make sure you don't forget where you belong for a long time,” Adam's voice brings you back to the present. You look up at him, not daring to move from where he rolled you. He's sitting beside you, hand on one of your knees, hiding something in his other hand. You prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze.

“Big talk coming from someone who's locked up my wings. What's the matter, Dickmaster? Can't put me in my place with my wings in the way?” You taunt, though there's no real bite to your words anymore. You know you're at his mercy now, but you still can't help yourself since he hasn't touched you aside from the love bites he gave you on the way to the bedroom. You watch as his hand freezes the small thumb circling on your knee. His head tilts and he pulls out a massage wand, twirling it a couple of times.

“Sounds like you need more than just this. On my knee, now!” He orders, setting the massager on the floor for now. You raise a brow at him and bat your lashes at him.

“Make. Me.”

A feral noise escapes your husband. You're dragged into his lap and stripped of your boots and pants with a snap of his fingers. His robe is also discarded from his snap, leaving him in dark jeans and a band tee shirt. Your wings try to move, but the bar keeps them locked in place. The most you're able to do is shift the feathers slightly.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The sting from Adam's hand connecting with your ass pulls a startled yelp from you. Your body shivers and goosebumps appear on your arms and legs. You try to kick and get out of his lap, but his hold on you tightens.

“Want to try that again, Bitch?”

“Y-yes… Make me, Dickmaster.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

You try to stifle your moan by biting your fist, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. You hear him tsk and see his shadow shaking his head at you.

“Nu-uh, that's not a good little bitch. What do we say?” He teases, grabbing your free hand and clicking something around it. You recognize the feel of the metal cuffs, even if it's been a few months since they've been used. He grabs the hand you're biting, and you willingly let him pull it above your head. He holds your hand there, your other being held in place by the chain connecting the cuffs.

“Fuck.”

“Getting warmer,” he chuckles, shifting so you're sitting on his lap. “You're going to ride my thigh until you tell me, but if you cum before I say so, I'll make sure you don't get to cum for the rest of the night. Understand, Bitch?” Your heartbeat feels like it's in your ears as you nod your head, wiggling your free hand to grab his shoulder. He lets you readjust yourself, the hand holding the empty cuff taps your free hand. “Gimme.” You immediately move your hand to his, letting him fix the cuff and click it around your wrist. He moves your hands so your arms are locked around his neck, hands resting on his shoulders with the lengthy chain. His own hands roam your body, pausing at your chest to grope your breasts through your top, one continuing south to rest on your hip after he gropes your ass. “Move,” he commands.

You tense slightly before realizing what he means. You lean forward, burying your face in his neck as you begin slowly grinding on his thigh. Still feeling a bit bratty, not having your fire extinguished just yet, you gently nip at Adam's neck before biting down hard at the junction between his collarbone and neck.

“Fuck!”

You smile as best you can with your teeth clamped against his neck, sucking on the skin until you're sure it's bruising. You feel Adam's wings curl around you, radiating warmth. Your wings block his from fully enveloping you, but you feel the warmth in your wings where they touch his own. Feeling proud about your mission to mark your husband, you let go of his neck with a loud pop. Adam's hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he forces you to move faster on his thigh.

“You have some damn nerve being such a brat, yanno that?” He doesn't give you time to answer. He's sucking and biting a trail of hickeys along both sides of your neck, to hell with what anyone says. Once satisfied with the number he's left on you, he lets your hips go, hands trailing up your back to your wings. Your breath hitches as his hands curl tightly into the small feathers closest to your back. “Gonna have to show you where you belong. Make you understand just what happens to a brat who doesn't behave.”

“Sounds fun,” you breathe, leaning your head on your arm to look up at him, grin on your face as your halo shifts to right itself. He tilts his head down at you, gold eyes alight with something you can't quite pinpoint.

“Always gotta have the last damn word, don't cha?” He grunts, grabbing the chain connecting the cuffs and yanking it over the back of his head, holding it above him to pull you close. He drops the chain as his hand moves to grip the back of your neck, tangling in the hair there. You open your mouth to say something else smart, but he quickly covers your mouth with his own, silencing you before you can get anything out. You try to refuse when he licks your lips in an attempt to get you to open your mouth to him. He growls and tugs the hand in your hair, earning a moan from you and giving him access. He massages your wings as you kiss, only pulling away when you gently tap his shoulder, your signal you need air.

You can't process anything. From Adam's hand in your feathers, you riding his thigh, and that kiss? You feel a bit tipsy. Wanting to keep riding the high that is Adam, you lean back in for another kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair. Sensing your keen interest, he obliges you as you pull him down for another sloppy kiss, teeth clacking and tongues dancing.

“Adam, please… Don't want to ride your thigh,” you manage to squeak out, head resting on his shoulders, hands gripping his hair tightly as you grind down on his thigh.

“What's that? You don't want to?” He repeats, letting his hand untangle from your hair and trail up and down your back. He grins, and you swear his face matches his mask. “Too bad. Brats don't get what they want,” he answers, gripping your hip to keep you moving. He rocks his leg, shifting it with you so it hits just right, causing you to squirm. You whine and try to pull away with no fire in your heart, stopped by his grip, wings, and the handcuff chain. You can feel how excited he is, but you know he'd hold off just to prove a point. With another whine, you push your forehead into his collarbone. He doesn't want me to cum but wants me to ride his thigh? Fine, I'll at least follow one rule, you think, gripping his shoulders to pick up your pace on his thigh. If he wants you to ride his thigh, fine, you can do that, but you're doing it on your terms, not his. “Whoa. Ok, Sugartits, now we're talking,” Adam murmurs above you. You try to ignore him, ignore the feel of his hands on you. You don't care about him right now. He's been so mean to you! He's been too busy for you. Fuck him! You're gonna use him. Yes, you love him, but fuck him, literally and figuratively.

So focused on your own pleasure, you don't hear Adam calling for you. You're shaking your head, ears filled with the sound of your own panting. You feel the way Adam moves his leg under you, the way your wings tug against the warming metal brace, the warmth of Adam and his wings, the way you're moving in and out of sync with Adam's leg, it makes your brain fuzzy. A whine is pulled from your lips as you feel that familiar spring coiling tightly in your stomach. When did it coil like that? Surely you're not already about to come undone? Your fingers dig into his shoulders and you bite on his shoulder as your body shakes slightly uncontrollably as you reach your orgasm. You feel a rumble from Adam's chest, his hands tightening harshly on your hips as he works you through your bliss, slowing you down as your body settles from the aftershocks of your release.

“Still disobedient, I see,” you hear his voice and give a faint nod as you release his neck. You smirk at the mark before leaning back to meet his eye, eyes half lidded in ecstasy.

“Fuck you,” you manage to grumble, using the chain against the back of his neck to pull him closer. He chuckles, denying you the kiss you desperately want, he holds you still on his lap, wings unfurling from around you both and folding to his sides. The cool air sends a shiver up your spine, the chill creeping over your bare lower half. You glare then pout at him as he laughs at your expression, hands running over your legs to bring some heat back.

“I told you already, brats don't get what they want,” he reiterates, bringing one hand down hard on your rear end, making you jump. He smiles mischievously and snaps, eyeing your now nude body on display for him, your wings still held firm in their restraint, giving him a complete view of you. You whine and rock against his leg, your first orgasm barely scratching the surface of your need. “Ah ah ah,” he chides, lifting you just enough to prevent you from achieving the friction you just tried to make. He holds you like it's effortless, and honestly, for him it probably is. Man's like eight feet tall, if not more. You whimper, leaning your forehead into his neck at the loss of all contact except where he's holding your thighs. Your hands pull together and you realize Adam is pulling the chain over his head so you aren't locking him in place.

“On your hands and knees.” You're deposited on the bed, the remaining warmth leaving you as Adam shuffles off the bed and waits for you, gold eyes glowing in the dark. You shift your weight, grumbling, until you're on your hands and knees as ordered. “You know better. Arch your back.”

The sound of buzzing piques your interest enough to listen, turning your head so your left ear is pressed to the soft sheets on the mattress. You feel your feathers ripple and a few smaller ones fall as they poof up against your will. Heat creeps up your face and you quickly bury it against the sheets with a groan. Adam's chuckle is faint, but you hear it as he shuffles around behind you. The bed dips under his weight, forcing you to shift and recover your position for any sliver of hope that he won't keep his word of denying you more orgasms.

“Aww s'matter, Babes? Embarrassed your wings are giving away how aroused you really are? Afraid I'm going to do exactly as I said?” His voice drops lower as he leans over you. You feel his scruff on the back of your neck, his breath hot as he places a few sloppy kisses there. You can't help the moan that slips, and he doesn't miss that you ball your hands into the sheets either. He shifts again and you yelp, the vibration setting not what you were expecting as he holds the massage wand to your inner thigh.

“Fuck,” you bite the sheets to try and mute yourself, still not wanting to give Adam the satisfaction of hearing your voice. He tuts, moving the massage wand closer where you want it.

“Hold this,” he mutters. He smacks your hand away and gives you a knowing look. “Not with your hands.” You roll your head to the side, pulling your shoulders closer as you shift to bring your arms back under you.

“You can't be serious, Adam!” You whine, glancing over your shoulder where he's patiently waiting for you to take the wand. His grin never wavers as you lock eyes, gold piercing through you. “Fuck, Adam, please!” You attempt to bargain, hands clawing at the bed when he shakes his head no. Your resolve is slowly breaking at his slow torture. You'd prefer his break-neck pace instead at this point. When he doesn't budge, you curse him out, eyes never leaving his own as you move your thighs together to hold the wand where he wants you to.

“Good girl,” he praises as he moves from the bed, humming to himself. You try to watch him to the best of your ability, but lose sight of him when he moves to your shared closet. You can hear him pushing clothes aside until he lets out an excited ‘aha’. You can only imagine what he found, considering that's where you kept the more sinful sex toys and equipment. The familiar feeling of leather being wrapped about your ankle startles you from your momentary bliss of the wand. You hum as you feel Adam's fingers easily pulling the restraint tight. He slips a finger between your ankle and the leather. “Too tight?” The question makes you shake your head. “Can't hear you, Angel,” he teases, looking over the curve of your ass, down your lovely arched back.

“No, not too tight,” you bite out, legs slightly numb from the high intensity of the toy he demanded you hold. You jump and let out a small yelp as his hand makes contact with your rear. You quickly squeeze your thighs back together to keep the massager from falling, knowing that would earn you more discipline. Without another word, he's moving to get the second leather brace around your other ankle. Now knowing what he's doing, you quickly answer when he asks if the second is too tight. Once you agree that you're ok and the leather is really not too tight, he nudges your knees apart, clicking a small metal rod onto both ankle braces. The wand lands on the bed with a soft thump.

“On your knees,” he orders. He grabs the wand and turns it off for the moment, setting it on the side of the bed. You push up onto your forearms before using them to propel yourself fully upright to your knees. A soft gasp escapes you as Adam wraps his hand around the front of your throat. You never felt him crawl onto the bed behind you, but you feel his warm chest and stomach pressing against your back, feel his breath against your neck. You try to swallow and calm yourself of the anticipation. He trails kisses from behind your ear down to your shoulders, his hand staying firmly around your neck, holding you against him. The cold clasp of metal doesn't startle you this time, but it does send a warmth spreading through your chest and to your core like wildfire. You feel Adam loop the leather band through the clasp, pulling the collar to rest snug against your throat. He checks once, twice, three times with his finger that the collar isn't choking you before turning you in his arms, maneuvering you so you can see him.

“Safeword?”

“Oh, uhh…kumquat!” You snicker as his grin falters at your words before returning as he throws his head back, howling with laughter. He nods, wiping a nonexistent tear away from his eye.

“Perfect. If I cross a line, you say cumquat, and I'll stop, understand?” You giggle a bit at his words, but nod along so he knows you understand. He fingers the d-ring on the collar before using it to pull you close to him. “I couldn't hear you, Pet, what was that?”

“Yessir!” You squeak, a bit baffled by the new nickname. He licks his lips, nodding and muttering something you don't quite catch. He doesn't give you an opportunity to ask what he plans to do before he kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Not like you're complaining. You try to move with him, but he has you stuck with your collar, his fingers still tangled in the ring on the front. You groan against him as he presses his lips harshly to your own. He nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away, panting slightly. You notice his hair is tousled more than usual.

While you're busy staring, you don't notice him undoing your handcuffs. He rubs the indents on your wrists before bringing them to his lips, leaving small kisses. Your heartbeat quickens slightly at the sight, loving Adam's sweet tendencies, you don't even know if he's aware of them. He drops your hands and meets your gaze, his eyes narrowing at you. You shy away slightly and drop your eyes to anywhere but his face, choosing the bed by his knee to be particularly interesting as heat floods your face.

“C'mere. Lay on your back and hang your head over the edge of the bed here. You're going to be a good little bitch and suck Daddy's cock,” he croons to you, one hand cradling your cheek. Your eyes widen a bit at his bold claim, but you nod along, nipping at his hand when he pulls it away. He quirks a brow but you just shrug and do as he told you, doing your best with both your legs and wings restrained. Once situated as comfortably as you can, you tip your head back to look at the shadow looming over you. He's got the wand in his hand again and you hum, hands reaching for Adam's clothed length. He's still in his shirt and jeans, so you tug at the belt loops, looking up at him expectantly. He rolls his eyes playfully and snaps, leaving himself bare to you. You, maybe a bit too eagerly, reach out for him, grabbing the back of his thighs and tugging him towards you. You hear his laughter, but you try to tune him out, desperate to start on him in hopes that he'd return the favor with his hands or the magic wand he has.

“Can I touch you?” You ask as he stands above you. The low glow from his wings and halo give you a small glimpse of his expression, a hesitant pause as he thinks over his words.

“Yes, I'll allow you to touch me. But, if you take your hands off me, there'll be consequences,” he grants you permission. You hum with a small smile, one hand going to the back of one of his thighs while the other grips his length. You give him a couple of strokes before opening your mouth and gently tugging his thigh to urge him forward. He doesn't need you to tell him twice, and moves so his shins hit the bed while you move to make sure you can take as much of his cock as possible.

The angle is a bit awkward for you, but you make the best of your situation as you feel Adam move and hear curses ring out. You hollow your cheeks, allowing him to fit farther down your throat as he pumps his hips. You hum, swirling your tongue around him, the metal barbell on your tongue adding a cooling sensation to Adam's heat. He groans at the feeling of it, dropping above you so he's leaning on his elbows on either side of you. You reach up to mess with his feathers, your other hand moving to fondle his balls. He curses and moans as you bob your head in sync with his movements. You let your hand fall from his sack, moving it to join in his wings. You bring your knees up and dig your heels into the bed, shifting yourself closer to the edge. Your gag reflex reacts at the sudden change, your throat constricting around Adam's cock, but you force yourself to choke through it, keeping yourself from gagging again.

“Ahh-fuck!” He curses, hips stuttering before he pushes himself up, pulling out of your mouth. “Up, on your front.” You whine as you're forced to let his wings go, but quickly do as he says, mimicking your first position with your back arched. He fists your hair, pulling you back to him. You lick your lips as he watches you take him back into your mouth. He grunts at the feel of your tongue running over him before he sets a brutish pace, hand so tightly wound in your hair you feel the subtle oncoming of a headache. You reach up and rest a hand on his hip for stability, the other going back to the base of his wings. You relax your throat and jaw as best you can, tears pricking your eyes and drool dripping down your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight when you feel a gentle vibration at your core. Adam has the wand pressed to you on a low setting, his other hand firmly locked in your hair. He runs the toy along your folds, resting it on your clit before circling it a few times. You moan around him when you feel him up the setting, circling the toy again. You try to lean back into it, but a tug on your hair makes you stop and turn your gaze up to look at Adam. He's got his head tipped back, mouth slightly open as he pistons his hips, roughly slamming his cock down your throat. You whine as you feel the wand turn off, before hearing it hit the floor. Adam's nowhere near close, but the way you're whining around him does make his dick twitch. You lurch forward, choking slightly, as he inserts a finger into you. You try to rock back into his hand in time with his hips, earning a hum of approval from your husband. He slips in a second finger, twisting and curling them as you rock between his hand and his own rhythm. The coil from earlier winds faster now, having already had one orgasm spurs on a second more quickly. As you start to move out of sync with him, hellbent on chasing your own release again, he withdraws his hand from you. He smirks at your pathetic whine against him, sticking his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them, never letting pausing or slowing in fucking your face.

“Fuck. Taste so good, Sugartits,” he praises, watching you squirm under his gaze. You narrow your eyes at him, tugging on his feathers. His body jerks and he groans as his hips falter in their pace, before stopping. You feel his release hit the back of your throat and you swallow, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, pulling off of him with a grin.

“Mm, right back at ya, Dickmaster,” you antagonize, sitting up on your knees to get closer to him. He growls, his smile twisting into a sneer.

“You just don't fucking learn, do you, Brat?” He yanks you to your feet by your hair, preening at the yelp he pulls from you. “That's ok. We have all fucking night and you're going to be fucking wrecked by the time I'm done with you.” You instinctively let go of his wing and hip as he pulls you into his chest, eyes holding you in place. You give him a lopsided grin as you pull your hands up to his chest, pressing your fingers into his skin.

“Of course not. It's gonna take more than a little bit to make up for ignoring me all month,” you snip back at him. He lets go of your hair and grips your cheeks between his fingers, squeezing lightly. You just smile as he holds your face close to his, his other snaking between you two to stroke his already half hard cock.

“Hmm. I'll have you in tears in a matter of minutes,” he finally replies, releasing your cheeks, and pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. You pout slightly but quickly try to hide it from him. You might have gotten lucky for back talking so far, but you knew you were going to eventually run out of luck if you hadn't already. Adam snaps, pointing to the bed. “On your back, now.” You scrunch your nose at his odd request, unable to read his expression. It takes some maneuvering as your ankles are still in the spreader bar and your wings are still in their own spreader arms, that Adam notices how difficult of a time you're having. He taps your hip, motioning for you to stop. You do so, watching him intently as he removes the bar holding your legs apart. He steps back once he's got it undone, allowing you to move freely. You murmur a soft thank you to him, a hand on his shoulder as you lower yourself onto your back much easier now. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed once you're settled, making you lift your head at him. He doesn't acknowledge you, simply replaces the bar and uses it to lift your legs over his head as he kneels at the foot of the bed.

Your face flushes as you realize Adam is about to eat you out, a rarity from him for sure. He flashes you a grin before kissing up your legs to your thighs. He nips and kisses your inner thigh before biting harshly. You let out a small whine, reacting to the pain by trying to yank your leg back. Of course the bar and Adam stop you from getting anywhere, and your leg twitches while you whimper, balling the sheet into your fists at your sides. Your muscle shakes, pain and ecstasy flooding you, quickly turning you into a panting mess. Adam presses a kiss to the bruise he's left, moving to your other thigh to leave a matching mark there. Your toes curl as his teeth sink into your flesh, a long whine pulled from you as your muscle tenses before relaxing under Adam's tongue.

“Adam, please! Don't tease,” you cry, reaching down to bury your fingers in his messy hair. He hums as he nips at your thigh, sucking another, smaller hickey.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he rumbles, breath tickling your leg. You can't help the small laugh that finds its way out as he hovers over your mound, staring at you intently. How can he be so calm right now, you think.

You lift your head, breath hitching as you watch as your husband slowly licks straight up your folds, never breaking eye contact. You feel your face heat up, and you drop your head back onto the bed, tugging gently on his hair. He lets out a chuckle, nuzzling your thighs before pulling you closer, arms wrapped under your thighs and on your back. He laps at you slowly, humming in contentment as you squirm under him, trying to grind down on his face. He dips his tongue inside, finally, and you arch your back, chancing a glance down at him again. His eyes are closed as he draws random patterns with his tongue. After a few minutes, he pulls back, sucking your clit into his mouth. You suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he hums against you, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine.

He wiggles one hand out from under you, snapping his fingers. The spreader bar, keeping your legs apart, disappears, and you feel his wings gently move your legs out to rest over his shoulders. You stretch one leg out, hooking the other around his neck. He presses a kiss to one of your hickeys, looking up at you. He covers your clit again, sucking harshly as he slips a finger in you, moving it slowly. A gasp leaves you, feeling your stomach tighten at the sudden intrusion. He wastes no time in adding a second finger, pumping and twisting them at just the right angle to make you squeak out his name. He slows his ministrations as he feels your pussy clench around his fingers. He picks up speed again before slowing down, repeating the cycle each time you squeeze his fingers.

“Adam, please, I'm so close,” you pant, hands loose in his hair. You gently stroke through the messy brown strands, eyes shut tight as you try to hold onto the edge of bliss.

His eyes glint with mirth and mischief. He pulls away fully, smiling softly at your cry of protest. “I know I said earlier that if you came before I told you, you wouldn't get to the rest of the night…but now, I'm thinking that was a bit harsh.” There's something in the way he says it that makes you not believe him. You don't know why, and you quirk your brow up at him in silent question, moving your stretched leg to cross the other so you lock Adam in place. He definitely just edged you, you've been on the receiving end of that trick one too many times, but something is different. He's up to something. “So, how about I let you cum,” he starts and you nod quickly, squirming to try and grind on him. He laughs and holds your hips down with practiced ease. His wings lightly trail on either side of your face, down your neck, to your hips softly. “You want to cum for me, Babe?” He asks, dipping his head to lick you teasingly. You don't answer, your brain fuzzy at what he's just offered you. When he nips at your stomach do you snap your eyes to his, nodding in response. “Can't hear you, Sweets.”

“Fuck me… God, yes! Adam, please, please, let me cum,” you beg, using your legs to pull your husband closer to where you want him. His eyes narrow, tongue delving back into your folds. He swirls his tongue, constantly changing his rhythm, licking, nipping, sucking, and lapping at you fervently. You squeeze your thighs, pulling Adam closer as a result. “Adam, please, please, please!” You beg, tears threatening to spill as you feel your stomach contract as you're brought closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“That's right, Sugartits. Cum for me. Cum on Dickmaster's tongue,” Adam praises, watching you as he turns his focus back to sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in and curling them. With a shout of his name, you feel a wave of bliss wash over you. Adam hums as he works you through your release, your legs squeezing his head with the aftershocks. Your gaze snaps down to his, eyes wide in realization. He's not had a change of heart, he's just twisting what he said before. You feel your stomach drop as he pulls back a little, giving your slightly over-stimulated clit a break. His tongue darts out, licking his chin. His smug grin tells you he's about to say something smart, like usual. “Damn, Babe, if I'd known all it would take to rile you up and make you this wet for me is to ignore you, I'd have done it sooner.” You want to hate him and his stupidly perfect face, but dammit if he isn't your idiot. You try to glare at him, but your heartbeat and panting leaves little room for anything other than flustered to show.

“Fuck you, Adam,” you manage to grumble, leaning your head back into the sheets, massaging his scalp. Honestly, you don't know which is the worse of two evils; being edged all night or being over-stimulated to the point of tears.

“In a bit, Babes,” he replies, scissoring his fingers in an attempt to bring you back to the edge. “Be a good girl and keep cuming for me.” He snaps with his free hand, watching as a sash ties your wrists together with a bow knot. You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head at his silly antics.

You've lost count how many orgasms Adam has pulled from you now. All you know is if he keeps the wand on you, you're not going to last much longer. You tug at the satin sashes holding your wrists together above your head, whining as you feel another orgasm wash over you. Your nose burns as the threat of tears forms behind your closed eyelids. “Adam,” your voice is hoarse as you call out to your husband, eyes opening to find him hovering above you, wand nowhere in sight. As a matter of fact, you don't even hear it anymore.

“Shh,” Adam cooes to you, pulling one of the loose ends of the sash, untying the bow and releasing your wrists from their binds. “Think you can do something for me? I know you've already done so much, been such a good girl,” he praises, pressing light kisses along your jaw. You whimper, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. You feel him shift above you, his wings curling around you both as he fists his cock. “Think you can take one more orgasm, Sweets?” He murmurs against your neck, rubbing the head of himself against your folds. You whine, tilting your head to give him more access.

“I-I don't know. ‘M sore,” you whisper back, letting one hand rest on his shoulder. Instinctively you intertwine your fingers with his as he moves his free hand to your own.

“Come on, just one more, Pretty Girl? One more for me?” He urges, gently squeezing your hand. When you squeeze his hand in reply, he quickly sinks down until your hips meet. You shift your hips, nearly purring with the stretch of him.

“Fuck, feel so full, so good, Dickmaster,” you return the praise, turning your head to look at your husband. His face flushes lightly and he glances away, a quiet ‘shut up’ coming from him. You smile at his reaction, moving your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, cradling it gently. He turns his head to press a soft kiss to your wrist, nuzzling your hand. “I love you, Adam, but for fuck's sake, please fucking move,” you groan, bucking your hips up into him. He chuckles at your renewed enthusiasm and pushes your intertwined hands into the mattress as he shifts his weight so he's evenly over you.

He obliges your demand, slowly pulling out before sinking fully back into you, finding a slow, methodical rhythm. You sigh in contentment as you roll your hips in time to meet his, a shudder running down your spine as he fills you over and over again. It's such a drastic change from the intensity of the last couple of hours. Adam's shift from Dominant to soft-Dominant is so fast that you swear you should have whiplash. His wings brush against your shoulders, your wings, your sides, and they're so warm! You shiver in pleasure under Adam, throwing yourself off rhythm. You feel his chest rumble with laughter as you try to match his pace again, eyes closed, brows knit in focus. You gasp when he angles just right, hitting deeper in you. You grip his hand tightly, moving the other to his shoulder again in an attempt to pull him closer.

“Shh. There's my good girl. Do you feel good? Like when I hit right there,” he emphasizes his words with a particular hard thrust, hitting your g-spot. You yelp, bucking against him as a result. “Yeah? There?” He slips his wings under you, leaning back and pulling you with him as he sits up. He takes care not to shift too much, keeping himself buried in you as he adjusts you in his lap. He gently pulls his hand out of your grasp, moving to hold your hips as he helps support you, helping rock you back and forth on him. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck while you bounce on him. You feel his hands under your thighs, lightly cupping your ass as he helps hold your weight when your legs start to give out. “Can my baby girl give me one more? Think you got one more for me?” He whispers into your hair, leaning his head against yours, bucking up into you as you still, leg muscles too abused to continue your movements. You nod against him, panting as you try to focus on the feeling of him; his smell, his warmth, his familiarity, it all invades your senses and fills you with peace.

Adam holds you steady in his lap as he starts to quicken his pace, losing his rhythm from before. He slips one hand between you both, thumb quickly finding your clit again. You shudder and cry at how sensitive you are, shaking your head against his neck, babbling nonsense. He mumbles soft reassurances in your ear, pulling you down as he thrusts up.

“C'mon, Sugar, cum for Dickmaster. Cum on the Original Dick,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers digging into your skin. You whimper as Adam hits your g-spot as he talks, giving you that final push over the edge. You cling to him, legs shaking as your body tries to calm while he's still pistoning into you. You feel his other hand move back to under you, helping support you. You dig your hands into the base of his wings, gently tugging and nipping at his ear. He lets out a strangled gasp as his pace falters, getting sloppy. “Gonna fill you up, Babe. Gonna fill you so fucking full,” he growls, biting down on a bruise from earlier, eliciting a mixed cry of pain and pleasure from you. You clench around him as he pulls you down hard, hips stuttering as he groans.

It's quiet, save for the panting coming from you both as you slowly come down from your highs. Adam rubs your hips, kissing the bruises on your neck as you slump on him, hand gently brushing his feathers from where you were gripping them. His wings unfurl from around you, taking their warmth, and causing goosebumps to once again overtake your skin.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips as he lays you down, pulling out with a grunt of dismay. You chuckle softly, eyes closing when he lays your head on your pillow. You feel him messing with the collar, can hear the clasp as he undoes it, but you can't be bothered to make a move to assist him. You hear him laugh as he pulls the clasp end, the leather warming your neck as it pulls across your bare skin. You feel the bed dip as he shifts down towards the foot, repeating the motions for both ankle braces that once held the spreader bar.

When he looks back at you, he notices the gentle rise and fall of your chest, signaling you're asleep. He sighs, heading to the bathroom to clean himself and get you a warm washcloth. He steps into the bathroom and grabs the gold washcloth, turning on the tap, waiting for it to warm up. Once he's satisfied with the temperature, he lets the cloth fully soak before wringing it out and returning to you after shutting off the tap. He tries to ask you if you'd be ok with him gently cleaning you. When you don't answer, he snorts out a laugh and gently nudges your legs apart, trying to be as gentle as possible. He tosses the rag into the hamper against the wall, climbing into bed beside you. He tugs you close, slightly surprised when you roll onto his chest. He hums and cradles your head, pressing a kiss to your crown and snapping a blanket over you both.

“Goodnight, sleep well, my Angel,” he says, wings spreading wide and curling them around you.

___________________________________________

(Oh, did you think it was done? Oh no, Sweetheart, there's more. 😘)

The sound of knocking rouses you from your slumber. You groan and nuzzle into the warmth below you, trying to ignore the sound, hoping if you don't answer, whoever it is will go away. The door opening has your eyes snapping open. You move to push yourself up, but two arms wrap around you, keeping you in place. You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. With your back to the door and being trapped under Adam's arms, you won't be able to fight back. A familiar shadow pushes open the cracked door, letting out a sigh at the sight of you. Lute pinches the bridge of her nose as she steps over to the bed, prying Adam's arms off you. She glances at you without a word, eyes trailing from your neck to your back. She crawls onto the bed, fingers quickly unlocking the brace holding your wings.

A gasp escapes you, eyes squeezing shut as you are finally able to move your wings. They're stiff as can be and they kind of hurt from being forced straight for the night. Lute sighs, holding out a hand for you. You take it hesitantly, but curiosity gets the better of you. You trust her, even if you're at your most vulnerable, and nude, in front of your lieutenant. She pulls you off the bed, towards the bathroom where she quickly starts a bath, getting the water set to the perfect temperature.

“Get in,” she orders quietly, sitting on the side of the tub. You blink, tilting your head as you obey her without question, the fire of the last month extinguished with last night's much needed treatment.

“Join me?” you ask, stepping over the side and sitting in the water with her help, wings folding close to your sides. She stares at you before nodding subtly. You watch as she strips and sets her clothes on the counter, grabbing two towels, resting them on the side of the tub.

“Turn around, I'll help you preen,” she offers, stepping into the large tub, sitting behind you. You turn your back to her, head slumping forward as she deftly runs her fingers through your feathers, straightening those that are crooked or twisted. You shudder as her hands work your feathers, and you can't help the whimper that you let out as she continues preening your wings for you. If she heard you, she doesn't say, so you don't mention it, trying to focus on anything else besides the feeling of your feathers being messed with. You grip the side of the tub when you feel her hands massaging the spines of your wings. The warmth from the water and the massage help make them feel a bit better.

“Thank you.” You know you don't have to say it, but you also know it's appreciated. “And, I'm sorry. For being a brat and for taking out my frustration on the other exorcists,” you start to ramble, eyes blurry as tears threatening to fall. Lute spins you around, gently cradling your chin in her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.

“You're good now? Not going to be trying to harm our exorcists?” When you nod in agreement, she gives you a small smile, a rare gesture she keeps reserved for those close to her. “Good. Once you're done here, meet me at the compound,” she continues, stepping out and wrapping one of the towels around herself. You deadpan.

“You mean I still gotta meet you for those morning trainings?” You whine, eyes following your superior. She sends you a wink, leaning over the side of the tub so she's at eye level.

“Absolutely. Just because you got off the hook easily with Adam, doesn't mean I'm not going to punish you too,” she chides playfully, pressing a swift peck to your lips as she slips her clothes back on. “I'll see you at the compound in twenty minutes.”

She's gone before you can protest. You drop your hands into the water, groaning as you realize just how much of a mess you've made with being a brat.

Fuck! I still have to go apologize to Saint Peter too, you sink into the water, not looking forward to your day.

Taglist: @miss-menhera @fizzy-fuzz @atttwoood

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