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sarawritestories · 7 months

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Unwavering Presence Chapter 8

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Rhys and Cassian talk about Under the Mountain. The twins, Rhys and Cass meet the bone carver where Y/N sees someone unexpected, the IC goes out for dinner and two familiar faces come to greet Y/N. Cassian gets jealous.

Content Warnings: broad allusion to the S/A of Rhys. Mention of death by childbirth, unwanted touching from a stranger in a bar setting.

A/N: This is a chapter that i'm really happy about! I'm excited to share but this is also where I'm going to warn that we're no longer going to follow canon exactly. Big moments will happen in the same order but i'm adjusting time lines and some canon moments to fit what I want. I hope you liked this chapter as much as I do. I'm also close to 500 followers and that's crazy. Thank you for reading and giving my stories some love!

Word Count: 6.5

Unwavering Masterlist, ACOTAR Masterlist, Chapter 7

Rhysand’s POV

I opened the door to peek inside, and my heart swelled. The twins were curled up on the bed together Y/N’s arm protectively over Feyre. Their faces were so peaceful, not a worry on their features. I smiled and closed the door. Turning to walk away, I jumped as Cassian was leaning against the wall arms crossed, “Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, unapologetic snoop.” I flipped him off and he chuckled. “Everything okay?” His tone turned serious.

I smiled, “Yeah, they are sleeping together.” I paused as Cassian raised an eyebrow, “I mean they are asleep on the same bed. Don’t make it uncomfortable, brother.”

Cassian feigned offence placing a hand over his heart, “Rhys, how you wound me so!” I rolled my eyes, as my brother’s face grew serious, “Do you think they are going to resolve their issues?”

I tucked my hands in my pockets, “I think they have already begun.” I looked back at the door and could hear the two rustling in bed before they settled. I nodded my head toward my study. Cassian held his arm out letting me lead the way. When we got into the study Cassian sat on the couch. “Cassian.”

“Rhysand.” He counters his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward, hands clasped together, his siphons gleaming in the fae light.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, “I have a confession to make.”

Cassian brows furrowed, “By all means, Rhys, leave me in suspense.” He chuckled his laughter died in his throat at my face, “Shit, what is it?”

“There is something about that night that Y/N defended those girls, I never told you.” Cassian gave me his undivided attention. I held my hand out and Cassian rose from his seat, tucking in his wings he gripped my hand, and I took him to that night:

Cassian.

This girl reminded me of Cassian. Even as Amarantha cinched her wrist together, Y/N kept her chin up, her eyes met mine noticing aware her twin was on my lap her head on my shoulder. My hand remained on her waist. Amarantha had Y/N pinned to her. It’s like I could hear him chuckle, “Where the hell did you find these two human women, brother?”

Breathe. I’m sorry Y/N, I cannot help you.

Those girls didn’t deserve to see the cruelties of this world just yet. Try to keep their innocence.

Cassian would have said something similar with that same stance that same glint in his eye. I gave her a nod, and for the first time in 49 years I could not reign in the memory of my brother or the hope in my chest of seeing him again. Maybe these two human girls would be able to break this curse. Then I can go home and tell him about her. I can’t afford to think that way and I chug the rest of my wine.

“Eris Vanserra, please step forward.” My blood ran cold as the heir of the Autumn Court’s name came out that witch’s mouth. My gaze drifted over to the red-haired male step up as Amarantha forced Y/N to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor.

I gripped her sister tightly as she began to wiggle, “Darling, dance for me, will you?” I whispered in her ear. She drunkenly giggled and got up to begin to dance. I could feel Y/N’s pulse quicken, Breathe. Through your nose. I could see she obeyed as Eris lifted her to her feet. I fought against gritting my teeth keeping my mask of cool indifference. I focused on Feyre as her hips swayed positioned right between my legs. My gaze drifted back and saw that Eris put a collar of flames around her neck and he was guiding her by a leash of flame. The crowd separated as he approached me.

Feyre spun and saw her sister and smiled, “Y/N,” she grinned not realizing her sister was in the grips of a viper and yet she still held her chin up high a challenge in her eye. Again, I could hear Cassian’s voice, “You need to keep her safe, Rhysand. Keep her alive so I can meet her.”

I pulled from the memory and Cassian sat in the chair across from mine, his face unreadable and his shields were locked up tight. “Cass, it was the second time I let myself think of you. The first is when she defeated the worm, and she gave a dramatic bow to the crowd as Feyre threw a muddy bone to Amarantha. When Y/N ran up to those girls I allowed myself to think of you and the hopes of coming home so I could tell you about them. Y/N did something dangerous without ever knowing.”

Cassian took a deep breath, “What was that?”

“Hope,” I lifted my hand and a decanter, and two glasses appeared I poured two fingers worth in both glances and handed one to my brother, “She gave me hope that we would make it out of this, that we would be able to come home. And when I dropped Feyre into her cell, I made it back to my room and cried. I cried so hard I vomited I let out 49 years’ worth of missing you, Azriel, Mor, even Amren.” Cassian chuckled, “This one human girl unraveled me all because she reminded me of you.”

Cassian smiled and gripped his hand in mine, “Well you did make it home, brother, and you kept you promise too spiritual me.” I snorted as he continued, “She’s wonderful Rhys.” He released my hand, and I watched as his eyes went distant, “Is it possible to fall in love with someone from the first time you’ve met them.”

I tilted my head, “What?”

Cassian sat up straight, flaring his wings, and his cheeks turned a shade of red against his tan skin, “What? Did I say that out loud, mother above.” He drinks the alcohol to the dregs and sets the glass down. “I enjoy her company. Is all I’m saying.”

I chucked, “Someone have a little crush, brother?”

Cassian leveled me with a glare, “Shut it, you prick.”

“I mean, Y/N, is funny. Kind.”

Cassian interjected, “Extremely kind.”

I grinned slyly, “She’s also beautiful.”

Cassian exhaled and his face morphed into a lovesick teenager’s, “The word beautiful doesn’t hold a candle to what she is.” Cassian blinked and looked over at me. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” I chuckled and stood having this sudden feeling of being dirty I plucked lint from my shirt and Cassian’s brow furrowed, “You’ve been doing that a lot since you’ve been home.” There was an underlying question that caused me to straighten my spine. “You don’t have to talk about it, Rhys, but I am here, if you want to.”

He stood and walked out of the study leaving me as my thoughts drifted to those haunted

Reader’s POV

I could feel eyes watching me as I slept and I jolted awake, Feyre doing the same to see Amren at the foot of the bed. “Don’t you knock.” I muttered rubbing my eyes. The morning sun filtered in the room.

Amren threw an amulet onto Feyre’s lap, “This is on loan. I expect this to be returned.”

Feyre looked at the jeweled necklace and looked at the tiny female confusion on her face. “What is this?”

“It’s, what helped me get out of the Prison, girl, you’ll need it today.” With that she left. Feyre and I exchanged glances and I simply shrugged sliding off the bed.

“Y/N,” I turned as my sister slid out of the bed as well, “Would you come with us today? To see the Bone Carver.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Rhys purred as he leaned against the door, Feyre threw a pillow at him, and he ducked in time that it flew in the hall. Rhys smirked and tucked a hand in his pocket. “Such a violent little thing.” I rolled my eyes.

“You two make me sick.” I muttered at the same time Feyre asked, “Don’t you knock.”

Rhys looked at me, “Do you want to come join us today?”

I nodded, “Sure, whatever I can do to help.” I walked toward the door, Rhys blocked the door, I crossed my arms.

“Want Cassian to come?” Rhys lifted a suggestive brow.

I pursed my lips, “He’s a grown male, he probably has other things to do.”

Cassian popped up behind Rhys, “It just so happened that Rhys cleared my Schedule, Princess.” He gave me a wink and I fought the butterflies flittering in my stomach.

“A group adventure it is.” I looked at Rhys, my smile falling as I noticed the dark circles sunk in his eyes and stars gone and he looked distant. You, okay? I reached out into his mind.

Rhys met my stare, Never better.

Liar.

High Lords can’t afford to have breakdowns in the time of War, Y/N.

I snorted. Someone better inform the High Lord of the Spring that.

Rhys laughed and placed a kiss on my cheek, “You are something else, Angel.”

My face didn’t change. If you need to talk, I’m here. You need to heal too. War or not.

Stars flickered back into his eyes, and he nodded as I moved to get to my room. The sound of boots was the only indication that I was being followed. “Something I can do for your, General?” I didn’t bother to turn around as I asked the question.

His hand gripped my wrist gently, “I wanted to see if you were okay.” His eyes drifted from my face to my chest. His face tilted as he gently pushed my hair behind my shoulder. I had to remind myself to breathe as he tugged the tunic to reveal the new tattoo there. “Well, hello,” he purred as his eyes flicked to mine, my toes curled, and I had to fight my arousal by his sensual tone. “This wasn’t here a few days ago.”

I took a deep breath and centered myself trying to ignore how him rubbing his thumb against my tattoo caused my whole body to thrum in response. “Feyre and I made a promise to one another. The tattoo appeared not long after that.”

Cassian nodded, letting the silence blanket the hall and I was able to take a good look at him. His eyes had a warm kind glow to them and being this close little flecks of green poked through, and one eyebrow had a slit going through where a white scar laid bare. His face had stubble on it as if he hadn’t shaved yet and I yearned to cup his face to feel it against my skin. My eyes drifted to his lips full and as tan as his skin. My mind wandered as I thought what it would be like if I pressed my own to them. What would he taste like. Cassian shifted eyes widened and I hadn’t realized how close our faces had gotten. I took a step back and cleared my throat, “I should probably get ready.”

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck and a blush fell onto his cheeks it made him look boyish, “Good idea,” his voice was husky and slightly strained, and he tucked his lower lip behind his teeth. He was beautiful in every sense of the word.

I turned forcing myself to look away from him and headed to my room when his voice rang out, “Princess,” I turned my head back he opened and closed his mouth and opened once more, “The prison is cold make sure to bundle up.” He looked pained as he said it, almost embarrassed.

“Thank you, General.” I winked and continued to my room all the while settling the erratic beating of my heart.

***

Cassian was not lying about it being cold. Rhys had winnowed us to the side of the mountain where the cold air pierced my skin. I wore my leathers with fleece line leggings and a long sleeve tunic underneath, but my teeth were still chattering. Cassian shuffled in the bag he brought with him and pulled out his leather jacket. There were patches on the back that were able to detach when he wears it to accommodate his wings. The wind caused a few of the loose strands from his bun to fly into his face though as he approached me, he seemed unfazed by the cold as he held up the bag. “Here, Princess.”

I slipped my arms into the leather sleeves, and he raised the jacket to my shoulders. Warmth encased my upper body as his jacket falling to my knees. Cassian’s hands gave my shoulders a squeeze, “Thank you.”

Cassian leaned in close his warmth seeping into my bones as he whispered, “You’re welcome.”

We made to the entrance of the building and Cassian interlaced his hand in mine and gave it a comforting squeeze. Rhys was the one that broke the silence talking to Feyre, “Do not let go of my hand. No matter what you hear or what you see. Do. Not. Let. Go.” Feyre nodded.

Rhys turned to me. Not like you would want her to let go of your hand. I smirked as Rhys leveled a glare my way, the only indication that my statement got to him. “Same with you, Y/N. Don’t let go of Cass’ hand.”

I lift our entwined hands and open my hand up as Cassian’s still clamped down and go as far as shaking our arms causing the male behind me to chuckle, “I don’t think he would let me. If I want to.”

“Not a chance. Not here.” Cassian murmured.

“Amren-“a hand clamped over my mouth muffling the rest of my sentence and I tried to wriggle from Cassian’s grasp fighting against how his body pressed against me makes me feel.

Rhys sighed, “We don’t mention her near or in the prison.”

Cassian released my mouth and I shoot him a glare. “Why?”

The General spoke this time, “The prisoners here do not take kindly to her escape. If they know we know here it could get messy, fast.”

“Next time just say that.” I punched his shoulder, “No need to manhandle me.”

He kissed my cheek, “Sorry, Princess, won’t happen again.” He leans in lowering his voice, “Unless you ask me to.”

Heat crept up my face as he straightened to his full height, and I tried to ignore how the words left a pool of heat in my belly, I punched him again, “Shameless flirt.”

Cassian laughed, “Keep it up, Archeron, and your punches could actually hurt me one day.”

I scowled as we entered the prison my humor dying as the darkness consumed us. The low fae lights didn’t help with lighting the path before us. Though Rhys and Cassian led us like they knew the place backward and forward. I could feel Feyre’s tension as badly as my own as we turned this way and that. Every turn reminded me of the path Under the Mountain but before my mind could wander too far into those memories there would be a squeeze of my hand. Like the male beside me knew where my mind was going and wanted to bring me back to him.

After a few minutes we reached the cell of the bone carver. Feyre looked back at me, and I gave her an encouraging nod. Rhys led her into the cell, and I stepped closer to Cassian our hands still entwined, and he curled his wing around me giving me extra warmth. We stepped inside and moved around, and I lowered my head finding my feet interesting.

Feyre and Rhys had begun their musings but the metallic smell from the power this creature possessed was making it hard for me to focus. I drowned out the conversation picking up key words. The book of breathings and Like calls to like but everything else was drowned out I tried to focus on Cassian’s hand in mine and how he was rubbing his thumb along the side of my hand. Back and forth back and forth, before I knew it, I was matching my breathing to the slow movements his thumb was making to center myself. The cell fell silent as I finally adjusted to the cell.

A female voice flooded my ears, “Look at me Y/N Archeron.” I looked up and was taken aback by the female before me. She was beautiful. She had one hazel and one Blue gray eye that looked so much like Feyre’s she had long dark hair braided in a crown atop her head a few wavy pieces that strayed from the updo framed her face highlighting her pointed ears. Her tan skin was clad in leathers similar to the ones Cassian and Azriel wore. What really caught my attention was her wings, they too were like Azriel’s and Cassian’s broad and beautiful even when tucked tightly behind her. She smirked, “Step closer, child.”

I attempted to take a step, but Cassian’s hand stayed firm in mine gently pulling me back to him. I wouldn’t move back to him I wanted to get a closer look at the female, she had a slender face, freckles kissed her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She looked so much like Cassian, but then there was that smile and it looked so similar to the one my twin and I share. Was this a relative of Cassian’s? She was beautiful.

Her laugh was boisterous, “Who do you see when you look upon me child?”

Don’t answer that. Rhys voice flittered into the spot of my shield for him.

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly.

You’re a great listener, you know that?

Cassian once again gently tries to tug me back to him. As the Bone Carve paces like a wild animal in a cage, “I wonder, what secrets does the human Archeron twin keep. Tell me one secret, Y/N Archeron.”

“What do I get for sharing a secret with you?” I asked and tried to release my hand, but Cassian refused to let go.

“Oh, clever girl,” The females wings fluttered, “A secret for a secret then and as a sign of good faith I will go first.” She met my gaze, “There are ancient creatures that roam these lands, Legend states that they were extinct in the first war. They were not, they just went into hiding. They want to come out and play again.”

Rhys swore, and I looked back and saw Cassian’s face paled as he muttered, “Dragons.”

The female looks back at Cassian, “Indeed, Prince of Bastards.” Something made me bristle at the implication of the title and the sneer on her lips. She turned back to me. “A deal is a deal.”

Rhys stepped in, “No we’re leaving, your insight has been very helpful.”

He turned and my sister was made to follow, Cassan gripped my arms releasing my hand and turned me away but wiggled out of his grasp and took the opportunity of his mistake stepping toward the Bone Carver, “A secret of any kind?”

She smiled and bowed her head, “I am partial to the darkest secrets, but I will accept any, Y/N Archeron.”

“Y/N,” Cassian’s tone was laced with warning that I promptly ignored.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, “I am responsible for the death of my mother.”

***

We returned to the Town house in complete silence it wasn’t until we were in the dining room that Rhys debriefed Azriel, Amren, Mor. About what the bone carver said about the Dragons and the Book of breathings. I just listened as they talked about half the book being at the summer court and the other half with the human queens. I could feel eyes on me, but I proceeded to ignore his gaze and focus on Rhysand.

“I want to keep this between us for now. I have a plan to test Carver’s theory that Feyre can sense these objects. Like calls to like but I will need a few days to do so. I’ll send a letter to Tarquin and see if he will allow us to make a visit there. That leaves the human queens.”

I mutter, “Nesta and Elain could help.”

Feyre nodded, “We could use their manor as the meeting point. They could be our Correspondence with them since they reside in the Human lands.”

“You both willing to go back and talk to them.” Rhys looked at me.

“You did give us the job as your human emissaries, Rhys. I’ll do what I must.” Feyre nodded in agreement.

‘Alright, send word to your sisters tomorrow and see if we can set up a time to meet. However, I think tonight we have earned off. Let’s go out to dinner.”

Everyone cheered, even Amren had a sly grin to her face as they exited to go get ready, Cassian, Feyre, Rhys and I stayed in the dining room. I met Cassian’s gaze his lips were in a tight line and his arms were crossed over his broad chest. He was stunned at my confession at the prison, but he didn’t say a word, he had just grabbed my hand and led me back out, holding it tightly to keep me grounded. His eyes went vacant for a moment and when they went back to normal, he looked to Feyre and grinned “Feyre, let me escort you back to your room. Maybe that way I can talk you into fighting lessons. With me.” He held out his arm for her to take and winked, and my heart sunk. He was flirting with her. I mean I guess this was the first time I’ve seen him interacting with other women in the court. I had been so wrapped in my bubble that I never noticed that he was a natural flirt.

Feyre smiled and looped her arm in his and he walked out leading her upstairs. Rhys was facing the door looking out at Velaris, I pushed out of my seat, “What did you mean today?” Rhys asked turning to face me, “When you said you were responsible for your mother’s death.”

I shrugged, “What I said is what I meant, Rhys.” His brow furrowed. “Can we not talk about it? Please.”

Rhys sighed and walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, “Fine, but we have to talk about it.”

I pulled away, “Like how we have to talk about how Feyre is your mate?” His face paled as he dropped his arms. “I’m human, I’m not dumb, I noticed your behavior changed. She doesn’t know does she?”

Rhys shook his head, “No,”

I shook my head, “When did you find out?”

“When we said goodbye after we beat Amarantha.”

Shock rocked me, “You were going to let her marry, him…”

Rhys bit his lip, “I was going to respect what she wanted. I wanted her to be happy. Then she called out for help, Y/N, she was begging for anyone to save her. I felt it down the bond.”

I nodded my head, and I cupped his cheek, “Don’t keep her in the dark forever, Rhys, she’ll hate you for it.” With that I walked to my room to get ready for dinner.

***

We arrived at the restaurant, and everyone was dressed to the nines, and I opted for black silk pants and a sapphire blue corset top and a leather jacket. Put my hair up in a ponytail and placed a matching sapphire blue bow and some comfortable slippers. I walked down and Azriel shared an amused look, “Well Archeron, may I say blue looks ravishing on you.” He kissed my cheek. It was then that I noticed I matched his siphons. Everyone laughed as a blush crept up my face and I glanced at Cassian. He looked bemused but still made sure to extend his arm for me to take to escort me to the restaurant though it was apparent he kept us a good distance from the shadow singer.

Even at the dinner table Azriel sat by the window and I was making my way to sit next to him, Cassian guided me to the end of the table on the opposite side. “Cass, he doesn’t bite.” I murmured.

Cassian pulled out my seat for me and gently pushed me in, “Yes. He does. And he is a sore fucking loser.”

Azriel snorts, “I’m sorry she chose blue instead of red, brother.”

Rhys buts in, “She is allowed to wear whatever she wants, in whatever color she wants. Just because she wears a color doesn’t mean she is swearing an allegiance to either of you.” The kind restaurant owner came and brought our food and handed us a goblet for Amren. “Thank you, Nicolette. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

The older female bowed her head, “Likewise, Rhysand. I hope everything is to your liking.” She looked to Feyre who was dressed in another radiant midnight blue Top and matching pants. “Its an honor to meet you Cursebreaker,” her gaze reached mine, “You as well Y/N Archeron. I hope you enjoy.”

Simultaneously Feyre and I said, “Thank you.” She smiled and left.

We all began eating and I looked over to Amren, “You don’t eat.” Not a question.

“Very observant, girl.” Amren snorted swirling the goblet in her hand.

“Are you not high fae?” I asked curiosity getting the better of me.

Rhys interjected, “She is in a way.”

“I do not know what I am completely, I did take form in a high fae body I chose this body.” Amren said in a tone telling me that that was all the information she was willing to give. I took a note and began drinking out of my own glass.

Azriel leaned his elbows on the table there was a mischievous glint in his eye, “Y/N, tell me. Did you have any lovers back in the human realm?” I choked on my drink; a fit of coughing erupted. A hand was rubbing my back and I looked to see Cassian giving Azriel a glare that if I were on the end of it would make me want to crawl out of my skin. Azriel didn’t seem phased.

“Just one.” I answered when I regained my breath. “Lover is a generous term for it though.”

Azriel quirked a brow, “Oh, why is that?” Feyre shifted in her seat uncomfortably by this conversation.

Before I could answer two tiny voices called out, “Y/N, Y/N.” I turned my brow furrowed in confusion as two small girls came running to the table and when I turned to face them, they leapt into my arms. Two little red-haired girls with tan skin tucked their heads into my neck. I rose, arms securing them as I moved off the chair.

The girls’ mother came toward us, “I’m so sorry. They saw you and they wanted to say hello.”

The two girls pulled away and met Y/N’s gaze and I gasped their green eyes shined bright and their red hair was not matted but curled and their tan skin looked healthy and gleaming. “Well look at you two. You have grown.” I smiled, holding both of their hands.”

Mor’s voice piqued, “You know them?”

One of the girls who was slightly taller, “You remember us?”

I smiled, “Of course I do.” She pulled them into a hug again and the two girls clung to her tightly. “I would never forget either of you.”

Their mom smiled, “I never got a chance to see you, to thank you for what you did for them.”

I met the mom’s stare with a smile of my own, “No thanks necessary.” The girls pulled away from me but still clung to my hands, “I’m glad you girls are okay.” I looked back up to their mom, “I didn’t realize you resided in the Night Court.”

“We were originally from the Autumn Court. I served for the Lady of the Court. Rhysand offered me a place to stay and a comfortable home if I wanted it.” I looked to see her gazing at Rhys with a smile and Rhys nodded his head, “I couldn’t stay in that court knowing what the prince did, so I grabbed the girls, and he brought us here.”

The girl that spoke before said, “We love it here!”

I smiled, “I’m so glad.” I leaned and naturally the two girls also lean in as if we’re telling a big secret “I love it here too.” The girls giggled in response, “What are both of your names? I never got a chance to be properly introduced. I’m Y/N.”

The social butterfly of the two smiled wide, “I’m Alexis, you can call me Lexi. This is my twin Elizabeth, but we all call her Lizzie.”

Lizzie gives a shy wave before biting her lip a bit. I beamed and I turned and point to Feyre, “Well what a coincidence my Twin is right there. That’s Feyre. I call her Fey.”

Feyre gave the two girls a small wave, and the two waved back enthusiastically. Y/N looks to the mom, “I’m Evangeline. Feel free to call me Evie.” I let go of the girls’ hands for a moment and walked toward Evie as she blinked away a few tears and gripped me into a hug, “I can’t thank you enough,” She turned her gaze to Rhys and Feyre and the rest of our table. “All of you, for your kindness.”

Rhys smiled, “The pleasure is ours.” The table all gave nods in agreement.

Lexi tugged on my pant leg, “Can we have a sleepover sometime?”

Alexis!” Evie scolded, “She is probably busy with working for the high-“

I interrupted her raising my hand, “For my two new friends,” I knelt to their level, “I would make the time. You just need to convince the High Lord. I do live at his house at the moment.”

Lexi and Lizzie ran to Rhysand and held their hands up, “Please, High Lord. Please.” I noticed that Cassian and Azriel were trying really hard not to laugh as they saw their brother turn to into putty at these girls hands.

Rhys smiled, “Tell you what whenever, mom needs some time to get errands done, or would like to have an evening to herself you can come to my townhouse and spend as much time as you want with my family.”

“Including Y/N?” Lizzie asked quietly.

Rhys smiled widened, “Yes, including Y/N.” He gave them a playful wink and the two girls giggled and ran back to their mom.

“C’mon girls, let them enjoy the rest of their dinner.”

Alexis waved, and Y/N stands to take her seat, and she feels a tugged on her pants. She looked down to find Lizzie and her eyes lined with silver, and she blurts, “I want to be like you when I grow up.” She looked down sheepishly after blurting it.

I took a minute to process what she said, “What do you mean, Sweetheart?”

She looked up tears streamed down her face, “I want to be brave and kind and not afraid like you,” I could feel the emotion swelling in my chest and tears of my own were beginning to fall. I fell to my knees and pulled her in to a hug, and Lizzie erupted into sobs burying her face in her shoulder. I held out my other arm and Alexis ran into tears in her eyes too. Lizzie whimpered, “I was so afraid I had an accident. You were so brave, Y/N.”

“You were so brave.” I whispered, stroking their hair. I pulled away from them and made the effort to wipe both their tears from their faces. “I think you both were extremely brave. You both held your chin up so high going back to your mom. I was proud of you.” I looked at both girls, “I was proud of both of you.” I smiled and hugged them both, “And we’re here now. And we’re friends.”

“Forever?” Lexi hiccuped.

“And ever.” I promised.

I gave both girls a kiss on their forehead and sent them back to their mom who was smiling with gratitude. I took a seat in my chair watching them walk away, “So those were the girls you told me about.”

I nodded as I shifted back to face my friends, Cassian held out his napkin for me to grab and I graciously took it and wiped my eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t even know they were twins. Kind of poetic.” I chuckled as I felt the familiar callouses of Cassian’s hand on the back of my neck, that thumb rubbing soothing circles and I leaned into his touch. “Thank you, Rhys, for bringing them here and giving them a better life.”

Rhys held out his hand and I took it, and he grabbed Feyre’s hand and gave them both a squeeze, “They deserved it, as you both deserve a chance at a better happy life.”

***

Dinner came to a close and as we walked out in the crisp night air Mor linked arms with me, “I say we head to Rita’s anyone in?”

Cassian and Azriel agreed to join but it was Rhys and Feyre who both declined Amren already left for the evening. I smiled at both of them and waved before I was being dragged away to the bar.

The atmosphere of Rita’s was nothing like the taverns at the human realms, the music thrummed, and the beat could be felt on the floor there were various colored fae lights, Azriel led us all to a table and offered to grab everyone drinks. Mor sat next to Cassian, and I ended up at the end of the booth. I noticed how Mor laid her head on Cassian’s shoulder and he laid his head on top of hers giving her forehead a light kiss and that pang rang in my chest again. How had I not noticed that he is like this with everyone. Clearly he expresses love through touch.

Azriel brought everyone a drink and a shot. I took the shot with fervor and welcomed the burn of the alcohol. Az sat across from me and quirked his brow as I also chugged the drink, he brought for me. This was going to be a long night.

A few drinks in and Mor was basically on Cassian’s lap. I tried not to gape, but it was hard as she kept whispering in his ear. He held her but his face was slightly bored, Az and I just sat and watched the people on the dance floor. His shadows swirled around my ankle, and I smiled.

“Excuse me,” I male’s voice interrupts my appreciation of Azriel’s shadows and look up to find a fae male, with pale skin and blonde hair smiling at me. “Could I bother you for a drink and a dance.” I looked him over his body was toned and I noticed that he had a tail that touched the floor if he were to extend it out. “I just couldn’t help but notice how you beautiful you were.”

I opened my mouth to refuse but Mor cut in, “She would love to.” Mor gave me a light push and I turned back to look at Cassian who seemed more interested in his drink as Mor nuzzled back into him. I gave the male in front of me a bright smile and took his hand.

We walked to the bar, and he said his name was Mark not even bothering to ask for mine, “So I’ve not seen you around before?” He purred in my ear as our drinks came. His tail brushed up my leg and I stepped out of its reach.

“I’m new in town.” I said shrugging.

“For being new in town, you do keep interesting company. The Lord of Bloodshed, The Morrigan and the Shadowsinger. You must have made some impression.” His tail pushed me closer to him, so he grabbed me by the waist. I pressed a hand to his chest, “Sorry, Babe. Sometimes my tail has a mind of its own. I nodded and fought the urge to roll my eyes. We continued our drinks in proximity, and he insisted we go dance. He placed a hand on my lower back his tail once again grazing my leg and moving to the under curve of my ass. The alcohol was settling in my system so that where his hands were didn’t bother me anymore and I let the beat of music take me away.

Mark wrapped a hand around my stomach and held me flush to his chest. “You are such a pretty thing,” He murmured in my ear. I hummed in thanks as his free hand gripped my throat lightly, to angle my head to his. I could see the lust in his eyes as they glanced at my lips, and he leaned in. There was a cough behind us.

We turned and Cassian stood there, ire was in his eyes and the object of that anger was geared to Mark. “Mind if I cut in?”

Mark had a look as if he wanted to say he would but thinking better of it he walked away not so much as a goodbye. His tail did manage to graze my ass. What a dick. Cassian moved closer and gripped my hand and spun me around. He pressed me to his back my head meeting his chest. Both his hands entwined with mine and pressed me closer and calm washed over me. He whispered, “You look beautiful tonight.”

I smiled and shifted my head to see his hazel eyes now soften and his pupils were blown out. “Thank you, Cass.”

He spun me around, so he pressed my chest to his, and his toned arm snaked around my waist. His nose brushed mine, “I wonder though how you would look in red instead of blue.”

The alcohol made me bold because I grinned, “Hmm I wonder how Az would fee-“

Cassian growled, “I don’t want to hear his name out of that pretty little mouth of yours, Princess.”

“Whose name should I say?”

His lips were so close to mine, our breaths intertwining, as he huskily said. “Mine.”

Before I could press my lips to his, Mor tapped his shoulder, “We’re going home, fly me to my apartment?” Cassian pulled away and I instantly missed his warmth.”

“Sure.” He muttered before kissing my head, “Goodnight, Princess.” He turned back to Mor glaring at her, and she only gave him a saccharine smile.

Mor blew a kiss to me before looping her arm in Cassian’s and the duo walked out.

Azriel was beside me in an instant, “She’s a brat.” He murmured and pressed a hand on my back and led me out of Rita’s.

When we reached the Townhome I walked into my room and sat on my bed and looked out at the night sky, hoping to see wings and flashes of red on the horizon.

Chapter 9

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian imagine #acotar #cassian fanfic #cassian #cassian fluff

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justmeinadaze · 2 years

Text

Good Neighbors Part 1 (Steddie X Reader)

A/N: I did it :). Ok as previously stated I have never written this dynamic before so I open to all critiques and suggestions! I also set this in todays timeframe. I hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: Reader is a soon to be divorcee and a single mom. Cute Steddie going on here with her kiddo. Definitely smut of the threesome variety and all that that implies (I regret nothing!) Steve is slightly rougher during sex but I decided to go against the Daddy Steve/Master Eddie dynamic. I don't think I'm there yet! Lol.

Word Count: 4583

“Wow!” Your son’s eyes light up as he takes a look at the outside of the apartment complex you’re moving into. “It’s so big.”

“Yeah, it is.” To a six-year-old child you image it would seem that way but for you, coming from an actual home, this would be a substantial downgrade. As long as he was happy though, you were happy.

“Here, weirdo. Take this.” You hand him his little suitcase so he feels useful. While you were packing his things, he would throw a tantrum if you wouldn’t let him help.

“Mooooom! I’m strong. I can help!”

You slung a few bags over your shoulder and you both headed up the stairs to your new place. The apartment across the way was blaring loud heavy metal music causing you to huff under your breath. Your son marched in front of you and banged on your new neighbor’s door.

“Dylan! No! You know better than to knock on a stranger’s door.”

The door flung open and a tall young man about your age stood in the doorframe. He was extremely good looking with even better-looking hair. He was either about to head to work or just got back. He had on some jeans and a polo shirt with a green vest covering it. You squinted as you read the name tag; “Family Video- Steve”.

“Excuse me, Mister. Can you turn your music down? It’s a little loud.” Dylan shook his small index finger at the man.

He stared at him for a few seconds before a beautiful smile stretched across his face. “You know what, little man? You are absolutely right. It is loud. I tell my friend that all the time but he never listens.”

“Who the hell are you…oh.” Another boy comes into the doorway about the same age if not a little older. He had a guitar slung across his bare chest and torn up jeans that were sagging around his waist so you could slightly see the blue boxers underneath. “Who’s this?”

Dylan looks at you for approval and you nod your head, smiling down at him. “I’m Dylan and this is my mommy. We live here now.” He points at the apartment and you give them a tiny wave.

“Well, Dylan, I’m Steve.” He points to his name tag. “And this is my friend Eddie.”

Your son grabs your hand and pulls you forward. “You have to say hi.”, he whispers.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot.” You whisper back to him, giving him a little wink. “Hi. I’m Y/N. I’m really sorry. Normally he doesn’t initiate conversations with people he doesn’t know but…”

“It’s not a problem at all. Sorry about the music. It’s his day off so when he relaxes--“

“Is the music too loud? Shit. I’m sorry.” Eddie interrupts Steve and runs back into the apartment. Steve rolls his eyes after him as Dylan covers his mouth, giggling at the curse word.

“Can we help you guys move?”

“Oh, no it’s ok. The movers are on their way but I appreciate you asking.”

“Hey anything to help a beautiful woman and her little gentleman.” Steve flashes you a confident smile that makes you blush. “Well, if you change your mind or if you need anything, we’re here.”

“Bye Steve!” Dylan waves at him as you pick him up, enter the apartment, and close the door.

After the movers dropped everything off, the unpacking was under way. You wanted things to feel as homey as possible so Dylan would be comfortable. After his father left, you didn’t want more things to change for him. Something like that is already traumatic enough for a child. It only got worse when your soon to be ex-husband decided he no longer wanted to help you make payments on the house you guys had shared.

“Where are we going to go, Charlie? He needs a roof. He needs normalcy.”

“Maybe he should come live with me then.”

“Why? So he can sit at home alone? You barely saw him when we were married but at least he had me there.”

“Oh, get off your high horse, Y/N. You better find something or I’ll be seeing you in court to take him. I’m not going to spend any extra money I do have for you to live in my house!”

###############

The sound of the bass thumping against the walls made your eyes roll as you scrunched your nose in annoyance. Your son giggled and you responded by sticking out your tongue.

“What are you laughing at?” Dylan mimics your face causing him to erupt in a fit of laughter again. Your phone on the counter vibrates. “Go grab that for me, you little butthead.”

Without telling you who it is he immediately puts the phone to his ear. “Hi daddy!”

“Hey, buddy! How are you doing?”

You watch him cautiously as they talk. “I’m good. I like it here.”

“You do? You’ve been there a couple of weeks now. Met any kids your age yet?”

“Not yet but Mommy and I met Steve and Eddie. They like music really loud!”

“Oh? Well, that’s interesting. Listen, Dil, can you give the phone to mommy?”

“Ok. I love you, Daddy!” Dylan passes the phone and you stand up to take it outside.

“Hey, Butthead. Why don’t you go get ready for bed and after I talk with your dad, I’ll read you book?” He claps his hands excited as he runs into his room. You reluctantly put the phone to your ear as you exit the front door. “How can I help you, Charlie?”

“Who’s Steve and Eddie?” He asks sternly.

“Neighbors—”

“Jesus, Y/N. I can hear the music through the phone!”

You walk halfway down the stairs and sit on the middle step, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. “Again, something you NEED, Charles?”

“Look, I may not be able to take him this weekend.”

The smell of cigarette smoke fills the air and you wish you had one between your fingers right now. “Why didn’t you tell him that?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt him. I know how much he was looking forward to—”

“Oh? But it’s ok for me to break his heart?”

“I didn’t say that. You’re twisting my words again.” He responds to your accusation through gritted teeth.

“So, what is it this time, huh? Work? A date? Flying to the moon to save the planet?”

“See, this why I left. Why do you have to be a bitch all the time? I’m just trying to have a conversation!”

“No, you left because of the whore I found you fucking in our bed. Good night, Charlie.” You press End and slam your phone on the step next to you.

“He seems like an asshole.” The sound of a male voice behind you makes you jump. Turning around, you see Eddie sitting a couple of stair steps above you, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingers. “Sorry, Sweetheart! I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me come out.”

You slide up the couple of steps to sit closer to him. His long wavy hair is nestled behind a black bandana. He’s wearing his usual jeans with a black hole riddled Metallica shirt. Eddie’s fingers reach in your direction offering you a puff from his cigarette which you eagerly accept. You can taste him on the end of it causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“How much of that did you hear?” You ask passing it back to him.

He makes an adorable thinking face. “Um, I came out around ‘Why didn’t you tell him?’ but stayed for the sarcasm after.”

You smile up at him as you let out a soft sigh. “I just hate seeing that look on Dylan’s face when I have to tell him his dad can’t see him.”

Eddie nods to himself as he squishes out the cigarette on the concrete and leans back on his elbows. “Yeah, Steve and I know that feeling. From the kid’s perspective I mean. I don’t think either of our mother’s really cared about us like you do with your son.”

You reach out placing your hand gently on his knee. “I’m sorry you guys had to go through that.” His substantially bigger, calloused palm comes down to cover yours as his thumb rubs against your skin. You bring your legs up to your chest trying to hide the movement of you rubbing your thighs together. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched you let alone in a tender manner like this and the fact that the man doing the touching was incredibly good looking didn’t hurt either.

“Eddie, oh my god, again with the music?” Steve’s voice radiated exhaustion as he climbed the stairs and leaned against the railing across from you.

“Yeah, sorry Stevie. That was my bad. I have a couple of people from work over tonight.” He leans toward the outside wall of their apartment and bangs his fist loudly against it. His chest is inches from your face and you close your eyes and inhale the scent of him. He smells like cigarettes, of course, but there’s also touches of gasoline and an undertone of cologne he most likely sprayed on himself before work that morning.

The door to their apartment opened and the sound of girl made your eyes fly open. Your look was met with Steve’s watchful one. Eddie swiveled his neck to face his friend. “Hey, can you turn the music down? There’s a little one trying to sleep.” He gestures towards your door.

She nods her head and closes the door again. Suddenly, you feel extremely stupid. Of course, there were girls in their apartment. Why wouldn’t there be? They were two single, attractive men. You had no reason to be jealous of the beautiful young lady who poked her head out.

It takes you a while to notice that they are both staring at you intently.

“Um, I should go back inside.” You quickly rise, avoiding their gaze, and climb the stairs. “Thank you for the cigarette and turning down the sound.”

After you close the front door, you lean against it, peaking out of the peephole. Steve stomps up the stairs.

“Really, Eddie? Good job, man.”

“What did I do? Some friends wanted to buy and they stayed over for a bit.”

Steve gives him an annoyed look. “Oh yeah, because girls in tight skirts and loud blaring metal just scream ‘Hey beautiful girl, we like you. Come spend time with us.’”

You jump and let out a little shriek as your son pulls on the back of your shirt. “Dylan! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

He giggles, shaking a book at you. “You said you would read to me.”

“I did, didn’t I? Ok, get back in bed. I’ll be right there.”

Before you turn to follow him, you take one last look out into the entrance way. Steve and Eddie were smiling at your apartment door. Eddie made an “I told you so” face at his roommate as they both entered their domain and closed the door.

####################

Saturday night you and Dylan are lying on the couch watching a movie when there’s a subtle knock at your door. You open it to see your two handsome neighbors standing there with enormous grins plastered on their face.

“Why, hello ma’am.” Eddie says in comical announcer style voice. Steve follows his lead.

“We heard there might be a little boy who got stood up so we brought pizza and video games.” They each hold up the items in their hands. Eddie had the more adult beverages and some ice cream. You smile at them as you turn your head towards the inside of your apartment.

“Dylan! It’s for you.” You feel small hands hug your leg as he cautiously looks around you.

“Hey, little man.” Steve beams down at him and Dylan gasps with excitement.

You reach over and take the pizza from his hands. “Now this here. This is for mommy.”

“No! That’s not fair!” You son chases after you into the kitchen as the boys come in and close the door. Eddie heads for the tv and starts hooking up his gaming system. Dylan sits next to him, asking him questions. Steve joins you and helps pull plates from cabinets, serving food. He turns to look at you as you reach out and gently touch his arm.

“Thank you, guys. For this.”, you whisper. “He was really upset when I told him his dad couldn’t see him.”

“Well, I know what it feels like to have your dad bail on you.” He leans against the counter and folds his arms across his chest.

“Yeah, Eddie told me you guys didn’t have…great parents.” You try and tread the topic carefully not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

Steve shrugs. “It is what it is, right?” He scoots over till his side grazes your stomach, his arms dropping to hold the structure behind him. “How are you doing?”

You look up and meet his eyes, your breath catching in your throat. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” His index finger rises from its place and lifts the lower part of your tank top, tracing the pad of his digit against your skin. You exhale shakily as his eyes never leave yours.

“My pleasure.”

“Mom!” Dylan shouts as he rounds the corner. You jump back from Steve quickly and face your child. “Eddie and I hungry!”

“Starving.” You glance over the banister into the living room, catching Eddies smirk. There was something knowing behind it. You clear your throat, regaining your composure.

“I’m sorry! Blame Steve, here. He moves too slow.”

“Oh, I can move as fast as you want, you just have to let me know.” He winks in your direction as Eddie lets out a chuckle.

You grab a beer from the table where Eddie left them and handed a plate to your son. He thanks you as he runs back towards the floor. Steve hands you a plate and you playfully punch his chest. On your way to the couch, you make sure to kick Eddie lightly in the back.

“Ow. Aggressive!” He shouts before stuffing a whole slice into his mouth making Dylan laugh.

################

After many rounds of battling and button mashing on Tekken, Dylan passes out on the floor. You gently pick him up and carry him to his room, tucking him into bed.

“That kid is so much fun.” Eddie says as you close the door and head back into the living room.

“Thank you. Yeah, he’s a good kid. Good heart.”, you smile.

Steve rises to his feet, extending his hand out to Eddie to help him off the ground. “So, we were thinking… would you like to come across to our place and relax for a bit? We could smoke some weed, listen to music, not at full volume of course.”

“Uh…” You take a cursory glance towards Dylan’s room.

“He’ll be ok. I mean you’re right there.” Eddie points in the direction of their apartment.

You finally nod your head as you follow behind them through their front door. It was definitely a man’s place. It smelled musky with a mixture of their own separate scents. There were posters for bands and action movies all over the wall. The living room was a mess with a combination of take-out containers, clothes, and a couple of overflowing ashtrays spread about.

“Sorry for the way it looks. We’ve been kind of busy.” Steve runs around grabbing trash and throwing it in a nearby bin as Eddie disappears and reappears with a little black tin box.

“Don’t even worry about it. I have a six-year-old, remember?” Eddie chuckles as he starts rolling a joint on the coffee table in front of him. “What have you guys been busy with?”

“Work mostly.” Steve answers as comes back from the kitchen with a beer in his hand. “I’m at Family Video and Eddie works at a mechanic shop a few blocks down the way.”

You throw your body down next to Eddie’s on the couch. “Ah. That explains the gasoline smell.”

He looks at you, smirking. “You sniffing me, Princess?” You giggle as you rub your hand on his back.

“It’s kind of hard not to. It’s strong.” He gives you an apologetic glance. “No, it’s ok. I like it. Reminds me of my dad. He used to fix up cars when I was growing up.”

Steve takes a seat next to you. “Does he not anymore?”

“No. He passed away before Dylan was born.”

Eddie lights the joint, taking a hit before passing it to you. “I’m sorry. That must have been rough.”

The three of you sit there, casually making conversation, while you smoked. They told you about work, certain relationships, and how they came to live where they are now. You told them about your ex-husband and how he basically kicked you guys out of the house. You were extremely comfortable just sitting there talking with them. Something about them made you feel safe which is something you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Their dynamic was also something that completely fascinated you. They talked to and about each other like they weren’t just friends but like they were an old married couple. Sometimes they would exchange glances like they both had a secret you weren’t allowed to be privy to. Not yet anyway.

“So, what do you do again?” Eddie offers you the joint but this time you decline.

“I’m a guidance counselor at Hawkins High school. I help kids apply for college, figure out what they want to do, things like that.”

Steve chokes as he inhales. “Are you serious? That’s where we went to school!”

“For real. It took me like 30 years to graduate. Probably could have used some guidance from someone like you.” Eddie laughs as he pats your bare thigh. You notice his hand lingers before it slides up finding a home just below your shorts. Steve lifts his arm, resting it behind your head on the back of the couch.

“Ok, what’s up with you guys?” You’re not sure if it’s the drugs or the alcohol that makes you ask the question but you feel suddenly desperate to get an answer.

Eddie and Steve exchange a look. “You’ll have to be more specific.” Eddie leans in tossing the burned out joint in the nearest ashtray. He adjusts his body so it’s facing more toward you.

Your eyes narrow in on his before you let out a frustrated sigh. “Whatever. Nevermind.” As you start to lean forward, Steve’s fingers grab your shoulder pulling you back.

“Let me rephrase. We WANT you to be more specific.” Steve’s tone was gentle but commanding. With his other hand, he reaches out caress your cheek.

“Steve, she did just get out of a shitty relationship. Maybe we should go a little easy on her.”

Your breathing stutters when you feel Eddie’s palm rub the inside of your thigh, just barely hovering near your core. Your eyes have yet to break from Steve’s slightly intimidating stare.

“Yeah? Do you think we should go easier on you?”

Your head tilts up, aggressively pressing your lips to his. You hummed at the taste of him as he slid his tongue in to meet yours. His arm came off the couch to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you tighter to him. On instinct, your hips pivot towards him but Eddie’s strong hand held them in place.

You turn to look in his direction as Steve continues to kiss your jawline down to your neck. You watch with lust filled eyes as Eddie reaches for the waistband of your shorts and slides them down your legs. As you lift your hips off the couch to help, Steve’s hand comes to rest behind your back trying to pull you closer.

“Steve!” Eddie laughs in amusement. “Come on, man.” Instantly his hands drop from your body and without hesitation you flip over towards the other man planting your mouth on his. Eddie tasted different but still delicious. His lips moved differently than Steves as well. Steve’s kisses felt more determined whereas Eddie’s felt more passionate. It was almost euphoric to feel the contrast at once.

Steve reached down and lifted your legs so you were laying horizontally on the sofa. You disconnected from Eddie’s mouth long enough to turn your body so your back was against his chest; his hand immediately grabbing your face to turn your lips back to his.

You whimpered against him when you felt Steve move the piece of cotton blocking your center as his nose grazed your clit. He slowly ran his tongue along the inside of your folds, a moan vibrating from his throat.

“Fuck, Munson. She tastes so good.” He dives his head further into your cunt, his tongue flicking in and out of your entrance. As you turn away from Eddie to watch him, the boy behind you whispers devilishly in your ear.

“Yeah? You like watching him eat your pussy. He says you taste fucking amazing.” Eddie’s arm reaches over you as his long fingers slide across your swollen nub. You head falls back on his shoulders as you listen to the sound of Eddie lick and suck them clean before placing them back between your legs. “He’s right. Fucking hell. Your ex-husband was a fucking moron for letting you go.”

You grind your hips against them, turning to suck on Eddie’s neck. Your left-hand clings to Steve’s hair while you right loops around Eddie’s forearm. You feel that feeling in your belly as your pussy starts to clench around his tongue. He pumps into you fast as Eddie matches his pace. You cry out a moan as the rubber band snaps and you cum against them. Both boys help ride you through it as your body twitches with pleasure.

Eddie feels your tiny hand reaching behind you fumbling his belt. He helps you and when he lifts his hips to slide his pants below his knees you feel his hard cock slid against the outside of your puffy lips. “Fuck.”, youmoan as your glide yourself against him, your leaking juices wetting him.

He pumps himself a few times before slowly sliding into your entrance. You continue grinding your hips as you ride him. “Fuck, Eddie. So big…so deep.”, groan out as he grunts behind you. A hand softly touches your face and you open your eyes to Steve on his knees in front you, pants pushed to his ankles, pumping his own cock with his hand.

“Does he feel good, baby?” You nod but Steve’s other hand grips your chin making you face him. “Tell me how good he feels.”

The overwhelming feeling of Eddie stretching you out makes it hard to form words and it doesn’t help when he grips your waist, thrusting up into you roughly. You lean your forehead on Steves. “He feels…so good. I’m…fuuuck…” Steve nods his head encouraging you to continue. “I’m going to cum.”

“Did you hear that, Eds?”

Eddie swallows a moan. “Yeah, I heard her. Fucking Christ, I can feel her to. Harrington, she’s so fucking tight. Y/N, can I cum inside you?” Steve’s pupils dilate as he to waits for your answer.

Your eyes don’t leave his. “Yes. Yes, I’m on the pill.” Steve licks his lips hungrily as he pulls you by the back of the neck to kiss him. You hand grips his wrists as you breathe out silent moans. You cum around Eddie’s cock as he thrusts into you sharply before you feel his arms wrap around your front and his sweaty forehead lean down on your back as releases deep inside on you.

You three sit there silently as you and Eddie try to catch your breath. Eddie’s soft lips run along your spine and Steve delicately pushes some hair out of your face. “You did so well, baby. Taking Eddie’s dick like that. Such an amazing, beautiful woman.” He grabs your hand and wraps your fingers around his now seemingly aching hard cock. “Do you think you can take me to?”

Eddie groans behind you as your pussy flutters at Steve’s request. You lift yourself off of him and cry at the empty feeling as you straddle Steve’s waist. He lifts you up with him as makes himself more comfortable sitting back against the couch with his feet on the floor. Steve watches you with blown out eyes as a line of spit drips from your mouth onto the tip of length. He growls as you spread it around him with your hand before guiding his cock to your center.

Both yours and Steve’s head lean back in ecstasy. You clung to his shoulders as you bounce on his dick feeling him hit that spongey spot deep inside of you making you whine.

“Just like that, Steve. Please.” His large hands grab your neck pulling you towards him.

“Please what? I want to hear you.”

“Please. Don’t stop. Fuck.”

He pushes your head roughly to his shoulder as he locks his arms behind your back pounding into you at a rapid pace. Another hand comes up to pet your hair and you open your eyes to see Eddie sitting back on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder with Steve.

“You look so beautiful like this, Sweetheart.” He places a soft kiss on your lips, sliding his finger between you and Steve as he reaches for your sensitive clit, trying to match the other boy’s rhythm.

Steve releases his hold to bring you to his face. His hands firmly grip the sides of your face holding you in place. “Cum again, Y/N. I can feel it. Your close. Cum for me. I want to feel your pussy fuckin’ gripping me, babe.” As he whispered his filthy words, you panted against his lips.

As the coil snaps for the third time, Steve brings your head back to his shoulder, holding you to him as thrusts his warm seed into your quivering body. They both murmur praises to you that you can barely hear. Eddie lifts your hair and touches your face, asking if you’re alright.

With hooded eyes you nod, curling up closer into Steve’s neck. He picks you up slightly, sliding himself out of your entrance and turns you so both your legs are over his. Eddie gets up, grabbing your shorts from the floor, and Steve lifts you so he can get them up your waist.

The feeling of you being moved around brings you back to reality for a moment. “Hey, it’s ok. We’re just taking you home.” Eddie slings your arm around his neck as he carries you across to your apartment. Once he enters your room, he gently places you down on the bed, pulling the covers over your frame. “Good night, Sweetheart.” Eddie kisses your forehead before moving out of the way for Steve.

“Hey, I know you’re half asleep but I just wanted you to know that I checked on Dylan and he’s completely knocked out.”

You lazily smile as you fully closed your eyes again. You felt him kiss your cheek and shuffle out of the room, following Eddie back to their apartment.

#steddie fanfiction #steddie smut #steddie fluff #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn smut #steve harrington smut #joe kerry #joe keery smut #fan fiction

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d3adlyromb3ar · 6 months

Text

✰ sinking lily pads

— synopsis. he thrived in the sorcerer world, she was forced into it. how could two people that strayed so differently from each other become so close?

— pairing. gojo x oc!fem!reader (main), toji fushiguro x oc!fem!reader

— word count. 5.1k

— contents. mentions of child abuse, neglect, abandonment, angsty asf, injuries, blood/gore, depressing thoughts, dissociation, mentions of death, jjk violence/fighting

— notes. first post ♡

series masterlist

✰ chapter one. moon dair

March 10th, 1999

The young girl had been gripping her Father’s pants, the fabric balling up in her tiny fist as she observed the group of people standing in front of her. All of them glaring down at her, some faces scowling, some with sinister smiles. She shivered underneath all their gazes, the pounding of her heart the only thing she could hear. The conversation above blocked out by her own fear.

“We are holding up our end of the deal, now it’s time for you to do the same.”

The girl’s Father sighed in relief, muscles untensing as he realized that his family were finally free. Finally safe. Well, at least the family he cared about. His gaze shifted down to the shaking girl beside him, his eyes narrowing at her tight grip on him. He reached down, gripping the girl’s hand and peeling it from his pants. The girl whimpered, trying to reach for him again, but he had crouched down and held her shoulders. Keeping her a safe distance away from him.

Despite her glossy eyes, the way her bottom lip quivered– he stared at her with no emotion. No words were spoken at first, only the sound of heavy breathing as the young girl searched desperately into her Father’s eyes for an answer to the end of this nightmare.

“Do you love this family?” He asked her, his stare intimidating as to warn her that there was only a right answer.

The girl switched from eye to eye, her heavy pants filling the moments of silence. It was a simple question, one that could be easily answered. Of course she did. Despite the years of abuse, the torturous nights of correctment. Her heart would have room for her family, something that she couldn’t control. Even in the moment that she realized what her Father was doing, she still had room in her heart for him. For her Mother, her siblings. Everyone.

“Yes Father.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

“Then you’ll make us proud. You’ll do this family right by doing your part.” He told her, leaving no room for her to interrupt.

Your part.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had the girl jumping, forgetting that there was an audience. Sneaking a glance to her left, she shrunk into herself at the stares from the group. Her Father didn’t say another word to her as he stood upright, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her to the groups feet. The young girl didn’t have time to react, didn’t have time to utter a sound as she was already being gripped by the strangers hands.

The whole ordeal, she hadn’t shed a tear. Her lash line desperately collecting them, holding them back as she tried to keep it together. Her strength vanished though the second she saw her Father’s backside getting farther away, the way he didn’t look back once. Despite her sick assumption that he wouldn’t turn around, she kept her eyes unblinking– watching his form all the way until he was no longer in sight.

It was then, the first tear was finally shed.

She felt paralyzed in a weird position. She wasn’t sure whether to do it for herself, prove to herself, that she was worthy— that she could make her family proud. She also didn’t know if making her family proud would even matter by the end, clearly evident that they had left her and were never going to come back for her.

Had things really come down to it? Where she had to be the one that carried the burden of this impossible task, this wild deal. Was she really the one that could bring her family peace?

But at what expense, her happiness? Was she a filler for everybody else’s lives?

What was her purpose? She wondered.

Was her only purpose, proving to only the ghost of her family now— that she could do it?

The room she was kept in was dull— blank of any personality. The rationing of food was little, but she learned quickly not to complain to take anything that she got. The air was always thick with tension like she had to tiptoe around these people— these strangers.

It wasn’t often when people would speak to her, days going by without anybody even recognizing her existence. I guess in a way she was glad for that, as she also learned quickly that too much attention ended in bad endings.

Despite her age, she knew full well that she was being used for something greater than she could understand.

She had known that she was different all her life, her family, mocking and reminding her every day that she wasn’t like the rest. Rather than reassurance, she was taunted for it— for being different. For being powerful.

For that, she was powerful— one of the most powerful that would ever walk the Earth. Though, she didn’t know it yet.

It was on a rainy Tuesday after she received her minuscule lunch— that she recognized a young boy around her age sitting on a bench outside. Immediately he had peaked her interest, as she recognized, he was letting the rain drench him without a care in the world.

Who was he? She wondered.

The lack of children that wandered this place, it added to the magnetic pull she felt towards him— she had to know him.

But despite her curiosity, she stayed put in her room, only watching him from her window.

The boy was pale, jet black hair covering his head. She could tell he was built, which was odd, considering he was only a child— just like she was.

She was curious as to what his face looked like, what his expression was. But all the times that she would see him outside, sitting on the same bench, whether it was raining or sunny— she never got a decent look. Perhaps that was the push that she needed— the push to seek him out one day.

She had lost track of what day it was, her chaotic mind and her thoughts, taking up all her headspace.

It was fairly a nice day when she wandered outside, and, despite her allowed to do that— she was tense and on edge. She waited to be punished for doing absolutely nothing wrong.

A bad habit perhaps.

She didn’t try to quiet her steps as she approached the boy on the bench, giving him sound queues to know that she was approaching. She wondered if he heard her approaching, giving that he didn’t care to turn to investigate.

The closer she got, the more evident it became that he was lost in his own thoughts.

“Go away.” The boy mumbled, surprising the girl with how gentle his voice sounded.

Her curiosity ignored his comment, deepening her interest with him.

The boy must have sensed her lack of understanding, as he turned to see her rooted in the same spot. It was his turn to furrow his brows in curiosity, studying her watchful gaze.

He known of someone new arriving, wondering deep down if she had come willingly— or rather than. But he hadn’t found himself to care enough to seek her out— meet her. He assumed she’d be like the rest that had come and gone, never to leave their trace again. All while he stayed trapped here. But despite his inner voice telling him to walk away, he spoke to her again.

Her silence was intriguing.

“You’re new here.” He stated, not needing her confirmation.

The girl nodded, ignoring his discomfort and taking a seat on the bench next to him— but sitting far apart, almost falling off the edge.

The boy noticed her effort to not touch him, and whether it was because she was hesitant of him— or rather trying to respect his space. His heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster, kind gestures foreign to him.

“What do they call you?” He asked.

She thought for a moment how odd of wording it was to ask for one’s name.

“Moon dair.” She whispered, her tone unsure.

The boy tried to smile, but found himself exhausted to do so. All he could manage was a nod of recognition.

“Cool name,” he commented, “I’m Toji.”

Toji.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, happy to finally put a name to the boy.

The boy watched her face light up, and he wondered what the cause of that was. Did he dare ask? Did he care?

“You’re quiet.” He said instead.

She made no reaction that his comment bothered her, suppose she was quiet. It wasn’t often she was asked to speak, or that she was spoken to. With her family, she was practically a ghost. Even now in this foreign environment, she didn’t feel the need to talk– nor did she feel like she should.

“I’m not used to it.” She admitted quietly.

Toji furrowed his brows, studying her expression as he noticed her small smile had vanished.

“Not used to what? Talking?” He asked.

She nodded, shrugging her shoulders– fiddling with her fingers in her lap.

“That’s weird.” He said, not caring about his bluntness.

She frowned this time, crossing her arms.

“It’s not my fault.” She defended herself.

Toji chuckled, surprising her with the sudden sound.

“Hey, that's the loudest I’ve heard you yet.” He joked, running a hand through his hair.

She rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile, admitting to herself that it was kinda funny.

It was quiet for a bit, the relaxing ambience of the outside calming the two. The wind caressed their faces, as their hair floated in the breeze.

It was a comfortable silence, they both thought.

It was the silence that gave Moon time to get lost in her thoughts.

“What are you doing out here?” She asked quietly.

Toji turned to her with furrowed brows, and despite his confusion– his expression was gentle. She could almost get a read of him, the longer she looked into his eyes. He seemed… tired.

“I didn’t know sitting here wasn’t allowed.” He uttered.

“You are, I just see you out here a lot,” She stated, “Guess I’m just curious.”

Toji chuckled again, and he wondered when the last time he laughed so much– let alone crack a smile.

“Oh, you’ve been stalking me?” He joked again, chcukling again when he watched her cheeks flush red in embarrassment.

“N-no–I just– my window looks out to this bench so… I’ve seen you here before. A lot actually.” She stumbled over her words, trying not to seem creepy.

It was too late though, she realized how weird her words sounded.

While it was entertaining to see Moon so flustered, he couldn’t keep torturing her.

“It’s quiet and calming here,” He told her truthfully, “A little escape from… things.”

She listened and tilted her head at the end, the vague answer peeking her interest even more.

“Escape from what things?” She wondered.

Toji looked away from her this time, instead focusing on the trees swaying from the wind. Truthfully he didn’t care too much about the view, he was just afraid that she’d see the answer within his eyes. He noticed her observant gaze immediately, and despite him oddly trusting her already– he knew better than to disobey his family.

“Family drama.” He told her instead, risking a glance at her.

Despite his unsure tone, she seemed to believe him and took her turn to gaze at the trees. He noticed her face losing its light, the mention of his family hitting a nerve within her.

Why? He wondered.

“I’m sorry, I get it.” She said instead.

Toji leaned forward and tried to get a good look of her face, and he was shocked to find such a vulnerable expression upon her features.

While his family drama wasn’t a complete lie, he felt a little bad that she was trying to relate.

“What happened?” He asked, curiosity eating at him.

She took a deep breath before facing him again, but her eyes couldn’t hold his gaze for too long. He noticed.

“I’m here. That’s what happened.” She whispered, relaxing her awful situation once again.

Toji didn’t quite understand what she meant by that, but also found himself staying quiet as he felt bad. He didn’t want to push her, and didn't want to upset her further.

Why do I care? He thought. Odd.

“Toji. Come now.” A stern voice called from the building doors.

She watched as Toji stiffened up at the sound of his name falling from the man. She couldn’t help her own body tensing up, feeling like she’d been caught doing something– when it was the complete opposite. She was doing nothing wrong, so why did she feel ashamed for sitting here.

Toji sent her a look that she couldn’t understand in the moment, and watched as he said nothing else and left. Walking with his head down into the building, avoiding the harsh glare from the man.

All too soon, she was left alone with her thoughts. Gazing at the trees, it didn’t feel relaxing anymore– and she wondered why.

It felt colder all of a sudden, the wind biting into her cheeks. The bench felt harder, more uncomfortable than before. It wasn’t relaxing at all– but why now?

All these thoughts quickly got overpowered, the only thought running through her mind being Toji. He was the first person to recognize her existence, to show even a sliver of kindness. It was nice to finally talk to someone, without worrying about their judgmental stare.

She didn’t know why she missed him as much as she did, she had just met him.

It was easy to grow attached to the nice things in life when surrounded by bad. She figured.

Where did you go Toji?

8 years later…

The feeling of her lungs burning, begging for untouched air was the first thing that came to her. The rubble of the fractured wall weighed down on her, her legs trapped underneath destruction. She whined in frustration, her mind hazy– her body exhausted.

9 lives was an incredibly powerful technique, letting her cheat death even in moments where she shouldn't of. But of course, with the good always comes the bad. The outside perspective only saw the person coming back to life, but to her– it was the most excruciating feeling she’d ever experience. Yes, she would be alive once again– but she was forced to feel her body heal. All the hurt she endured to lead to her first death, she could now feel reversing– she almost wished she could die at this point. Her enemy hadn’t realized she had the 9 lives technique, unaware that the cause of her death would happen to them as well– a mirror defense.

Slowly she was able to crawl out from under the rubble, using her growing strength to lift the wall off of her body. Her lungs squeezed painfully, gulping in the dusted air– desperate for breaths. Her body wracked with violent coughs as she was on her hands and knees, hunched over and retching blood clumps out of her system. It was quite a nasty technique– but it was rare that anyone was around to witness her healing process.

8 lives left.

The realization wasn’t as rewarding as she thought– quite the opposite. She was closer to her permanent death that she knew would eventually come. Her eyes stayed unfocused on the ground in front of her, her nose burning and her throat tightening with the harsh reality of it all. Although she was immortal to an extent, the mental toll of dying didn’t lessen as she hoped it would. She was stuck in this odd transition, her mind not catching up with the truth that she was indeed still alive. She didn’t feel connected to herself, she felt as if a part of her soul had truly been destroyed– as if a piece of her was left behind.

Her phone buzzed within the rubble, the distorted sound snapping her back to the present. She reached under a piece of the fractured wall, pulling her phone out to see who was calling.

Gojo.

The name lit up her dull features, before the phone gave up– the screen shutting off. She didn’t have time to answer, letting the broken phone fall back into the rubble. Not letting herself give him another thought, she stood finally– doing her best to guide her way out of the destruction. She knew he’d be confused as to why she didn’t answer, but she didn’t care– not right now.

To her, the relationship between Gojo and herself– it was confusing. Despite her obvious distaste for the man, he continued to stick around. She thought he was incredibly annoying, getting on her nerves quicker than anyone she’d ever met before. She couldn’t stand him, just the thought of past teasing and mocking he had done, it had her blood boiling. She learned quickly that her efforts to push him away– they were pointless. It was evident that he didn’t listen to a thing she said anyway. Her pleads for him to leave her alone were practically said to deaf ears.

Taking a deep breath, she felt frustrated with herself. Although she had just promised to not think about him– that's all she was doing. Even when he wasn’t around, he still managed to bother her. She didn’t like being so hateful, but after everything she had been through– she refused to let herself get close to anyone ever again.

She also couldn’t deny her raging jealousy she had for the white haired sorcerer. She was jealous of his upbringing, the way he had everything he ever wanted growing up. How he was born from riches, living in luxury to this very day– never worrying about the struggles to survive.

She continued walking, in no rush to make it back home. She didn’t want her peers to see her so disconnected. She was alive and well now, body healed– no evidence that she had ever gotten killed.

So why did she still feel dead inside?

“Why the sad face?” Geto’s voice had startled her out of her, not realizing she arrived back at the school. “The mission was successful, was it not?”

He sat all relaxed on the stairs, where he usually was after a long day. She assumed it was to watch the sun set, she really didn’t know.

She nodded, making her way over to him and sitting down on the stairs near him— but careful to not sit too close. Geto narrowed his gaze, always wondering why she did that.

“Then why the long face?” He pushed.

She sighed, letting her elbows rest on her knees— holding her face in her hands.

“Just tired.” She mumbled through her palms.

Geto hummed, but wasn’t buying it.

“Seems like you’re always tired, hm?” He pointed out.

She raised her head from her hands, glancing over to him with a really look.

“Maybe I’m just a tired person.” She came up with.

Geto just stared at her, slightly offended that she would think he’d believe these lies— and trust him. He knew she was a terrible liar— the worst actually. Yet, she continued to try.

“You know, it’s okay to not be okay.” He started, his features softer. “You don’t have to be so strong all the time. You’re still a person underneath being a sorcerer. You’re allowed to feel.”

Geto’s words had struck within Moon. She knew he was right but she didn’t want to admit that to herself. Sure, she could show how she was truly feeling underneath the act— but then she’d be vulnerable. Weakness only ends up with people getting hurt. She couldn’t do that.

She wouldn’t.

“I appreciate whatever you’re trying to prove here, but like I said— I’m just tired.” She told him, standing up and leaving to her room.

Leaving Geto on the stairs, missing the concerned look he sent her as she walked away.

What’s happening in that head of yours Miss Dair? He thought hopelessly.

She knew it would’ve been too easy to make it back to her room without anymore interactions. She had thought she did however, until she heard the all too familiar voice calling out for her.

The sound making her ears ring, the exhaustion causing any noise at all to make her wince.

“Look who’s found their way back home.” The white haired sorcerer called out.

Home.

It was funny to her that he referred to this place as such. Was it? If so— why didn’t she feel the same way?

She hummed in response, digging her hand in her pants pocket, searching for her keys.

“Heard the mission was a success. I’m impressed really, thought you would’ve struggled a bit more.” He told her, trying to get under her skin.

Instead of feeling offended from his words, she wondered how the hell the word spread so fast that she completed the mission. She had just gotten home— the only person she told and not on purpose, being Geto.

“Geto told you that, huh?” Moon asked quietly, not really interested in an answer.

“Told me, maybe I asked— who knows. All I know is that you’re alive and well.” He shrugged his shoulders, walking closer to her until he was at her doorframe.

One thing about Gojo: he didn’t respect personal space. Boundaries? Didn’t know it.

Her fingers finally grasped her key ring, pulling it out and swiftly unlocking her door. Without giving him another glance she entered her room, moving to shut the door with her foot— but of course Gojo snuck in before she could shut him out.

“Gojo, I’m tired— don’t want company right now.” She mumbled, throwing her bag down and shimming off her jacket.

He tilted his head down, letting his eyes peek over his glasses that sat low on his nose.

“Hmm, why does it feel like you’re trying to get rid of me?” He wondered, already knowing the answer.

Throwing down her jacket, she made her way to the small kitchen area— pouring herself a glass of water. Not realizing until now that her throat was incredibly dry, aching dully.

After taking a moment and letting the cool liquid soothe her throat, she glanced back to the lanky man.

She was caught off guard when she was met with such a concerned look. She only got a quick glance of his furrowed brows, the way he was almost studying her— that was until he straightened back up, putting back on his teasing expression.

“What are you thinking about Nines?” He wondered out loud.

Nines.

A causal nickname that didn’t hold its true meaning anymore. It was then Moon wondered when she should tell him— or anyone for that matter, that she now only had eight lives left.

She chewed on her bottom lip, getting stuck in her head. Should’ve been an easy question to answer, but her mind wasn’t kind.

Gojo of course noticed, he noticed almost everything about her. The tics she’d fall to when stuck in her head, the way she could almost forget someone else was in the room with her. Her micro expressions that she thought nobody saw— he did. He always did. Even then, he found her the hardest person to read— thus why he was always asking the question.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He asked again, quieter— more sincere.

She ignored his attempt at flirting almost instantly, knowing he would try again and again to get some kind of reaction. She saw nothing significant about the pet name— he did it with practically anyone.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She whispered, turning her glass upside down and placing in the sink.

His six eyes followed her movements, glancing back up to her eyes.

“I asked didn’t I?” He teased, but frowned when you still hadn’t cracked a smile.

Not that you ever did anyway— but every now and then he could.

One thing that Moon despised, was being vulnerable in front of others– especially Gojo. Although there was something about his aura that made her want to lay everything out, really tell him that she was suffering in the hell that was her head– confess everything that kept her up at night. The doubts, the horrors that plagued her when she closed her eyes. But if she was anything– she was stubborn. She wouldn’t allow the words to pass through her lips– not without difficulty that is.

“I…” She started, staring at a random spot in the sink, “I don’t know.”

Moon heard the familiar sound of glasses folding, the metal scraping the sides of his pockets. Glancing up, she was met with the incredible glow of his blue eyes. She had to take a deep breath, blinking rapidly to avoid getting hypnotized. It was often she’d get lost in his eyes, the way they could almost speak for themself. If Gojo didn’t have words to speak– his eyes certainly did that for him.

“Ah, but you do know. You’re just really bad at this whole… talking thing. Wouldn’t you agree?” He called her out, blunt as ever.

She couldn’t bring herself to care– or be offended by any means. He was right, as always. She thought quickly that maybe that’s another reason for her hatred for him– he seemed to know her better than she knew herself.

She hummed in agreement, walking past him to get to her couch. She felt exhausted the longer she stood– needing to sit down to relax her muscles.

Gojo eyes her figure, all the way to the couch– before moving to follow and taking a seat next to her.

Moon thought suddenly, the eight lives that she had left. Surely, Gojo deserved to know. Not because of his worry for her well being– because yeah right. The right that he know strictly professional– she worked with him. It was important he knew.

The white haired sorcerer sat, body facing her– waiting patiently and quietly for her to speak. For someone for easily labeled as annoying– he was pretty silent at the moment. Only because he was so lost in thought, trying to figure Moon out if she wasn't going to talk. That was why he often found himself mute, too focused to strike up conversation.

“Eight.” She whispered, finally breaking the silence.

His blue eyes examined her expression, trying to understand such a vague statement. His brows pulled together, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips.

“Huh?” He wondered, “Nines, what are you tal–”

“You need to stop calling me Nines.” She told him, her voice louder than the last time she spoke.

For a moment she watched his face grow more lost, his expression confusion. But with the long look at her pain stricken face– he knew almost instantly what she meant. His body suddenly tensed, and his hands felt colder. It was odd that the first emotion he finally felt was anger, his hands tightening into fists. His eyes narrowed at her, his jaw clenched tightly– almost positive she could see the flexing from her spot.

He adjusted himself, leaning forward with his elbows supported by his thighs, still facing her small form.

“So what the fuck happened on the mission?” He growled out.

She swallowed, and stared at her hands down on her lap. She didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes– and she knew she would. His eyes were so expressive, it might as well be written in them.

“Things happen, you know that.” She defended, still staring at her lap, “I have The Nine Lives Technique for a reason.”

Gojo kept quiet, his teeth grinding together in attempt to keep his true thoughts inside. He nodded his head, despite him not agreeing or being okay with this situation.

“Answer this for me then,” He started, his voice still stern, “Were you ever gonna tell anyone?”

She looked up finally, surprised when she saw nothing but concern painted in his eyes– despite his angry expression. She felt guilty knowing her answer, but her intentions weren’t to hurt anyone– she just didn’t think anyone would care. She didn’t think anyone should care.

She shook her head, too tired to voice her response.

He lowered his gaze to his lap now, seeming to get lost in thought for a moment before he glanced back up– the anger slowly vanishing from his features.

“Are you okay?” He asked, taking Moon by surprise with the sudden switch up.

She glanced from eye to eye, swallowing through the thickness in her throat. She waved a hand to herself lazily.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She whispered.

Gojo was silent after that, her tone so unsure it made him uneasy. Yes, he saw her sitting in front of him– seeming to be in perfect condition. But it wasn’t the physical aspect that he was worried about.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He pointed out.

Moon narrowed her eyes towards him, hating the way he was trying to pick apart her brain. The way he was trying to pretend he cared so much. She couldn’t be easily fooled like that— not anymore.

She’d give him this, he was very convincing.

“I’m fine.” She rushed out, her voice tired yet stern.

Gojo couldn’t help the roll of his eyes, not understanding just how bad someone could be at lying. Despite her efforts, she’d never be able to lie to him. Almost everytime she did— he never asked her why she thought she had to lie.

He could feel the familiar twitch in his cheekbone, the frustration moving its way to his face.

“Get some rest… Nines.” He mumbled, walking to the door without another glance in her direction.

Moon opened her mouth to say something, but found herself silent until he had disappeared through the door. The familiar click of the lock and then the eerie silence of her room. The only sound being her slow breathing.

The sorcerer confused her with the amount of effort he put in to see her, talk to her. She couldn’t understand how someone could be so drawn towards someone else that clearly had a distaste for them. Did he see the signs?

She knew she was being difficult at best— but it was only the way she grew up that had her acting as such. She’d never let anyone hurt her ever again. People couldn’t leave her life, if she never let them in.

The thought should’ve been comforting, but it never was.

— ending notes. feedback is appreciated 🤍

67 notes · View notes

alottanothing · 4 months

Text

Keep Playing [part one]

Summary: September 1978, Eddie Munson wakes to the sound of arguing. With his father out of the picture, his mother Betty choses to leave her son with the only man who ever cared him.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Language, mentions of abuse

Tag List: @itswormtrain (please let me know if you would like added to this list)

A/N: Hello friends! I'm back to writing, and this time it's for a completely different fandom. This series is a labor of love between me and @itswormtrain. In fact, our friendship blossomed because of Eddie Munson, and now we are both so deep in this, that we're tying it into other fandoms that have no business being related lol. This is our world that has been bringing us lots of joy for almost two years and now we finally get to begin the journey of sharing it. This is just a taste of LOTS that we have brainstormed and planned for a very long time. I'm hoping to keep updates fairly regular, too, as I have a lot already written that just needs some editing.

On the anneversary of Eddie Munson coming into our lives, we hope you enjoy this first part of many into our own canon.

~September 1978~

That night, he dreamt of The Shire, and it made him happy.

Whenever he found himself drifting languidly through that picturesque world, rife with smiling faces and togetherness, Eddie Munson felt free. He dreamt of endless cerulean skies reaching to kiss the lush green hills and the spiked peaks of mountains lining the horizon. There, with the halfling folk, Middle Earth was a peaceful place. A safe place. A place tucked away and out of sight of the searing eyes of the Dark Lord. A place where a kindly uncle raised his nephew.

Often, Eddie wished he could venture past the words printed onto the pages of the books he could only ever read in the Hawkins Public Library. Just like he wished he could be a hero in a far-off realm, Eddie wished he could bring his favorite books home, but the ladies there never let him have one of the fancy cards. The keepers always told him they were out.

He never minded really; Eddie liked the library. It was safe like The Shire. And while it wasn’t lush and green or full of magical wonder, it was quiet, peaceful; and for the most part, all the people there were nice to him. At least nicer than what he had at home.

Books and dreams were the best way to escape the walls he had no choice but to call home. So he did all he could to surround himself with books; even if that meant walking all the way into town and to the library.

The Oakes was a cluster of run-down apartments located on the outskirts of the city: a nesting ground for Hawkins lowlives, and the place Eddie called home. It was an unkept and out-of-the-way haven where unsavory things could be left to rot in peace; the walls were crumbling and most of the windows were broken or boarded up. Every sound crept through the thin walls, from the chittering of pests to the shouting of others next door. Most anyone would look at the derelict structure and pity anyone unfortunate enough to call such an unforgiving environment home. But for Eddie, it was all he truly knew. So, as he lay on his secondhand mattress, covered with a single blanket — rife with various burn holes from cigarettes and other paraphernalia — to stave off the morning chill, Eddie couldn’t help but be content as he dreamt of a land better than the one in which he dwelled.

It was early when he heard his mother’s voice outside his door—his room only slightly larger than a closet. Her words were low, marked with an edge Eddie knew too well. She was frustrated, though, seemingly not at him for once. He didn't recognize the man's voice that came after his mother's, though it did seem to be the root of her irritation. His voice was deep and resonant, carrying an air of authority that demanded attention. It was confident, yet there was a hint of cruelty that grated on Eddie's nerves the longer he listened to the man speak.

Strangers were a familiar occurrence after Eddie’s dad got arrested. Every one of them had been men, and none of them were ever friendly. Ever since Walter Munson was carted off to prison for the multitude of crimes he'd committed over the years, there had been a revolving door of men in their apartment. The visitors came and went, mostly at night, and never stayed long enough for Eddie to learn any of their names, most of the men ignored him, just like his dad had always done, others weren’t as polite. Rough hands and cigarette burns were never something anyone could get used to, though Eddie tried.

The truth of it was, Walt wasn’t much better than those strangers who ignored him or burned his arms with cigarettes. Anything those men did, Eddie’s father had done it first. Sometimes, the only memory Eddie had of his father was the pain. When Walt went to prison, Eddie could only mourn the idea of a father: a man whom he could look up to and rely on. Someone who taught him how to fish or play ball. Walt did none of those, however, but did leave him with the skills to hot wire and pick locks: skills of a criminal.

Eddie didn’t want to be a criminal; he wanted to be like the heroes in the books he read.

The continuous arguing between his mother and the man on the other side of his door created a subtle hum that wasn't quite strong enough to break Eddie's grip on his dream. That was until the creaking of his door echoed through his small room, shaking him as he desperately clung to sleep. Tendrils of reality were quick to bleed into the illusory green of The Shire, pushing him closer to consciousness. For a few moments, he found himself caught between the realms of dreams and reality; gradually the real world seeped into the vibrant landscape of his mind. The idyllic meadows and rolling hills began to lose their luster, the colors faded and the magic waned. The sounds of song birds and the rustling leaves were replaced entirely by the harsh sound of his mother's voice, growing louder and more irritated with each passing moment.

“I am not taking the boy, Betty.” The stranger’s tone was stern, cruel to a degree.

Eddie kept his eyes squeezed shut, begging for the gentle Tolkien landscape to remain.

“I know,” his mother said, and even with his eyes closed he could hear the grit of her teeth. “We’ll take him to his uncle's.”

“Good, now hurry up. I’m not waiting all morning.”

The remaining fragments of Eddie's dream finally shattered when a hand shook him free of it's peaceful imagery, with a touch that was slightly more forceful than necessary.

“Edward, get up now,” his mother forced a pillowcase into his hands as he sat up. “Put your things in there: clothes, toothbrush—whatever. Just hurry, and do not make me tell you twice.”

Eddie blinked, the light spilling into his room making his vision worse as he rubbed the crust from the corners of his eyes.

“Where are we going?”, he asked with a yawn.

“You are going to stay with your uncle for a while.”

“Uncle Wayne?!"

His mother balled her fists, jaw growing tight as she took a heavy breath through her nose.

“Edward, I swear to God—I don’t have time for this. Pack your shit, or so help me, I won’t take you to Wayne’s. I will leave you here. Is that what you want?”

“No...” Eddie cowered.

“Then do as I say.”

He nodded and began stuffing things into the pillowcase without saying another word.

Despite his mother’s sharp tongue, once she left him to pack, a small grin worked its way across his face from the notion of going to spend time with his uncle.

Months had passed since the last time Eddie saw his Uncle Wayne. Driving trucks cross country kept him away for weeks and months at a time, and Eddie always missed him. Still, he always looked forward to the days his uncle was back in town.

Wayne was always kind, and patient—he never yelled or threatened him. Never burned him or raised a hand to him. Wayne always made sure he ate three whole times a day, which was more than he ever ate when he was home. Eddie found great relief in the thought of spending a few days at his uncle's place. It would provide a much-needed respite from his mother's constant scolding. The walls of their small apartment always seemed to amplify her voice, making every word feel like an arrow piercing directly through his heart, likely aided by the lack of artwork or much furniture. No matter what he did, or how much he tried to be good, he was faced with a never-ending symphony of disappointment and frustration that echoed through his mind, leaving Eddie feeling defeated and trapped.

He did his best not to dwell on any of the words she said, but it was never long before more were hurled his way.

But now, the prospect of escaping to his uncle's was like venturing back to his dream, back to The Shire. Wayne's trailer was a sanctuary he seldom had the opportunity to seek. Eddie wasn't going to squander his visit, no matter how short his visit would be, even if it was just for the afternoon. All he wanted to do was fill his mind with thoughts of all the fun he and his uncle would have, just like Frodo and Bilbo.

With little more than a change of clothes tucked into the pillowcase he’d been given, Eddie’s mom grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him out of the apartment complex before ushering him into the back seat of the strange man’s car.

Immediately, Eddie's nostrils were overwhelmed by the pungent smell of cigarettes, the offensive aroma stubbornly clinging to the orange, stain-adorned, velvet upholstery, as though the scent had become the very fibers themselves. The whole back seat had clearly seen better days. What was once surely soft and plush to the touch, now felt rough and coarse under Eddie's hands. All the dubious marks—a mishmash of stains, smudges, tears, and the ever-familiar circular burns—seemed to have a story of their own. The combination of those marks created an unsightly mosaic that fostered a sense of unease in the pit of Eddie's stomach. A song played on the radio that he didn't recognize, the juxtaposition of the upbeat melody and the increasing tension in the vehicle causing his head to swim. The odor faded after a couple of minutes, and the stains were easy to ignore, but the song remained. Eddie did his best to listen to every word, with the hope of drowning out the harsh whispers happening in the front seat.

The man at the wheel exuded an aura that stood diametrically opposed to the serene radiance of the morning sun streaming through the car windows, which coupled sourly with the rest of Eddie's overwhelmed senses. The piercing gaze of the man's deep-set eyes reflected in the rearview mirror seemed to accuse him of some wrongdoing, though Eddie had never met the man before that morning.

As he attempted with the stain on the seat next to him, Eddie did his best to ignore the stranger's scrutiny. Every racing thought in his head, he began to fill with memories of his uncle and the fun they always had. Little by little his frayed nerves calmed, and his focus drifted to the world outside his window, watching the familiar sights of Hawkins pass by. All of it was gilded, at least in his mind, drenched in the golden light of morning that evoked a sense of majesty. There was little greenery to be seen, no mountains sprawling across the horizon or centuries-old trees stretching into the blue heavens. Nevertheless, the scenery outside the car window reminded Eddie of The Shire, and he found the corners of his mouth drawing into a small smile.

Before long, the urban landscape of brick buildings in the downtown transformed into lush—though not magical—woods, charming farmhouses, and vast fields of beans and corn until finally Forrest Hills Trailer Park emerged on the horizon. Abruptly, the car came to a halt, the brakes crying out loud enough to startle birds perched in the nearby trees and the motion enough to toss Eddie forward in his seat.

“Get him out!” The man barked. “Be quick.”

“Alright! Jesus.” Betty barked back.

His mother’s hands weren’t gentle when she tugged him out of the rear seat, across the gravel, and up to his uncle’s door. Eddie barely managed to grab his pillowcase of belongings. He winced with each step, his heart pounding in his chest as he did his best to keep up with his mother's brisk pace. The lack of tenderness in her touch mirrored the coldness in her eyes, a look unbefitting of such a beautiful, warm morning.

As they finally reached his uncle's doorstep, his mother released him from her grip, but the forceful tug had left him off-balance. Eddie stumbled forward, barely managing to keep his footing as his pillowcase slipped from his grasp. Panic surged through him as he watched his belongings spill onto the ground, his few possessions scattered and vulnerable.

Quickly, he dropped to his knees, doing everything to keep his hands from shaking as he scrambled to gather every item he'd dropped, feeling his mother's eyes boring into him. She offered no assistance or sympathy, she simply watched him with an air of irritation and disappointment before turning back to his uncle's door.

“Wayne, It’s Betty!” Her fist beat against the door as she spoke. “Open the door!”

“Just leave the brat!” The man in the car shouted from his open window, his biting tone causing Eddie to step closer to his mother out of fear. The lesser of two evils…

“No!” she shouted back.

Eddie watched, keeping himself as small as possible, eyes teetering between his mother and the angry man in the car. He just wanted to be with his uncle, the one adult in his life who had never raised his voice or handled him with any sort of ill-will. He wanted to feel safe.

“I know where the key is,” Eddie offered quietly, wanting the screaming to end.

Thankfully, his mother heard him and immediately stopped pounding her fist on the door.

“What?” She almost looked mad, and Eddie’s focus fell on his ratty tennis shoes, afraid to look her in the eye.

“I know where the key is,” he repeated, softly. “Uncle Wayne showed me.”

“Then get it,” she snapped, more frustration souring her expression.

Eddie bounded off the short stoop, easily finding the spare key hidden at the juncture of the steps and the side of the trailer. He gently pulled at the loose piece of siding and the silver key fell into his palm.

When he offered it to his mother, he did so with a small smile—proud he’d remembered the secret place and that he could help his mother—but she snatched it from his hand without a single word of praise or thanks causing Eddie’s expression to fall. She seemed angry that Eddie knew of the key’s existence at all...

Without a word, she let them in, pulling Eddie by the arm again until he was left standing alone in the middle of the living room, while she stalked through the trailer, shouting for Wayne.

“Shit,” she huffed, coming back into the room, annoyed not having found him.

Outside, the man in the car was laying on the horn, shouting just as loudly. With each baleful blare, Eddie cowered into himself, wishing the man would just leave.

“Jesus Christ.” His mother shook her head, peering out the window before turning to Eddie and sighing.

“You give this to your uncle whenever he gets back, okay?”

Eddie nodded, shoving the envelope she passed him into the pillowcase that contained his meager possessions. The envelope felt heavy in his hands, though he could feel it was just a sheet or two of paper. How could it feel as heavy as it did? When he raised his gaze to ask what she'd written, his mother was gone, leaving the screen door bouncing against the doorway.

Confusion washed over Eddie as he stood there, clutching the pillowcase tightly. His mother's sudden disappearance left him feeling a mix of emotions, mostly, he'd expected her to offer some form of goodbye before embarking on an uncertain journey with the strange man. When should he expect her back? How long would he be staying with his uncle? He'd never know, as he watched the car peel out of the gravel, his mother never once looking back.

The entire morning had been a series of strange occurrences, leaving without saying exactly how long he’d be with his uncle seemed the strangest of all. For whatever reason, his mother never liked having his uncle around, never liked when he’d visit or when Eddie went to stay with him. She always wanted him back as soon as possible. His mother never left him at Wayne's without telling him when she would be back. Even so, he was determined not to waste a single moment he had with his uncle.

Wayne was the only pillar of strength and reliability in Eddie's life; they'd shared a special bond going as far back as he could remember. The longer he stood there, wondering why his mother left so abruptly, the more Eddie realized he didn't care so much.

For a moment Eddie contemplated reading the note he’d shoved into the rucksack of a pillowcase, wondering if he’d find any answers inside. However, the longer he lingered in the silence of his uncle's home, the less Eddie cared about the note. Wayne would be home soon, and the strange man was gone, two facts that settled warmly over him. He felt safe at last.

With a sigh, his eyes took in the familiar sights of his uncle’s home, finding that little had changed since his last visit. Aside from a few new mugs and hats hanging on the walls—souvenirs from all his treks across the country—everything remained exactly as Eddie remembered it. Even the dishes in the sink seemed the same ones, untouched since he was last there, a couple months prior.

Strangely, those few plates and forks left forgotten in the sink induced an abrupt sense of dread. His mother had scolded him countless times for leaving a single dish unwashed amidst the filth that engulfed the entire apartment. The contrast between the untidiness of their home and her berating to clean a few dishes always left him wondering if his mother found pleasure in treating him the way she did. Why could he not leave a dish in the sink when she refused to clean at all?

The sudden flood of memories forced the onslaught of dread deeper. Uncle Wayne never yelled at him, still, the persistent echoes of his mother's screams in his mind caused him to abandon his belongings by the sofa and promptly attend to the dishes, striving to silence the relentless barrage of hurtful words in his head, and prevent new ones once his uncle returned home.

With the two bowls, a plate, and several pieces of flatware left to dry in the rack on the counter, Eddie relaxed a little, looking around to see what else needed to be done. His uncle’s place was far cleaner than the apartment; there was trash on the tiny kitchen table: wrappers from granola bars, crumpled paper napkins, and other scraps, which Eddie tossed in the bin next to the washer. He took the liberty of emptying his uncle's ashtrays and stacking the magazines a little more neatly on the coffee table, as his mother would've wanted.

Every small chore he completed helped the dread subside until the only unpleasantness he felt was the emptiness in his stomach. It growled angrily and while his mother liked to keep all their food out of his reach, Uncle Wayne kept an entire cabinet stocked with all of Eddie’s favorites, and not just the cheap store brands either. Wayne always bought him good stuff. That single cabinet was like a treasure trove, rife with cereals, chips, pretzels, and even candy bars. The fridge also housed a handful of things just for him too: sodas and juice boxes, even Yoohoo’s.

After several minutes of consideration and a few more rumbles from his stomach, Eddie grabbed one of the freshly washed bowls and filled it with an assortment of snacks: a generous pour of Honeycomb, a handful of pretzels, and a package of M&M’s. He also swiped a cold can of Coke from the fridge and planted himself on the sofa.

That was where he stayed, patiently awaiting his uncle, munching on his snacks, and indulging in the luxury of watching TV. The morning cartoons shifted into daytime dramas, turning into evening favorites before horror movies ruled the screens as the sun went down. Eddie watched it all, only getting up to grab more of the snacks from his cabinet. His belly was full for the first time in a long time, and he felt at peace. All the strangeness of the morning began to fade as the hours passed.

The last part of The Exorcist was playing on the television when his eyes began to droop. With Wayne still gone, Eddie pulled his sleepy body from the couch long enough to fetch the spare pillow and blanket folded neatly in the hall closet and sauntered back. He kept the TV on, volume low, as he settled against the cushions hoping to find Frodo and Bilbo and The Shire waiting for him in his dreams once more.

Next Part ->

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #waitin' on the day

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bloodsworn-marshal · 14 days

Text

Writing Prompt: Stable Word Count: 969 ---> masterlist

Two young siblings trailed behind their father, one holding his hand to keep up the pace while the other followed along whilst taking in the sights. Such was the rare occurrence they found themselves in, where time allowed for this small venture into town and a break from the norm.

Their father was none other than Pipin Tarupin himself. Serving as Flame General for much longer than the children had even been born. He’d grown just a touch more rugged over the years, but was otherwise the same man their mother had fallen in love with many years ago. Said mother unfortunately finding herself as busy as ever with her booming business… she was unable to accompany the three as the walked through Ul’dah’s streets.

This outing happened to coincide with a little time off from work for Pipin and a chance to take the kids out while it was a nice day. That and one couldn’t simply sit still for long even on his off day… and how could he refuse when his eldest Hahabi had been pestering awhile yet for this trip? To finally visit her father’s workplace and see what interest her most:

The chocobo stables.

“Are we there yet?” Hahabi skipped closer to Pipin as he continued to guide the youngest.

Ruruvan, shy and quiet as ever, was along for the ride and learning how to walk proper. Occasionally Pipin would pick him up as they walked on, but otherwise he was doing quite well on this little trip.

Pipin simply smiled down at Hahabi, gesturing with a nod of the head towards their upcoming destination. “We’re right around the corner.”

At this, Hahabi couldn’t contain herself any longer as the stables came into sight. With a mischievous grin, she raced forward with arms splayed out—an excited rambunctious child who had been waiting for this for far too long.

“Come on, come on! Let’s go already…!”

“W-Wait for us!” Even young Ruruvan was a little excited.

Both of them had seen Pipin return home from work atop his trusty Flames chocobo. Those times having been after long excursions to who knows where that work took him, always with a tale or two to share after he’d been gone for some days. Each return imprinting upon them the idea of wanting a chocobo of their own someday, where they might as venture out and enjoy the company of a bird companion.

Since his last return, Hahabi had been enthusiastically begging up and down that Pipin one day take her to see the chocobo stables near his workplace. Which, by default, meant Ruruvan was just an interested if a little more reserved with his enthusiasm. With the amount of puppy eyes he received from the both of them, Pipin finally relented… and promised he’d take them soonest he could.

That day was now upon them.

Once they reached the stables, one of the stablekeeps greeted Pipin with a proper salute before allowing the three inside. Hahabi had answered with a silly salute of her own while Ruruvan continued to cling to Pipin’s side, ever nervous of strangers. After they entered however, both children were now looking all around wide eyed and enraptured by all of the chocobo in their stalls. All of varying color, plumage, size, and temperament.

“They’re so huge…!”

“And colorful!”

The two of them roamed and gawked at every different bird they came across. Pipin keeping an eye on them but otherwise letting them have free reign. Once they’d had their fill, he came over to them and offered each some gysahl greens to feed to the chocobo.

“So what do you think?” He held Hahabi up in his arms first to be able to reach and feed one of the birds.

“I want one!” She grinned and she held out the treat for the bird to take. Giggling as it tickled her hand as it ate. “I want my own to ride around at home!”

Ruruvan on the other hand shifted a little uncertainly in place. “They’re so big… even the smalls ones are big.”

Pipin couldn’t help but chuckle, letting Hahabi back on the ground before picking Ruruvan up for his turn. “And that’s because you are still very small yourself. When you’re a little older, I’ll let you ride around with me on my old bird.”

From below… Hahabi was pouting—on the brink of getting huffy. “Nu uh! I want to be first! I’m big enough for it!”

“…The same offer extends to you as well. And you still have a ways of growing yourself.” Pipin ruffled her hair. While Hahabi seemed alright with that answer, she still had something of a sour look on her face. Once Ruruvan finished feeding the chocobo as well, he set the boy down and put a hand on either of his children’s shoulders.

“I taught your mother how to ride a chocobo. And I’ll teach the both of you as well when you’re of age. For now… just wait a little longer. It will be worth it, I promise.”

Ruruvan still wasn’t exactly certain how he felt about that, but otherwise nodded understandably. Hahabi on the other hand was still feeling some way of impatient! Kicking her feet in the dirt and the like, but ultimately nodding as well. Before suddenly blurting, “Does mama really know how to ride a chocobo? I’ve never seen her on one.”

“She knows.” Pipin chuckled. “She certainly knows. In fact, her bird has a place in these very stables.”

Both children’s eyes lit up once more. Already asking him as to which chocobo belonged to their mother, gawking at its size and colors, feeding it treats as well…

An all-around productive day that would surely keep their young minds busy. Until they got home at least.

#ffxiv #pipin tarupin #pipdede #writing #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #ruruvan #hahabi

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foi-fede · 1 year

Text

Sunset Serenade: The Last of Summer

Pairing: SKZ Felix x Reader

Series: Sunset Serenade: The Last of Summer

Genre: Strangers to lovers, slight angst(!), smut (not in this chapter honestly), fluff, slow burn(!)

Synopsis: Running back to the last of the summer left with her, Y/N unexpectedly gets stumbled beneath the tranquil embrace of starry nights and soothing breeze, a story of unexpected encounters and emotions unfolds. Y/N's summer takes a captivating turn when she crosses paths with Felix. The vibrant lights and electric atmosphere become a backdrop for a connection that defies explanation. Amidst laughter and music, their bond grows, but new challenges and confessions test their emotions. As the waves whisper secrets, Y/N navigates a sea of feelings, unearthing a journey filled with surprises and self-discovery.

Mood board: #1

Word Count: 10k

Warning: Mention of a passed one, mention of alcohol, slight sexual tension (not much, just a little)

A/n: I was never fond of summer before this year. It's like refusing to try a new ice-cream flavor in fear of ruining the taste buds but finally trying and eventually falling in love with it. I hope reading this simple fanfic becomes one of the nice things to be remembered about summer for everyone. ^^

| Reminder: All the character's personalities and thoughts are raised from pure fiction, it is just a work of fiction. |

Read all the chapters here.

Beneath the starlit waves

When we think of summer, our minds often drift to memories of refreshing shaved ice on the beach, or warm nights spent gathered around a crackling bonfire. And for those who are fortunate enough to have the right luxuries, perhaps sipping margaritas by the pool at noon.

There's something special about the season that just brings out the best in us - the warmth of the sun on our skin and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. It's no wonder that "they" say the beach is where you can truly experience the miracle of summer.

Even now, as the days grow shorter and the air turns cooler, it's hard not to feel a sense of nostalgia for those long summer days. Perhaps that's why so many of us go to great lengths to hold onto the season for just a little bit longer - like driving 163 kilometers straight from town to catch up with the last couple of weeks of summer, or simply sitting on a sandy bed, watching the sunset unfold before us.

As I sit here now, surrounded by couples who seem about to start making out any moment. I completely forgot about my summer with everything that's been going on lately, until my brother made me realize that I've lost touch with myself. The sand, breeze, and salty smell of the ocean leave me with doubts. Am I here to relive that summer miracle or to drown in grief because these things remind me the summer with mom?

The thoughts pushed me to stand up and take unnoticed steps toward the sea. It felt like I was invisible to the world, which was busy making out, spinning bottles, and shoving booze around. I was so lost in thoughts, moving slowly forward and feeling the warm water up to my knees, and then gradually up my thighs, making it feel like the denim was nowhere near my legs. Just when it was about to be all damped, a hand pulled me back, jolting me out of my thoughts.

“Mam! mam! watch out where you going!”

This guy snapped me out of my thoughts in an instant, and it dawned on me just how far I had strayed from my original spot—quite a distance, indeed.

“I’m… sorry for pulling you out of it but, the tides are high at the moment. You should stay at the shore. Are you alright?”

Have you ever seen a sunset in someone's eyes? I did, at that very moment, in those eyes. The reflection of the dozing sun under the sea behind me was mirrored in his gaze. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of dopamine rush was making me observe the intricate details of a stranger's face with such intensity, as if I were completely enthralled.

"Oh yeah... sure, I'll be at the shore," I replied, already stepping toward the land.

"Thank you. I had no intentions of interrupting you, but you know, duty calls. I have to keep you safe," he said with a shrug and a chuckle, following me out of the water.

His tank tee with the whistle clearly marked him as a lifeguard on duty. Of course, it was his job to ensure everyone's safety.

"No, no, it's fine. I was just lost in my thoughts; don't worry," I cleared my throat, my gaze fixated on the hues of orange and pink across the horizon.

"Are you hanging out with that group?" he inquired, pointing at a bunch of people enjoying drinks around a newly bonfire.

"No, I'm alone," I replied.

"Oh... enjoying a peaceful sunset by yourself?" he asked.

I glanced down at the sand sticking under my feet and simply nodded, “Yeah it’s the most serene time of a rushing summer day” I responded.

"It certainly is," he agreed, his gaze sweeping across the gently receding waves. "With the crowds thinning out this week, it's even more peaceful. Usually, kids are running around the water even at this hour, which can make my job a bit challenging," he chuckled, gesturing to the beach around us.

A sense of understanding washed over me as I appreciated the his dedication and responsibility. "I can imagine. Your job must require a lot of patience and watchfulness," I remarked, admiring his commitment to ensuring everyone's safety.

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You've got that right. But it's all worth it to keep everyone safe and happy at the beach," he replied.

"I'm Felix, by the way. You should know my name, so that you can call out for help whenever you're drowning in thoughts like that again," he said, his eyes meeting mine with a warm smile.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his playful remark, appreciating his friendly and caring demeanor. "Yeah, sure, and I'm Y/N," I replied, feeling a sense of ease and comfort in his presence. No wonder our chance encounter now evolved into a stroll together. Sun is no where to be found and the blanket of stars slowly started to fade in.

As our conversation continued, he brought up Coastal Hangover, a popular spot filled with beachgoers during the summer. "how come I never saw you at Coastal Hangover's this summer? It's always buzzing with people from around the beach," he inquired curiously.

“That’s because I was not here the whole summer, just arrived an hour before.”

Felix's reaction was both amusing and endearing. He gasped dramatically, adding a touch of theatrical flair to his response. "No way! We're at the end of the season, and you came just now! Well, I hope you're not leaving before the Sandcastles & Starlight Festival. You might give me a heart attack" he said, placing his hand dramatically on his chest with an exaggerated look of concern.

Laughter filled the air as we both enjoyed Felix's playful theatrics. "Don't worry, I will be there," I assured him with a grin. "My friend won't let me leave before I attend the festival. He said it's either me attending the fest or my lifeless body being dragged back to college," I added in a mock-serious tone.

Felix burst into laughter, the sound mingling with the soothing rhythm of the ocean waves. "Well, it's good to have friends who know how to keep you in line."

“Oh you don’t know Felix, it’s like real hell with him.”

My phone buzzed a notification from Minho, hell is typing.

MINHELL

*Food might wait for you but I won’t*

*Be here before this chicken casserole gets cold or I’ll lick it off. You won’t even get a bite of it.*

“Speak of the devil” I chuckled as I read the notification from Minho. "Well, it looks like I've got a food thief to deal with," I said to Felix with a playful grin. "I better head back before he devours the whole dinner himself. Trust me, he means it when he says he'll eat it all!”

Felix laughed, understanding the predicament. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he leaves you at least a bite," he teased.

"I couldn't have asked for a better lifeguard," I replied. "You saved me from drowning back into my thoughts." a smile appeared on my face at an instant.

"As I said before, I have to keep you safe," he responded, both of us sharing a laugh at his cheesy statement.

As I turned to leave, Felix called my name, causing me to pause and turn back. Curiosity filled my eyes as I waited to hear what he had to say. "Um... if you've got time tomorrow, wanna swing by Coastal Hangover? I'll make sure the first few drinks are on the house. You know, employee benefits," he said with a charming grin.

"You work there too?" I asked, pleasantly surprised by the revelation.

"Yeah, actually my dad runs the place, and I'm supposed to be helping him on Fridays and Saturdays," he explained.

I gasped in amazement. "Oh my goodness! You owns the place? Coastal Hangover is such a classic around here and you just gave me a tempting offer."

He chuckled at my excitement. "Not me, my dad. But I'm there often, helping out and enjoying the atmosphere. So should I be expecting you tomorrow?"

The invitation felt like the perfect continuation of the evening's serendipitous events, and the flow of the moment felt so right that I couldn't resist.

"I would love to be there."

The sight of Minho almost dipping his tongue into the pot sent me into a frenzy. Without thinking, I swung open the backdoor to the kitchen and threw my scrunchie at his face. "No! Get your mouth away from it! I swear I'll kill you," I exclaimed.

Quickly, I grabbed a spoon from the kitchen counter and dunked it into the pot, scooping out enough food to fill my plate. I plopped down on the chair next to Minho, giving him a stern look as he smirked and continued to eat from his plate, clearly enjoying my moment of panic.

His visible mock and playful eyes angered me a little, but I knew Minho loved teasing me. "Just a few minutes late, and I would have cleaned that pot better than a dishwasher," he said with a devilish laugh, relishing in my reaction.

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my smile as I playfully hit him on the arm. "You know what, you can be such a pain in ass sometimes," I said, pretending to be annoyed, but deep down, I cherished these moments of banter with him.

I couldn't help but burst into laughter at Minho's outrageous response. "Yeah, that pain which occurs when you try holding back poop," he blurted out effortlessly, clearly amused by his own remark.

"Ughh gross! Minho, I'm eating. Keep your shit jokes outside the kitchen, please!" I said, trying to contain my laughter while also pretending to be exasperated with his sense of humor.

Minho's demonic laugh filled the room, and I couldn't help but shake my head at his antics. Sometimes, he really knew how to push my buttons, but at the same time, his playful banter was part of what made our friendship so special.

"Sometimes, I wonder how you come up with these brainy things," I teased, shaking my head in mock disapproval.

"It's a gift," he replied raising his hands up as if he can communicate with gods, still chuckling at his own joke.

I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my smile. "You're impossible, Minho," I said, finally giving in to the laughter that bubbled up inside me.

"But you love me," he said with a mischievous grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I do," I said, playfully nudging him. "You may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're my pain in the ass."

In that moment of shared laughter and joy, the room seemed to come alive with the echoes of our cackling and laughter, as if it had never been abandoned for five years. The walls held onto the memories of our giggles, as if these moments had always belonged to this kitchen. The scent of rosemary and lemons filled the air, just like it used to when Mom was still with us, living in these moments.

As we reminisced and created new memories, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of nostalgia. It was as if time had folded back on itself, bringing back the warmth and happiness of those summers we used to have. The room, once filled with silence and emptiness, now resonated with the familiar sounds of laughter and camaraderie.

I glanced around, half-expecting to see Mom bustling around the kitchen, her infectious laughter mingling with ours. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that she was no longer physically with us, but she lived on in the memories we held dear.

Minho, sensing the shift in my emotions, reached out and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "She's here with us, you know," he said softly, his eyes filled with understanding.

I nodded, a tear escaping from the corner of my eye. "I know. It just feels like she's so close, yet so far away."

"She lives in our hearts and you’ll definitely gonna feel that, we’re in her territory ," he reassured me.

And he was right. In the laughter and banter, in the warmth of friendship and the beauty of the present moment, Mom's presence was palpable. The love she had poured into this house had become an eternal thread, weaving through the tapestry of our memories.

I checked on the pantry making a list of requirements while Minho cleaned up the dishes.

I have to stay focused and not bring back the tears again. This house should not experience any more of sorrow, mom would have never let a single moment passed without bliss and I won’t leave any sorrows till the end.

___

As I continued to jot down the items on the shopping list, Minho broke the silence with one of his characteristic small talk questions. "How was the stroll to the beach?" he asked.

"Nostalgic," I replied with a smile, recalling the beautiful encounter with Felix and the rush of memories that flooded back to me during our conversation, while scribble a pack of oreo in the list. “By the way, do you remember Coastal Hangover? You and Missy met there for the first time”

"And broke up once the vacations were over, don't remind me of that," he responded with a slight grimace. "But what about it?" he added

“Nothing, I just felt like heading over there tomorrow, what do you thing?” I added spaghetti x2 in the list.

“No way we’re missing Wooyoung’s party for the place I got dumped once.”

“Then, can I go by myself? It’s not like you’re capable of dragging my ass to the party any way”

I retorted, half-teasing and half-serious.

"Nah-uh, I'm not letting you stay alone. Your brother's gonna kill me if I leave you by yourself," Minho insisted, his protective side coming to the forefront.

“Minho trust me, I’ll be fine. You know, you and Chan got to visit here more than me, you two know almost everyone through these parties but for me, this place is becoming more and more distant, I just want to feel belongingness here in my own way too”

Minho looked at me, his expression softening as he understood the sincerity in my words. "I get it, Y/N," he said gently. "And you're right. Chan and I have been coming here for years, and we know a lot of people through these parties. But that doesn't mean you can't find your own sense of belonging here."

He paused for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words. "You're a part of this group, too, and we want you to feel like you belong here. It's just that, I worry about you being alone in a place where you have some memories that may not be the happiest or maybe too happiest to bring them back like they used to be."

“C’mon don’t look down on me, you know that I learned to embrace all my memories, happiest or saddest, doesn’t matter.”

I felt he smiled “I hope now you realized we’re not late here and still have our summer left with us. You were rambling about this the whole time on our way.”

I nodded, “You’re right we still have it”

As we stood together, our conversation took a more heartfelt turn. "I hope I'll be able to keep the essence of this house till the summer is over," I said, my voice soft with sincerity.

Minho turned to face me, his eyes filled with unwavering support “Out of all the people I think you’re the one who can keep the essence of this place just like it has always been and you know I’m here for the help” as if this moment felt warm, it got ruined with him landing both his wet hands of dish washing soap on my shoulders. I could see the bliss of mock in his eyes.

“Ugh! Why am I putting up with you?!”

The vibrant lights of Coastal Hangover painted the evening sky in a mesmerizing display, captivating my senses and filling me with a heady mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The pulsating music and infectious laughter emanated from afar, creating an electrifying atmosphere that beckoned me closer.

The air was alive with the scent of the ocean and the intoxicating blend of various drinks being concocted at the bar. People swayed and danced in harmony with the music, their laughter blending with the melody, creating a symphony of joy.

I am wearing a delicate crocheted top adorned with intricate patterns hugged my frame, paired with my favorite shorts, which accentuated my legs, it created a relaxed and casual look. I smiled as I recalled the little star necklace that adorned my neck. It was a thoughtful gift from Chan. I trailed my hand one last time through my hair before making my way through the sea of people, catching glimpses of familiar faces and strangers alike. The smell of ocean air mingled with the aroma of soft limoncello fragrance

And then I saw him.

Amidst the crowd, I spotted Felix behind the bar, he looked effortlessly charming in his tropical shirt, the vibrant patterns perfectly complementing his puffy blonde hair. The open shirt revealed just enough of his sun-kissed tone to leave anyone mesmerized, be a sight for sore eyes. His cackling laugh is audible mixing with R&B music, stimulating a smile on my face.

Till I saw him, I was excited to spend a night in this classic place but now for some reason my mind is telling me to turn around and run out of the place, I found myself struggling to tear my gaze away.

As our eyes locked, I couldn't help but feel a surge of electricity between us. Felix's smile was like a beacon of light, drawing me closer despite my initial instinct to step back. It was a grin that spoke volumes.

He waved over as I navigated through the crowd toward the table before a guy crashed his back on me, making me stumble a little. I composed my balance before any of us could have fallen and the guy turned around, spilling apologies. I locked eyes with the guy who had accidentally bumped into me, my heart skipped a beat. Someone I had known from the past, memories flooded my mind, taking me back to a time when Hyunjin used to visit our house for my mother’s personal piano lessons.

"Y/N?" he exclaimed, his eyes widening with surprise. "Is that really you?”

I knew I’ll bump into past once I left my house, but out of all people he was unexpected. This moment opened the envelope of the memories I never knew I had.

“Hyunjin, long time no see” I exclaimed.

He hesitated for a moment, “I didn’t expected you here at all, I remember Chan telling me you started college and I thought now you’ll never come back.”

“Well eventually I did visit less than before but I just thought to pass by this year.”

Hyunjin nodded, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Coastal Hangover has a way of pulling people back, doesn't it?" he said with a soft chuckle.

I just replied with a nod, unable to suppress the memories that flooded back.

"So, how have you been?" Hyunjin asked, his eyes searching mine for any hint of what had transpired in the time we were apart.

"I've been good, busy with college and all," I replied, deliberately keeping my answer vague. There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many experiences and emotions that I had been through, but it felt too overwhelming to dive into all of that right now.

Hyunjin seemed to sense my hesitation and didn't press further. Instead, he smiled warmly.

My eyes glanced over to where Felix stood behind the bar, chatting with other customers. A pang of guilt washed over me as I realized I got distracted from the reason I came here in the first place. Hyunjin happened to follow my gaze and chuckle after.

“You were going to get drinks, I guess” he exclaimed catching me off guard.

“Oh no, I mean yes, actually I was invited by him. You know Felix?”

“Everyone in this room knows him” his eyes followed up to the bar, “by the way feel free to get back on your way and you should try the Piña colada, it’s a special here.”

This distance felt miles to cover when I was finally sitting in front of Felix.

"Thanks for the recommendation. I'll definitely give it a try," I replied, hinting my depart.

___

"You finally made it my lady!" Felix's cheerful voice brought me back to the present, and I forced a smile in response.

"Yeah, I couldn't resist the allure of this place, lord Felix" I replied, hoping my voice didn't betray the fluttering feeling in my chest.

He giggled at my reply.

“Now, what can I get for you?” he asked flipping a cocktail spoon between his fingers. That long spoon flipping between his small cylindrical fingers left me an unexpected gulp. I’m amazed by this man being capable of luring my eyes on his every detail.

“A Piña colada, please” I answered.

Felix's playful giggle only added to the charm that surrounded him. He seemed to have an effortless way of making everything feel lighter and more enjoyable.

"Piña colada coming right up," he said with a wink, his fingers gracefully moving as he prepared the drink. I couldn't tear my eyes away as he skillfully combined the ingredients with an elegance.

As he handed me the perfectly mixed Piña colada, I thanked him with a grateful smile. Taking a sip, the sweet and tropical flavors on my taste buds instantly transported me to a paradise. I realized that it’s his specialty because it’s just like him, blonde and sprightly.

"Is it to your liking?" Felix asked, his eyes locked on mine.

"It's amazing," just like you.

A soft blush crept up my cheeks as I caught myself thinking that, but luckily, I managed to keep my thoughts to myself. Felix's gaze intensified, and a faint smile played at the corners of his lips, as if he sensed there was more to my words.

"Well, I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice warm and genuine. "And you know, I have a way of making the perfect Piña colada for someone who appreciates them," he added playfully.

I smiled, feeling at ease in his company. "I believe you. You seem to have a talent for bringing a little bit of paradise into everything you do" I replied, unable to resist a playful remark of my own.

Felix's grin widened, and he gave a small bow in acknowledgment. "I must admit, I try my best to make every moment special, especially for someone as enchanting as you," he said, his compliment wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

The air around us seemed to shimmer and I found myself drawn to Felix in a way I couldn't fully explain. There was something magnetic about him, something that made me want to delve deeper into his world and get to know him beyond the lifeguard on duty.

“Let’s sit outside, what do you think? I don’t think we can chit chat clearly in here” he suggested and I nodded at it. He made me follow out from the back door of the bar so that I won’t get my drink spilled in that crowd.

“So, what else you like besides my Piña colada and this place?” he inquires, pulling a patio chair facing the sea for me. Once I was settled he sat on another chair besides me.

I couldn't help but smile at his question, delighted by his interest in getting to know me better. "Well," I began, "besides your amazing Piña coladas and this enchanting place, I love spending time by the ocean. The sound of waves crashing against the shore and the feel of the sand between my toes always brings me a sense of peace and serenity.”

“I know” his eyes locked with mine again, his lips twitched into a smirk “Anyone can read that, it’s all over you”

The rush of warmth that spread through my chest was undeniable, and it took every ounce of self-control not to show how flustered I was. This feeling was familiar, yet unlike anything I had experienced before. It was as if the past encounters that had made my heart race paled in comparison to the intensity of this moment.

The unexpected pause made us look through each other’s eyes. Ocean breeze gently brushed against my skin, the distant sound of music and laughter from inside the bar now a soothing backdrop to our conversation. The view of the sea was breathtaking, the moon casting a silver glow on the rippling waves. No reality has ever been this entrancing.

"And what about the stars?" Felix asked, gesturing towards the night sky above us. "Do you love stargazing too?"

A soft smile touched my lips as I gazed up at the glittering canopy of stars. "Absolutely," I said. "There's nothing quite like lying under a blanket of stars and feeling the vastness of the universe. It makes me realize how small we are in the grand scheme of things, yet how connected we are to everything around us." I faced back to him only to find his gaze fixated on my expressions.

"What are you doing?" I couldn't help but ask, my curiosity mixed with a touch of pink hue that colored my cheeks.

Felix's gaze remained fixed on my face, his eyes holding a depth that seemed to go beyond mere words. "Star gazing," he replied softly, his voice carrying a sense of wonder as if he had discovered something extraordinary in that simple act. As the seconds ticked by, the intensity of his gaze seemed to draw me in, making it hard to look away. The atmosphere around us shifted, leaving both of us momentarily suspended in time, lost in the weight of the emotions swirling between us.

We were interrupted by a high pitch voice from behind us.

“Felix! How could you? How could you cheat on me like this?” I turned back and saw a much taller girl than me having beautiful tangerine curls with her hands on her waist.

I processed her words before I almost stood up from my chair out of this awkward situation, ready to explain. But Felix groaned turning around.

“Stop Sana, she’s just a friend.” He rolled his eyes, “Y/N before she makes you feel in an awkward situation, I’ll clear it, she’s my older sister. You’re definitely not my partner in cheating.”

Relief washed over me as Felix clarified the situation, and I couldn't help but laugh nervously at the misunderstanding. "Oh, thank goodness," I said, trying to ease the tension.

Sana's expression softened as she giggled. "I'm so sorry," she said, "I just saw you two sitting together, and I jumped to conclusions." Now that I heard her giggling, I can tell she is definitely Felix’s sister.

"It's alright, no harm done," I replied, still feeling a little flustered from the unexpected encounter.

Felix gave his sister a nudge. "You need stop freaking every women around me, This is seriously the third time you did this.”

Sana huffed, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Ok I’m sorry. Well, I won't intrude on you any longer. Carry on, I just came to ask where is the crate of malibu but I think remember now where I left it " she said before walking away.

As she disappeared into the crowd, I turned back to Felix, my heart still racing from the unexpected interruption. "Your sister seems spirited," I said, trying to break the awkward silence that had settled between us.

"Oh, she's definitely spirited," Felix replied with a chuckle. "She can be a handful sometimes."

“I think I got an older brother with same personality as your sister” I smiled at the thought of Chan pulling almost a similar stunt like that.

“You have an older brother? I thought you were a single child or something because you know older siblings always keep an eye on younger ones, like Sana, she thinks she’s a detective. ”

I chuckled at his statement “He is keeping eyes on me through our friend. He tailed Minho on me.” I sighed while sipping the last few sips of my drink.

“Minho? Lee Minho, you mean?”

I watched him confusingly “You know him?”.

“By any chance, are you Chan’s sister?” he inquired, turning on my curiosity.

“Yeah, you know him too?”

He gasped at the coincidence played here “This town is small for sure, but I didn’t expected you to be Chan’s sister. You know it’s been so long that I didn’t see those guys,?” he seemed thrilled.

A surge of curiosity washed over me. "How do you know them?" I asked, eager to unravel this unexpected connection.

Felix leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, they were quite the characters. We were close, but not really much. They always added their own unique flavor to the party scene. But then, you know how life happens. People move on, priorities shift, and our paths just haven't crossed as much in recent years. Also, I remember watching Minho getting dumped by a girl one day; that might be another reason he specifically stopped his visits."

I pursed my lips in a sympathetic expression, realizing that he had vivid memories of even the regular customers. He even remembered the incident with Minho and Missy.

“I never imagined,” he continued with a thoughtful tone, “I never imagined this place could hold bad memories for anyone. But life has its way of weaving unexpected events into our stories. I just wished it wasn't this place for him. He used to come here more than Chan.”

I nodded, realization hitting me. It was dawning on me that this place, which had once been a haven for Minho and held so many memories, had become tainted by negative emotions. It started to despise Minho, and in response, he stopped swinging by like he used to. The weight of that understanding settled on me, mingling with the sounds of the waves crashing nearby and the distant laughter from the bar. It was a bittersweet revelation, a reminder of how the places we hold dear can change along with the circumstances of our lives.

"It's strange how life works," I mused, a hint of melancholy in my voice. "The same places that used to hold happy memories can sometimes become tainted with other emotions."

Felix nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's like the setting remains the same, but the feelings associated with it change over time. Sometimes, even the most familiar places can surprise us."

He cleared his throat, his simple way to change the mood “Anyway, are they both here with you?”

"Minho is here, as I mentioned before and Chan might show up before the month end" I replied.

“Wow, I’m amazed. How come we have mutual people around us from so long but meeting this year for the first time? Sounds like a perfectly orchestrated plot of a book.”

I smiled at his conclusion, “he's adorable," I thought to myself as the night wore on. It seemed like time had flown by, and I could have spent hours more with Felix, lost in his company. But as much as I wanted to stay, I knew it was getting late, and I had to get some rest.

"Well, I should probably head home," I said, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in my voice.

Felix nodded, understanding the practicality of the situation. "Yeah, it's getting late," he agreed. "But I had a great time tonight. Thank you for keeping me company."

"The pleasure was all mine," I replied with a smile. "I had an amazing time too."

As I stood up from the patio chair, Felix did the same. We walked back inside the bar, and I returned the empty glass to the bar counter. Felix leaned against it, his smile still lighting up the room.

"Maybe we can do this again sometime?" he suggested, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I’ll be graced to do this again, lord Felix”. His eyes softening at my adored side, forming our cackling laughter.

It felt as though we existed in our own world, isolated from the bustling crowd and the cacophony of music. In a heartbeat, his hand brushed against my cheek, a gentle touch that sent shivers down my spine. With the tenderness of his touch, he swept aside a tangle of my hair, his gaze locking onto mine with crystal clarity. A playful smirk danced upon his lips as he posed the question with swift curiosity,

"Y/N, what thoughts crossed your mind while I was lost in stargazing you?”

I settled onto the stairs of the porch, the cool evening breeze rustling through the leaves as I anticipated Hoshi's return with the slightly inebriated Minho. Earlier, Hoshi had given me a heads-up, mentioning that Minho was proving to be quite the challenge to handle. It seemed that Minho's adventurous spirit had led him down a merry path of revelry, and Hoshi was now grappling with the task of shepherding him back home. As I gazed out into the night, I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Hoshi's predicament. I had known Minho long enough to understand that when he was in high spirits, he could be a handful, I just wondered how come Hoshi forgot this.

As the minutes stretched into an hour of waiting, I found myself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, replaying the mesmerizing evening I had spent with Felix. Each fleeting touch, every locked gaze that lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and the shared laughter seemed to dance through my mind like a vivid dream. It was as if I had been infused with a rush of sugar, my senses tingling with the intoxicating sweetness of those moments. The evening felt like a delicate flute of champagne, each sip leaving me craving more as time ticked away. I savored every drop, not wanting a single moment to slip through my fingers. But even as I soaked in the memories, an inexplicable yearning tugged at my heart. It was as if the enchanting evening had awakened a hunger in me, a desire for something intangible yet profound. I couldn't quite put my finger on what exactly I longed for—was it his time, his words, the warmth of his smile, or even the mingling scents of fresh lime and the raw embrace of the sea breeze? Perhaps it was none of these individually, but rather the sum of their parts that left me yearning for more. It was a craving for something inconspicuous that ran deeper than the surface, a desire to explore the uncharted territories of emotions that had been stirred within me.

I was brought back to the present by the sight of a blue Benz pulling up in the driveway. A guy in a familiar beige leather jacket stepped out of the car and helped a visibly drunken Minho out of the passenger's seat. Minho leaned on him for support as they made their way closer. But as they approached, I realized something was off—it wasn't Hoshi.

“Hyunjin? What are you doing here?” I blurted out, surprise evident in my voice.

“No Y/N call him daddy!” Minho shouted before passing out on his shoulder.

Hyunjin started shaking his head making a sign of discomfort “He’s heavy Y/N, let’s just lay him down first.” he pleaded.

I understood the emergency, immediately pushing the front door open and guiding him to the couch in the living room. He plopped Minho on the couch and I removed his shoes, slowly pulling up a blanket on him. We both sighed as if we just tugged in a toddler to sleep.

I finally burst into laughter at Minho's drunken comment, shaking my head in amusement. "Oh Minho, you never fail to surprise, even in this state," I mused, giving Hyunjin an amused smile.

I can never understand what goes in Minho’s mind that he can blabber shit even when he’s drunk or sober, sometimes he seems crystal clear from the inside and out.

Hyunjin chuckled, looking both amused and exasperated at Minho's antics. "Yeah, he's a handful, that's for sure."

I looked up to Hyunjin “I thought Hoshi will be the one delivering this package” I pointed toward Minho.

“Yeah apparently Hoshi was the original delivery guy but his girlfriend threatened him to reach back home as soon as possible, so this package was tagged on” he replied with a mocking disappointing expression.

I chuckled at the unexpected twist. "Well, it seems like Hoshi's got his hands full with his girlfriend. I hope he survives her wrath."

Hyunjin nodded, a wry smile on his face. "Oh, he will. Hoshi has a way of sweet-talking himself out of situations. He's like a modern-day Casanova."

"That's quite the reputation," I said, shaking my head in amusement. "But hey, at least you stepped in to save the day. Minho owes you one."

Hyunjin grinned. "Oh, he owes me more than one. This won't be forgotten easily."

The night had crept in, the clock ticking past 2 am, as Hyunjin and I remained seated in the very spot where I had been waiting for Minho to arrive earlier. It was a strange feeling again, just like the time had folded back on itself, bringing us full circle. Our conversation flowed seamlessly, weaving between topics ranging from his career to the nostalgia of the summers he spent in this house learning to play the piano from my mother. It was a trip down memory lane, reminiscing about shared experiences and the passage of time.

All of sudden Minho blabbered in sleep and we let go the laugh we’ve been holding through this conversation.

___

As the conversation continued, I found myself drawn into the familiarity and comfort that had always marked our interactions. We had started as friends, bonding over summers and laughter, and as the years went by, our connection had deepened. Until a time came when one of us fell for the other.

"How did you manage to make it to Wooyoung's party when we only met this evening at the club?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. He chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "You know, I tend to get my fair share of party invitations quite frequently. Just happened to juggle both events tonight," he shrugged as if it were a regular occurrence to be invited to multiple parties in a day.

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his response. "Seems like you're quite the party-goer, then." He grinned, his gaze meeting mine. "Well, I do enjoy a good party every now and then. Keeps life interesting, you know. Also, sometimes my band is asked to perform too” I found myself comparing him to Minho for a moment, thinking about how even Minho, who is very known for his social outings, had never faced the predicament of two clashing parties in a single day during summer.

"By the way, I thought you wouldn't come back here since you've never been for the last five years," Hyunjin asked, his tone shifting to a more serious note. His question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I found myself lost in thought. The night was quiet except for the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind. It was as if the weight of his question had settled over us, making our conversation take on a deeper and more contemplative tone. I had assumed that 2 am conversations were typically reserved for sensitive topics in digital chats, but here we were, delving into a meaningful exchange face to face.

I felt a lump forming in my throat as I grappled with how to respond. His question brought back memories that I had long buried, memories of a time when feelings were raw and emotions ran deep.

I looked into his eyes, searching for understanding, and then finally spoke up. "Hyunjin, it's not about you," I said, my voice steady but carrying a hint of vulnerability. "It's about... a lot of things. A lot happened in those years, and it wasn't just one reason that kept me away." His gaze remained locked on mine, and I could see a mixture of emotions in his eyes. Perhaps he still carried the weight of how he had confessed his feelings to me all those years ago, and how I seemed to have vanished in response.

"You disappeared without a trace," he said softly, his voice tinged with a touch of hurt. I nodded, my gaze dropping for a moment before meeting his again. "I know, and I'm sorry for that. I didn't handle things well back then." We sat there in the midst of the night, the words hanging in the air between us. It was a conversation that had been long overdue, a conversation that required honesty and vulnerability.

Hyunjin sighed, his expression softening. "It's okay, don't feel sorry," he said, his voice gentle. "To be honest, I was too immature for that timing. I should have understood that those days were too precarious to be handled by you alone, and then I threw my feelings into the mix, only making things even more confusing.”

His words held a weight of understanding and self-awareness. I appreciated his honesty and his ability to reflect on the past, recognizing the complexities that had shaped our interactions.

Hyunjin's hand traced upon mine, his touch offering comfort. "No need to apologize," he said sincerely.

"Y/N, you might not know this, but I've been waiting to have this conversation for the past five years," he said, his gaze fixed on mine. The sincerity in his eyes was palpable. "I always imagined hugging you the moment I saw you again, but when I saw you at Coastal Hangover today, I couldn't do it. I was too shocked to process it at first, wondering if… it could be a dream.”

His words held a raw vulnerability, and I could feel the depth of his emotions.

“We both might have moved on from the past to here, at this moment and we both might be changed but my feelings had always been constant for you and it will always be the same.”

Till now I always thought that Hyunjin confessed to me five years ago so that he can pull some pain off my chest, and that thought back then made me stop having feelings for him, he wasn't the only immature. I didn't wanted him to tell me that he likes me so that I can be happy again, forgetting the sorrows of the funeral day.

But today, as we sat together in the quiet stillness of the night, the truth struck me like a bolt of lightning. Hyunjin's feelings for me had existed long before than that confession, long before I had even considered the possibility of falling for him. The realization hit me like a tidal wave – he had been in love with me long before I had even realized my own feelings for him.

The next morning found my self staring outside the window seated in the kitchen, nursing a cup of dark roasted coffee in an attempt to stave off the exhaustion that threatened to consume me. Sleep had eluded me, the events of the previous evening replaying in my mind like a persistent melody. It was astounding how two individuals could leave such a profound impact on me within the span of a single night.

Felix's words lingered in my thoughts, his observations about the emotions that danced across my face as he watched me stargaze. His directness, or rather his unspoken understanding, had caught me off guard. And then there was Hyunjin, bravely laying bare the sentiments he had harbored for years, as if he had been waiting for the perfect moment to unravel his emotions.

The tranquility that had enveloped me just the day before seemed to have been swept away by an unexpected tide. The little castle of calm I had built around myself was suddenly exposed, vulnerable to the crashing waves of emotions that now surged within me. The events of the previous evening had changed the course of my thoughts and feelings, and I knew that moving forward, I couldn't remain stagnant in the safety of my castle. The wave of change had arrived, and it was up to me to navigate its unpredictable currents.

My thoughts were interrupted by a yawn, and I turned to see Minho shuffling into the kitchen, scratching his head. Still clad in his clothes from the night before, he plopped down next to me and absently reached for my cup, taking a sip without much thought. The taste seemed to catch him off guard, and he made a comically disgusted expression, setting the cup back down as if it had betrayed him.

"Oh, what did I just drink? Is this an attempt at homemade poison or what?" Minho exclaimed, his face contorted in a mix of disgust and mock horror.

I chuckled at his dramatic reaction and took another sip from my cup, letting the warm liquid soothe my thoughts. As Minho continued to process the morning after the previous night's escapades, he suddenly groaned and smacked his head on the table. It was a typical Minho move, a clear sign of his frustration when something didn't quite go his way.

"I saw Missy last night," Minho began, and I had a feeling that his encounter with her had led to some interesting developments.

His statement barely registered with me, my mind still occupied with my own thoughts.

"She kissed me," he continued, his frustration evident as he pulled at his hair.

The words hit me like a sudden jolt, and I had to suppress the urge to spit out my coffee. Instead, I ended up choking on it, a fit of coughing overtaking me. Once I managed to regain my composure, I stared at Minho in disbelief, my expression a clear mirror of the "what?" that was on the tip of my tongue.

Minho's revelation immediately swept away all the thoughts that had been clouding my mind since morning.

"I don’t know how it happened," Minho continued, his frustration palpable in every word. "I wasn't even that drunk, but I vividly remember it. And... and she just kissed me after telling me how she missed me and all. I can't remember anything except this, Ughh!" he whined.

His words hung heavy in the air, and I watched as Minho paced back and forth, clearly agitated, as if the act of walking could somehow help him piece together the events of the previous night.

Sensing Minho's escalating emotions, I quickly moved to steady him. Gently, I guided him back into the chair and began to rub his arms in a soothing manner, hoping to help him regain his composure. He rested his head on his hands, clearly trying to collect himself and find some sense of calm amidst the confusion and frustration that had consumed him.

I offered him a reassuring smile, hoping to provide some comfort amidst his turmoil. "It's alright, Minho. Sometimes things like this happen out of the blue. Maybe it was just a momentary impulse on her part. You've come a long way from any feelings you had for her, so don't let this shake you too much.”

“Yeah I know, I just hope I don’t see her again. Ugh… It’s too much for attending just one party, it might been just better if I joined you instead of going that party” he exclaimed.

My response was a sympathetic pursing of my lips as I listened to his predicament.

Curiosity flickered across his face as he continued, "By the way, how did I manage to get home? I can vaguely remember Hoshi leaving the party early."

I thought back to the events of the previous night, the memories replayed in my mind before I answered him, "Hyunjin actually dropped you off last night."

As I shared this detail, I could see a mix of emotions crossing his face – surprise, confusion, and perhaps a touch of realization as well. The shock mirrored the surprise I had experienced when I first learned about the kiss.

"Y/N, do you think we're like some sort of cosmic magnet for strange events? How is it that all these bizarre things keep happening to us simultaneously?" he asked, a perplexed expression on his face.

"It wasn't exactly bizarre," I replied, feeling a bit unsure about sharing the details of that tumultuous night.

"What do you mean? Are you going to tell me what happened?" he inquired, his eyes wide with curiosity.

I recounted the entire conversation I had with Hyunjin the previous night. As I shared the details, I couldn't help but notice the shifting expressions on Minho's face.

"He's still in love with you?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

I marveled at how his mind seemed to process my words, eventually leading to that question, especially after his attentive silence throughout my narration.

I responded with a simple nod, feeling the weight of the recent events settling upon us both. The exhaustion of the previous night's revelations and the morning's unexpected surprises had left us in a state of subdued silence.

Breaking the quietude, Minho let out a sigh before posing a question, his gaze fixed on my coffee cup. "Did you feel anything about him last night?" he inquired.

"No," I answered succinctly, struggling to put into words the complex mix of emotions I had experienced. It wasn't just a lack of feeling; it was a tangle of guilt, regrets from my teenage years, and the weight of someone's unspoken emotions that I had carried unknowingly.

"Alright then, let's just leave last night behind us. It's in the past now. Let's imagine ourselves as fresh, glistening mangos after a refreshing rain shower. We have a new day ahead of us!" Minho exclaimed as he stood up from his chair.

It was ironic to hear him use that metaphor, considering his disheveled appearance and the lingering scent of alcohol, while I sat there sipping my black coffee, attempting to shake off the weariness and fatigue.

"Let's go for surfing? What do you think?" Minho exclaimed, instantly shifting the atmosphere in the room.

Minho had a knack for combating negativity by throwing himself into various activities. He had an adventurous spirit, always eager to try new things, even though his swimming skills were rather lacking. Whether it was surfing or a game of volleyball, he'd dive in without hesitation.

I got up, pushing myself to set the cup aside and clean it. "Just a reminder, you don't know how to swim," I cautioned, raising an eyebrow.

He waved off my concern with a grin. "Oh, come on! You're there to save me, honey. You're my lifeguard," he said with his usual playfulness.

As he spoke, my mind drifted back to my initial encounter with Felix. His words lingered in my thoughts: "I have to keep you safe."

My reverie was abruptly broken when Minho flung his leather jacket onto my face. I went from being lost in my thoughts to feeling slightly disgusted by the scent of alcohol that clung to the jacket.

"Put that in the laundry for me," he laughed, clearly enjoying his perfect shot.

An unexpected surge of annoyance made me stretch my arm to toss the jacket back at him, but he darted out of the room too swiftly, narrowly avoiding my aim.

"Minho, I swear if you do this again, you'll be dead," I shouted after him, my voice laced with irritation.

The sun cast a warm and golden glow over the beach as Minho and I made our way to the shoreline, surfboards in tow. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore created a soothing backdrop to the excitement bubbling within us. The salty breeze tousled our hair as we approached the water's edge.

His mocking laughter echoed in reply, a mix of exasperation and amusement filling the air.

___

"Ready for this, Minho?" I grinned, my eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Minho shot me a confident smile, despite the slight nervous flutter in his stomach. "Absolutely. Let's catch some waves."

We laid our surfboards down on the sand, waxing them to ensure a smooth glide through the water. As we strapped on our leashes, Minho couldn't help but admire the vibrant expanse of the ocean before us. The waves rolled in with a steady rhythm, beckoning us to ride their crests.

"Remember, Minho, the key to surfing is balance and timing," I advised, my voice carrying the wisdom of someone who had spent plenty of time in the water.

Nodding, he watched as I demonstrated how to paddle efficiently and catch a wave. With practiced ease, I mounted my board and paddled out to where the waves were forming. He followed suit, feeling a mixture of determination and excitement coursing through him.

Positioning ourselves on the board, Minho paddled, matching my rhythm. My heart raced as we spotted a promising swell approaching. I felt a surge of adrenaline as I pushed up onto my feet, the board responding to the movements. For a moment, I was riding the crest of the wave, the salty spray misting my face.

The sensation was exhilarating, a perfect blend of freedom and connection with the ocean. I got a glimpse of the wave carried Minho closer to the shore, he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. As the wave dissipated, he hopped off the board and waded back with me.

My applause and wide smile greeted him. "Nice one, Minho! You've got the hang of it."

He laughed, the rush of the wave still coursing through his veins. "That was incredible. Let's do it again!"

Minho grinned like a thrilled kid on his first water slide as he emerged from the water after another successful ride. The exhilaration was painted across his face, a mixture of adrenaline and pure joy. He couldn't believe how addictive this newfound experience had become in such a short time.

"Are you sure you don't want to ride another one, Y/N?" he asked, his voice still brimming with excitement.

After a plenty of my water stunts I chuckled, adjusting the teal swim skirt around my waist. The vibrant colors of my bikini ensemble caught the sunlight, creating a playful contrast against the sparkling sea. "I'll take a break for now and enjoy the view."

I settled down on the warm sand, leaning back on my palms as I watched the waves roll in and out. The gentle breeze toyed with strands of my hair, and the rhythmic sound of the ocean provided a soothing backdrop. As Minho headed back into the water, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over me.

The sun's rays kissed my skin, and I closed my eyes momentarily, embracing the tranquility of the moment. With the passing day before us, I allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts. The sound of Minho's laughter as he caught another wave brought a smile to my lips. It was moments like these that made life feel truly beautiful.

“What thoughts crossed your mind while I was lost in stargazing you?” Felix's voice echoed in my mind.

As the waves continued their rhythmic dance and the gentle breeze lingered on my bare skin, I found myself lost in a moment of introspection. The events of the past night and the day's escapades had finally settled into a quiet lull. With each crashing wave, I felt a sense of calm washing over me, allowing me to reflect on the whirlwind of emotions that had enveloped me.

This place, with its sun-soaked sands and crystal-clear waters, had become a canvas for a new chapter of memories to unfold. The old recollections, once etched into my heart, were now intertwining with the new experiences, creating a tapestry of emotions that were both familiar and unknown. And in the midst of it all, there he was – Felix, his vibrant presence captured in the polaroids of my mind.

I remembered his gaze as he looked at me under the starlit sky, his curiosity evident in his eyes. In that moment, as I met his gaze and felt the warmth of his smile, a mixture of numbness out of getting caught off guard and nervousness had surged within me. But regardless those feelings, I still wanted that ‘something more’ I craved for.

By the time any other notion could cross my mind, a loud scream made me plop up from the sand bed, instantly recognizing the high pitch of Minho. I searched my gaze, finally finding the turned surfing board floating on surface without it’s owner.

"Oh, fuck!" The rush of fear surged through my veins, the moment I scanned Minho's body floating aimlessly in the water. Without a second thought, I sprinted towards the sea, diving in with all my might. My heart pounded in my chest as I swam towards his turned surfing board, desperately trying to cut through the water. My mind was laser-focused on one thing: reaching him before it was too late.

Under the surface, I spotted the leg leash tangled around Minho's body. Panic gripped me, and I immediately attempted to pull him up towards the surface. But the water resisted my efforts, making every movement seem like a struggle against an unyielding force. As I fought to maintain my grip on him, I realized that my actions were only causing us to sink deeper into the water when I felt no touch of surface above my head.

I clenched my teeth and summoned every ounce of strength in my body, but it felt as though the water was determined to keep us submerged. The air in my lungs dwindled, and a sense of desperation took over. The slowly vanishing feel of air in my lungs shot a swift dizziness in my head.

Just as I was reaching my limits, I felt an arm slip around my waist, pulling me upwards. The last sight my eyes saw was the hue of blue and greens of the undersea. Gasping for air, I broke through the surface, my body instinctively kicking to keep afloat. The arm remained wrapped around me, and I leaned against the chest of my savior to catch my breath.

"Are you alright?" Felix's voice cut through the chaos, his own breathing labored.

I turned my head to meet his gaze, his blonde hair glistening in the sunlight. But there was no time for admiration or contemplation. My focus was solely on Minho.

"Minho! I have to get him," I exclaimed urgently, determined to plunge back into the water. However, Felix's grip tightened, preventing me from moving.

"Wait, Y/N! Wait," he urged, pointing towards the shore. My gaze followed his gesture, and relief washed over me as I spotted a figure on the beach, dragging Minho onto a mat. My breaths came in ragged bursts as Felix guided us towards the shore, the waves now a gentle lull compared to the chaotic struggle that had just occurred beneath the surface.

Awareness suddenly flooded over me, and I became acutely conscious of how close I was to Felix. Just moments ago, I had been thrashing in the water, struggling to save Minho, and now I found myself tightly held against Felix's body, his arm securely wrapped around my waist. The contrast between those two moments was staggering, and a rush of conflicting emotions coursed through me.

His touch, once an urgent lifeline, now felt oddly intimate, his fingers firmly gripping my waist as if he could shield me from the sea's treacherous depths. I couldn't ignore the rapid thud of his heart against my back, each beat echoing the adrenaline-fueled chaos we had just emerged from. At first, his closeness sent a shiver down my spine, but gradually, the rhythm of his heart and the gentle rise and fall of his chest began to soothe me.

His breath, warm and unsteady, brushed against the nape of my neck, leaving a trail of comfort in its wake. It was as if our bodies had synchronized, the sea's turmoil now mirroring the calm rhythm of our shared breaths. In that suspended moment, I found myself wondering if he felt the same chaotic blend of emotions that I did.

The crashing waves, once a menacing force, now seemed distant and hushed, as if the world had been muted around us. My gaze flickered to his eyes, his expression unreadable yet strangely comforting. Was he experiencing the same mingling of sensations as I was? Could he sense the sudden shift in the air?

"Thank you, Felix," I said softly as we made our way back to the shore, the tension of the moment slowly dissipating.

His gaze, once fixed on the receding waves, shifted to meet mine. There was an intensity in his eyes, a mixture of relief and concern that seemed to transcend the words he was about to speak. His eyes wandered over my face, as if searching for reassurance that I was indeed safe and sound, as if he couldn't quite believe I was standing there beside him.

For a moment, I felt his fear of loss, his worries etched onto his features. It was as if he was holding on to this moment, desperate to capture every detail, as if he feared that blinking for just a second might cause me to disappear. His eyes traced the contours of my face, lingered on my lips, before finally returning to meet my gaze. And then, he spoke.

"Y/N," he began, his voice carrying a weight of emotion, "I know I have to keep you safe. At all costs."

His words hung in the air, carrying a depth of meaning that went beyond the surface. It was as if he was admitting something profound, a truth that he had held close for a long time. The sincerity in his voice and the vulnerability in his gaze made my heart skip a beat. In that moment, his words weren't just about the events of today – they held a significance that reached much further, into the unspoken moments between us, into the uncharted territory of our feelings.

I didn't know how to respond, how to convey the whirlwind of emotions that his words had stirred within me. So, I simply nodded, letting my eyes meet his in a silent acknowledgment of the connection we had. It was a connection that transcended words, a bond that had been deepened by the shared experience of facing the unpredictable together. And as we stood there, gazing at each other, I felt a warmth spread through me, as if the sun had found its way into my heart.

The closeness of our bodies, the desperation of catching our own breath, latching on each other in this water and some simple words, all of this might be counted as the ‘Something more’ I want from him. Let me rephrase, all of this is the ‘Something more’ I need from him.

Next chapter coming soon.

Please let me know your thoughts, anything you liked or disliked. Just anything, It will bring me a lot courage to write more :)

Also, comment if you'd like me to create a taglist and add you in.

#felix x reader #felix smut #felix fluff #skz fluff #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz smut #fluff #bang chan #lee felix #lee minho #lee know #i.n #han jisung #hyunjin #skz seungmin #changbin

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writing-forever · 1 year

Text

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

Boo! I come out of the blue to give you Star’s first day at the daycare.

Note: Star is using she/her pronouns in this one. But only because they’re 5 years old and don’t know what nonbinary is yet.

No tws for this one

Tag list: @jakersdaboss @miss-night @lets-zofifi-stuff

Star didn’t really like loud noises, or bright lights, or new people. So it was no surprise that as she stood in front of the daycare doors, after walking through the loudest, most colorful mall ever, she started bawling.

Her mother, Esperanza, leaned down to comfort her, wrapping her in a hug. “Don’t worry baby. I’ll be back to pick you up before dinner time, ok?”

Star shook her head. “I want you to stay!” She cried. “It’s scary here.”

Her mother sighed. Picking her up so she could look through the daycare window. “How about we pick someone safe for you to talk to first? That way you won’t be overwhelmed.”

Star rubbed her eyes. “O-ok.” She said, hiccuping slightly from how she’d been crying.

She glanced at the window, looking for a kid who looked nice. But she couldn’t focus on any one child for long. There were just too many. She couldn’t count them all. After a few seconds of looking over the kids, Star shifted her focus to look for adults instead. But to her surprise, she couldn’t see any. “Where are all the grown-ups?” Star said panicking slightly. Who was taking care of all these kids? Who was gonna take care of her? Was she gonna be stuck here all alone?!

Her mother simply smiled gently. “Don’t worry. This place has something even cooler than grown-ups.” She pointed to a corner of the daycare, where Star could just barely see a lanky yellow figure sitting at one of the craft tables with a couple of kids. It was really tall, and its face was surrounded by little triangles that made it look like one of those smiling suns that you would find in children’s coloring books. It certainly didn't look human.

She squinted at it. “Is that a robot?” she asked.

Her mother hummed affirmatively. “He sure is.”

Star peered at him curiously through the glass. “Can I say hi to him first?”

Her mother nodded. “That sounds like a great idea.” she set Star back down in front of the daycare doors. “You ready to go in?” she asked, swiping her daycare pass on the reader beside the door.

Star hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“Do you want me to stay with you for a few minutes?”

Star thought about that. On one hand, she really didn't want to be in this new place alone. But on the other hand, she had already kept her mother for long enough, she would probably end up late for work if she stayed any longer.

“I’ll be ok.” She said after a moment. Her mother opened the door for her and gave her one last hug before sending her through the wooden double doors. The doors closed with a heavy thunk behind her leaving her alone in a sea of strangers.

Star looked around searching for the yellow robot she’d seen. He had finished his craft activity and was now alone at the table, cleaning up. She walked over to him timidly, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

He didn’t look at her and she had to gather her courage to say “Hi.” The word was little more than a squeak but the robot heard it, finally turning toward her.

“Why hello, new friend. I don’t think I’ve ever met you before. Is this your first time here?” He asked. His voice was bright and bubbly, but it was also calm enough that Star wasn’t unnerved by it.

Star nodded. Not saying anything quite yet.

Sun smiled, or well, he looked like he couldn’t do anything other than smile, but his body language showed he was excited to meet her. “I hope you like it here so far. What’s your name?”

Star shuffled her feet and gave him her name.

“That’s such a pretty name. You can call me Sun. Or Sundrop, or Sunny, or any other nickname you can think of!”

Star faltered at his enthusiasm. Although she supposed it made sense that a robot named Sun would be so sunny. “I think I’ll just stick to Sun.” Star said.

Sun nodded. “That’s a-ok. Do you like it here so far?”

Star looked down. “It’s ok I guess. It’s really bright, and loud. Hurts my head.” She didn’t know what she expected Sun to do about that. But she wanted to tell him anyway.

Sun covered his mouth with his hands, humming in thought. “Do you want to go to the quiet corner?” He asked.

Star tilted her head. “There’s a quiet corner?”

Sun nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, it’s also the naptime area. But I like to let kids rest in there if they need it."

Star hummed. "Where is it?"

Sun waved his hand. "Follow me he said, leading Star toward a corner that was filled with blankets, pillows, and other similarly soft things. It looked kind of like a blanket fort. Cozy, dim, quiet. Star sat down in the middle of it all, fidgeting with the edge of one of the blankets. "Can you stay?"

Sun covered his eternal smile with his hands. “I wish I could little star. But there are lots more little ones who need my attention." He uncovered his smile and touched his pinky to his forehead then flicked it away. “How about this?" He pulled something from his pocket and pushed it into Star’s hands. “It’s a little me plushie. That way you won't miss me too much.” He handed her a little yellow candy as well. “And here’s something to make you feel better!”

Star hugged the plushie to her chest and popped the candy in her mouth. It tasted like a batch of lemonade that someone had put way too much sugar in. “Thank you.” She muttered.

Sun nodded and then his attention was pulled away from her as two kids started fighting, causing a ruckus.

Star sat back against the pillows, running her hands over the soft texture of the Sun plush as she sucked on her lemon candy. The rays were crinkly, she liked that.

Star found she had a lot more energy after she finished her candy. She was still scared to leave but now she was having trouble sitting still. She ended up wandering over to the only empty corner. There was a shelf there that was empty save for a single box.

She pulled the box off the shelf, smiling when she opened it to find an assortment of legos. Her favorite, probably because really liked to make things, usually things that moved. Legos were perfect for that.

Star fiddled with the blocks for a bit not trying to make anything in particular. She ended up with a little car that would be able to move on its own if she had any rubber bands. She thought for a moment before taking her hair out of the low ponytail it had been in, letting it hang around her shoulders. She wrapped the tie around a mechanism on the bottom of the car before putting the whole thing on the floor, pulling it back, and letting go. It shot forward, bumping into the Lego box and flipping over.

Star heard someone clapping behind her. She turned, slightly started, to see Sun, praising her for her haphazardly thrown-together toy. "That was so cool! Glad to see you're feeling better!" He tapped his fingers to his mouth. "Do you want a snack? It's snack time!"

Star hummed, despite the candy giving her energy, it didn't actually fill her up. She nodded and Sun held out his hands, a silent request to pick her up. She shook her head at that and Sun shrugged, letting her follow him to the tables instead. The rest of the children were already there. It seemed Star was the last to know it was snack time.

She didn't really mind other than the fact that now she had to sit between two kids she didn't know. She just ignored them as Sun left to grab everyone’s snacks. She wasn't interested in making friends at the moment anyway. Maybe tomorrow.

Eventually, Sun came back and wiped all the kid's hands with wet wipes before giving each of them a Glamrock-themed Lunchable (Star’s was Sun-themed), along with some sort of fruit and a juice box.

As soon as Sun left Star grimaced. She didn't like lunchables. They always had weird textures. This one was the one where you could make ham and cheese sandwiches out of crackers. It came with an Oreo. Star sighed. She guessed the crackers and cookie were ok. She wasn't gonna touch the other stuff though.

She nibbled on her food and nearly finished her juice-box before snack time ended. She noticed it hadn't lasted very long. Maybe this one had started late or something. She quickly finished her juice-box as Sun came over to clean up the tables.

Once everything was clean Sun waved his hands above his head, raising his voice in order to get everyone's attention. "Do you all know what time it is?"

One kid raised their hand. "The end of snack time?"

Sun laughed. “Technically true. But not what I meant. I meant it’s time to say hello to Moon.”

There were scattered groans and a few replies of “I’m not tired.”

Sun wagged his finger. “Well that's not very nice to Moon now is it? He's been waiting to see you all, all day.”

Most of the kids who had complained said sorry and Sun looked satisfied with that. “Now, Moon seems to be sleeping right now. Do you all know how to wake him up?”

Another smattering of responses, most of them something along the lines of “Turn out the lights!” Or “Wake up Moon!”

Sun laughed. “That’s exactly right!” He said, clapping his hands. “But first we all have to be in the nap area, follow me little sunbeams!”

He led them all to the quiet corner, letting them settle down before shaking the bells on his wrists to grab everyone’s attention.

Star didn’t really like that sound, but she didn’t say anything about it.

“Are we ready to wake Moon, little sunbeams? Do you all know what to say?”

Only about half the kids knew what to say. “Wake up, Moon!” They yelled excitedly.

Sun nodded. “Now everyone together, on the count of three. One, two, three!”

“WAKE UP MOON!”

Star said it too, but didn’t yell like the rest of the kids seemed so fond of doing. And then she was blind. The lights had gone out.

She heard the clicking of grinding gears and then silence for a second as her vision adjusted slightly.

She saw red eyes.

Star stifled a sound of fear, although she did hear a couple of scared gasps from other children. She did make a sound a second later as the ceiling started glowing with stars and clouds. The previously red eyes shifted to a deep soft blue as the person they belonged to was illuminated by glow-in-the-dark stars.

“Hello, little nightlights,” Moon said. His voice was soft, calming. He sounded like he'd be good at singing lullabies.

Some of the kids said ‘Hello’ back. Star guessed those were the ones who had been here before. She noticed there weren’t very many.

“Were all my precious nightlights nice to Sunny today?” Moni asked. He was crouched low to the ground now, almost eye level with the children.

There was a chorus of yeses.

“Good, no naughty children today. How many of you aren’t tired? Not even the slightest bit sleepy.”

Everyone’s hands went up. Star raised hers hesitantly.

Moon chuckled. “I see nobody played very hard today. That’s just as well, makes it easier for Sunny.” He pulled out a handful of dark blue candies. “As a treat for being so nice to Sun, each of you can have a Moondrop.” He said, tilting his faceplate. “But only after you lay down.”

Kids rushed to find their friends and lay next to them, some even going the extra mile and pretending they were already asleep.

Star found a little beanbag that she made her own, huddling into it with a blanket she had found on the way there. Moon went around and handed each kid a Moondrop.

Star took hers with a thank you, popping the gummy candy into her mouth. It tasted like blue raspberry, but had an aftertaste like medicine. She ignored it. She was suddenly much too tired to worry about that anyway. She curled up on the beanbag she had chosen as a sleeping spot, closing her eyes as a soft song started playing. She didn’t bother checking where it came from, she was already fast asleep.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Star woke up to a pounding in her head. She whimpered, opening her eyes and seeing stars. Glow-in-the-dark stars. Where was she again? She sat up, looking around. Jungle gym, ball pit, aforementioned glowing stars…

The new daycare. She remembered now. She kind of wished she hadn’t, all this thinking was making her head hurt all the more.

She heard a voice behind her. “What are you doing awake little star? It’s past your bedtime.”

Star turned abruptly, sucking in a breath through her teeth when that sent spikes of pain through her head. Moon crouched next to her. His ever-present smile was kinda creepy in the dim light, but any unease Star may have felt about that was washed away with Moon’s next words.

“Are you ok, little star?” He looked her up and down, eyes glowing a little brighter for a second. “You have a temperature.” He said.

Star groaned. “Head hurts.” She told him helpfully.

Moon hummed. “Sun, how long ago did you give this child a sundrop?” He said. It didn’t sound like he was talking to Star anymore. He was silent for a second before making a frustrated sound. “That’s too close to naptime. We’ve talked about this.” Another pause. Moons huffed. You better be.” He said, finally turning his attention back to Star. She had her hands to her temples, trying to ease some of the pain.

Moon sighed. “Do you think you could get back to sleep?” He asked.

Star tapped her thumb to her index and middle finger, the sign for no. She knew plenty of simple signs for when she was having trouble talking.

Moon hummed. “Do you want a cold cloth?”

Star nodded with a mumbling hum of affirmation and Moon left for a couple minutes, coming back with an ice pack wrapped in a washcloth.

Star took it in one hand and pressed it to her head, sighing as the icy cold soothed her headache. She reached her free hand, making grabby hands at Moon. He was made of metal, and metal was usually cold. Cold cuddles sounded really nice right about now.

Moon obliged, taking Star into his arms and letting her lay in his lap and wrap her arms around his waist. He kept the cold cloth pressed against her head as his music box started up.

Star pressed her ear against Moon’s chassis. She knew this song. She hummed faintly as Moon sang along softly.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are.

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are.”

By the time the music box its last notes, Star has fallen back to sleep.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The next time Star woke up Moon was nowhere in sight. She has been placed back on her beanbag and tucked in. Her head didn’t hurt anymore and she might’ve thought the whole thing had been a dream if not for the now warm cold cloth that was lying next to her.

Star looked around. The lights were on again, but they must not have been on for long because Star was far from the last person to wake up. She could see 5 or six other kids who were still tucked in and snoring. As for the rest of the kids, Star could hear them playing and laughing and running around chasing each other. She saw one kid touch another and yell “TAG!” Before booting in the opposite direction.

Star laughed. So that’s what was going on. She got up from her place in the quiet corner. She wanted to play too. Maybe she could get Sun!

She tried to stay in the vicinity of whoever was it, hoping they’d notice her. She also kept a close eye on Sun, so when she did get tagged she’d be able to run straight for him.

Right now Sun was hiding behind one of the play structures with a couple of other kids. It was a straight shot if Star reached through the bars.

She just has to get tagged first.

She stepped a little closer to the kid who was currently it. A little boy who wasn’t very fast and looked like he wanted his turn at being it to be over already. “If you tag me, I could get Sun.” Star whispered, hoping Sun couldn’t hear her. The boy turned to look at her before smiling and nodding. He gave Star a high five and Star was already running before he could finish saying tag.

She made it to the play structure in record time, reaching through the bars to touch Sun early on the chest. “TAG!” She declared.

Sun gasped in surprise before looking down at the two kids who had been hiding with him. They shrieked and ran, laughing all the while.

Star ran too. She didn’t know if Sun allowed tag-backs and she wasn’t about to find out.

Sun stated it for a suspiciously long time, often getting almost close enough to tag a kid before letting them slip just out of his grasp. He did eventually tag someone, Star noticed it was someone who hadn't been tagged yet, and the game continued. Although Sun got tagged way more often than anyone else.

Star got tagged a couple of times too, but not on purpose anymore. She didn't go for Sun when she did, instead trying to get the number of kids that always seemed to be using him as a shield of some sort. He was, after all, the most popular person to tag, and if you were close enough to reach the people around him you might as well just tag him directly.

But Star had already tagged Sun, so instead they would only pretend to tag him before switching targets last minute to be of the kids beside him. It worked every time.

Eventually most kids got tired of running around and went to play quieter games by themselves, or in small groups. Star ended up drawing with a couple of other kids. She did a few doodles, huffing and crumpling up the paper when they all ended up lopsided.

She looked around at what everyone else was drawing and noticed that one kid had about ten drawings of Sundrop on their paper already. That looked like fun. Star rapped her pencil on the table to get their attention. “I bet I could draw Sun better than you.” She challenged.

The other kid looked up, shaking their head. “No way. You can't.” They peered at Star. “But what are you betting?”

Star hummed. She hadn’t meant to actually bet anything. She held up her wrist showing off a rainbow bead bracelet. “How about this?”

Star’s opponent nodded and Star placed the bracelet between them. “Who decides who wins?” Star asked.

Her opponent poked a little boy who was sitting right next to them. “Can you be the judge?”

The boy nodded. “Can I choose a challenge?”

Star nodded, wondering what he meant by that.

“You guys can’t make him a robot. That’s my challenge.” The boy said.

Star nodded. “Oh ok, that’s easy.” She grabbed a new paper and so did her opponent. “Onetwothreego.” She said quickly and they both began scribbling.

Star, thinking of the candy she had eaten earlier, decided to make a Candy Sun. With candy corn rays and sundrop eyes. She finished first, handing her drawing to the judge.

The judge muttered and wrote something on his paper that looked to Star like gibberish. Her opponent finished their drawing soon after. And the judge did some more humming and writing.

Eventually he passed both drawings back to their respective owners. “She won.” He said simply, pointing to Star.

Star’s opponent gasped. “That’s not fair.” They said, reaching across the table and snatching Star’s drawing. Star, in turn, took that opportunity to see what they had drawn.

They had taken a different approach. Making Sun human, sort of. They’d given him fluffy blond hair and a wiry tail with a tuft of fur at the end. They had written the word “little” in a corner with an arrow pointing to Sun. It looked like the word had been misspelled and rewritten multiple times.

Star’s opponent sighed and passed her drawing back. “I guess yours is better.”

Star smiled. “Yours is pretty good too.” She said. She gave the drawing back, and with it the rainbow bracelet. “Here you can have this. Even though you didn’t win. I can make another one later anyway.”

Star’s opponent grinned as they slipped the bracelet onto their wrist. “I could make you one.” They looked for Sun. “Sunny! Can we make friendship bracelets?” They yelled.

Sun looked over. “Of course.” He said. He was quite preoccupied but he pointed them in the direction of the craft corner. “You can find the supplies over there. Please make sure to clean up when you’re done.”

And so Star made bracelets with her newfound friends and when those were finished, she moved on to something else. She almost didn’t notice the time passing and a dozen games and a couple nap times later Star’s mother was back to pick her up.

Star hugged her as she swiped her pass beside the door to check Star out. “Did you have fun?” She asked.

Star nodded. “Lots.”

“Are you ready to go home?”

Star paused. “Can I say bye to Sun first?”

Her mom smiled. “I don’t see why not.”

Star smiled and ran over to Sun who was frantically cleaning up one of the many messes that kept spontaneously appearing. She tapped Sun on the shoulder. “I’m leaving Sun.”

Sum turned. “Oh, goodbye Starlight. Have a Faz-tastic day.”

Star laughed. “You don't have to use my whole name you know.”

Sun tilted his head, confused. “That was a-“ then he giggled. “Oh, I get it. What a coincidence.”

Star smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, giving Sun a hug.

Sun hugged her back. “See you Soon.” He said before letting her run back to her mother.

“I get to come again tomorrow right?” She asked.

Her mom sighed. “Of course the only daycare you like is the most expensive one.” She said to herself before looking to Star as she led her out of the pizzaplex. “Yes, you can come again tomorrow.”

#eve does dumb stuff #my writing #yctau #this took way too long #I’m glad I finished it tho #sun fnaf #fnaf sun #sundrop #moon fnaf #fnaf moon #moondrop #daycare attendant #yctau prequel #Star OC they/them #if you see mistakes… no you don’t

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

Text

Sweet Cherry Pops, Part 2

Summary: Robert needs to know what you’re thinking

Pairings: Robert “Mr. Freezy” Pronge X Destoryer!Chris “Cherry, Robert X Pretty Girl

Rating:

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.5K

Series Masterlist

Robert sits up in the bed, looking over at your sleeping and worn body, cracking his neck, before he walks into the kitchen. Ready for some coffee, and to start the day. It had been a year since his last job, and he was aching to get the business started back up, especially since Cherry was officially going to be his partner.

Walking into the kitchen, he lets out an inaudible groan at Cherry sitting there shirtless and holding onto Sundae. Smiling down at the baby, who babbles up at him. “You’re up early,” Robert informs him, walking to make him a cup of coffee that Cherry had already made a full pot of.

“Yeah, well, this little one right here, wakes up pretty early. You don’t cry though, do you, Sundae? Nope, she just giggles and does her little talking until someone picks her up. She only cries if she gets ignored, huh?” The baby grabs at a ringed finger before she starts chewing on them. Looking over at her father, with her chubby cheeks.

“You really bonded with my daughter, huh?”

“Yeah, well, Pretty Girl was…”

“Good morning,” you say happily. Looking at your daughter who squeals, kicking her legs, and pulsing her fist. “How long have you been awake, my beautiful Sundae?”

“About an hour.”

“Oh,” walking over to the sweetest thing in your life, you pick her up, turning to walk out the way you came, “Excuse me.”

Robert follows your body, until you completely disappear from the kitchen. Leaning over he tries to get a longer look at your retreating, but ends up just frowning. “She’s going to nurse. The hand gesture, Sundae was signing for milk. She nurses only once in the morning, once in the evening, and then she has stored milk that Sundae drinks out of a bottle.”

“Why the fuck can’t she just do that in here? I barely got to fucking see my daughter, and then she just…ugh, it’s like I’m a stranger in my own goddamn house.”

“She doesn’t…I don’t think she knows how you will respond to her body being used for the baby. Her breasts…”

“Tits. They’re fucking tits,” Robert says angrily, still trying to look around the corner to no avail.

“Her tits have always been a source of pleasure for the two of you. Now they’re being used for your daughter. She’s just overwhelmed,” Cherry takes a long sip of his coffee, and takes a bite of his breakfast sandwich. “There’s several in the fridge. It’s easier for her to meal prep with the baby.”

“Meal prep? Where the fuck am I? This just so fucking…why the fuck are you telling me about my Pretty Girl?” Cherry slowly looks up at Robert as the man stands and looks in the freezer. “What the fuck is this shit.”

“Easy, that’s Sundae’s milk throughout the rest of the day. She switched to bottles to hopefully help you bond with her. That way you can feed your daughter.”

“And this shit?”

“The breakfast sandwiches. Put it in the microwave.”

“This is really starting to piss me off. I come home, and everything is fucking different. Your fucking room is upstairs and…”

Cherry’s brows furrow as he glares at Robert. Trying to remain as calm as possible, because your room wasn’t that far away, and Sundae woke up in a good mood. “My room is upstairs, because Sundae’s is in my old room. It was easier for her to get to the baby without walking upstairs. I told you the meal prepping has been the easiest because Sundae is needy. She had some minor complications. It’s nothing major, and breathing treatments seem to help a lot. Her diet had to change because Sundae seems to have allergies to a lot of food. Her body produces the milk. But this is what we had to do to keep everything as normal as possible.”

Robert’s hand slams on the table, and Cherry bites at his lip. He was getting to his irrational side, where only one person could talk him out of it. And you were currently having your morning routine with his daughter. “You know what’s best for my daughter and my Pretty Girl?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Last night you told me what was best for her mid-fuck.”

“You were trying to shove her cock in your cunt where I already was. She was fucking overwhelmed.”

“She wants to be shared by us, and then doesn’t. You already have a relationship with my daughter. You know more about my fucking house than I fucking do. Do you love my Pretty Girl?”

Cherry leans back in his chair, shaking his head laughing, “You’re being stupid.”

“Do. You. Fucking. Love. My. Pretty Girl?”

“Of course I do! How the hell do you spend time with someone and protect them and not love them?”

“So you think you’re going to steal not just my daughter from me, but my fucking woman? She is mine!”

“I never said she wasn’t. That’s not even what I fucking mean. I love you, too,” Robert clears his throat, laughing at the man. “Our dicks were touching last night, and you allow me to fuck your Pretty Girl, and you think you don’t love me, too?”

“I’m not…”

“I never said you were. Love. You can love someone and be willing to die for them, and not be in love with them. Ya get it? Fuck,” he stands, and puts his plate in the dishwasher. Turning to stare at him. “She’s yours. Okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

“Damn straight she’s fucking mine. You’re the one that thinks he knows more than me about my Pretty Girl and my daughter.”

“Birthing Sundae changed her. You going to prison changed her. She’s not the same. Why do you think she was acting like that last night? There’s consequences for our actions and…”

“Don’t fucking tell me how my Pretty Girl is. You have no idea.”

Cherry completely ignores Robert, continuing on his own monologue, and wanting so desperately to tell him everything. Telling him all the truth, and how he knew you didn’t want to choose. He could feel you wanted them both. “I was there when she pushed that baby out of her. Held her hand the whole time. Slept beside her. Walked her to the shower. Helped her bathe. Made sure she wasn’t drowning in her postpartum depression.”

“And I was in fucking prison because you fucking told me it was the only damn way!” Shouting now, Robert stands up, and walks even closer to Cherry. Not sure exactly what he wanted to do, just knowing he was furious. All those months without you, all so he could be here and try to take you from him. Robert liked having Cherry around. He was useful, and the sex was beyond hot.

“It was the only fucking way, and you know it. You knew exactly what you were getting into, and you agreed to it, and that was before you ever got her involved! You were the one that…”

“I fucking fell in love with her! I had a daughter, and I missed everything.”

“Because you chose to cum in her every time. You know how it works. You secretly liked knowing that you could fuck a baby into her. It was just something else you could throw in Paul’s jank ass face. All those years he tried with her, and never could. You had another upper hand over him. But I’m done with this arguing. It’s not good for her or your daughter. Call me when you’ve calmed down, we have a job to do,” Cherry turns, grabbing his shirt off the couch before walking out the door. He doesn’t come to see how you were doing, or even say goodbye.

Cherry was frustrated that Robert just didn’t seem to get it. He didn’t understand how the three of you had made this odd relationship work. Robert was too possessive for his own good, and he hoped that it wasn’t his friend’s undoing. He was fiercely protective of you, and Cherry knew it would extend to Sundae as well. But dammit, Cherry knew the three of you could make it work, and it was tearing you apart trying to choose.

He balanced Robert’s anger out. You were the sweetness in the relationship, and he was the strong and steady one in the relationship. But he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be in a competition with Robert, because you had this undeniable loyalty to him. Cherry just didn’t realize it extended to him in the same capacity.

Looking down at your daughter, she pulls off smiling. Her mouth opens and closes, repeating dadadadadada over and over again, “You have got to quit calling Cherry that. Robert is your daddy. Cherry is your,” you didn’t know what to call him. He played the father role for so long. He loved her just as deeply as a father could his daughter.

“Come on,” you say playfully, and her face lights up. Wiping around her mouth, you walk back into the kitchen, only to find Robert sitting with his head on the table. “Robert, what’s going on?”

“Do you love him?”

“I-I-I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cherry. Chris. Daddy, whatever you’re calling him these days, do you love him?” You smile awkwardly at him, moving Sundae to the other hip, while she looks around for Cherry. “It’s either a yes or a no. Do you love him?”

“I love you.”

“That’s not…do you fucking love Cherry.”

“Dadadadada!” Sundae claps at Cherry’s name, and you give her a soft shush.

“You do,” he runs his hand through his hair. Reaching towards the baby and you shake your head no. “Give me my daughter.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I just want to hold her. Do you actually think I would hurt her?” With tears in your eyes, you hand Sundae off to her father, and she slaps her hand on the table, still chattering about her dada. “Did you or he tell her to call him that?”

“Nobody told her. She does this mommy and me thing at the rec center. Every now and then the daddy’s would come, too. I had no one else, Robert. She picked it up from the other babies. It’s not her fault. It’s not Cherry’s fault.”

“You would try to protect him,” you grimace at his words, wondering how he could be so cruel to you. “Where does that leave me?”

“Here. Right here with us.”

“And Cherry?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should send him on his way? His job here of protecting you is done.” You shake your head no, but can’t look him in the eye. “Why, Pretty Girl? Why don’t you want him to…freaking leave?”

“He’s your partner. The two of you work together. And you don’t trust people. He’s good and loyal to you, and…Sundae is fond of him, and I…I don’t want him to go.”

“Because you love him and want him here with you.”

“I love you!”

“Yeah, well, it’s pretty obvious you…freaking love him, too, hmm? It’s him or me,” you shake your head no, refusing to answer that question. “You want both?”

“I want things to be how they were.”

“Oh, you, me, and him together. Fucking…freaking…all the time?”

“Why is everything about sex with you? Is that all I am? Just flesh to get your dick wet? I want to hear how you feel about me that doesn’t include your pussy. Is that all you love? I gave up everything to be with you because I love your weird psychotic self. The one who is a murderer for hire. I love you.”

“You think my pussy is the only thing I love?”

You shrug. Throwing your hands up in the air, you start pacing around the kitchen. So many of your memories with Robert revolved around sex. And you wondered if that’s all it was from him. He lifts his neck, and turns it to the side to show you the ice cream cone brand on his jawline, playfully pulling up Sundae’s hand to touch it, and she giggles at him.

“I ain’t never let a woman control me. Never let a woman be anything more than a quick and easy lay. You fucking…freaking own me. You put your brand on my…freaking skin, and I wear that shi…stuff proudly. And you want to question that all I love is what’s in between your legs? I guess, we don’t really know each other like I thought we did.”

“You never tell me. I tell you I love you all the time, Robert. You never…”

“I fucking love you! I love you, and I hate this arguing. I hate this back and forth, and I hate that he knows my daughter more than me, and I’m also thankful that he was here. She had lung problems? You didn’t tell me. I don’t know her routines. I didn’t know why you were taking her out of the room. I don’t know anything. And I have all these things floating around in my head that I can’t explain, and I don’t…I don’t know, Pretty Girl. I’m confused. I’m not supposed to feel like this.”

“Robert,” you whisper, stepping closer to him and Sundae. You needed him to put all his feelings into words, because you wanted to make sense out of things, too. It seemed he was feeling the exact same confusing emotions concerning Cherry.

“Can you be in love with two people at once?”

“You love Cherry?” You ask, genuinely curious as to what his answer would be.

“I was talking about you,” you shrug, unsure how to answer. Scared to answer truthfully, “Be honest. Do you love him?” Although it was a small movement, you nod your head. “What do we do?”

“You have to be okay with him in the relationship.”

“I’m not fucking him and he damn for sure ain’t fucking me.”

“Robert, your daughter is in your hands.”

“I’m not freaking him and he dern for sure ain’t freaking me,” you giggle, shaking your head at him. “I’m serious.”

“You two have been close enough. No one would ask that of you, Freezy baby.”

“I’m the husband. He’s the boyfriend.”

“Oh, really?” Robert nods his head, puckering his lips up for you to give him a kiss. “You’re going to have to apologize. You know, if you two want to argue about me, maybe you should not do it in the same house. But you need to apologize, and we need to…have a conversation with him.”

“A party,” you start to shake your head, but Robert puts his hand over your mouth. “Not like that raging party like we had last time. But do the stupid little grilling out, so Sundae can be there. See how…”

“Don’t you think this is best to have a conversation with him alone.”

“A party is for him to get here. And then we can have a conversation later that night,” you thought this wasn’t the best idea, but Robert wasn’t changing his mind. He seemed completely content with having a get together with the neighbors, and maybe a few of your family members. It would be so much easier just to call Cherry and have this conversation today, but Robert was never the one for subtleties, and that is why he left too much unsaid. He should have listened to you.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @infatuatedjanes @missusbarnes-rogers @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaches1958 @thedarkplume @rebekahdawkins @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @elrw24 @randomagnes0210 @buckysteveloki-me

#sweet cherry pops #mr. freezy #robert pronge #mr. freezy x reader #robert pronge x reader #mr. freezy x fem!reader #robert pronge x fem!reader #mr. freezy x y/n #robert pronge x y/n #mr. freezy x you #robert pronge x you #destroyer!chris #destroyer!chris x reader #destroyer!chris x fem!reader #destroyer!chris x y/n #destroyer!chris x you

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oneofthreebeans · 3 months

Text

The Day The Dam Broke

In each of our minds, there are those few flashbulb memories that stay with us. While others fade and become muffled by the commands of time, a select few will remain as crisp and vivid in colour as the day they were created. One of those memories for me is the day the dam broke. In some ways, I could even segment my life into two distinct chapters: before and after. The day the dam broke was the day that my grandmother died. She was my dad’s mum, and the last of my parents’ parents to pass. A short woman with ashy white hair, haphazardly styled no longer than earlobe length. She had a wry smile that was only ever accompanied by a wily glint in her eye, which indicated that either she had already outwitted you, or she was about to. The cultivation of mischief was the only thing I ever saw her smile about, besides her three-legged dogs. She always had a three-legged dog, but it was never the same dog and she never sought them out. They would just appear. It was fascinating and unnerving all the same. We never dared to ask what had happened to the last one - even now, I’d rather not know. She wore almost exclusively pastel purples and blues in the form of oversized paisley and floral button-down shirts, which she tucked (uncharacteristically) neatly into block coloured trousers of the same palette. Despite the warmth of her tawny brown eyes, she was cold and the cool tones suited her. They suited her complexion and they suited her dry disposition. She was never serious and she was gruff at times, but I can’t say she was ever unkind. In truth, she was a stranger to me. I could count the days spent with her in the 19 years we cohabited this planet on two hands. I could count the days I remember spending with her on one. Her enigmatic presence in my life was as much owing to how little time we spent with her as it were to her reticence to connect in the moments where she found herself an unwilling participant in the performance of traditional family roles and festivities. It’s as if she were allergic to children; intolerant of their naivety. We were easy to fool, making us poor opponents in her battles of wit. We were predictable and it was boring to her, winning all the time.

The day she died I was in my first year of university. It was the end of my final semester and I was on my way to take my physics exam on campus in the city. I’d woken up that morning compacted by the weight of my first ever university final, expecting it to be the only interesting or effusive aspect of my day. I strolled down the wharf, watching the ferry inch in at a glacial pace, cautiously evading the nearby rocks. It was June, and the harbour air carried a sharpness as it struck my cheeks. Any frost delivered by the breeze was quickly thawed by the steady warmth of the sun, which hung alone in the sky that day with muted assuredness. I stood there oscillating my attention between the sensation of the crisp breeze and the heat of the UV rays, charmed by the novel realisation that we can experience such diametric sensations in tandem. Interrupted by the noisy wake of the ferry as it pulled up, I saw my dad walking towards me. He hadn’t seen me yet, and in this an unexpected context, it took me a moment to register what I was looking at. I caught his eye just before he could flit past me and asked what he was doing, half looking at him and half looking beyond his left shoulder toward the idle ferry that was shortly due to depart, which I really did need to be on. It was 10:30am on a Tuesday - why would he be back from work 2 hours after he started? He hesitated for a moment, likely just as surprised to be seeing me as I was him. With an undefined but unfaltering expression on his face, he opened his mouth just wide enough to say to me “my mum died this morning”. To this day, I really don’t know if I made the right choice in that moment. Torn between the prospect of failing the course that represented the first autonomous decision I had made in my adult life, and the death of my grandmother who was as foreign a concept to me as the quantum mechanics I was about to be tested on, I fumbled my way through some condolences, meekly patted dad’s arm and ran for the ferry as the gates began to slide shut.

It was an 11 minute ferry ride from the zoo wharf to the city. Then, a 7 minute train followed by a 13 minute walk to the exam hall. I sat upstairs on the ferry. Inside to avoid the wind chill, but next to a window that was slightly ajar. I searched for any kind of sensation, emotion or reaction within myself, but came up short each time. I watched from outside myself as I attempted to feign a tear, scrunching my nose up and clenching my eyes shut, all the while growing crescively ashamed of my own apathy towards this woman with whom I shared 25% of my genetic material. Fruitlessly, I delved inside myself over and over searching for a glimpse of attachment to her. A fond memory, an interaction or even a shared, knowing glance might have been enough to elicit some sort of emotional response, but this exploration left me with nothing but the realisation that I couldn’t recall that woman acknowledging me once in my entire life. I didn’t begrudge her this. As little as she had participated in our lives, it was not lost on me that we did very little to participate in hers. I landed on the conclusion that we had simply not been very close to her, and this was likely owing to her living far away. Dad’s pragmatic and inexpressive delivery of the news just minutes earlier, coupled with this observation that he never really spoke about her or visited, had me feeling pretty confident that he was probably fine and that it was just a matter of process at this point. Ticking the memorial boxes, wrapping up the family finances, paying our respects and getting on with it. The rest of my commute was uneventful, and the exam went fine by the way. They said I’d need to supply her death certificate within 24 hours to get any special consideration. That’s pretty messed up, I thought. I could be really grieving here! Imagine if we had been close? I squirmed in my seat thinking about how others in my position might be feeling in such circumstances, and felt a quiet relief that I was so detached.

Despite my detachment from the death itself, a thick unease melted over me as I made my way home that afternoon. It agitated me, struggling to pinpoint the feeling within my body. Identifying, articulating and rationalising my emotions was typically not a difficult task, and I had already done all the analysis required and come to an empirical conclusion about how to feel. Looking back now, it is obvious the detail that was tugging at me but evading my conscious mind. My grandmother had Alzheimers. She had been diagnosed at 65, and passed 8 years later at 73 after 6 months in care. Bang on the average life expectancy, actually (for both her illness and for time in a care home). Her death was, statistically, completely average and predictable. Except that she had been pretty slow to deteriorate, and while Alzheimers is considered a terminal illness, ultimately she got taken out by a chance heart attack in her sleep. We all agreed she got lucky. That heart attack spared her a potentially much more macabre fate. It was quick, relatively painless and dignified. I wouldn’t mind going out the way she did, and it was quite befitting to her headstrong existence. Why go out the way you’re expected to? A terminal diagnosis is no guarantee that that is how you must depart. I walked in the door of my home that afternoon expecting very little out of the ordinary. Oblivious and unprepared, I first happened upon my mum. Her distress was immediately apparent, and for the second time that day I stood mouth agape, heart rate rising as I tried to reconcile my expectations for the afternoon and the reality in front of me. She was on the phone. I was unable to make out the identity of the generic voice on the other end. Between exigent yes and no responses to the questions being fed to her down the line, mum shot me these looks that fell somewhere in the space between despair and desperate alarm. Mum has, historically, not been the most reliable narrator, especially after 3pm. And yet, her cries of wolf from the past could not diminish the growing pit in my stomach as I listened intently to her every word. Between shaky breaths she managed a description.

“He’s 51 years old, 5 foot 10, with brown hair, brown eyes and a lean build. He is wearing grey jeans and a blue polo shirt, a black windbreaker jacket and he wears glasses.” I understood now.

“He is probably disoriented, his mother died today and he has early onset Alzheimers. Yes, just over a year ago. He doesn’t remember where we live and he didn’t take a phone or wallet. We last saw him at midday. Yes, my son is out looking for him now”. Midday. I glance at my phone. 4 O’clock. Fuck. Ok. Call Hugo.

“Hi”. A young man of many words, my sixteen year old brother.

“Where are you? Are you ok?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just looking around the headland now. Are you home?”

“Yeah, I’m home.”

“Is he back?”

“No. Where haven’t you looked? I’ll go now”.

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe the big oval. He can’t have gone that far”.

“Ok, thanks. Let me know if you find him.”

“Yep you too.”

I set out with directionless urgency. How does one even go about searching for a grown man with deteriorating cognition in a heightened emotional state? They don’t teach that sort of thing at uni. Realistically, he would be safe. Maybe stressed and scared, but physically unhurt. That much I was pretty sure of. Not recognising where you are in the place you’ve lived for 20 years is fairly disarming though, I would imagine. I walked with pace towards the oval, exhaustively scanning each corner of my vision as I went. I had considered driving, but that ran the risk that I miss him on the walking tracks behind the roads, or speed right past him entirely in fixation on the final destination. As was my experience when searching for our lost dog years prior, my hope began shrinking in proportion to the amount of time I spent looking. I made it to the oval with no sign of him. It felt silly, but I decided to do a lap. I was already here after all, and maybe he was on the other side. It was a very large oval, which used to be marshlands but they filled it in and laid it over with a cricket pitch that was unusable for most of the year because the slightest bit of rainfall turned it back into (yep you guessed it) a swamp. It wasn’t too swampy that day, but it was damp. I set off on my lap, diligently following along the concrete path that outlined the misshapen field. I was drifting in and out of myself again, mentally straining to remain alert and on task. I rounded the corner behind the umpire’s sheds, lifting my gaze to spot dad about 50 paces in front and walking towards me. As I rushed to close the gap between us and the details of his face sharpened in my vision, the relief I had felt vaporised. One thing to note: dad was a placid person. In 19 years I had never heard him raise his voice, never saw him angry, never felt his fear and never, ever saw him cry. In fact, I’m quite certain now that in 19 years, not only had I not seen him cry; he had never cried. At a marshy oval on a Tuesday afternoon in June, four metres away and facing me, I found my father sobbing uncontrollably as he tracked the cement path over and over and over again. The sound of his weeps came after the image, much like the latency of thunder. I hesitated, unsure how to proceed. He noticed me then, and I spluttered out “dad it’s me. It’s ok, I’m going to take you home”. The onslaught of incoherent rambling between sobs shattered something inside of me, but I maintained composure as he reached for me with desperate arms. He clung to me so hard I thought he might knock me over entirely, as he repeated “I know who you are. I do know who you are. Sorry Ell. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry”. I wrapped my arms around him tighter and repeated myself again.

“It’s ok. You’re ok. It’s ok. I’m sorry dad. I’m so sorry”. At the time, I’m not sure who I was trying to convince we were ok - him or me. Probably both. Mostly him, though.

We both found our composure, and I took his arm in mine as I lead him home. We didn’t speak for the 9 minutes it took to walk back. The sun was now descending into the horizon and pink and purple hues flushed the sky. Wood-burning fireplaces comforted young families in houses around us, their smokey aromas blanketing the air we silently breathed. Between echos of distant cockatoo chatter and rustling leaves as wind traipsed through the trees, his sobs slowed and curled into faint, intermittent sighs. I don’t remember much from after we got home or the days that followed. All I could do was replay it in my head. The image of dad shuffling aimlessly around that oval for hours on end, weeping over the loss of his cold and distant mother, alone, confused and afraid of the years that lie ahead in light of his own diagnosis, has fused itself to me. Months can now go by without revisiting it, but I carry it with me as it implicitly informs my every interaction with and observation of the world around me. Once the dam broke, it flowed non-stop for almost 5 years. He cried when I left, when my sister left, when we fought, when we laughed, and when we cried. He cried a lot in the evenings, as his decaying mind lost grip of the inhibitions that had previously suppressed his fear and sorrow. He cried when he couldn’t find the words to explain that he wanted a pair of socks, helplessly only able to describe them as ‘that thing’ over and over until his frustration overcame him; he was crestfallenly aware of his worsening condition. He cried for 3 weeks when he moved into an aged care facility. We cried with him, then. It never really got easier or less confronting. To go from 19 years of drought to a 5 year flood was unbearable. The drought hardened us and we were undoubtedly cracked and compacted because of it, but the incessant tears were now drowning us and I was growing too tired to keep myself afloat.

The river did slow, over time. It no longer flowed with the same ferocity, but rather trickled into a gurgling stream until one day it dried up entirely. The thing that he feared most and the source of all the tears, was now here and it revealed itself to be what halted the torrent, in the end. He no longer knew who we were or who he was. He didn’t grieve anymore - he couldn’t. He was no longer confronted by what he stood to lose, or who he was doomed to become. He drifted off into tranquil oblivion. I don’t agree that oblivion is bliss - it's more neutral than that. It is certainly peaceful, comparatively. Dad doesn’t speak at all now. It’s quiet and dry again. Most of the time, when I look at him I’m met with a thousand yard stare. But sometimes it’s different. Every now and then I see that wry smile and the glint from his mother’s eyes. I try not to look at the glint for too long when it does appear. His physical self sits in front of me but he is not there, and I’m careful not to fool myself into believing that he is. The truth is if I really look at the glint too hard, I can’t help but notice it looks a lot like the glisten of a tear, moments before it breaks free of a duct. Like the start of a flood. Almost indistinguishable, actually.

#creative writing #nonfiction #writing #alzheimers #grief #family #narrative

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aoneko-lee · 1 year

Text

The Ineffable Parenting Survival Manual, Chapter 1

Word count: 1.1K Pairing: Crowley x Aziraphale Rating: General Audiences Summary: Instead of turning the Antichrist over to the Chattering Order of St Beryl, Crowley calls his ally and the only person in Heaven or Hell who can understand why Armageddon is such a bad idea. Aziraphale's interference has the potential to change not only the fate of the Antichrist and humanity but their relationship. Notes: I've had this idea since 2019, but only my despair with s2 gave me the motivation to put it into practice. Don't look too closely, these are just slice-of-life scenes that I use as an excuse to draw an ineffable husbands + baby Adam series

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

This was supposed to be an ordinary night, drinking hot chocolate and restoring an original 17th Century edition. But, as with most situations beyond his control, that changed with a call from Crowley.

In general, Aziraphale tried to follow Heaven's orders, even when they didn't seem exactly right (the flood or Job's test still bothered him), after all, if humans could have faith, of course, a celestial being would believe that there was a greater plan of God behind each of Her move.

But he and the demon had been on Earth a long time and had known each other even longer. The idea of an Armageddon that would wipe out everything they'd grown to love over the past six thousand years was more than they were willing to accept in the name of loyalty to their sides (truth be told, Crowley had no real allegiance to Hell).

And so it was that, on a night that was neither dark nor stormy, Aziraphale found himself in the middle of nowhere in Tadfield in front of a convent that emitted unholy energy.

The Bentley was hidden in the shadows around a curve and leaning against the door the slender figure all in black holding a picnic basket stared at him behind his sunglasses.

"Is the baby…?" The angel gasped, pointing to the basket as he reached the demon.

Crowley just nodded, maintaining an indifferent pose even though Aziraphale had known him for enough millennia to tell when he was faking it. Just like the angel, the demon was scared shirtless.

"I have to hand over this thing at the convent, they'll trade him for the son of an important American, or something." He dangerously shook the basket while Aziraphale followed him with arms outstretched to prevent an accident (would it be a good or a bad deed if he prevented the antichrist from being thrown headfirst to the ground?).

"But we can't do that with the baby," the angel blurted absently, still worried about Crowley accidentally killing the child.

"We can't?" Crowley spun around in his dramatic fashion. "Those are my orders, I'll do it!"

The angel blinked in a daze at the development. When the demon called him to talk about the scheduling of the end of the world in eleven years, they decided that should influence the child, but apparently, there was a misunderstanding on how this plan would be carried out.

"Dear, if you give the baby to strangers, we can't stop Armageddon," he explained patiently, although Crowley was being willfully obtuse.

"Of course, and what's your plan, taking the antichrist to the bookstore to drool over your books? Or rather, to my flat where I can put him in a vase, throw dirt in him, and water Satan's son until he's old enough to destroy the world?"

Crowley's outbursts of rage were common and after a few millennia, Aziraphale knew they were more theatricality than actual feeling.

"When you say it like that…" He hadn't thought that far ahead. It just seemed obvious that they couldn't let the baby remain in the environment that Hell found conducive to the creation of an apocalyptic agent.

"I'm already late, better get this over with." Crowley snorted, returning to follow his path to the convent. His long legs made it difficult for Aziraphale to follow.

"If you were going to give the baby anyway, why did you call me here?"

"So you know!" The demon turned to him irritably. "What did you think would happen?"

Then the angel realized that Crowley wanted to be convinced. If he really wanted to hand over the child, he would have just done it. Calling his only ally and stopping at his every protest was indicative of it.

"Well, we talked about influencing the baby, to be neither good nor bad, just… average." He began to elaborate, not being sure what he meant, just trying to prevent the baby from being passed on to the chosen parents. "How are we going to influence if we're not around?"

"And what's the alternative?" The silence was enough for the angel and demon to realize what they should do. Aziraphale tried to suppress the panic in his chest and Crowley shook his head in vehement denial. "No. There's no way we're going to spend the next eleven years watching the Satan spawn."

"Dear, it'll be only a decade. We keep the baby around and we teach him to be medioc... Median. After the end of the world is averted… we hand the child over to a loving family or something."

The demon hesitated. Behind the sunglasses, his eyes refused to go down to the picnic basket. They had already spent much more time performing some human activity (those forty years accompanying the Hebrews on their pilgrimage through a desert was still a pitiful memory). Maybe it would be quick.

"Do you know how to take care of humans?" There was mockery in the demon's tone, but a faint hope in the way his eyebrows rose.

"Crowley, please. We've been living with them for thousands of years and I have many books about it."

He went back to shaking the basket as shifted weight on his feet. Clearly wanting very much to say no, but wanted even more to prevent the end of life as they knew it.

"A decade and we're out of it," he pointed out, his face scrunched up in an annoyed expression.

"A decade and we give the baby to a family," Aziraphale confirmed, not at all excited at the idea of spending a day longer than necessary taking care of the Antichrist.

"Angel, that's the worst idea you've ever had," he grumbled, but Aziraphale smiled, pleased to have convinced him.

"Great!" Aziraphale hummed pleased, forgetting for a second that winning the argument meant spending the next decade stuck to the Antichrist. "We’re going to need to decide…"

"Wait, angel. Those nuns are expecting a baby. If they don't get one, Hell will know what I've done and ruin our plans before the prince of darkness here soiled his first diaper."

"There has to be an exchange," he mused as began to form a plan. "Perhaps there could be two."

In fact, entering the convent was quite easy when Aziraphale was properly dressed as a nun. Miraculously none of the sisters noticed that the anxious devotee had not been part of the order fifteen minutes before.

Crowley handed the baby over and it was switched as per the original plan. So sister Alzira Fell volunteered to dispose of the spare baby. Alone in the room where Harriet Dowling was asleep, the nun took the Antichrist and left.

Aziraphale ran to the car hugging the small red package and Crowley kept the Bentley above the speed limit, as expected. So none of them were present to see the fire destroy the convent.

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kashimos-hajime · 2 years

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—𝟎𝟑 - 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭... 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: getou suguru x fem!reader

summary: anonymous musician, kogane, had been dropping non-hints of who they were since they first began releasing music to the students of tokyo metropolitan technical college nine months ago to the frustration of everyone ever.

getou suguru, long-time (arguably #1) fan and campus heartthrob with a reputation is determined to find out exactly who they are before he graduates, and he has no idea where to start. that is, until resident idiot and best friend and roommate, gojo satoru, points him in the direction of you, the musical genius behind kogane

word count: 3.4k

a/n: here is where it really begins, a follow-up to the previous chapter, it fills in the blanks of the messages. as always, leave some feedback/comments/reblogs! would love to read them :)

[11:48 AM]

To say Getou Suguru is not a lover is not entirely true. He loves his friends—probably more than is healthy—and he loves his little sisters. He loves life in that he romanticizes most aspects of it; the way the sun shines, how green the leaves are, the sound of people. When he was a kid, he had crushes, and always did that thing kids do where they imagine a future with their science project partner.

But that Suguru grew up, and, now that Suguru is a stranger.

A stranger who might’ve been scarred a few too many times in the past. Maybe his hand has been bitten and burnt, and his mind is overtaken by memories. Whatever it is, all he knows is he’s not interested in getting into a relationship any time soon, and it’s not because he’s afraid.

He just doesn’t want it anymore.

It really is that simple.

“And when I stand in your way again… will you walk right by and pretend I was never by your side…”

Humming to the melody of the song flowing through his earbuds, he glances at his phone to check the time. It’s just him and Satoru for lunch today, with Shoko stuck in a lab she’s being forced to supervise for some of the first years, so he’s in no rush. Besides, his two hour gap means he can take his time to digest lunch for once. That, and research who he wants to pair up with for the graduation showcase at the end of the year.

He’s never really mingled (in the proper sense) with the students majoring in music long enough to get a good idea of their personalities and production styles; half of him is crazy enough to find out who kogane is to see if he can partner up with her, but he knows that’s impossible. Without any way to discern who she is, it’d be a waste of his time. Even if he does itch to find out who owns that brain of hers.

Suguru sighs. Whatever. He’ll just pair up with whoever he sees first when they have that class to meet the roster. It’s not like other dancers know anyone in the music major, although he did hear Utahime found someone already, not sure who, but it isn’t any of his business.

Stopping by the vending machines, he pays for his iced coffee, waiting as it makes his drink. Freeing his hair from its bun, he runs his hand down his neck, massaging the muscle running into his shoulder. The morning had been long—waking up late, rushing to class just in time for a full three hour repetoire class.

“I wish we could’ve stayed in our playful cloud for just a bit longer…”

God, he needs an ice bath.

Grabbing his coffee, he spots two others in line, and he gets out of the way just in case one of them recognizes him or something for fucking with their friend, which has happened more than once, heading out into the sunshine to see Satoru lounging at a table by himself. He’s got his lunch out, but he’s not eating, too busy texting whoever he’s entertaining.

“Good afternoon,” he says, sitting down with his coffee, and Satoru perks up, flashing his grin.

“Hey. How was class?”

“Exhausting. You looked like you just rolled out of bed,” he observes, eyeing Satoru’s messy hair spiking out in all directions. “Did you remember to clear out the dishwasher before you leave?”

“Yeah.” Tossing his phone onto the table, he sits upright and eyes the coffee. Suguru nudges it towards his best friend before reaching into his backpack to retrieve his lunch.

“What is it?”

“Just a normal iced coffee. Not in the mood for anything fancy.” Cracking open his container of pasta salad, he eyes Satoru warily. “You didn’t make coffee at home?”

“No.”

“Why did your parents even give us that espresso machine then?” he shoots back, stabbing a fork into the Tupperware and glancing into his food. It’s unappetizing despite his grumbling stomach, and he slouches into his body, grimacing. He’d been looking forward to this since last night. Why can’t he just eat it?

“To earn my forgiveness and convince me to come home for the winter,” Satoru answers, nudging the coffee back towards him. “What’s up with you? You texted that you missed breakfast.”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Nearly impossible,” Satoru declares. “Did someone reject you on the way down here?”

“Nearly impossible,” Suguru mocks. Forcing himself to take a bite, his stomach roars greedily for more and he takes another forkful before taking a sip of his iced coffee. “i just feel gross.”

“Did you at least make any progress on that dance cover you want to post?”

“A tiny bit. I’m listening to it right now for ideas,” he says, gesturing at his ear.

“You’re hopeless when it comes to her, dude.” Satoru’s eyes trail over Suguru’s shoulder, and that’s the moment the latter decides to ignore his best friend, continuing with his journey of consumption. It tastes cold, which is something Suguru needs, and he scrolls his phone, catching up on what he’s missed since he’s been in class. He just wants his brain to shut off for a moment. “Hey, Suguru.”

Distracted: “Hm?”

“You know Megumi?”

“Yeah.” Looking up from his phone, he can already see the kid’s scowl in his head and he tilts his head when he notes Satoru’s focus lays elsewhere. Waving his fork in front of his face, he moves his head into his best friend’s line of sight. “He’s that high school kid you tutor. What about him?” No answer. “Yo, Satoru. Are you even listening?”

Satoru raises his head, nearly rising from his seat, and his fingers hovering over his phone screen makes Suguru literally resist the urge to punch his best friend. If he invites a girl to sit down with them after the morning he’s had, he’ll have to be charged for murder.

“Dude—”

“Shut up for a second. I’m trying to see something.”

“You asked the question, dickhead. If she wants to sit with us, fine, but I’m getting up and leaving.”

Satoru’s eyebrows knit together, and Suguru, exasperated, follows his best friend’s gaze to see what’s caught his eye.

At a table pretty close to the one they’re sitting at, only two people are sitting there—a girl with a ponytail and glasses, leaning against another guy who’s searching up something on his phone. They seem pretty obviously together, and Suguru tries to hide a wry smile working its way onto his face.

“What, you know her or something?” he jokes, but Satoru quickly shushes him again, gesturing to his phone. Picking it up, he frowns as a text pops up in the group chat and when he looks up at Satoru to find a sly glint in his eyes, he can’t help but think that the upsetting feeling in his stomach is taking the shape of whatever Satoru is thinking.

No coffee. No coffee. You can’t be running on coffee.

At least, that’s what Toge keeps signing to himself as he thinks about the rest of his schedule. You watch, smiling to yourself as you offer to take the bag containing their food they’d picked up from a Chinese place on campus, but he moves his hand away, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Toge, you know it’s fine to take a sip and just slowly wean yourself off right,” you tease, but he only shoots you a look, and you sigh, adjusting the grip you have on your laptop bag. “Decaf, then. I’ll pay and it’ll be me doing my part on your road to recovery.”

Toge rolls his eyes but leads the way to the vending machines, and you fish out your wallet as he pulls out his phone to text the group chat. A guy bends over to grab his drink and moves on before you shuffle forward to the keypad. You find the decaf iced coffee at the very bottom, inputting the number before swiping your card, watching as the machine chugs out a cold cup of decaf, the stream filling the silence. You watch the screen displaying the progress before remembering their destination.

“Does anyone else want anything?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder as the machine beeps. Toge shakes his head. You retrieve the drink just as your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you return your wallet to your bag, grabbing your phone. You’re sure it’s going to be just the group chat as all of your social media accounts for kogane are muted, but you’re surprised when it’s a preview for an email from the head of the music program.

Quickly pocketing your phone again and jotting down a mental note to check your emails as soon as you get a free chance, you and Toge begin to continue their walk to the outdoor area Yuuta told them about. The sun’s still strong, and you squint against its golden rays as they walk by the tall windows of the hall that takes them past the bookstore.

It’s hitting the glass just right that it refracts a rainbow, and you step through each beam, hand fishing through your bag for your notebook containing the scribbles you reference for songwriting. Juggling the spine with the decaf clutched in your palm, you write down what you can in the moment before slipping it back into your bag, and you continue on your way through the cafeteria. Toge signs for the door, and you nod, following him.

Outside, there are students milling around the lawn, more sitting on the sun-warmed steps. Stone tables underneath an overhang filled with more students seem to be your destination based on Yuuta’s text. You and Toge cut through the stream of students as soon as you spot a dark ponytail gleaming in the sunlight slanting into their shade.

Finding your seat next to Maki, you let your bag slip off your shoulder, dropping your phone onto the table as Toge slides in across from her, and she looks up from where Yuuta is showing something on his phone to toss a greeting their way. Popping your other earbud out, you slide it back into your charging case and grab your water bottle from your bag instead as Toge sets down their lunches.

“Thanks.”

He smiles, signing back a quick “No worries” before taking the decaf off your hands.

“How was class?” Yuuta asks, and you shrug noncommittally. Maki takes his phone from him to watch the video and he surrenders it instantly to her. It’s so habitual it makes you grin. Picking up his chopsticks again, the poor guy fights back a yawn as you open your takeout. You and Toge had walked to the Chinese restaurant after your respective classes to grab boxes of fried noodles as a treat, and at this moment, your stomach cannot thank you enough after you skipped breakfast.

“They finally mentioned the end of year project, but I still don’t know what it is,” you say as an offer to break the silence. “The prof sent an email, but I have a new assignment to focus on so I haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Yeah?”

“Is it that one about the apple and the tree and whatever? Metaphors… something about meaning behind everyday objects,” Maki says, handing Yuuta’s phone back to him and straightening up to focus on her own meal that’s mostly gone besides the remaining apple slices. Picking one up, she points it at you. “You better not be slacking off because you promised you’d come to Yuuta’s showcase on Saturday.”

“Of course I’m going.” Pulling apart your wooden chopsticks, you begin to eat. “It’s just a paper and a photo. It’ll be done Friday.”

“Homework on a Friday night. Just when I thought you guys couldn’t be more boring,” a new voice interrupts and Maki’s shoulders go stiff as two shadows fall over their table. Your eyes slip away from Yuuta to find a pair of guys standing at their table, grins slinging off their faces. They’re mostly unfamiliar to you, but you could recognize that white hair anywhere.

“Gojo,” Maki greets stiffly, glancing up at the standing man with the bright shock of white hair. Gojo tilts his head to peer over his sunglasses and you don’t resist the urge to let your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline as Toge starts on his decaf iced coffee, sticking his metal straw in and taking a loud slurp. “Can I help you?”

“Thank you so much for asking, but actually, I’m here for someone else.” Blue eyes meet yours, and you frown. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yes. And, actually, you can’t help me, but you can help my friend here,” and Gojo gestures to the tall man beside him. Your eyes drift to the friend, and you realize it’s the one who’d been listening to your new song, dancing to the beat as he tried to familiarize himself to the chorus. You blink, not quite sure what to say. His dark hair is hanging freely, most of it pushed over his broad shoulders, and he smiles at you despite the warm blush painting his face.

“What does he want?” Yuuta asks cautiously. Standing, you feel a hand immediately grab your wrist, and you look down at Maki.

“She’s not sleeping with either of you,” your friend says emphatically.

“That’s not what’s always on our mind, Maki,” Gojo says sourly, tossing a glare in her direction before allowing his grin to grow again. “Getou Suguru, meet… you.” He sweeps an arm grandly, before frowning inquisitively, squinting at you. “What’s your name again?”

“Shut up,” the other guy says, and your eyes dart to him. His eyes, dark but fond, roll before he meets your gaze. “Ignore him. My name is Getou Suguru. I’m a fourth year dance major.”

“Good for you,” you say, and his eyebrows shoot up, squinting as a smile curves his lips. “What do you want?”

“So you know who I am?”

“She didn’t until I told her,” Maki derides under her breath.

“That’s not the point. I know who you are,” you insist, “but I dunno what you want from me.”

“I want to be your partner.”

The blood drains from your face and an icicle of dread spears into your heart. “Huh?”

“Huh?”

Toge drops his decaf coffee with a clack with an appalled expression and Gojo Satoru laughs.

“Would that be so horrible?” Suguru asks, nonplussed, and you try to rearrange your expression into something more acceptable. “I’m an excellent dancer. It’s not like I won’t do whatever you compose justice.”

“Dancer?” you repeat, confused. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You’re a music major, aren’t you?”

“What about it?”

“Aren’t senior music majors in charge of the grad showcase?” asks Getou, frowning, and suddenly, it clicks in your head. The email from the head of the music program. The year-end project.

Oh, for the fucking love of god.

“You didn’t think I was asking you out, did you?”

“For a second, I did.” And your heart had skipped a few frantic beats for it. You have no interest in getting with someone with the reputation of Getou Suguru, which, though you only learned of it recently, you can believe. His dark hair hangs freely around his face, and his eyes are piercing, set in a smooth face edged with a sharp jaw and sly lips. He’s got the voice of a charmer, and a body of a dancer, all lean lines and corded muscle, and you’re not surprised if Getou Suguru pulls.

You’ve seen this guy before, with a different name and a different face, and it makes you smirk. Meanwhile, Getou Suguru’s face drops and you raise an eyebrow.

“I know how to ask people out, and I’d never even date you,” he says, appalled, and you can’t help but be a little offended as he shakes his head rapidly, dark hair flying around his face. “You’re not my type.”

“Well, thank God for that,” you retort wryly, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t exactly know you. How do I know I want to pair up with you for a big project like this?”

“Well, I can show you my skills and you can show me yours?” he asks, taking out his phone, and you run it over in your head. You don’t have a set partner yet, and this does save you the trouble of going out to find one during the forced meet and greet in the near future. He glances at you through his bang, and you meet his eyes, frowning lightly. “Give me your number. I’ll text you.”

“Sure.” Handing him your own phone, you take his. It’s a black one, with a clear phone case, and you can feel the heat of his hand lingering in the rubber as you input your contact info before giving it back to him just in time to see him fucking with your emojis by putting a dancing man beside his name. You fight back a smile.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m a dance guy,” he informs. “That’s how you know who I am.”

“I don’t know any other Getou Sugurus,” you say.

“Good. I don’t want you to know other Getou Sugurus. I want it to stay that way.”

“Why? Because I’ll find out they’re better than you?” You sit down. He arches an eyebrow and you turn off your phone, setting it down on the table. Mechanically, you manage to plaster on a smile and look up at Getou. “Thanks for your number. I’ll text you about a time I’m free and we can touch base or something about a real partnership sometime later?”

“Cool. Excited to work with you.” He turns to head back to his table, and in your head, you can’t help but think of the nerves biting at the tips of your fingers. Your heart, still pounding like thunder in your chest, wants to leap out of your body. What is up with you, Getou Suguru? And why did you single me out?

“Don’t take offense to what he said, by the way,” Gojo says before he returns to his table. Your eyes flit from the back of Getou’s retreating figure to blue eyes that are already keenly watching you and your frown grows deeper. Maki’s hand rests on your clenched fist on the table, and you force yourself to let your fingers go lax. “Suguru doesn’t date just anyone. Suguru doesn’t date, period.”

“Great,” you mutter sarcastically. “My dreams have been crushed and I’m inconsolable.”

Gojo only laughs, the retreating sound of him filling the silence as you look at your friends and just blink. They don’t say anything except stare back at you, and you look at your phone blankly, at the group chat open on the unlocked screen.

“I’m surprised he chose you and not a guy,” Toge signs beside you, brow furrowed.

“Maybe he wants to make you his next target,” Maki mutters resentfully.

Yuuta sets a hand on Maki’s hand, and she scowls at her, but he only curls his fingers over her hand in a solid grip. “But you heard him. She’s not his type.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to guys like him,” Maki insists, grabbing tighter onto Yuuta’s fingers as she turns to him. Your hand feels cold without her calloused palm atop your knuckles. “Guys like him go for anyone who looks at them long enough.”

Toge’s hand on your shoulder squeezes and it’s like your heart restarts. A rickety machine that whines to life. Yuuta’s voice again. “(Name), are you okay?”

Your fingers move over the screen, and you press send before you can even comprehend it, staring blankly at ten minutes ago when you were not in the position you are in now. At the table, your three friends glance at their respective phones when each one buzzes.

Because deep down, you already know your answer. You’ve seen Getou Suguru dance to a song you’ve composed, and he doesn’t even know it’s you.

And he’s perfect. He’s, frankly, excellent, and you’d be a fucking idiot to say no to him coming up to you for his grad showcase.

The problem is, you know Maki’s right, too. Now that you’ve seen and spoken to him, you know that he’s definitely gotten enough people under him just be existing in their space that he’s used to it, and you’re no one.

You’re no one, and he’s someone. A big someone. Someone with a capital ’s’.

Fuck me, you think. Every girl is about to hate my fucking guts. Fuck me. I’m fucked and I can’t help but say yes to it.

tags: @thelameless @lucyrocks86 @kentospet @id-rather-be-an-outsider

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marvelslut16 · 2 years

Text

Can't fight this feeling IV

Jim Hopper x Wheeler!reader

Synopsis: A reader insert where the reader is Mike’s oldest sister, who has already graduated and works at the police station. She has always been infatuated with Hopper, and he seems to be quite taken with her as well. This part takes place in season 1 episode 5

Word count: 4.2k+

Warnings: swearing probably. Talk of funerals and dead bodies. A character learns how to shoot a gun, in probably too much depth. My bad writing/different writing styles from different times I added to the chapter. Age gap relationship. And eventual Stranger Things canon gore.

A/n: It has been a very long two years since my last update. I was honestly so uninspired because the show wasn't on and I wasn't getting any new content. Besides that, I was busy with school and life, as well as not knowing how to end this chapter. But here it is. Let me know if you no longer want to be tagged in this, or if you're new and want to be added to the taglist. I'm already a few paragraphs into part 5.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

After a restless night, I barely slept a wink because I was too busy thinking about the Byers’ and Hop, my alarm goes off informing me that it’s time to get ready for the funeral. Will’s funeral. A part of me keeps thinking that he’s not actually dead, especially since Mike seems more anxious than upset as he fidgets at the breakfast table.

I put on my black dress and heels in a blur, not even registering that I’m going through the motions until I’m standing fully dressed in front of my mirror. Mike comes in a few minutes later and asks me for help with his tie; dad was choking him and he says it still doesn’t look right. Very few words are exchanged throughout the family this morning, everyone is just going through the motions.

The funeral is a bit better, I have to help Jonathan with his tie too. I stand behind his seat, hand resting on his shoulder as the Priest speaks, and I glare at Lonnie as he tries to act sad that Will is ‘dead.’ Mike, Dustin, and Lucas are whispering amongst themselves, further fueling my theory that they know something about Will that they aren’t telling me.

As the service continues I start to glance around the crowd in hopes to find Hop, we didn’t part on good terms last night but he said he’d be here. As much as I hate to admit it, especially if all of this is fake and Will is still alive somewhere, I need Hop. I need him by my side, intertwined pinkies, or wrapped up in his side as he speaks soothing words, even if he doesn’t believe what he's saying and just reiterating the fake reassurances that my mom has told me a thousand times already.

He’s still not here by the end of the service, making me extremely anxious that something did in fact go wrong last night. The nerves in the pit of my stomach are wound so tight that I feel like I’m going to vomit. After the line of people telling the Byers’ the cookie cutter ‘I’m sorry’s,’ and the ‘if there’s anything I can do’s,’ I walk over to Joyce and Jonathan to see if they’ve talked to Hop at all.

“Have you guys seen Hop?” I ask Jonathan and Joyce quietly, trying my hardest to ignore Lonnie.

“Hopper is a no good drunk, you’d do better without him in this town,” the man I was attempting to avoid rolls his eyes at me.

“Oh fuck off Lonnie!” everyone still at the gravesite turns to look at me with shocked expressions, except Jonathan who’s trying not to laugh. “Go back to your cheap whore.”

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) Wheeler!” mom says sharply from behind me, Mike is audibly laughing.

“We were all thinking it!” I defend, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Someones got a crush on Jim, huh?” he gives me a sickening, sleazy, smile that I just want to slap right off his face. “I thought my son would have found some courage and asked you out by now, no other reason to keep you around.”

“Hopper is my boss, I work with him at the station,” I’m seething. Who does this man think he is talking to me like that? “Jim Hopper is a surprisingly thoughtful boss who is good at his job, and someone I respect very much. And, for your information, Jonathan and I are best friends. Neither of us has ever felt anything more for the other. And Lonnie, we both know that whenever you get whatever it is that you want, you’ll be tearing out of Hawkins with no regard for Joyce or Jonathan, so quit acting holier than thou and just leave.”

I swiftly turn on my heel and head to the car, thankful that I drove seperate from my parents this morning; I took my mother’s car and the other five took my father’s. My heart is pounding, I can hear the blood pulsating in my ears as I start to drive away from Lonnie, from a possibly fake body, and away from Jonathan without properly talking to him. I can always go see the latter later tonight and talk with him then. I’m racing down the streets of Hawkins like a bat out of Hell, finally coming to the edge of town where Hop’s trailer is located.

Pulling up to his trailer I’m shocked to see him outside looking around in circles, the barrel of his gun pointed towards the sky. He looks like hell; messed up hair like he just rolled out of bed, his cream colored henley has sweat stains around the collar, in his armpits, and down the back. He has a crazed look in his eyes, he looks traumatized.

I jump out of the car with no regard for my well-being, he isn’t right in the head at the moment and he could very well shoot me thinking I’m the bad guy. Lonnie’s words are still fresh in my mind; maybe Hopper went to bed drunk and high on too many of his pills. No! Snap out of it, he’s not like that. He hears my footfalls crunching on the gravel; he whips around pointing his gun at me.

My hands immediately go up in the air in surrender, I need to be careful about my next actions. My eyes widen as he keeps the gun up longer than I thought he would. All of a sudden he seems to snap out of it realizing it’s me and not some threat. He looks at me guilty as he lowers the weapon.

“(Y/N)?” he asks, his eyes and voice telling me that he’s unsure that I’m actually real.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I try to soothe him like I would a wild animal. My voice is soft and I slowly step closer to him, hands outstretched and palms facing towards him so he knows I won’t attack. “You weren’t at the funeral, I came to make sure you were okay.”

“I missed the funeral?” he asks, still confused and disoriented. I slowly, gently, reach forward and take the gun from his hand. He doesn’t protest, pushing the weapon into my palm once he realizes what I’m doing.

“Yeah you did,” I take a careful step back, heels sinking into the dirt under my feet. “I was worried because of where you went after you dropped me off last night. I was scared you were hurt, or worse…” I trail off at the end, not wanting to admit out loud that deep down I was worried that Hop got killed last night.

My words seem to remind him of why he was outside with a gun in the first place, he takes off running back inside without a word. I follow him in confusion, he’s tearing apart the living room as I walk through the door.

“Hopper, what are you doing?” I ask in horror, Lonnie's words run through my head yet again. Is it possible that Hop was on a bender before he went to sleep and he was still drunk when he woke up?

Instead of responding verbally, Hop takes two long strides across the entire living room area to get to me, putting his hand over my mouth so I can’t talk again. He puts the index finger from his free hand to his lips as a sign for me to stay quiet, before pointing around the room. I frown as he leaves his hand on my face for a few seconds too long.

I watch as he finally pulls back, observing him tearing apart the cushions for his couch and pulling his phone apart piece by piece. I glance around the room, noticing the spilled pills on his coffee table. Frowning, I set Hop’s gun on the table and put his pills back in the bottle as well as tidy up the empty beer cans strewn on it.

Hop rushes to the bathroom as I start to tidy up the mess he created in the living room. I can hear him taking apart the light fixtures in there and my worry for his sanity starts to grow. I sigh and sink down onto the ground, the living room is a mess and I don’t have the heart nor the energy to continue cleaning. First we bury Will, or whatever that was, and now Hop’s losing it, how can this day get any worse? I bury my head in my hands as I hear him rush from room to room, tearing them all apart.

Hop comes back into the living room like a hurricane, tearing apart anything he missed the first time around. I let out a squeak as he throws a light bulb to the ground, it smashes into a million pieces less than a foot away from me. I don’t want to make it worse and get in the way; but I also don’t want him to hurt himself as he destroys his home.

The last thing untouched in his entire house is the ceiling light in his living room. His shoulders are tense as he unscrews the bolt to take off the glass covering the bulbs. My eyes widen in shock as he pulls down a listening device, or more commonly known as a bug. What the hell did Hop get himself into last night? Hop grits his teeth in an angry sneer before grabbing a book he threw from his room, and smashing the bug repeatedly until there was no way it was still functional.

“Hop?” I finally dare to ask, raising from the floor carefully avoiding the broken lightbulb. “What happened last night?”

“I went back to the morgue,” Hop runs his fingers through his hair, pulling briefly on the ends. “I-I cut into the body, and it wasn’t real. It was stuffed just like a teddy bear, or some shit.”

“Oh my god,” I murmur under my breath, not expecting to get a response from the man in front of me.

“So then I snuck into Hawkins lab, got pretty far too,” he continues with his story like I didn’t interrupt. His eyes keep darting around the room like he’s expecting something to hop out at him. “I found a room with a stuffed animal and a kid’s drawing on the wall. The basement- the basement had weird white things floating in the air, there were vines growing out of a glowing hole in the wall. I was surrounded by men in white hazmat suits, next thing I know I’m waking up on the couch; my pills are spilled on the table with lots of empty beer cans that I didn’t drink.”

“Will’s still out there, probably in that glowy viney thing,” I cover my mouth, suppressing a sob. I’m not sure what’s worse; Will being dead, or him still being out there and being held somewhere in Hawkins lab. “We’ve gotta save him Hop, and I’m not letting you do anything by yourself again. I’m not having you die on my watch, not when I can be there to help you.”

Hop is opening his mouth to protest you helping him, you can tell by the scrunch of his face he’s not thrilled with your idea, but tires on the dirt path outside stop him. He yanks me away from the window, grabbing his gun off the coffee table, he pushes me behind him and away from danger. Two pairs of footsteps clomp down on the stairs leading to the front door, and Hop rips the door open before the people can knock.

“Hello? Whoa! - Hey!” Callahan exclaims when Hop steps out of his trailer, gun in hand.

“Jesus, Chief,” Powell looks at Hopper warily. “You all right?”

“What are you doing here?” Hop’s body is positioned just so that someone would have to be looking intently into the trailer to notice me behind his back.

“We tried calling but,” Powell’s voice trails off at the end.

“Yeah, phones dead,” Hops voice is gruff and his answer clipped. I can tell he wants the two idiots on his front porch to leave, so he can continue to talk to me about what happened and where to go from here.

“Whoa, (Y/N), what are you doing here?” a shiver crawls up my spine as Callahan gives me a once over. Hop subconsciously- or consciously, I’m not quite sure which- moves in front of me completely to block Callahan’s pervy gaze.

“Hop wasn’t at Will’s funeral, so I came by to check on him,” I push Hop out of the way and step beside him on the small porch, shutting the front door behind me. It would look a lot worse, and far more suggestive, if Hop was hiding me from view. This way it looks like we aren’t hiding anything- hiding me being there- well, except hiding the torn apart living room from the two doofuses.

Both Callahan and Powell give me disbelieving looks, Powell more so because he saw the way I was with the librarian who slept with Hop the other day, but neither of them voice their opinions on the matter. Instead Callahan starts telling Hop why they showed up in the first place, two more people in town are missing. The naive men in front of us think that everyone’s on edge because of Will’s death, but Hop and I are both thinking that it has to do with whatever is happening at the lab.

“You go back to the station,” Hop tells the men to go back to the station once he finds out that the men went hunting near Mirkwood. My heart stuttered a bit hearing Hop himself call it that, it makes me wonder if I’m rubbing off on him, or just the boys and this case. “(Y/N) and I will look into this.”

“Are you sure?” Callahan looks awkwardly between Hop and me. I assume he’s unsure if he wants to leave me alone with Hop, especially with how wild and out of it the Chief looks to an outsider.

“Yeah, leave it,” Hop insists, pushing me slightly as a way of telling me to open the door.

“Oh, hey. Uh, they found Barbara’s car,” Callahan continues before I can open the door.

“What?” Hop and I ask at the same time, blood draining from my face.

“Barbara Holland’s car, seems she ran away after all,” Powell adds, finishing the revelation for his partner. “Staties found it late last night at a bus station.”

“Funny, right?” Callahan adds, almost seeming to catch on that something is majorly off. “They keep doing our job for us.”

“Funny, right,” Hop and I say at the same time, this time he’s more forceful with shoving me towards the door. I quickly open it and he guides me inside, slamming the door shut behind him, putting distance between us and the prying eyes of our dense coworkers.

Once the door shuts I start to clean up the living room again, sighing at the knife made rips in the apoulster of his couch, too long for me to even consider sewing back up for him. I know he was freaking out, but there’s literally a zipper right there in the back, he could have used that instead of stabbing them. While I sweep up the broken light bulbs and try to salvage anything he threw across the room earlier, Hop focuses on fixing his phone, even going as far as to duct tape the mouthpiece back together.

Once the living room is clean, or as clean as I can get it at this particular moment, I head to the bathroom to clean that up too. I avoid his bedroom though, I know how private and personal someone’s bedroom is, that’s why I threaten Nancy and Mike anytime they go snooping through mine. By the time I’m finished in the bathroom Hop has the phone fixed and is using it to call someone. Normally I wouldn’t snoop, he deserves his privacy, but my feet feel frozen in place when I hear a woman’s voice coming from the other side of the line.

“I know, I know, I know I shouldn’t be calling you,” Hopper sighs into the phone, playing with the bracelet he made from Sara’s hair ties. “I just wanted to...I just wanted to say that, um...even after everything that happened, I don’t...I don’t regret any of it. And those seven years, they were...everything to me.”

My heart breaks at his words, and it continues to break for him when his ex wife asks if he’s been drinking again. I didn’t know my heart could ache for him anymore than it already did, not until I see Hop’s body tense when he hears a baby start crying from the other end. She’s moved on and he hasn’t. She gets a second chance at that happily ever after bullshit, and Hopper is the Chief of Police in a small town that seems to be overtaken by some crazy powerful and dangerous outside enemy that isn’t afraid to kill anyone in it’s way.

“You know what, actually, I have been drinking, I’m sorry,” I frown as he starts to shut her out, it’s like I can see the walls he’s built over the years start to be reinforced. “Just take care of yourself, okay? Say hi to Bill for me.” Hop slams the receiver down, hanging up on his ex wife before she can respond, setting the phone on the coffee table in front of him.

“Hop,” I sigh, holding my dress in place as I slide down the dividing wall between his kitchen and living room next to him.

As soon as my butt touches the ground his phone starts to ring, I glance between him and the aforementioned phone wondering if he’ll pick it up. He doesn’t, he makes no move to answer it, just letting it ring. He does, however, slide his left hand across the floor and close to my right one. Hops left pinky lifts off the ground, hooks around my right one, our hands resting on the floor with our pinky’s tightly entwined. We sit like that for what feels like a long while, at least twenty or thirty minutes. I start to wonder how many times Hop’s ex wife would have called had he not ripped the phone from the wall after the second unanswered one.

“How ‘bout I teach you to shoot,” Hop turns to me, I can’t quite read the emotion in his blue eyes, but it’s almost like they're pleading with me to say yes. I nod back and he stands, pulling me from my seated position.

“Should I take my heels off?” I glance down at by black pumps while Hop digs the empty beer cans, the ones the people from Hawkins lab left strewn about his coffee table, out of the trash.

“Yeah, you’ll need good balance,” Hop heads for the door, beer cans cradled in his left arm, grabbing his firearm off the coffee table with his right hand as he passes it.

I take off my heels as I start to head towards the door, tossing them carelessly behind me in the general direction of the ruined couch. Rushing in front of Hopper, now barefoot, I open the door for him so he doesn’t have to worry about shifting the beer cans around and possibly dropping any. I follow him out the door, towards the back of his trailer and the pond behind it. Hop drops the beer cans on the grass, grabbing one and setting it on a stump of wood, the gashes on the top of the wood lead me to believe that he uses this stump to chop wood.

Hop hands me his police issued handgun, stepping behind me once I take it. Instinctually I wrap both of my hands around the handle, my dominant hand resting slightly higher, trigger finger on the side of the barrel. I have this much knowledge of holding a gun from observing Hop, for far too long, any time he has his weapon drawn. Hop gently kicks my right foot out so my feet are shoulder width apart, I move my dominant foot forward a tad, raising my arms in front of me.

“‘Kay, now use the little bump out on the top as a guide,” his hands rest on my shoulders, before sliding down slightly to help me aim. “Line it up with the beer can and pull the trigger.”

I take a deep breath, anchoring myself to the ground for the blowback, pointer finger moving to the trigger and pulling it. I didn’t anchor myself well enough, falling back into Hop’s chest slightly. I’m too embarrassed from this new position to hear the sound of metal ripping through tin.

“You did great kid,” Hop whispers into my ear, sending an involuntary shiver up my spine, a shiver I can’t hide from him since we’re still pressed together. Hop slides his hands from my upper arms to my forearms, pushing slightly to lower the gun towards the ground.

“Oh my god! I did it!” I screech louder than intended when I look up to the empty stump. The can is behind the wood, a bullet embedded in the center of the logo, I hit the target on my first try!

I set the gun on the ground, turning, and jumping into Hop’s arms. My arms are tightly wrap around his neck, and his easily slide around my waist. He holds me close for longer than necessary, but not nearly long enough for my liking: every touch from Hopper is like an itch that can’t be scratched, every time I think I’ll be satisfied but it always leaves me wanting more.

Once Hop unwraps himself from my hold, he moves to put another beer can on the stump. This time he stays off to the side, I’m left wondering if the hug is the cause of the new position or if Hop just wants me to try alone. We go through ten more empty beer cans, I hit every single one on the first try. Hop also teaches me how to load the clip and the gun, as well as unclip it and put the safety on.

After Hop finishes teaching me how to protect myself, he grabs my heels when he goes inside to grab one of his coats and hat, and I grab his police department jacket from my car to wear. After grabbing the aforementioned things we get into his truck to warn Joyce that her house may be bugged too, and to let her n\know that Will is probably alive somewhere lost and confused.. Hop keeps glancing my way the entire car ride, and I just nervously play with the hem of my dress. I really don’t want to see Lonnie again, and I especially don’t want him to see Hop. If Lonnie says one bad thing to Hopper in front of me, I may just deck him.

Once we pull up to Joyce’s house, Hop finds an old takeout menu in his car and grabs the pen sticking out of my jacket pocket to write a note telling Joyce to be quiet. Hop finally opens his door and I practically sprint out of my side of the car, having forgone putting on my shoes, and up to the Byers front porch. I’m pounding on the door before Hop has closed his own car door.

“Go away Lonnie!” I hear Joyce yell from inside the house. I wonder if Joyce has kicked Lonnie to the curb again, finally, as I continue to aggressively pound on the door. Hop joins me on the front porch just as Joyce rips the front door open. “Seriously? I am going to murder-”

Hop and I hold our fingers to our lips to shush an ax wielding Joyce, in Hop’s other hand he’s holding up the old take out menu with the message written on it. Joyce looks confused and a little scared at our random appearance on her doorstep, but she doesn’t fight us when Hop pushes his way into the house.

“Oh Jesus,” Hop grumbles while I let out a quiet ‘shit’ at all of the Christmas lights hanging in the Byers’ house.

Hop and I get to quickly unscrew every christmas light, thank God he’s being a lot more calm about it here than at his own place. After what feels like hours Hop unscrews the last light bulb only to find that there were no bugs planted in the Byers’ house. The two of us let out a large sigh as we plop down right next to each other on Joyce’s couch. Hop’s knee rubbing up against mine is all I can think about as he explains what happened to him the night before. I do start to tune back into the conversation when Hop tells Joyce that she was right all along.

I don’t think I have ever seen Joyce more happy than she is at this moment, at least two people believe her and now there’s undeniable proof, at least to the three of us, that Will is still alive. Joyce pulls me up from the couch and into a bone crushing hug, the hope and joy she's radiating is infectious.

CFTF tags: @letaliabane @ilovethatforyou @gay-forspace @ffantasylandd @simplyjazzy666 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @l0ve-0f-my-life @moonstarsandsongs @euphoniumpets @noshi-chan @astream-ofconsciousness @rentheanonymous @southsideacademythings @peter-beter-barker @tinynshykitten @captainstilinskis @krazykatkay456 @sara-stark-rogers

#can't fight this feeling #jim hopper #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper my love #stranger things #stranger things season 1 #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #cheif hopper #hopper x reader #hopper x you #hopper imagine #wheeler!reader #mike x sister!reader

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seidenbros · 2 years

Note

Hello! Would you be able to do an Eddie x y/n 1 where y/n has a CPTSD flashback and panic attack by being triggered by someone shouting/sudden loud noise and Eddie realises whats happened and has to try to bring y/n back to the present by voice/gentle touches as well as slow gradual movements so that he doesn't scare y/n more then they already are?

Requests are open | prompt lists for inspiration | Stranger Things Masterlist

Hello there 💚Thank you so much for your request! It's not an easy topic, so I really hope I did it justice, because it is something I don't have personal experience with (and I know how lucky I am!), so I really hope I portrayed it well. Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!Reader (let me know if I missed something) Word count: 2620 Warning/Tags: angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, cptsd, childhood trauma, child abuse, panic attack (let me know if I missed anything)

Falling to Pieces

About a year ago, you’d moved to Hawkins, moved on with your aunt, because you couldn’t live with your parents anymore. It had taken years for someone to realise what was going on in your home, because you’d always hidden it well, had always been the quiet kid, the outcast, so nobody had gotten close to you. The whole facade had crumbled down when your aunt had come for a surprise visit and had seen the injuries on your body. Once she’d cracked your shell, you’d started to tell her everything, about what had been going on ever since you’d been what? Eight? Nine? Ever since they’d been sure that you understood that you couldn’t tell anyone or you would end up in the streets, because nobody would want to take care of you. Your aunt would have done that, would have taken you in a heartbeat if she’d known, and she’d cursed herself for not realising this sooner.

By now, you were just happy that it was over, that you were living with someone who genuinely cared about you, who was taking care that you got the help that you needed and had set you up with a therapist. It had taken some time for you to open up, but by now, you were quite happy with the arrangement, worked on what you were talking about, and you were honest, which was the most important thing.

Therapy was actually where you’d met Eddie a few months ago. Yes, you’d seen him around, and he’d certainly caught your eye, but you’d never really talked until that day a couple of months ago, when you’d nearly bumped into him, while exiting the building.

“Sorry my lady,” he’d apologised immediately, bowing to you with a grin that had made your knees weak. When he’d straightened again, he’d scrunched up his nose for a moment. “You're Gloria’s niece, right? Can you give me just a minute? Then we can go.”

He’d caught you completely off guard with that, so you’d waited in front of the building for him, even though you hadn’t had any idea why. Five minutes later, Eddie had been with you again, telling you that your aunt had asked him to pick you up, because she’d been stuck at work.

From that day on, you’d spent more and more time together, and you’d even told Eddie a little bit about your therapy sessions. Sure, he’d guessed where you’d been that day, where you went every tuesday afternoon, but he’d never asked until you’d told him. It had become a weekly routine that he picked you up, asking you how therapy had gone after you’d confided in him. You’d become friends over time, and Eddie knew a little bit about your past, about your aunt taking you in because you hadn’t been safe in your parents’ presence anymore. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, how long you’d lived in these conditions, but he’d definitely picked up on your behaviour when you heard certain sounds, when it suddenly got too loud around you.

Eddie constantly made sure that you were okay, when you spent time together. His eyes lingered on you a little longer than was probably appropriate, he was careful with touching you every time, and always made sure you were okay with where you were going. The cinema? During the week, when there were less people there. Most of the time you stayed at your aunt’s house or at his trailer. You loved it when he played some music for you, but he always made sure to not turn the amp up too much. Eddie was very observant when it came to you, because he liked you. More than he’d probably like to admit, but he did.

That was why he wanted to do something special for you, take you somewhere nice where you could hopefully forget everything for a while and just forget about all your troubles. So, he picked you up after your therapy session like he usually did, but didn’t go towards your aunt’s home, no, he went in the other direction.

“This is not the way to my home,” you said, voice a little shaky, because you didn’t know what was happening.

“No, I thought I could take you somewhere nice, where you can relax and free your mind a little hopefully.” Eddie cast a glance at you, before he looked back out on the street, slowing down a little bit. “Only if that’s okay with you of course! Shit, I should have asked you first, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, don’t apologise!” You didn’t want him to feel guilty, because you were always a little… careful. Eddie had always made you feel safe, constantly checking up on you, so you knew that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable on purpose. “It’s… a nice thought. Really!”

“Are you sure? Because I can turn the car around!” “Yes I’m sure. Actually kind of curious where you’re taking me.”

“Ahh well…” Eddie scratched the back of his neck, and was he blushing? “It’s nothing that special. Just the house of a… friend. I’m looking out for it while he’s indisposed.” A nice way of saying that Rick was in jail at the moment, but that didn’t really matter right now. “It’s at Lover’s Lake, so I thought we could take the boat and just get on the lake, enjoy the silence out there for a moment.” And when you had enough of that silence, you could go in the house and watch a movie or something. Eddie really wanted to spend more time alone with you, and nobody really came here, so it was the perfect place for some peace and quiet. Of course, Lover’s Lake was highly frequented during the summer months, but not this side of the lake.

“That sounds nice.” You smiled to yourself, because it was such a sweet gesture. Eddie had really thought about what you might enjoy and so he’d ended up with you at Rick’s house.

Relief washed over Eddie, because he’d thought that he’d overstepped your boundaries. There was a lot that you’d talked about, but still more that you hadn’t talked about, so he wasn’t sure if you’d enjoy this little trip. He loved seeing you smile, and so when you showed that smile right now, his stomach flipped, happiness spreading through his whole body.

Once you got there, Eddie parked the van and came around to open the door for you. He held out his hand for you to take and you happily did. You’d done that before, had walked hand in hand, once or twice, and every time you allowed him to hold your hand, Eddie was overjoyed. Because it was a sign of trust, something that meant a lot to him. That you decided to do this with him today was another way of showing him that you were beginning to trust him. There was still a long way to go, due to your past, and he knew that, so he was happy with everything you were willing to give him.

“If at any point, you feel uncomfortable, you’ll let me know, right? We can leave any time.” He had to make sure that you knew that, that you didn’t feel like going through with this to do him a favour or anything.

“Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.” With a smile on your lips, you squeezed his hand, held on to it as he led you to the boathouse to the side of the house. You’d never been here before, it was your first trip to Lover’s Lake, but it looked quite nice.

Eddie had to let go of your hand to take care of the boat, take everything that you wouldn’t need out of it and then lower the boat to the water. It went well until you heard loud noises from outside, something crash, people shouting.

“Jesuc Christ, who is-” Eddie started, turning around to look outside, because usually nobody came here, but his eyes landed on you and he let go of the boat immediately.

Instinctively, you’d crouched down, covering your face with your hands, shrinking as far back against the wall as was humanly possible. Your heart was hammering in your chest, palms sweating profusely as you tried to hide your body so that you would stay unharmed. Your whole body was trembling, breathing bacem more and more difficult for you, because you felt like someone was pressing down on your chest.

This wasn’t happening, you were safe, your parents were nowhere to be found, miles and miles away. You told yourself that, tried to calm yourself down, but to no avail. When another crashing noise could be heard outside, you whimpered, screwing your eyes shut. You felt like you were back in your childhood home, your parents arguing in front of your door until you mother left and your father came into your room to have his way with you. You could nearly feel his hands on your body, making you sick to your stomach. You’d escaped all of this, you knew that deep down, but right now, it felt all too real

“Y/n…” Eddie said softly, walking over to you, but you shrank back even more, keeping your eyes closed to keep some kind of control.

Eddie wasn’t sure what to do, how to approach you, because he couldn’t just let you stay down there in this state alone, but he also didn’t want to scare you even more. You’d talked about your past, had let him in on a few details, and when he’d seen some of your scars, you’d told him briefly how you’d gotten them. He knew that your parents were responsible for everything, but there were still a lot of things he didn’t know, that you weren’t able to tell him. Your therapist knew, but she was the only one. Not even your aunt knew the full extent of the damage your parents had done.

Eddie cast a quick look out of the window, but the people who’d come here, probably to see if Rick was home or not, were just leaving. His eyes were on you again immediately, and he slowly got down on his knees, still keeping his distance, because he didn’t want you to move even further away.

“They’re gone… It’s all quiet again,” Eddie informed you, eyes never leaving your frame. He watched every little reaction. “Nobody’s gonna harm you here, alright? Not when I’m here. LIsten to me, okay and keep breathing. Deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth, can you do that for me?”

He thought he saw the tiniest of nods from you, so he took a deep breath himself.

“I’m here, okay? I’ll slay all the dragons that might come your way, or give them something to hoard if they are nice and don’t want to eat you. I’ll walk all the way to Mordor with you so we can throw your worries into Mount Doom and get rid of them.”

While listening to Eddie, you followed what he’d told you, taking deep breaths. It was easier when he was talking to you, because his words made you visualise what he was telling you. It even made you smile a little bit, and you slowly felt the tension ease out of your body. When you opened up your eyes again to look at him, you even took one hand away from your eyes. Eddie seized that moment to reach out his own hand. Only his fingertips were brushing against your hand. You tensed for a second again, before you relaxed and placed your hand in his.

“Or if you prefer, I can bring you to the Shire and make sure that you get all the meals you need. Breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses… And I’ll definitely protect you from all the orcs that might cross your path.”

Your breathing became steadier, no more pressure on your chest, and you felt yourself calm down more and more. Your hands were still trembling a little bit, but that was the aftershock of your own panic attack. You were still listening for any loud sounds, waiting for someone to barge through that door and come at you, but Eddie managed to draw your focus towards him.

“Just think that Gandalf should keep his fireworks to himself this time, right?” Eddie looked into your eyes, slowly pulling you up with him. When he saw your nod, his smile softened. He let go of your hand, slowly ran his fingertips up your arm. “But I think a little lesson in fighting might not be so bad, huh? So you can learn to slay your own dragons and defend yourself from the orcs in this world.”

“Probably,” you eventually managed to say out loud, and once you were sure that there was nobody coming in here, you relaxed a little more. Without thinking too long about it, you stepped up to Eddie, wrapping your arms around his middle. His familiar scent filled your nose, grounding you even more. You pressed your nose against his chest and closed your eyes.

Eddie took a deep breath before he wrapped his arms around you as well - not too tight, though, because he didn’t want you to feel caged in his embrace.

“I mean it, okay?” he said a lot more quietly now, before he leaned down to brush his lips across your forehead. “I’ll protect you no matter what. You’re safe with me.”

Eddie’s hands moved slowly over your back, up and down in a soothing motion until he felt you melt into him. Now, it was his heart that was picking up its pace, because of you, because you were in his arms, and he’d been thinking about this for so long now, but he’d never made a move. He wouldn’t do that now, he was just glad that he’d been able to help you in this situation. And maybe… maybe you’d trust him enough one day to let him take you out on a proper date.

“We can leave if you want to, if you need some rest. I can take you home.” Eddie offered, smoothing a hand over your hair, before he pulled back slightly to look at you.

“I… don’t know.” You raised your head, scrunched your nose up in thought. “No, I want to try this. It sounded so nice.”

“Alright, but remember-”

“I’ll let you know when I want to go,” you said with a smile, but then you pulled him towards you to kiss his cheek. “And then you, Eddie… You were wonderful just now.”

“Ahh, I just did what I thought might work, because I wasn’t sure.”

“It worked perfectly. And I love what you said.” You’d talked about books a lot, and you knew how passionate he was about The Lord of the Rings, so it was probably only natural that he’d used it as a reference, but it had worked so well for you at the moment. “So, you’ll take me out to elevenses some time?”

“If you want that, sure!” He couldn’t deny the fact that his heart skipped a beat at your words, and the bright smile on his lips made you grin to yourself.

“I’d love that.”

“Great…Awesome!” Now it was Eddie who leaned towards you to press a kiss to your cheek, before he quickly turned towards the boat again to get that ready for you. It hadn’t been your first panic attack, but the first one that had been over so quickly because of Eddie. With him by your side, you really knew that you were safe.

Tag-list: @violetpenguinkris @tellhound @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @spideyanakin-interacts @bellamy-barnes @beepisbeep @snapefiction @hardysbitch @give-em-hellfire @sadbitchfangirl @ravenclawkimmi @lacrymosa-24 @ruinedbythehobbit @samlealea

Let me know (send me a message) if you want to be on one of my tag-lists. I have one for the Promises Series, Eddie x Reader, Steddie and Steve x Reader 💚

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #staffi writes

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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