#and it's slowing down the whole process so much like this fic should be done already but HOW do i get them to TALK in a way that works | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seijorhi · 2 years

Text

Echoes

i am extremely late with this spooktober fic but... at least it's here ghfjdkfhgjf

i hope y'all like it! <33

Sano family x female reader

w.c 6.7k

tw: yandere themes, mentions of blood/gore, character death, supernatural themes, dub-con (kinda? not in a smut way tho)

There’s a reason why the asking price for the old house at the end of the lane is so cheap.

Why it’s sat on the market for near-on three years, untouched. A reason why the real estate agent, with her perfect hair and painted red smile, falters ever so slightly when the topic comes up.

“Before you decide whether you want to submit an offer, you should know that this house it– it has… a history.”

In hindsight, perhaps it’s your own fault for not prying deeper. You didn’t want the details, the ghost story. With an inheritance you gained too young, and grief still too raw, you lied, and told her you knew.

You liked this house, with the trees in the garden and its quaint little kitchen.

What harm could the past ever bring?

—

“That’s the last one, yeah?”

You nod, setting the box down in what will be your living room, “That’s it.” Your whole life, everything you own, packed up into boxes now scattered throughout the otherwise empty house.

Yuzuha sighs, rolling her shoulders as she leans against the kitchen countertop, surveying the mess that awaits you. Then, she glances back at you, “You sure you don’t want me to stay? I don’t mind helping build furniture or unpacking stuff.”

If you let her, she’d probably call up her brother and rope him into helping the two of you as well. Not that Hakkai would take much convincing.

And while you can’t imagine that muddling through indecipherable assembly instructions or diving into the very same boxes she helped pack is anyone's idea of a fun Friday night activity, Yuzuha would do it gladly, without complaint. All night, if that’s what it took.

If that’s what you wanted.

You shake your head and offer her a small, tired smile, “Nah, you’ve done plenty, Zu. I appreciate it, really.”

She lifts an eyebrow, “You’re gonna spend the night by yourself in this big, empty house?”

“Considering I bought it, yeah, that was kind of the idea,” you laugh.

Yuzuha doesn’t look sold on the idea. Then again, she hadn’t been sold on the whole moving thing to begin with, and for that matter hadn’t been shy about telling you. But if there’s one thing you’re grateful for, it’s that despite that, she’s the last person who’ll ever tell you that what you’re doing is the wrong way to grieve.

And so she nods, pulls you into a close hug. “… Love you,” she whispers, and you squeeze her back just as tight. For a while, the two of you stay like that, neither saying a word.

With Yuzuha, you don’t have to.

Eventually, the two of you part and she makes you promise, hand in hers, that you’ll call if you need her.

The house feels infinitely emptier once she’s gone. The bedroom you’ve taken up residence in has your bed set up at least, a suitcase stuffed with essentials and clothes for the next few days propped open by its foot.

You order pizza for dinner because it’s easy, sitting cross legged on the floor of your new home with an open bottle of champagne that the real estate agent left. Tomorrow you’ll begin the task of unpacking and settling in, a slow process that’ll doubtlessly take days – tonight, you don’t have the energy.

So you sit, and eat, and stare. This house of yours feels different in the dark. The emptiness echoes, a yawning, gaping maw that feels as though it wants to swallow you whole given half the chance.

But this house is new. Unfamiliar. It won’t be forever – when the rooms are filled with light and music and the kitchen smells of freshly baked treats, and you remember which of the floorboards creak and where the sun shines through in the late afternoon, it’ll be home.

And maybe one day you’ll fill these rooms with a family of your own, maybe you won’t. Maybe in a few years time you’ll come to the realisation that you’ve outgrown what you needed this house to be, and you’ll sell it to somebody else. A family, perhaps, with kids who’ll run down through the living room chasing each other, laughing and giggling.

The thought is an oddly bittersweet one.

For as bright and happy as this place used to be, you can’t escape the truth that something awful happened here. There’s a sadness that hangs thick and heavy in the air around you. Grief and pain etched into the very foundations.

But you’re broken, too – hollowed out with emotions still too raw to touch.

There’s something about this house, though. Something that goes beyond the tragedy that haunts it. You’ve spent days trying to put a finger on what exactly it was that drew you here, and why you kept coming back to it no matter how many other properties you saw.

You wanted an apartment, or a small two bedroom place. Something nice, small – cozy. Easy to take care of and keep clean. Rather than any of that, you’ve somehow ended up with a place bigger than you'll ever need, with four bedrooms and a converted garage out back.

You take a slow sip of champagne, straight from the bottle because your glasses are yet to be unpacked.

This house has good bones, it just needs a little life.

—

You wake with a jerk, gasping.

The dream – nightmare, you suppose – begins to fade, even as you reach desperately to grasp at its threads. The only thing you can remember is the feeling of coldness seeping through your body, and hands grabbing at you from all different angles. Holding you, touching you, petting you.

Your stomach turns as you scramble from your sheets.

It’s been like this every night this week. You fall asleep tucked away under the warm covers and wake in a pool of sweat from horrid dreams that you can’t remember, panting like you’ve run a marathon.

Forgoing the bathroom light, you reach for the faucet, cupping your palms beneath the cold water to splash it over your face.

You wonder absently whether it’s worth the effort of having an actual shower. The sheen of night sweat still clings to your skin, sticky and uncomfortable. Gripping tightly at the edge of the sink, you exhale, staring at the drain as water swirls down, down, down.

It was only a dream.

Another shaking breath.

Nightmares are nothing new for you, yet these ones seem to sink their claws into you. They’re harder to shake than the ones about the accident – dead faces staring back at you with unblinking eyes, a cold morgue, your father’s corpse whispering into your ear; your fault, your fault, your fault.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as if that will rid you of whatever lingering unpleasantness the nightmare imparted.

Finally, turning off the faucet, you glance to the mirror on the vanity– and scream.

There’s a figure standing behind you; slight and tan, with wavy blond hair and red hanafuda earrings that dangle to his shoulders. His eyes, though– one violet pupil fixed on your reflection. Where the other should be there’s a gruesome, gaping hole of flesh, brain matter and blood that drips down the left side of his face like tears.

A door slams somewhere inside the house, a shout piercing through the night and you jolt, screaming louder as you whirl, still clutching at the edge of the sink as if it’s a lifeline.

There’s no one behind you, though, and when you fumble for the light switch, heart pounding, your stomach sitting in your throat, there’s nothing but silence to greet you.

—

“You know what this house needs?”

Yuzuha, munching on the pastries she’d brought over for breakfast, eyes the room thoughtfully, “New curtains. A rug for under the coffee table, hmm… oh! And some indoor plants, too. They’d liven the place up a little, I think.”

Hakkai laughs, waving off her suggestion, “Nah– well, maybe, but that’s not where I was going with this. You’ve got that extra room shed thingy out the back, right?” You nod and he continues, “Right, well I think you should convert it into a super fancy guest room, and then when Yuzuha starts smothering me, I can come and stay here!”

“Hey!”

“You wouldn’t stay up here with me in the main house? There’s like a thousand rooms you could pick from.”

“Well, no, I mean– I wouldn’t, um, I don’t–” he flashes a panicked ‘deer-in-headlights’ look at his sister, the tips of his ears turning pink, and you almost – almost – feel bad for the laugh that bubbles up in response.

“Relax would you? You guys practically offered to let me move in with you both, no questions asked. You can stay here whenever. I’m not sure about the space out the back, though. I’m thinking I might turn it into a studio, or a movie den or something?” You shrug, “I don’t know yet. Still figuring it all out.”

When you glance to Yuzuha, the strawberry blonde is already watching you, a fond little smile warming her features. Hakkai may be the model in the family, but there’s something infinitely lovely about the elder Shiba sibling when she looks at you like that.

“A movie den sounds great,” she says, “but there’s no rush. We can make this place perfect, however you want it.”

You grin back at her, lips parting to continue the conversation when goosebumps begin to dot your skin, a cold shiver rolling down your spine. In the space of less than a second, the temperature in your living room’s plummeted, a chill that seeps right down to your very bones.

The windows are closed, though, there’s no breeze or draught blowing through to explain it.

Yet if either Yuzuha or Hakkai notice, neither gives any indication.

“–Hakkai’s shoot, so we can go on Monday or Tuesday?” Yuzuha’s looking at you expectantly.

You blink at her. “Sorry, what?”

The faintest of frowns mars your friend’s pretty face, but it’s smoothed over in an instant as she rolls her eyes good naturedly. “Stop zoning out on me. I said Hakkai’s got a shoot over the weekend, so if you want we can go look for house stuff early next week.”

Ice trails down your neck, localised this time – like fingertips dragging along your skin.

“Oh… yeah, that– that sounds good.”

Your smile is frozen. Tight. And while Hakkai is oblivious to it, flicking through his phone with one hand, chowing down on the ‘low cal’ salmon bagel Yuzuha had begrudgingly bought for him, his sister isn’t so easily fooled.

Critical eyes sweep across your face. The corners of her lips turn downward, and she opens her mouth only to close it, seemingly thinking better of whatever it was.

Yuzuha exhales softly, and reaches for your hand, squeezing it til you look at her properly. “You look tired, hun,” she murmurs quietly. “Are you sleeping alright?”

And for some reason, the innocuous question has your eyes prickling, a thick lump forming in your throat. But you smile (as best you can) all the same, and nod.

“Y’know what else this place could do with? A dog. Or a cat. Either really – you’ve got the space for it.”

—

A little after midnight, 12:17 to be exact, the TV in the living room switches on.

The sounds of buzzers ringing like pinball machines and peals of laughter float under your door, you recognise the sound of the host’s voice – reruns of a popular game show you used to watch as a kid.

You pull the covers tighter around yourself, squeezing your eyes closed like that’ll stop the noise. Protect you, somehow.

The TV’s old, wires must have loosened or frayed in the move somehow. That can happen, right?

You’re not crazy.

You’re not.

Ghosts aren’t real.

And when the door to your bedroom slowly creaks open, and muted, impossible footfalls pad closer, your grip on the sheets tightens.

Muscles pulled taut and trembling like a leaf, a cold bead of sweat trickles down your spine.

Ghosts aren’t real.

The other edge of your covers lift, and you tense, flinching at the breeze of cold night air that licks at your back. A whimper slips out, halfway to a sob, as the sheets rustle, your bed dipping under a phantom weight.

The cold you’ve since become familiar with settles over you once more. And still, you refuse to look.

This has to be a dream. Another visceral nightmare that’ll fade the moment you wake.

“Go away,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Go away, go away, go away, go away–”

Down in the living room, the TV changes channels.

—

The sun is shining and your bedroom is blessedly empty when you pry open bloodshot, exhausted eyes.

Not a pillow out of place, no sign of any late night visitors, corporeal or otherwise. It should be a relief, except the same cannot be said for the kitchen, for when you sleepily shuffle in, you find a blonde girl with honey eyes no older than you sitting on the countertop, idly swinging her legs.

Watching you with a strangely eager smile.

“About time you got up. I’d ask if you usually make a habit of sleeping this late, but I think by now we both know that you do.”

You freeze, eyes widening, heart pounding; a deer in headlights.

She’s a petite thing, slender if not for her curves, and perched atop the counter and smiling as she is, she doesn’t appear threatening or violent. Appearances can be misleading, though, and the fact remains that there’s a stranger in your house, talking to you as if she knows you.

Rooted to the floor on the outskirts of the living room, you’re wholly defenceless. There’s nothing within arms reach you can grab to defend yourself, and you can’t even threaten to call the cops – you left your phone back in your room.

Nervous eyes dart around your living space. Is it just her, or are there others, too?

You don’t know whether to scream, run, or stand your ground and demand she gets the hell out of your house. You can’t think, petrified of making the wrong choice, your breath coming quicker and quicker.

“I don’t bite, y’know. You don’t have to be scared.”

Screaming, you eventually decide. If you scream, she might get scared and run off, or someone else will hear and come and investigate. Before you can make so much as a squeak, however, the blonde shifts, leaning back ever so slightly – inadvertently placing herself directly in the path of the sunlight streaming into the kitchen.

And your jaw falls lax.

The sun doesn’t spill over her features, casting them in a warm glow. The shadows don’t shift.

Rather, that beam of buttery, golden light filters through her, as if she’s no more than smoke and dust.

“You’re not… real.”

The girl tilts her head to the side, considering you for a moment. Then she laughs, hopping down off the counter. “No?”

One blink, and all of a sudden she’s standing right in front of you, hand outstretched to touch your face. You jerk back reflexively, and she diverts her course, grabbing your wrist instead. Steadies you with an ice cold touch and laces her fingers with yours.

“I might not be alive anymore, that doesn’t make me any less real.”

It’s too much. Her touch and the closeness, the paranoia of the past two weeks. Hysteria bubbles up inside of you and you try to yank your hand free and scramble back away from her.

For a figment of a fractured imagination, the blonde’s grip is surprisingly unyielding. You wrench yourself against it all the same.

“No, no, no, let me go–” you gasp, hot tears prickling at your eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the hallucination says, a pout tugging at her full lips. “None of us will, Izana… Izana’s just–”

You never find out who or what Izana is or isn’t, because between terrified, rattling breaths and half choked pleas, a masculine voice calls out from nearby.

“Emma.”

The blonde – Emma? – heaves a long suffering sigh, rolling her pretty eyes. “Fine.”

And in the blink of an eye, she’s gone.

—

You refuse to google the word ‘ghosts’.

Lost in the crowd wandering the busy streets of Tokyo with a coffee in hand, you reach a calm sort of clarity.

As far as you can tell, there are two possibilities; Either ghosts are real and your house is haunted, or you’re seeing things.

Having never been one to put much faith in anything spiritual, logically, the second option makes more sense. You’re grieving still, exhausted from a lack of sleep and the stress of packing up your life and moving houses for the first time. Is it any wonder that you’re struggling to cope? Is it that much of a stretch to imagine that you’re seeing things, feeling things that aren’t actually there?

Except you don’t feel crazy. When you’re outside, away from home – on your bi-weekly trek to your parents grave, or when you’re out shopping with Yuzuha or picking up groceries, you don’t get that same sense of unease. You don’t see things that shouldn’t – couldn’t – possibly exist.

And things were getting better. You were getting better; the nightmares were easing. The guilt still ate away at you, yes, and you mourned for the loss of your parents, but it wasn’t that all consuming grief that crippled you before.

You’d felt that touch. That day in the kitchen with your friends, and again this morning. The girl, Emma, you’d felt her hand around your wrist, cold and impossibly strong, but real.

Which leaves you with the possibility that you’re not imagining any of it.

In any case, you can’t just bury your head in the sand and pretend this isn’t happening. You can’t hide away forever.

The house is quiet when you return. Still. Yet there’s an air of anticipation that stirs as you cross the threshold and set down your keys, like an arrow nocked and drawn, ready to be loosed.

Wetting your lips and squaring your shoulder, you wonder if you’re a fool. You must be, yet you don’t see any other option.

Breathing in deep, your lips part, “Emma? Are you there?”

You’re speaking to an empty room, and then, suddenly, you aren’t – the petite blonde girl appearing beside you.

Only this time, she’s not alone. Leaning propped up against the open entryway, arms folded across his chest, a tall, dark haired man meets your gaze.

There’s something decidedly familiar in the set of his features, the shape of his nose, but you’re spared from thinking too much on it when Emma squeals in delight, throwing her arms around you – oblivious to the way you stiffen and squeak under the cool embrace.

“I knew you’d come around!”

“Emma.”

You recognise the deeper voice, having heard it only hours before. Your attention shifts to the other figure in the room. Older than Emma, with more than a passing resemblance; a brother, you decide, or a cousin.

Flat, black eyes peer back at you. Unsettling, despite the pleasant expression he wears.

Emma huffs, drawing her head from your tensed shoulder to look at him, “What? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

A hint of a smile teases at his mouth.

It’s a familiar look, you’ve seen a similar one on Yuzuha’s face whenever Hakkai tries to sweet talk his way out of doing things he doesn’t want to – chores, paperwork, what he deems to be ‘unnecessary’ meetings. The list is endless.

“Let her go and give the poor girl some space, would you? You’re overwhelming her.”

For a moment it looks as though she’s going to argue with him, but upon glancing back at you – noticing, probably for the first time the strained expression on your face – she relents, a petulant, “Killjoy,” muttered under her breath.

Yet she doesn’t stray from your side, hovering close. “This is Shinichiro. He’s the oldest.”

It’s a surreal thing, being introduced to the ghosts of the people who used to live in your house. Stumped by what you’re expected to say in return (‘nice to meet you’ seems a little… inadequate, considering the circumstances), Shinichiro takes the lead, grinning as he pushes off the doorframe.

“Not every day you meet a ghost, huh?” he asks.

You decide against telling him that you’re still not positive this isn’t all in your head.

“Not every day you move into a house that’s haunted,” you counter. You’d meant it as a joke, but the words come out all stilted and stiff, betraying your discomfort.

Despite that, they seem to have their intended effect, something like amusement glittering in Shinichiro’s eyes as he chuckles lightly, “Lucky us.”

Your stomach twists. Joking or not, none of this feels right. Emma, clinging to your side like glue, seems enamoured already, and Shinichiro appears friendly enough, but none of that changes the past two weeks, your fear and terror, the sheer blinding panic you’d felt, waking up from nightmares you’re beginning to suspect weren’t so inexplicable.

A sudden thought occurs to you, and you turn to Emma, “Wait, you said oldest?”

She nods, “Mhm! Shin’s the oldest, but there’s four of us.”

“You’ve already met Izana.”

Met him? Confusion etches its way onto your countenance, and with a frown of his own Shinichiro hastens to add, “The asshole shouldn’t have scared you like that, he’ll apologise.”

Ah, you realise with an icy stab – the face in the mirror. The one you’ve spent the past week trying your best to forget.

… Emma had mentioned him before, hadn’t she. She’d known then, that her brother had scared you half to death that night. Both of them had. And yet he – Izana – hadn’t looked like they did. Save for the smoke-like translucence of their skin and the preternatural way they moved, appearing and disappearing at will, both Emma and Shinichiro could almost pass for human. Or alive, you guess.

Izana had been something else entirely. A nightmare, bloody and horrifying… Why was he different?

“And then there’s Mikey, but he’s… well–” Emma hesitates, glancing at her older brother, who’s quick to step in.

“Manjiro doesn’t do great with change,” Shin admits, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “But he’s coming around. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Nope. This is too much.

“I-I think I need… I just need–” but the rest of the sentence won’t come, and so you shake your head and stumble for the couch, sinking down into the cushions moments before your legs give out entirely.

Elbows braced on your thighs, staring vacantly at the wooden floorboards you shudder for breath. The air’s too thin, and your head’s spinning.

Maybe you have lost it completely.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me, yeah? I get it’s a lot to take in, but everything’s gonna be fine.”

There’s a hand on your back, stroking slowly. Emma pops into existence beside you, curling into your side like a cat. Her cheek falls against your shoulder, “It’s okay.”

—

You never do get that apology.

Izana’s different from Emma, from Shin. Different even from Mikey – Manjiro – the youngest brother having taken to silently glaring at you from the outskirts whichever room you occupy.

(‘He just needs some time’, Shinichiro assured, patting you on the head.)

He appears in the windows, in your mirror. Always in the reflection, bloody and gruesome, hovering like a bad omen.

Then comes the cold that freezes you in place. And you’re forced to watch as he draws closer – touches you. Encircling your wrist at first, icy fingers trailing up your sides.

And then comes the hand that curls around your throat.

He doesn’t squeeze. Doesn’t tighten his grip.

Izana smiles in the reflection, laying his ruined face in the crook of the very neck he’s toying with and you wonder if ghosts can hurt the living – truly hurt you.

You wonder if he can hear the frantic pounding of your heart.

“I won’t leave,” you tell him one night, your voice trembling as he thumbs leisurely at your fluttering pulse. “You won’t scare me away.”

Izana snickers, and in the blink of an eye he appears behind you. Real, solid (or as solid as a ghost can be), wholly undamaged. Lips at your ear, violet eyes twinkle as they bore into your reflection.

“And what makes you think I want you gone?”

—

Another night, another restless dream that wrenches you back to consciousness.

In the darkness of your room, you draw your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball as the tears – hot and bitter – well up and spill silently down your cheeks.

It wasn’t a nightmare, at least, not the kind you’ve become accustomed to. In it, you weren’t haunted by shapeless, faceless figures, but your parents. Dead and empty, cold to the touch. They’d stood on the road beside the wreckage, watching impassively as you cried and screamed, crawling over broken glass to reach them.

Your fault.

Shoulders shaking, your face buried in your knees, you don’t notice the temperature in your bedroom dwindling.

“What happened?”

With a sniffle, you lift your head to find that you’re no longer alone; Mikey sitting cross legged at the end of your bed, chin resting in his propped up palm.

For once, he isn’t glaring.

Too drained for anything other than acceptance, you shrug with another weak sniffle, “Just a dream, don’t worry about it.”

At his raised eyebrow, you sigh, slowly wiping at your tears. “There was a car accident a few months back,” you say. “My parents, they–”

“They didn’t survive.”

“No.”

Mikey tilts his head, “Were you there?”

The screech of metal bending and gasoline that burns up your nose. Your head throbs, pain radiating along your leg. Your mother’s body lying twisted on the road in front of you–

Fingernails dig into the soft skin of your palm.

“… Yeah.”

For a little while, Mikey doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t offer any comfort, and you don’t expect him to, but he doesn’t leave.

You wouldn’t go so far as to say that it’s a nice moment, what with tears still quietly rolling down your cheek and your heart aching, but it’s something. Enough, maybe.

And then Mikey decides to speak.

“You have no one left, then.”

You stiffen, blindsided for a moment by the callousness of the comment. Mikey’s own expression is decidedly neutral, and whether he meant it to hurt or not, the words are salt in your wounds, rubbing too deep, too painful to be ignored.

Your eyes narrow into a glare, “I have Yuzuha. And Hakkai.”

Yuzuha hadn’t spent weeks looking after you in the wake of your parents’ deaths, making sure you ate and slept and showered, keeping you from becoming a miserable, hollowed out shell just to be brushed aside like she’s nothing. The Shiba siblings are family, blood and DNA be damned.

“They’re not your family,” he scoffs, scowling right back. “They’ll leave eventually.”

Resisting the urge to tell him to shut up, you instead fall back to the pillows, roughly yanking your covers up over your shoulder once more. “You don’t know anything,” you huff under your breath, the words more bitter than you intend.

You expect him to disappear then, or to double down on the cruel remarks. Mikey does neither, choosing to remain at the foot of your bed, his stare boring holes into you.

Whether it’s minutes or hours that pass, you couldn’t say, only that you’re on the verge of sleep once more when his voice breaks through the silence.

“I know what it’s like to watch your family die.”

Curled up on your side, gazing into the darkness, there’s an old ache inside of your chest that pangs, and regret washes over you.

You’d asked Emma about it only once, tentatively broaching the subject after dinner one night.

She’d gone silent for a long time, staring at the floor with wide, unseeing eyes. It hadn’t been until you’d gently called her name again that she’d snapped out of it, quietly admitting that there was a break in. Shinichiro had appeared a moment later and the subject was quickly dropped – you haven’t had the nerve to bring it up again since.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and Mikey hums in response.

—

Things seem to settle after that.

You return to work, and though you’d never admit as much to either one of them, it’s nice to be around people other than Yuzuha and her brother.

After the first day or two, your co-workers stop tiptoeing around you like they’re afraid you’ll break at the slightest touch, and start treating you how they used to.

For the first time in a long time, you feel almost normal again.

You come to realise that you like coming home to Emma and Shinichiro – even Mikey when he’s not in a mood. You enjoy having company while you cook dinner, someone to listen to you talk about your day.

Izana still takes perverse pleasure in trying to unnerve you of course, and Mikey hangs over you like a shadow (though he doesn’t glare so much anymore, which you count as a win) but the house feels more welcoming now that you know it’s not so empty.

You’re not a burden to them. Not a broken, pitiable thing.

It’s enough, sometimes, to make you forget that you’re not the only one with hang ups from the past.

The first time you come home late, it’s because your bus broke down halfway home, and you ended up grabbing a bite to eat while you waited for the next one.

You’re greeted by Shin, pacing in the living room, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips.

(And maybe if he hadn’t looked so frustrated, you might’ve marvelled at the concept of a ghost smoking.)

“Where the hell were you?”

Both Emma and Mikey linger nearby, watching on as you drop your keys and purse on the counter top, toeing off your shoes. “There was an issue with the bus, it’s not a big deal.”

Well meaning or not, his attitude chafes a little. You’re a grown adult, you don’t need to be babied or coddled. You certainly don’t need to explain yourself to any of them – it was barely an hour. If you wanted to spend all night partying, or go out on a date, or stay back in the office working, you were perfectly entitled to.

Shinichiro isn’t your big brother, and you’re not a kid with a curfew.

Nevertheless, you apologise – if only to rid the awkward, strangely tense atmosphere that hangs in the air between you.

“Shin gets like that sometimes. After… everything that happened,” Emma explains later, seated atop your bedroom vanity. “He cares about you. We all do – we just wanna know that you’re safe, is that really so awful?”

You’re not the one being unreasonable, you know that, it doesn’t stop the slight twinge of guilt.

The second time it happens, it’s because you’re dragged out for drinks after work to celebrate one of your coworkers birthdays. You stumble home well after dark, the taste of sake fresh on your tongue.

Lips pursed, Shinichiro doesn’t say a word as you step inside and shut the door behind you, the lock clicking into place. He doesn’t need to – the disapproval rolls off of him in waves.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, your previous good mood all but evaporating under his scowl. “I didn’t realise it was so late.”

Which is a lie, technically, but what else is there to say?

This time, even Izana’s here, his countenance impassive save for the narrowing of his eyes – an expression matched across his siblings’ faces.

The longer the heavy silence stretches, the more uncomfortable you become. You begin to feel a little like you’re on trial. “Next time I’ll call, o-or, I don’t know, I’ll leave a message somehow to let you know that I’ll be coming home late.”

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Shin snaps, and for one split second, you swear his appearance changes; blood flecked across pale, dead skin, a bullet wound at his temple, bone and blood and brain matter exploding on the other side–

You blink, though, and whatever you thought you saw is gone.

Shin looks down at you, eyes uncharacteristically hard, his jaw set. “You don’t fucking get it,” he repeats quietly, shaking his head, and an instant later, all four of them are gone.

Feeling very much like a child chastised by your parents, there’s not much left to do but shower the day’s stresses off of you and head to sleep.

The hot water helps. Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll apologise to him and talk, maybe set out some ground rules. You still don’t think you’re entirely in the wrong, but clearly this is a point of contention with him – with all of them, apparently – and it’s better to nip it in the bud.

Opening the shower door, you step gingerly out onto the bath mat, reaching through the steam for your towel. One moment, you’re upright, the next you’re careening backwards, arm outstretched–

You hit the ground hard, and scream as bone breaks.

—

“I leave you alone for one week!”

“Zu, it’s fine! Would you please stop worrying?”

“You broke your arm!”

“There was water on the tiles, I slipped and fell, it happens, and I’m fine,” you stress. “The doc said a few weeks in the cast and I’ll be good as new.”

The unimpressed look Yuzuha gives you says more than words ever could. “You need to be more careful, hun. You could’ve hit your head, you could’ve seriously hurt yourself!” She sighs, nibbling at her bottom lip, “I just… I don’t wanna lose you, too.”

You smile at that, letting her pull you into a tight hug. Her lips press against your forehead and she holds you there for a minute, the familiar scent of honey and daisies tickling your senses. “You know I love you, right?” she mumbles against your hair.

“I know. I love you, too.”

Above you, the light fixture shatters.

—

A hand smoothes over your hair, a cold sensation tickling the soft skin of your cheeks. Blinking slowly, the world comes to, and you realise that once again, you’ve fallen asleep on the couch instead of your bed.

“What time is it?” you croak, squinting up at the eldest.

“Late.”

You yawn, pulling yourself up into a seated position, “‘m sorry. Work’s been crazy this week.”

“I know,” he says. “You’ve been staying back a lot lately, and going in early.”

It sounds almost like an accusation.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you frown a little, “I know– I’ve just gotta get back in the swing of things. And the broken arm isn’t exactly helping, but it won’t be like this forever.”

Shin nods, but he’s not even looking at you, staring instead at the game show playing forgotten on the old TV, and your frown deepens, “I-is everything okay?”

His shoulders rise and fall, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He turns to look at you then, and smiles.

You’ve seen Shin smile plenty of times before, but this one looks all wrong. Your stomach twists uneasily.

“Yeah,” he says, “It’s gonna be just fine, I promise.”

Your neck snaps to the side with a sickening, final crack.

—

You’d asked Yuzuha once if she believed in ghosts.

At the time she’d brushed it off as idle curiosity and told you the truth; yes, she believed in ghosts and no, she’d never seen one herself.

‘Do you think that there’s such a thing as good ghosts, or –I guess ghosts that aren’t inherently bad?’ you’d pushed.

Looking back on it now, Yuzuha wonders whether she missed something. She’s always been able to read you like a book, and it was strange, wasn’t it, that you’d pressed the issue? That you’d seemed so out of sorts, nervous, even.

But back then, you were only just starting to come back to yourself. She overlooked so much of it.

She’d told you then that ghosts only came about when people died with unfinished business, and that meant they were tethered here. Trapped. She’d told you that like any animal caught on a chain and left to rot, that made them dangerous.

The approach clicking of heels against wood draws her back to the present, and she turns to see the real estate agent pocketing her phone with a bright smile.

“Apologies, Miss Shiba.”

Yuzuha waves her off, “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Now, you were telling me about the history of the property?”

“Ah yes. I believe you’re aware that this home is a jiko buken?” Yuzuha nods, and the agent continues, “Well, about four years ago there was a nasty mess with the family who lived here, a murder-suicide, I believe. An awful, tragic thing.”

Tragic was one way of putting it.

After an hour or so of digging online, Yuzuha had found the full, grisly story on a true crime blog – backed up by links to leaked documents from the original police report.

The Sano children were orphans, raised by their grandfather after the untimely death (and abandonment) of their parents early in their childhood. The grandfather, Sano Mansaku, passed himself some years before, leaving the eldest, Shinichiro, to raise his three younger siblings: Izana, who it was later discovered was in fact adopted, Manjiro, also referred to as Mikey, and Emma, the youngest and only girl – Shinichiro and Mikey’s half sister.

Reports vary over what exactly caused the initial argument. The police suspect it might’ve had something to do with money or gang activity, as all three men had at one point or another been tied to various criminal groups. Another theory posits that the fight broke out after Izana’s true parentage was revealed.

In any case, it was deduced that a physical altercation broke out between Izana and Mikey and in the struggle Emma, likely trying to stop them from fighting, was shot on accident.

While the bullet missed her heart, it punctured her lungs. Even if emergency services had been called, there was no saving her at that point – the poor girl died within minutes.

Enraged by the death of his sister, police gathered that Mikey then shot Izana at a near point blank range, right through his eye.

While both shots were heard by neighbours, neither the police nor ambulances were called to the scene. Nearly two hours later, the eldest Sano returned home from work to find Emma and Izana dead, Mikey still cradling his sister’s body.

With the knowledge that his family was destroyed, and that his only remaining brother would be lucky to escape the death penalty if he were to be arrested, Shinichiro killed him – either in a blind rage or as a brutal act of mercy – before turning the gun on himself.

Yuzuha swallows a bitter laugh. Murder-suicide.

The real estate agent, oblivious, sighs, “The property then sat unoccupied until a few months ago when it was purchased outright by a young local girl.”

“O-oh?”

Her heart pounds so violently against her ribs that she’s sure the agent must be able to hear it. She knows what’s coming, tries to brace herself as best she can.

Hakkai had offered to come with her, his face ashen – almost green at the thought. He would’ve, though, if she’d said yes.

Maybe she should’ve. It’d be easier, she thinks, to hear it with her little brother’s hand wrapped around hers.

“Yes, unfortunately she too died on the property a few weeks back – an accident,” she hastens to clarify, as if that makes any difference.

Bile creeps up her throat, and Yuzuha forces herself to nod, clasping her hands behind her back so the real estate agent won’t see how badly they’re shaking. “I see… Do you– do you mind if I take a look around by myself?”

“No, no, of course, feel free. I’ll be in the kitchen if you have any questions.”

Her footsteps fade away, and Yuzuha walks the familiar path into your bedroom. All your furniture’s gone, your belongings. The room’s empty now. Cold and lifeless.

This house of yours always had cold spots, a bitter iciness that crept up at the strangest times, freezing her right to her bones – like someone was walking over her grave.

Closing her eyes, Yuzuha breathes in deep, and waits.

It doesn’t take long for goosebumps to prickle, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

“I know you’re here,” she breathes, eyes fluttering open – just as a cold grip seizes her by the throat. In one fell swoop, the door to your bedroom swings shut, the power surging ‘til it blows all across the house.

Plunged into darkness, the room’s just as empty as when Yuzuha entered it, frost spreading across the window. Even her breath, choked and frantic, puffs out in clouds of vapour as she claws at the invisible grip.

Distantly Yuzuha hears the real estate agent calling out to her, the door handle rattling uselessly. Locked.

Cold breath washes over her neck, lips at her ear. The hand at her throat tightens.

“She isn’t yours anymore. Get out.”

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere mikey x reader #yandere emma x reader #yandere shinichiro x reader #yandere izana x reader #yandere mikey #yandere shinichiro #yandere izana #yandere emma #tw: dubcon #i mean kind but not really but i'm tagging it to be safe

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 9 days

Note

When you are writing a new chapter for a fic, how do you decide what to put in, and what to leave out?

I see a lot of advice about killing your darlings - whittling the scene down until it contains only what's necessary to advance the plot.

But I also see advice that says it's okay to include more than this, because you need to advance the characters as well, by giving them quiet moments in between all of the plot advancing parts.

I really struggle to find the balance. I love writing the quiet moments, and fleshing the characters out, but sometimes these moments run away on me, and I end up with a bloated mess that barely advances the plot at all.

Do you have a process or a rule-of-thumb you follow, to help you decide what does or doesn't make the cut?

How easy do you find it to remove stuff later, when you realize the story is better without it? Do you cry and have wine while you bury your dead, or are you a ruthless assassin? :)

Oh man, great question.

I’m going to answer for what for my original fiction. I don’t heavily edit my fanfics in any meaningful capacity, as any of my readers can attest, since that is my hobby and editing is work. Also, since it is my hobby, I am pretty self indulgent with what I include. I meander and wander all over the place with my plots and don’t keep them as tight as they probably need to be.

Exhibit A, the visual representation of the plot of Thus, Always 2.0 (one line being present day and the second being the past):

But for my original fiction, there’s a very long, drawn out process of editing.

For House of No Return, the current book (known as The Venetians in my tags), I wrote out the first draft. In that draft I put all the self indulgent stuff I wanted. Character studies, side plots, random asides, plot cul-de-sacs, and so on.

Then, when done, I rewrote the entire thing. Top to bottom second draft. This is because, by the time I was done with draft one, I knew my characters a lot better than when I started. I knew, more clearly, the story I wanted to tell. I had a better vision of how the plot should work.

Once the second (or third) draft is done, I let it sit. Ideally, you should let it sit for a few months. I don’t have patience and am riddled with a deep need to always be writing, so I can usually only make it a few weeks.

When I take it back out, I print out the manuscript and read it in one or two sittings. This is because I need to remember what the fuck I was doing. As I read, I make margin notes of where I bump or where things drag a bit. My second read through is much more methodical. I sit with a note book and jot out a detailed outline as I read. When I eventually type them up they usually look something like this:

As I read through the outline, that’s where I can see if there are baggy parts that need trimming. When I note them, I decide whether to completely remove, or shorten, or shift to another part of the story, or if I can convey any central information in other areas.

Sometimes colour coding helps – highlighting all the parts that are faster paced in red, the slower bits in green, the pure character study bits in blue (or what have you). The visual representation helps me, at least, see if there’s a part that’s bunched up with only one colour and may need to be broken out a bit.

I make edits to my outline in blue, usually, of what needs to be added or changed when I go to do the next big rewrite.

Throughout this whole outline review process, I’m also thinking through what sort of plot pattern/design best serves the story. There are a lot out there and each has a purpose and can strengthen aspects of the story that’s being told.

Good reference: Meander, Spiral, Explode: Design and Pattern in Narrative by Jane Alison.

For House of No Return, it’s a pretty classic mountain form: start | rising action | point no return | climax | resolution.

Something a bit like this with the little plateaus representing times when the plot slows for a bit to allow the reader a break and an opportunity to sit with a character or an emotion or some new information.

These breaks can also ratchet up tension and help keep people on the edge of their seat. The horror genre is a great example of this. You know that when we’re having a quiet character moment, or a humourous moment, we’re about to get something horrific on the other side of it and we’re in trepidation until it happens. But the book can’t be all horrific moments or else the audience gets bored.

(Unless the author is Doing Something/There’s a Purpose Being Served in having 85,000-100,000 words of only horrific moments. Which can abosolutely be the case! Again, it’s about what you’re trying to do, how to best tell the story, and fundamentally what that story needs to be.)

Grief and trauma writing also benefit from the breaks. I think about this in fics where it’s all bleak torture and there’s no resting or lighter moments—it’s hard on the audience. Which, again, can be the author’s intent! And that’s fine! But usually if you want to keep people going with you on the journey you need to give them breaks. That is just reality.

So, when writing the classic model I would say write, write, write. Get every thing onto the page. Every little indulgement moment, every little character study etc.

Then think about how you want the story to be paced. Do you want it a heart pounding fast paced piece? Then yeah, trim it down to mostly bare bones with just enough breaks for character study/get the audience invested in who they’re reading about and to give them a bit of a breather. But it should be super tight, over all.

Steep, steep, steep – little moments here and there for a break – then shattering fall and people should be reading going “what the fuuuuck is going to happen next??” (Grady Hendrix is a master of this.)

Some traditional mountains, though, are slower.

There's a long, langurous start. We’re all along for a gentle ride then it begins to build bit by bit until we realize we’re riding down the Tuscan hillside in a cart with no breaks.

This is the sort of story where you can really relish your character studies and soft moments between people and little side bits. But you do need to keep enough movement to keep the audience interested. This is one that is harder to pull off because the balance can be tricky.

I tend to write like this. Hilary Mantel has books that hit this kind of approach. Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic is a good example of a slow burn start but a good ride at the end. Laura Purcell’s The Silent Companions is another example.

All that said, not all stories need to follow the traditional approach! Some are meant to be tangled meditations. A lot of weaving, a lot of introspection, the story is more about the journey and not the destination. Sometimes the plots look a little like this:

Peak Literary Experimental Fiction shit right here. This can be a lot of character study, a lot of philosophical musings, a lot tangents or backtracking or jumping around a little. Justin Torres’ Blackouts is a great example of a meandering story that is as much about the characters and their conversations as it is about queerness and history.

Other stories are meant to be rolling hills or waves: up and down, up and down.

Jane Austin has a bit of a wave quality to some of her stories, not all, but some. Long, drawn out family epics that span generations tend to have this quality to them. Books like Pillars of the Earth tend to be more wavey than mountain climax.

-----

Anyway. I've done a diversion myself. Back to editing.

When I’m doing my trimming, I don’t have an exact process for determining what makes the cut or what stays. I go with my gut on a lot of it. Sometimes, there are scenes that are hitting the same note but coming at it in different ways.

Cristof’s anxiety over his friend’s gambling addiction, and his guilt around feeling as if he is enabling it, is something I overwrote in the first few drafts because I was trying to understand the psychology of their friendship and Cristof’s own inner demons. Therefore, as I trimmed, I picked three key things that the audience needed to know about Cristof and Jacopo and made sure those were captured. I cut and trimmed accordingly.

However, I do have some babies that get reused in different places once I realize the original scene wasn’t working.

This stupid joke was originally in a completely different scene and was said by different characters but that scene wasn’t working and so I had to cut it. But I was very enamoured with this little interaction, so I found a way to incorporate it.

It’s also important to remember that some character studies/the resting pauses can be brief. By all means write out the full seven page version but I bet it’s possible to trim it down to a really powerful short beat that can pack a bit of a punch. Writing out the full seven pages is sometimes necessary to get at the heart of what you’re trying to say. Then cut it back.

I had a full multi-page version of this paragraph:

But it’s a rest-beat in the middle of the apothecary/barbershop scene that is moving the plot along, and therefore this memory/character beat needed to be tight. Still, we get a bit of a glimpse at Cristof and Nicolo through it, and while it might not seem important on the surface, we do need to care about these two idiots and the fact that they’re dumb about each other and in love.

Quiet moments can also be interspersed within action. You can weave them through, so you have:

Active Scene/Plot Moving

Restful introspection or memory

Back to the Active Scene.

If done right it can give a bit of a melodious, wave-like quality to what you’re writing. It’s not for every story, nor every scene, and shouldn’t be overused (I may be guilty of that), but it allows you to still get in those meaningful character moments without stopping the plot too much.

As for the ease with which I kill darlings? Depends on the darling. Some are easier than others. Some I like, but if I can incorporate the important bits in another fashion then I’m fine with it. The more I write, the more I edit, the more ruthless I become.

A lot of this is, fundamentally, all about practice and doing it a lot. And also all writing rules aren’t rules so much as broad guidelines and each story has its own needs and requirements to make it work.

Apologies for the long reply. I'm not sure it's what you're after but I hope it helps. There is, unfortunately, no "quick trick" that I have to do it. It's really just a very involved process.

#writing #writing is messy and hard and long sometimes #ask #reply #anon #thank you!!#the venetians

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daydreamingfuel · 8 months

Text

Freak Like Me

Chapter 7

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

AO3 // previous

Y/N has just moved to Hawkins from England with her parents and is starting at the high school in the final term of her senior year. Eddie immediately takes a liking to her and they become fast friends, deciding to take her under his wing and falling to her charms. This is Hawkins however and things are never quite as they seem...

WHOLE FIC TAGS & WARNINGS: gratuitous use of Y/N (I'm not sorry), friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, eventual smut, semi-fix-it-fic, angst, injury, canon dialogue and events used, canon graphic violence, no main character death :)

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Arguing, bickering, banter, mentions of readers dad's job...cause that's not important at all..., the whole gang is in this one so that's fun, platonic Stobin, hints at Stancy, Eddie gets jealous of Steve, slight possessive Eddie, a fuckton of swearing, Dustin is a little shit, as per usual, Steve gets sucked into the Upside Down,

Chapter Word Count - 6.5k

A/N - so this one is up only a week following the last one cause I had a burst of inspiration and confidence in my writing so go me! this is, however, the only good thing to come of this week - my front door lock to my house completely fell apart so I've been dealing with that, and my girlfriend moved back to uni so I'm sad af. But my favourite Dungeon Master always helps.

She was paralysed by fear, déjà vu washing over her as flashes of the argument following Chrissy’s death flickered in her mind. The world blurred around her as she swam after Eddie, who had immediately started to swim back to the boat as soon as Jason dived down to get Patrick's body. Her entire body ached as she moved, catching up with Eddie, who paused momentarily upon hearing her come after him.

“Y/N we need to go, right now, come on!” He called out to her, the panic strong in his shaking voice as he pulled himself back onto the boat.

Still willing her arms to move and her legs to kick as hard as they could, her thoughts spiralled, going through every possible outcome and what she should have done differently before. She had a chance to do it right this time and, whatever the outcome, she would stay by Eddie’s side. Once she was back at back at the boat, and clambered back into it with Eddie’s help, the pair each picked up a paddle to get themselves away.

“We could still plead our case! Jason has seen that you didn’t lay a hand on Patrick - they have no evidence!” She pleaded, in a last-ditch effort as they rowed for their lives towards the shore, but Eddie was practically vibrating in frustration as they pulled themselves and the boat up onto the bank, covered the boat in the tarp and disappeared into the tree line. Eddie tried desperately to call Dustin on the walkie, but the water had seeped into the electrics of the radio and completely broken it.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie exclaimed, the rage spilling over, “Y/N, come on, it doesn’t matter if there’s no evidence, they’re still going to pin this on me!”

“On us.” She corrected, making him stop in his tracks ahead of her, “I’ve been caught red-handed at the scene of the crime, just like you. If I wasn’t a suspect before, I definitely am now.”

He shook out some of the water from his hair and clothes as he processed how much trouble they were in. Stood between the trees with sirens echoing in the distance, but growing louder with each second, he stared at her in bewilderment, unable to conceal his worsening aggravation, “So what are we supposed to do, huh? Got any bright ideas?”

“Hey!” She snapped, “No need to get all pissy at me, it’s not like I’m the one killing people.”

“No! It’s not you or me - it’s a homicidal wizard from an alternate dimension. Let’s go tell that to the police, and get ourselves thrown in the loony bin in the process!” He snapped back, which made her pause to take a breath.

Y/N closed their eyes in thought, calming herself down somewhat. It was a meaningless fight; she knew that she couldn’t go to the police now or she’d be arrested on sight. They both would. She took a few deep breaths and rubbed at her clothes in a futile attempt to get warm, shaking out her hands afterwards in agitation. “Fine. Fine! You win.” Y/N said sharply, letting the ire seep into her words, “But if we are Bonnie-and-Clyde-ing this shit, I need to get a message to my mum.”

As they walked through the forest, night creeping into the early morning hours, they bickered about how exactly they were to get Y/N’s mum a message. At one point they considered finding their way to the house and leaving her a physical message, or talking to her in person, but quickly decided that it would be too risky for everyone involved. She didn’t want her mum to get in any more trouble. Ultimately, as they found a spot to rest for the night, they agreed that they would find a way to contact the others and ask that they deliver the message to her themselves in the morning. Shaking, Y/N slumped against the giant rock formation that Eddie had led her to and passed out, right as the birds started to sing.

Sunlight splintered through the trees, hitting her face in the morning glow, and soon the light was too much to bear, her eyes fluttering open. She woke to discover that she had been covered in Eddie’s battle vest for warmth at some point during the night and the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Panic settled in the pit of her stomach, twisting horribly as thoughts of her abandonment ran wild in her head. She clutched the vest tightly in her hands as she paced the clearing for any signs of his disappearance. The embellished denim was in desperate need of a was, much like everything they were wearing, but she cradled it to herself nonetheless. Subconsciously, she knew that he would never just abandon it or her, but her mind was too clouded with fear to think straight. A snapping twig alerted her to someone's arrival. She spun on her heels to see Eddie emerging through the trees, a new walkie in his hands.

Receiving his vest to his face as it was thrown at him, Eddie was greeted hostilely by Y/N, “Where the fuck did you go?”

“Good morning to you too, sweetheart. The walkie was drowned, I found us a new one,” He held it up as though it wasn’t already obvious in his hands, “I wasn’t gone that long, I was gonna wake you when I got back.”

“Next time, wake me up before you go.” She mumbled as he settled on the floor next to her, in the shade of the giant boulder formation. Finally cognitive, the fear that fogged her mind subsided somewhat, she was able to take in her surroundings and see where it was Eddie had brought her in the early hours of the day “Where are we, anyway?”

He fiddled with the buttons on the walkie as he spoke, eyes laser-focused on tuning into the right channel, “Skull Rock. It’ll do as a hiding spot for the moment, but it’s kinda infamous as a hook-up spot.”

“Oh really?” She questioned and he hummed in confirmation, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, not looking away from the walkie in his hands, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but it’s kinda bad timing.” She teased, though her body did heat up at the thought, from both the exhilaration at the wild thoughts running through her head and the jealousy that plagued her at the possibility that he had been here with other people. She quickly pushed away both feelings, it was neither the time nor place to deal with either of those thoughts.

He snorted and allowed a small smirk to grace his lips, but it fell as fast as it appeared, as he finally found the right channel and pressed the call button on the walkie, “Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?”

“Eddie. Holy shit. Are you okay?” Dustin's voice immediately answered through the radio, the worry coming through strong, and Y/N sighed in deep relief.

“Nah, man,” Eddie confessed easily, his nerves still rattling him, Dustin's voice after so long causing the man to crack beside her. He ran a stressed hand over his face as he talked, “Pretty… Pretty goddamn far from okay.”

There was a pause on the line briefly before Dustin asked, “Where are you? Is Y/N with you?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Y/N answered, huddled up to Eddie’s side, and leaning on his shoulder to talk, “we’re at Skull Rock. Do you know it?”

“Uh, yeah. That's near Cornwallis and-” Dustin started but was cut off by Steve.

“Garrett, yeah. I know where that is.” His voice was hushed like he wasn’t right next to the speaker, but standing near Dustin. Knowing he was there, and presumably would be driving, she called out to him, grabbing the walkie.

“Steve wait!”

There was silence for a moment before his voice came back through, “Y/N? What’s up, we don’t have much time.” His voice was dripping with concern and confusion, almost familial in tone – like a stressed dad, so she spoke as concisely as possible.

“Before you come to us, I need you to get a message to my mum.” Before she could be cut off, she continued, “And yes, I know that’s reckless, but I need you to do this for me, please, Steve – tell her to call my dad and his lawyers. And that I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, I’m not sure that’s the best-”

She cut him off, desperate, squeezing the walkie, “Steve, please!”

Her voice echoed slightly, as Eddie pulled the walkie from her hands to grip them tightly, until Dustin’s voice finally responded, “Hold tight. We're coming.” Y/N took a shaking breath, “We're coming.”

The static that followed echoed in the small space beneath the towering rock formation, they would be alone again for a while. Still very much shaken from the previous night, Eddie placed the walkie in the leaves at their feet and re-laced his fingers with Y/N’s. She immediately squeezed back, letting her body melt into his side, head nestled in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around each other protectively. Eventually, she muttered, “My dad’s gonna kill me before Vecna gets a chance to.”

“Do you think his lawyers will be able to help?” Eddie fretted and Y/N nodded softly, “What does your dad even do anyway? You never talk about him.”

She sighed and sat upright, picking at her clothes that had half dried and were fitting uncomfortably, “He’s not really allowed to talk about his job, I know the project he was working on was pretty big though, had him staying late and stressed all the time. He had barely any patience or attention left for me or mum, but she got to see him more than I did at least. I know it’s something technical and sciencey, for a subsect of the Government - all very secretive.” She flourished her hands dramatically, before letting them fall back into her lap, “I know he’s good at his job, whatever it is. We were told when he was recruited by this Doctor, that they might need to transfer him temporarily without notice and it wouldn’t be negotiable, which put a strain on my parents' relationship - they’ve barely been apart in 20 years.” Finally, she turned her head to look at him, crossing her legs and resting her cheek on her hand propped up on her knee, “But the security incentive helped. Not just financially but the insurance and the lawyers should anything happen, in case of an emergency.”

“And this counts as an emergency?” Eddie asked her, not quite believing in his own importance. He didn’t need to say what he was really asking, as their eyes locked Y/N could see every emotion swimming in the dark chocolate irises – the distress, the anger, the exhaustion, the anguish. But also, the desperate relief, that she cared about him enough to take his side and stay there. To call in reinforcements on his behalf.

She gazed at him, hoping that he would understand, “Of course it does.”

An hour, then two, crawled by. Hungry, tired, and scared, Y/N and Eddie huddled together under the shade of Skull Rock. They barely talked, too preoccupied with listening out for any signs of life nearby. Steve wouldn’t be able to drive his car into the clearing itself, so their rescuers would be coming to them on foot. But the pair were acutely aware that foes as well as friends were on the hunt for them too. At the sounds of bushes rustling and twigs snapping close by, they tensed and scrambled to their feet, hiding behind the rocks and in the trees. However, their instinct to take cover was quickly deemed unnecessary as familiar voices were soon relieving their fear.

“Oh, boom! Bada bing, bada boom.” Steve, confidently strolled into the clearing, Dustin following close behind, “There she is, Henderson. Skull Rock. In your face, man. In your stupid, cocky little face.”

Dustin checked something in his hand, and looked up at the rock formation in bewilderment, “Doesn't make sense.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolled his eyes and started lecturing the young teen, “Even with it staring you in the face, you can't admit it. Can't admit you're wrong, you butthead.”

“I concur.” Feeling safer amongst friends, Eddie made his presence known, jumping down from the rock he was hiding behind, “You, Dustin Henderson, are a… total butthead.”

Dustin smiled in relief and immediately went to hug Eddie, “Jesus, we thought you were a goner.”

“Yeah, me too, man.” Eddie hugged back, avoiding his backpack, and looking over his capped head past Steve, to where Y/N was emerging from the trees behind Steve, “Me too.”

Scurrying over, Y/N poked Steve in the side, the yellow fabric of his jumper soft under her hands, “Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” Steve wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a warm hug, “I knew you staying was a bad idea, but I’m glad you’re safe. You are okay, right?”

“As okay as I can be, Harrington.” She assured him with a half smile.

As Steve and Eddie gave each other a cursory nod and smile, Dustin pulled Y/N away for an embrace themselves, and she squeezed him tightly, rocking from foot to foot gently. They laughed lightly, as they expressed their relief at each other’s safety. Robin, Nancy, Lucas, and Max all wandered into the clearing, making Y/N smile more. Calling Lucas over, she gave him a quick squeeze before greeting the others, checking to see if they too were okay. Max had her headphones hanging around her neck, leading to the Walkman clipped tightly to her jeans, just as it had been the last time she had seen her, a look in her eye telling Y/N that she was too deeply aware of the danger they were all in. Robin in her endearing awkwardness, gave Y/N a wave and Nancy stood next to her, gave a polite ‘hello’ before she handed Y/N a grocery bag.

“Thank you, so much, I’m starving- Ed’s!” Y/N interrupted herself, and Eddie perked up at her call, scampering over to her, “Food.”

Eagerly, Eddie reached out and took some of the stuff that the group had brought for them, quickly taking the six-pack of beer that Nancy had, in fact, bought. As Y/N sat to eat, Steve rummaged through a large backpack, pulled out a Tupperware box and wandered over to sit by her. He handed her the tub with a folded-up piece of paper reading ‘For Y/N’ taped to the lid, “Your mom gave me this to give to you. I haven’t read it, swear, but she was shaking a little when she was writing it so I don’t think you should read it just yet. You know, with everyone around?”

“Yeah…thanks, Steve,” Y/N carefully pulled the note from the box and pocketed it, “How was she? Just, like…generally?”

“She definitely believes in you. She was terrified, of course, but, yeah she, uh…she didn’t really question it when we said what you asked, just thanked us, wrote the note, gave us the food and told us to be safe.” Steve seemed baffled by the interaction, standing up to leave her in peace, but Y/N just nodded and laughed lightly to herself.

Lost in thought, she could only reply, “Classic mum.” Eddie plonked himself hip to hip with Y/N as she opened the tub, finding disposable cutlery inside along with Y/N’s favourite family recipe, which she happily shared with him.

The group at Skull Rock gathered to debrief on the events of the past few days as Eddie and Y/N devoured Mrs Y/L/N’s cooking. Steadily, they told their fugitive friends that they had figured out that Vecna was linked to the infamous Creel murders in the 1950s, all the victims killed in the same manner by a mysterious force that was ultimately pinned on an innocent man, Victor Creel, who had been locked up for decades, driven mad by the memories. The previous night while Eddie and Y/N were hiding and running from Jason, they had been exploring the abandoned Creel house. In turn, Eddie and Y/N explained as best as they could what had happened and what they saw, the friends around them hanging on to every detail trying to piece it together with what they had been up to.

“When we got to the shore, I tried calling you guys, but, uh…my walkie was busted, man. Drenched. So, uh, I did the thing that I do now, apparently.” Eddie gave a cynical smile, “I ran.”

Y/N chuckled dryly, “And I followed. Though we kinda figured, it was that or be arrested for murder.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgement of their brief spat the night before, before taking a huge gulp of the beer that Nancy had ultimately brought him before passing it to Y/N who too, took a swig.

“Do you know what time this was? The attack?” Nancy asked deep in thought, going over all the details. Y/N had heard about her particular proclivity for the details and piecing things together by Dustin, talking about how good his older friends would be at Dungeons & Dragons if they just gave it a chance.

Eddie nodded, “Yeah, no, I… I know exactly what time it was.” He fiddled with the strap of his busted watch, “My walkie wasn't the only thing that got soaked.” He threw it to her once it was off and she caught it easily.

“9:27,” Nancy confirmed her thoughts to the group.

Robin immediately got the hint and added, “Same time our flashlights went kablooey.”

“Which means what, exactly?” Steve, much like Y/N and Eddie, was still rather confused about the perceived link between the events.

Nancy, putting the pieces together, explained, “That that surge of energy, was Vecna attacking Patrick.” She threw Eddie back his watch, and despite it being broken he put it back on, the feeling of it not being there having weirdly unsettled him. It seemed as though a lightbulb turned on in Y/N’s mind as their combined events of the past few days clicked into place.

“Well, we're one step closer.” Robin said, seeing the silver lining to the situation at hand, “We know how Vecna attacks.”

“And where he attacks from,” Lucus added. A small ray of hope started to shine through the cracks, but wasn’t quite bright enough to wash away all of Y/N’s fear.

Max, having been cursed by Vecna herself, and already had an attack attempted on her, finished the thought, “So now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.”

“If he even has a heart,” Robin added, doubtful, as though she could read Y/N’s mind.

Steve, who was standing by the rock where Y/N was sat, with arms folded across his chest, thought out loud, vaguely confused, “Stake? Is he like a vamp- Is he a vampire?”

Y/N could tell that his question was somewhat genuine, and also felt vague amounts of frustration from the others, so not wanting to add to that, answered, “I think it was a metaphor, but at this point who knows, he could be.” She reached up and squeezed his elbow softly, as she spoke without condescension, which Steve appreciated greatly.

Eddie tried not to pay any mind to how gentle Y/N was with Steve - refusing to let it bruise his ego as he recalled the frequent vulnerable moments she chose to share with him over the recent days - as he suggested, “A bullet should work on him, right?”

“I say we chop his head off.” Lucas offered bluntly, making Y/N nod in agreement.

“I’d say all of the above,” Nancy interjected, trying to stay logical, “but we can't do any of that 'til we find a way into the Upside Down.”

Max, aggravated at how complex the problem they needed to solve was, wished, “We need El to get her powers back.”

“Everything was way easier,” Steve emphasised, then looked down to Y/N and Eddie, “We had this girl. She had superpowers-”

“Superpowers. Yeah, you mentioned her.” Eddie replied, slightly cutting him off as he was distracted, watching Dustin – who had been pacing back and forth behind the little circle the group had formed as they talked, barely paying attention to what had been said. Deeply confused by the young teens' behaviour, Eddie asked, “Hey, uh, Henderson's not, uh, cursed, is he?”

And Steve answered, with an annoyance only known to that of older siblings, at their wit's end with their younger relation, “Cursed? No, no. He's fine. Mental? Absolutely.”

“Boom!” the teen in question finally shouted, turning to the rest of the group at long last, his voice echoing in the trees startling everyone except Steve. As he spoke, he stalked towards his surrogate brother, pointing a knowing finger at him, “Bada… bada… boom. I was right. Skull Rock was north.”

Steve was incredulous, “Seriously? You're serious?” and Dustin hummed in response, nodding with a smug little smirk, so Steve continued, “This is Skull Rock. Okay? You're totally, absolutely, 100% wrong. Right now.”

“Yes. And no.”

“Oh my God,” Steve ran his hands over his face, having to walk away from the boy.

Y/N, holding back a laugh at the brotherly rapport between the two boys, asked in confusion at the sudden outburst, “Dustin, what’s the point of this?”

Immediately, Dustin launched into an almost patronising but still endearing explanation of why he wasn’t wrong, “This compass worked correctly when we left the Wheelers'. Correct when we got in the car on Kerley. But it started to slip the further east we went. Now, it's way off. When I was leading us here, I wasn't wrong. The compass was.”

“So, you're using faulty equipment. You're still wrong.” Steve rebuked.

“Except it isn't faulty.” Dustin insisted before asking, “Lucas, remember what can affect a compass?”

Lucas seemingly understood exactly what his friend was trying to tell them, in a roundabout way, “An electromagnetic field.”

Dustin smiled and confirmed, but Robin asked, needing more explanation, “Sorry. I must've skipped that class.”

“Compasses work through magnetism, they’re built to point towards the magnetic north pole,” Y/N answered, her childhood days of performing little science experiments with her father coming in clutch, and receiving a few surprised looks from her peers as she continued, “But, in the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, as Lucas said, the needle will deflect towards that power source instead, meaning the compass is technically ‘wrong’.”

“Exactly.” Dustin was practically beaming, “So either there's some super big magnet around here, or…”

“There's a gate.” Lucas realised, and Dustin nodded. A heavy weight settled in the air around them, Y/N feeling as though she should know what that meant with more certainty than she did. As the group theorised how and why this gate may have come to fruition, Eddie nudged Y/N in the side to get her attention. They shared a look that asked if the other was understanding the conversation, only to be met with equal confusion, which made them feel more at ease with their lack of inter-dimensional knowledge. They were broken out of this exchange however by Steve.

“Where are you going?” The question snapped them back to the group, seeing Dustin walking away from everyone, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!” He paused at Steve's protests, “Eddie's still a wanted man. And now Y/N is a suspect too. We can't just go for a hike in the woods.”

Dustin, clearly agitated made one final plea, “This little steel capsule might be the key to saving Max, Eddie and Y/N.” He turned to the pair on the ground, gesturing to them as he propositioned them, “What say you, Eddie the Banished? Y/N the Exiled?”

“I say you're asking me to follow you into Mordor, which, if I'm totally straight with you, I think is a really bad idea.” Eddie paused, thought for a moment, before looking over at Y/N, “But, uh, the Shire…the Shire is burning.” As Eddie took Y/N's hand and helped her to stand, Dustin jumped in place excitedly, happy that they were going to test his theory. “So, Mordor it is.”

Steve, bewildered by the exchange and still peeved about Dustin's instance to be right, asked nobody in particular, with only Y/N picking up on it, “What is Mordor?”

“It’s the dark land from The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings- incredibly nerdy, don’t worry about it,” Y/N reassured him with a smile.

Once again, and growing fonder, Steve was grateful for Y/N’s patience after the constant teasing from his younger compatriots. “Thanks.” He whispered, before gesturing to the remainder of the food by her feet, “Get your stuff. Let's go.”

Trekking through the woods, playing follow the leader with Dustin - Eddie right behind him with a torch - Y/N found herself hanging back to talk to Steve, who was bringing up the rear of the party to make sure none got lost or left behind. Steve was familiar in some ways, a reminder of her past, with his previous ‘kingly’ reputation for being a bit of a teenage asshole, but Y/N was more deeply fascinated by his seemingly innate desire to protect the group – particularly the younger teens. Listening intently as he explained as briefly as he could, Y/N quickly learned that, much like herself, he had been caught up in the supernatural by accident, time and time again. He had only been trying to apologise to Jonathan when the Demogorgon attacked the Byers house, he didn’t intend to fight it off with a nailed baseball bat. And win. He had only been bringing Nancy flowers when he was roped into hunting a baby Demogorgon with Dustin, not knowing he would have to fight off an army of them to protect Dustin, Max, and Lucas. Of which he was successful. And he had just been working with Robin, “slinging ice cream”, when Dustin came to him with a weird message he had picked up – it definitely wasn’t the plan to be trapped in a secret Russian base and tortured, whilst still in uniform. Then live to tell the tale. Every time, he fought and tried to protect those around him, regardless of his own safety and how insane the situation was. Y/N decided that not only did she like Steve, but she deeply respected him.

In turn, she reminisced about her family and life back in England, glossing over the trauma quickly before circling back to the past few months since the move. Just as she was starting to gush about how Eddie and Hellfire had made her feel so welcomed, and why the stigma was so frustrating, they came to a standstill. Taking in their surroundings, Y/N felt a cold chill run down her spine.

“Oh, man. You gotta be shitting me.” Steve huffed and Y/N reciprocated the feeling.

“Yeah.” Y/N scoffed humourlessly, “I thought these woods were familiar.”

The sun had set whilst they were walking, and the moon high in the sky was once again reflecting on the soft waves of water in Lovers Lake. Y/N, glared at the water, trying silently to control her breathing so as to not alert the others of her rising panic, though it seemed her nerves were felt as Eddie moved to stand beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and pulling her into his side.

Tuning back into the conversation, she heard Nancy offer up a theory, “Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening. Maybe Vecna's the same way.”

“Yeah, only one way to find out,” Steve said conclusively, then turned to Y/N and Eddie where they were huddled together and asked where they had stashed the boat. With Y/N leading the way, they traipsed along the bank until they found the boat, haphazardly covered in the tree line. Pulling it off, they looked at the available seating, then at each other in confirmation of shared ideas. The older teens and young adults of the group quickly realised it would be up to them to test Dustin’s theory.

Steve and Eddie bickered slightly as they got the boat half in the water before each offering a hand to Robin to help her into the boat. Instead, she elected to use their heads for support as she stepped into the small vessel, thanking them as she passed. Eddie then stood up as Steve kept the boat grounded, both again offering their hands to Nancy as she too stepped in, though she did not notice Steve's offer, only taking Eddie’s hand.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie then gave a saccharine smile as he flourished his hand out to Y/N, trying to ease her obvious panic with theatricality.

She took his hand graciously and winked as she passed him, “Thanks, honey.”

Dustin, who had been watching, gagged, “You two make me sick,” he muttered to himself as he tried to gain access to the boat, but was very quickly stopped by Eddie.

“Hey, hey, hey, you trying to sink us?” He pushed Dustin back to land with a hand on the forehead, “This thing holds four people tops, okay?” Eddie didn’t want to upset Dustin or patronise him, but he also wanted him safe.

Seeing Eddie’s tactic to keep the children on land, Nancy assured him, “It's better this way, okay? You guys stay here with Max. Keep an eye out for trouble.”

“You keep an eye out.” Dustin snapped back at her, “It's my goddamn theory.”

Robin piped up, trying to establish some form of authority, “You heard Nance.”

“Who put her in charge?”

“I did.”

Nancy held her hand out to Dustin, “Compass.” He huffs in a small tantrum for a moment before handing it to her, with Nancy passing it to Eddie to hold as she got resettled on the bench. Once the four on the boat were sat somewhat comfortably, Steve stood up, threw Dustin's backpack at him, and pushed off from the bank, taking his seat next to Nancy as Robin and Eddie started to row.

“You said four!” Dustin called out, annoyed.

Steve whisper-shouts “Sorry,” back at him as they drifted further from the bank.

“Bedtime at nine, kiddos,” Robin shouted, baiting those still on land. Dustin flipped her off as Max rolled her eyes, Lucas just watched in vague amusement, “Miss you already!”

The row out to the middle of the lake was slow but steady, as Nancy watched the compass to make sure they were still heading in the right direction. Once they were far away enough from the shore that the young teens who stood on the bank looked like toddlers, Nancy called out for them to slow down. Stopping their rowing, the group turned to look at Nancy and the compass in her hands, which was flicking back and forth crazily.

Their stunned silence was interrupted by Dustin over the walkie, “Guys, what's going on? Come on, talk to me. What's going on?”

“Uh, Dustin, your compass has gone from kinda wonky to wonky with a capital ‘aah!’” Robin, hesitantly answered, awestruck.

Y/N emphasised, “It’s like the needle doesn’t know where to point - like it’s overwhelmed with electromagnetic energy. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

As Y/N talked, Steve started taking off his shoes and socks, confounding his friends in the boat. When questioned by a concerned Nancy, he replied, with a certain authority, “Somebody's gotta go down and check this out. Unless one of you four can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then… it's gotta be me. No complaints, all right?”

“Hey, I'm not complaining,” Eddie reassured him, “I do not wanna go down there.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, peeking over the edge of the boat to stare at the water and shuddering, “Yeah, I’ve already been in this lake once in the last 24 hours, I’m not exactly desperate to do it again.”

Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled out a shopping bag with only a carton of cigarettes and a lighter in it, and emptied it into his lap as Steve stood up and took off his jumper, revealing his toned and hairy chest. Y/N glanced up at him from the movement, looking away before registering the sight. Once she did, her eyes widened slightly as she did a small double-take, and slowly blinked to fully process it. Having clocked the cogs turning in Y/N’s head, Eddie cleared his throat to snap her out of it, possessiveness bubbling up under his skin. He raised an eyebrow at her in question, which she vehemently ignored, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, and just shrugged in response. Nancy, however, was outright staring in awe at Steve’s body, despite having a boyfriend herself, which only Robin noticed, though she said nothing, smiling to herself instead.

Eddie, slightly aggravated, wrapped the now empty shopping bag around the torch he had been carrying through the woods and handed it to Steve, “Hey. Good luck.”

Steve took the not mostly waterproofed torch, looking over his shoulder at him, the light hitting his handsome features just right, eyes intense and focused, “Thanks.”

‘Damn.’

‘Wait, are you attracted to Steve?’

‘No…surely not.’

Slightly hating how the moonlight making Steve look ethereal made her feel, her heartbeat picking up somewhat, she looked over at Eddie as a welcome distraction. And though she should have expected it, Y/N shocked herself with how it didn’t help much with her heart rate, but instead increased it. Eddie had a cigarette hanging from his lips, the light reflecting on the water casting a beautiful shadow over his cheekbones and jawline. Y/N reached for the lighter in his hand and ignited the flame, reaching up slightly so he’d have to lean down to her if he wanted his cigarette lit. The glow of the fire shone in his eyes as he stared at her through it.

“Gross.” The moment was broken by Robin as she took the cigarette from Eddie's lips and threw it into the lake. In sync, Eddie and Y/N turned their heads to stare at her, mystified. As her eyes locked onto Robins, she tried to send a telepathic ‘what the fuck dude?’ her way and knew she had succeeded when Robin rolled her eyes with a small, victorious smirk.

Steve stood at the edge of the boat, breathing steadily and mentally preparing himself to dive down to the lakebed.

“Steve?” Nancy called softly, making him turn his head to look down at her, “Be careful.”

An apprehensive look flashed in his eyes, almost like guilt, as their eyes locked, but he nodded nonetheless and dove gracefully into the dark water. They sat in tense silence as Steve swam further and further down, with Nancy counting the seconds on her watch to make sure that he wasn’t submerged for too long.

Robin, growing more and more agitated, asked, “Where we at, Wheeler?”

“Closing in on a minute.” She replied, not taking her eyes off the watch.

Robin nodded, “Okay.” She made a noise of discomfort feigning ambivalence, obviously very worried about her friend. Y/N offered a hand for Robin to squeeze, which she grasped tightly.

Just as Eddie cleared his throat, uncomfortable in the silence, it was broken completely when the water gushed loudly as Steve resurfaced, making everyone on the boat exclaim in surprise, even more surprised when Steve said, “I found it.” He panted through his confirmation when Robin asked for it, leaning on the side of the boat as Nancy pulled wet strands of hair from his forehead with deep care.

“Dustin, you are a goddamn Einstein.” Robin said excitedly into the walkie, “Steve found the gate, we have a way to Vecna.”

“It's pretty wild.” Steve said through pants, still trying to catch his breath, arms holding him up on the edge of the boat, “It's more a snack-size gate than the mama gate, but still, it's pretty damn big.”

Right as he stopped speaking, he dropped off the side of the boat momentarily, like something was pulling him down. Everyone lurched forward in shock, but they all regained composure quickly and waited with bated breath to ensure he was okay and wouldn’t happen again. For a moment all was calm as they scanned the water before Steve was fully dragged under without a second to react. The group dissolved into chaos, all shouting after Steve, but it was pointless. He was unreachable.

“No! No!” Eddie protested, deeply stressed, “What the hell was that man?”

Robin was intensely distressed, staring back and forth between the dark water and Nancy beside her, leaning over the edge of the boat “Nancy, really, what happened?”

Nancy, however, ignored all questions and stood up, determined to go in after Steve, much to everyone else's panic. At the sounds of protests, Nancy could only tell them to wait where they were before diving in and swimming down to find Steve.

“Fucking hell!” Y/N cursed loudly, shaking, and running her hands up and down her temples as Eddie loudly swore to himself. Unbeknownst to them both, Robin quietly and carefully sat backwards on the edge of the boat, preparing herself to search the lake herself.

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” Eddie faced her, hands held out to stop her if he had to, “What are you doing? She said wait.”

Robin stared back at him, dismissively, her mind already made up, “Yeah, I heard her.”

“She's in charge,” Eddie tried, grasping at flimsy straws.

Robin scoffed and shook her head, “Are you kidding me?”

Y/N placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “Eds she was bullshitting, and you know it. Nobody’s in charge.” Her voice was trembling slightly, barely more than a frustrated whimper.

“Don't you go. Don't you—” Despite his thinly veiled threats, Robin fully ignored Eddie and fell backwards off the edge of the boat and into the water.

Eddie immediately stood up in anger and fear, “Goddamn it! Son of a bitch!” he paced the small space of the boat as much as he could, staring at the water and contemplating what fate was worse, “Oh, this is so stupid.”

“This is really fucking stupid,” Y/N could only agree.

‘Don’t be a pussy.’

‘I’m definitely gonna regret this.’

In his blind panic, Eddie didn’t notice the cogs turning in Y/N’s mind until it was too late. She was standing, prepared to dive. “Y/N! No, not you too. Sweetheart, please!” But she was gone with a loud splash, “Shit!”

Swearing profusely as he questioned his own existence, Eddie’s mind was filled with paralysing fear. Thoughts of her drowning, being pulled apart, sucked into an alternate hellish dimension, tortured, and broken, flashed through his raging mind. Before he could register his own actions, Eddie dove beneath the water, his only tether to reality being the hope that she was still alive.

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #stranger things vol 2 #reader insert #freak like me #leaf writes

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barbex · 9 months

Note

I would love to see something for this spectacular prompt! Happy writing!

❝ you love me too much. i know how that sounds but— fucking hell. you shouldn’t care that much about someone like me. ❞

Such a great prompt, oh my god! Thank you. Another fenders fic for @dadrunkwriting, fresh from the keyboard without editing because I need to go to bed now.

TW for injury and blood, not in a graphic way though.

"You do know that the blood is supposed to be on the inside of your body, do you?" Joking with Fenris would be more convincing if Anders' voice didn't waver.

Fenris' voice, on the other hand, is infuriatingly calm, despite the massive wound in his abdomen. "Yes, I am aware of that, mage." He tries to look at the injury but he groans as his head falls back on the table they're using as a cot.

"How's the pain?" Now Anders found his voice, the professional one. The voice of a healer, taking care of his patient, not the love of his life.

"I can manage."

"Suffering puts unnecessary strain on your body and will slow the healing process."

Fenris slowly turns his head to look at Anders. "You always say that. Is it really true?"

Anders rushes forward to put both his hands on Fenris' cheeks. "It's true. Please, let me take away the pain. I know you hate losing control but I can help you better when you aren't tense from the pain."

Fenris closes his eyes and breathes in. "Magic or potion?"

"A potion. I'll need my mana for healing you."

With a shaky sigh, Fenris nods. "I agree to a potion against pain."

"And that I heal you," Anders says. "With magic."

There's only a short hesitations before Fenris says, "yes, you may heal me with magic." He tries to smile but the pain turns it into a grimace.

Anders shakes his head. For years they've been acting out this script, again and again. Even after travelling half way through Thedas, into Tevinter, building a network to free slaves — Fenris wants to be asked before magic is used on him and Anders always waits for his consent. What used to be an angry exchange between enemies, many years ago, is now a ritual between lovers.

"Here, drink slowly." Anders slips his arm behind Fenris' head and holds the vial to his lips. Fenris never looks away from him as he swallows and Anders watches his eyes until they roll back in his head. "There you go, my love, now let me just make you whole again."

He lays Fenris' head down and gets to work. The wound is deep and nasty, and will soon get infected if he doesn't hurry. It needs all his expertise and nearly all of his mana to clean the wound and heal layer upon layer of connective tissue until he can heal the skin, connecting the lyrium markings as they were before. Finally, he sinks down in a chair, exhausted in the best way.

"All done, love. You should wake up soon." He looks at Fenris on the table, breathing evenly. "Don't think I didn't notice that you took that attack for me. You shouldn't have done that, I could have... I would have... I don't know, but you shouldn't run into someone's sword for me."

Fenris groans, still under the influence of the potion. He blinks, and when he sees Anders, a big, if slightly dumb smile spreads on his face. "Hey, you are beautiful."

Anders laughs out. "Oh, dear, that potion still got you."

Fenris rolls onto his side. "Are you a mage?"

"Yes, Fenris, I am a mage, I'm —"

"You are very pretty," Fenris says with a dreamy voice, "but I already have a mage."

Anders suppresses a laugh. "Do you now?"

"Yes." Fenris closes his eyes and smiles. "He is kind and soft and powerful. I love him so much."

Anders chokes on his own spit. Fenris never uses the word love, never. He clears his throat and asks, "do you know why you're here?"

"I got injured." Fenris frowns, trying to remember. "I saw the warrior surprise him, I had to protect him."

"That was dangerous, you could have —"

"— I cannot." Fenris moves so abruptly, he almost falls off the table. "I cannot risk losing him."

Anders puts his hand on Fenris' shoulder to push him back to the middle of the table. "I'm sure your mage can protect himself."

"You don't understand," Fenris slurs. "I need him. I love him."

"I shouldn't hear this," Anders murmurs to himself. "Try to sleep some more," he says louder.

"Yes, pretty mage." Fenris closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. After a few minutes, he breathes slowly and evenly again.

Anders watches him sleep, letting his healing aura wrap around them both. He raises his hand to brush white hair away from his forehead. "By the Maker, Fenris, you love me too much. I know how that sounds but — fucking void, you shouldn’t care that much about someone like me."

He must have fallen asleep because when he opens his eyes again, light pokes through the curtains of their temporary home. He has his hand on Fenris' stomach, over the bandage and he peeks under it to look for signs of infections. Everything looks fine but he uses a quick diagnostic spell to make sure that nothing else has turned up over night.

Fenris wakes with a gasp. Magic still has that effect on him.

"It's alright, I'm done, I just had to do a last check." Anders holds his hands close but doesn't touch Fenris. "Everything looks good, the wound is healing well."

Fenris takes Anders' hand and wraps his fingers around it. "What happened, after you healed me?"

"You remember that?" Anders wishes for the floor to swallow him. The things Fenris said were deeply personal, he never would have said anything like it were he not under the influence of the drug. Even the idea of embarrassing Fenris with this tale makes bile rise in Anders' throat.

"Nothing happened."

Fenris sits up, wincing when he puts strain on his stomach. "Tell me, please."

Hanging his head, Anders gives in. "You called me a pretty mage."

"Well, you are a pretty mage." Fenris grins.

"Oh, shut up."

Fenris lifts Anders' head with a finger under his chin. "What are you hiding from me?"

Once, a year ago, Fenris made Anders swear that he would never lie and not keep secrets from Fenris. That oath now rings in his head like a bell and with a sigh, he gives in. "You said you already have a pretty mage. And that you love him."

Fenris goes very still. "What else?"

"You talked about your mage, how nice and powerful he is, and then I asked about the fight, how you got the injury." Anders gets up to find something to do for his hands. "And I consider it to be heroic humility that I didn't make you explain why you took that blow for me."

The hand holding his own tightens. "I remember."

"You do? That's unusual, most people just sleep after that potion and only a very few talk, but they usually don't remember anything."

Fenris grabs his hand and pulls him closer, fixing him in his green eyed stare. "I remember. I remember talking about my mage, how I love him. And I remember you saying that I love you too much."

"You remember that, too?" Anders tries to stay up again, but Fenris holds him.

"Don't run away from me."

"I just wanted to look where I could dig a hole for me to hide in."

Fenris stands up, stepping in front of Anders' chair, between his knees. He slides his hand behind Anders' neck, cradling his head and looking at him with his deep green eyes and Anders just wants to fall. He would do anything for this elf.

"Listen, my mage, because I will not say it again." Fenris leans down, his lips just a finger width away from Anders' lips. "I don't love you too much. I love just the right amount, as you love me and don't you dare to deny it. Not anymore."

"Not anymore," Anders whispers.

"Good." Fenris closes the distance and finally kisses Anders. When they stop, they keep breathing each other's air, Fenris holding Anders head as if he fears that he would fly away. "I believe we have a bed here, somewhere?"

"But you're still injured."

Fenris glares at him. "I would like to sleep some more, holding my mage in my arms."

"Right." Anders feels himself blush and stands up to help Fenris over to their bed. "I think we can do that."

When they lie in bed, Fenris pressed against Anders' back, tension falls from Anders' shoulders. He takes Fenris' hand from his chest and kisses his knuckles. "I love you, Fenris, so much."

Fenris' arms tighten around him and he presses a kiss onto his neck. "My mage," he whispers into his neck. And Anders knows all the way in his heart that it means the same.

#dadrunkwriting #fenders #Fenris #Anders #fenders fic #Fenris x Anders #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #my writing

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argentnoelle · 3 months

Note

do you have a process for editing fic?

I do! :) The details can change up depending on the story, but the most important bit for me is making notes along the way. I make so many notes, on anything I want to change or don't like or want to add later... either in the same document if it's a short fic, or in a separate document if it's a long one.

I do a lot of editing as I write, so if I'm writing a chaptered fic I'll usually read through & edit the previous chapter before starting to write the next chapter, since that also reminds me where I was at tone/plot/themewise... for big changes that aren't something I can or want to work on till the end, I put that all in the notes document and then eventually knock out each point I made notes on—maybe a scene I wanted to expand, a setting detail I needed to change, or a theme I want to make sure is drawn through the story. And then right before I post I usually go through & proofread the piece one more time.

If I have a scene I'd like to add in but I'm not sure if it'll fit the story or where to put it, sometimes I write that in a separate document and then save it aside to see if I can piece it in later. And if I have a scene that I wrote that I liked, but that didn't seem to fit the flow, I'll cut the scene and save it in another document. Either to put back in somewhere else, or to take apart and use sections of when I write future parts of the story.

I usually start writing in the order the story is intended to be read, chronologically if it's a chronological story, non-chronologically if it's a non-chronological story, but since I constantly re-read my stories as I write them, I'll also add in scenes or sections later. For example one of my Batman fics, Bring Down the House, was originally half the length it turned out to be—I wrote the whole story, up to the very last scene, then went through and re-read the story and wanted to slow down the pacing, and ended up adding scenes all over the place, even adding a whole subplot that wasn't there originally. And in one of my post-season 2 Black Butler fics, The Contract, I wrote a whole intro where Ciel meets an original character, that ended up just having bad pacing and not really feeling as intense and interesting of an into as I hoped it would be... so I ended up "skipping to the good parts" and taking that intro scene, chopping it up, and revealing it over flashbacks in increments, which worked so much better.

If I'm having a lot of difficulty with a piece or chapter, I'll highlight or bold the parts I like and put a strikethrough what I don't like, so I can see at a glance what's working and what isn't and what needs to be done to smooth out the flow, and then I'll start making changes from some part that isn't the beginning of the chapter, removing the extra formatting until the whole thing is done. I don't do that often, only when I'm really stuck on something.

One of the questions I'm always trying to figure out when I edit is "what's the best form for the story?" which includes point of view, pacing, chronology, & narration. I don't really do line edits for the sake of it, I edit to bring the story to its best "form"... the style the story should be told, in order to best bring itself across. So sometimes that means many rewrites and moving things around like puzzle pieces, but other times, if I know from the start the answer to all those questions, I end up not editing very much at all!

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omgfloofy · 9 months

Text

State of the Fic: dal segno al coda

For the month of August, I made it my goal to hit 200k words across all three parts of dal segno al coda, the two preview fics, and the "Meanwhile, Elsewhere..." side stories to go alongside it.

I pulled it off yesterday! Yet I somehow feel like there's so much to do still. It's crazy. You'd think with 200k words, that there would be a lot done, but I mapped out all the chapters in a spreadsheet so I can have an 'at a glance' look at my progress, and I still have so much to write.

I'm thankful to having outlined the whole story already, though. So I know where I'm going with everything.

If you had a chance to read it, We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming is the first of two preview stories for the whole fic. This takes place very late in the story, and there are a ton of references to events across all three parts of dal segno al coda in it.

I have a lot of progress done with Date Night, the next of the preview shorts. Where as We Interrupt is a bit intense, I hope that Date Night is just more fun and fluff, since it's stuff that couldn't be put into the main story and fit the narrative. Date Night should also be the first time the formatting and storytelling methods of the main story should be in play, whereas We Interrupt was more like something you'd read in the Meanwhile, Elsewhere... sidestories.

Nevertheless, I have an idea of where I stand on things. I might slow down a little just to get a breather on things before November, because I'd like to throw dal segno al coda back into NaNoWriMo again this year and see where I end up after that 50k push is done.

A sample from part 2 with Noctis and Luna is below the cut. This is, of course, unfinished and may change in the editing process, as always.

One of my favorite things of writing this has been Luna. Looking at stuff with her in Kingsglaive and in Dawn of the Future made me realize that she's a bundle of trouble wrapped in fanciful clothing, and tied off with a bow of prim and proper behavior. It's a LOT of fun to play with in some scenes, and what's even more delightful, is that Noctis was absolutely not been prepared to come face-first with some of these moments.

I also can't unsee the "Barbie Mugshot" meme now with Noctis and Luna because of this scene.

I'll let you all try and figure out why they were arrested in the first place and where they are for it, though. :D

--------

Noctis knew they were being held long enough for their identities to be figured out. He settled down on the bench and set his head in his hands. They were important enough that if anyone figured out who they were - which was possible with a little bit of work - everything about this plan would fall apart.

"Are you okay, Noctis?" Luna's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked up without any correction to his terrible, slouched posture.

Noctis lied, "Yeah. I'm fine." Whether she believed it or not, Luna simply set a hand on his back. He found that the gesture was surprisingly soothing, somehow.

Eventually, the silence between the two was broken as Luna couldn't contain her laughter. "I... have never had a mugshot taken before."

This got Noctis to sit up suddenly and he looked at her with his head tilted. "...you wanted to get a mugshot taken?"

"No, not really." Luna leaned back against the wall. She was seated next to Noctis on the bench. "It was just kind of..." A pause. "Neat?" She gave him a faint smile.

"Neat." Noctis repeated. He wasn't quite sure how to take this.

She rolled her eyes a touch and shrugged. "It is not every day that someone like us is arrested." A pause. "Like a normal person." Luna somehow sounded excited at this.

"Normal people don't get arrested," Noct complained. He might have even sounded like he was whining. Somehow, something in either his response or tone was funny enough to get another laugh from Luna. All he could do was give her a side-eye for it.

Clearly, she didn't care. "They certainly do," As Luna stood up, she patted Noct's head lightly before she walked to the bars. She clamped her hands onto them and tried to peek around the corner from them.

"A few years ago," Noctis didn't have a chance to say anything before she continued. "I read this book called The Message of the Haunted Bridge where the heroine, Faye, got a little too close to the secret, but the villain actually had a connection to the police. So to keep her out of the way long enough for his dastardly plan to kick off, he had them arrest her."

Luna turned around and leaned against the bars, still grinning. "I feel a little like her at this moment."

Noctis sat up, finally. "Except there is no villain with a dastardly plan. We just got caught somewhere we shouldn't have been."

"Doing," Luna added with a finger point. "Heroic deeds."

She was so confident with her response that Noctis just tilted his head back and bumped it against the wall. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. However, at the same time, he remembered reading her messages in the journal, about how lonely she was and that there was little to do outside of her duties as Oracle while she was in her golden cage.

He may have been a little confused at all of this, but at the same time, he couldn't help but find it adorable.

When Noctis mentally tuned back in, he realized that Luna was now talking about how Faye escaped her cell. With a sigh, he pushed himself up off the bench. She shouldn't keep talking like this when someone could come in at any point and catch them.

In fact, as Noctis walked up to Luna, she had already pulled a hair pin free from her braid. She quickly bent it until it broke into two pieces and then started to reshape one of the halves.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to pick the lock and get us out of here."

Noctis tilted his head. "You're going to what?" He wasn't sure he heard that right.

Luna didn't seem bothered by this at all. "Ravus taught me how when we were little."

"He taught you how to pick a lock." Noctis repeated, incredulously.

"He certainly did." Luna didn't look up as she answered, and instead jammed the half of the pin into the lock.

#ffxv fanfic #my fics #fic progress #dal segno al coda stuff #noctis lucis caelum #lunafreya nox fleuret

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asirensrambles · 1 year

Text

CAUTION: Signal Crossing, Watch Your Wires (pt. 2/2)

Sienna, Mi-an, and Elsie are celebrating the Commerce Guild end of month results at the Blue Saloon. Alcohol and a raging crush on the Saloon’s proprietor go about as well as expected. This fic was SUPPOSED to be about my builder telling Rocky she would die and kill for him, then spiraled into whatever this was.

Part 1

The slow gravitation of people towards the stage signaled the night's story was going to start soon. Sienna let herself be caught up in the flow of bodies, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening within her stomach. It was easy enough to ignore the impending "talk" with Owen while distracted by the Eufala Salvage crew. Now there was nothing to distract her, except for the story being told by the very man she was trying to avoid thinking of.

Sienna started mentally running through the process to build a civil furnace to keep her mind from racing. The story still wasn't done when she finished with the furnace, so she moved onto a civil cutter. Going through the construction process for various machines managed to keep her mind occupied. It did such a good job, she was startled when the people around her started to drift out of the Blue Moon. Not sure what to do, she decided to just wait and see what Owen did. Speak of the devil, his voice made her jump.

"Grace, you can head out early. I'll close up tonight."

Grace gave him a wave. "Sure thing boss, see you tomorrow!"

As the door shut behind her, Sienna was very aware she and Owen were now alone. The knot in her stomach that had partially unwound while mentally constructing equipment tightened back up. It wasn't like she and Owen had never been in the saloon alone together. A lot of times, when she came in for some cooking supplies or food, no one else was around, but this time felt different. The air felt charged. Deciding she didn't want to talk across the whole saloon, Sienna forced herself to the bar where Owen was cleaning up. She sat on a stool and waited for him to say something. This whole wanting to talk was his thing, so he could be the one to bring up whatever he wanted to talk about.

Unfortunately, Owen did not seem inclined to do much besides end of night clean up. Still not willing to be the one to break the silence, Sienna just watched. Currently, Owen had finished gathering the glasses and moved on to wiping off the counter. The motions he used were hypnotic, causing the light to glint off the many rings he wore. The light drew Sienna's eyes to his hands. It was not fair for a man to have hands as nice as Owen's. They looked strong and like they could easily dwarf her own. His hands might not be as rough and calloused as her own-- builders seldom had nice hands, unless they were useless like Yan-- but Sienna doubted they were completely smooth either.

It took her far longer than she'd ever admit to realize his hands had stopped moving and she was staring. Forcing herself to look up, Sienna saw Owen looking at her with an unreadable expression. Still not sure what to do, she decided the strategy of wait and see had served her well so far, so she'd stick with it. Owen sighed deeply, then walked around the bar to sit on the stool next to her.

As he slumped down in the seat, Sienna was struck by how close they were sitting. Even though she was in the saloon every week, there had never been a reason to be so near him. This close, she could see the silver streaks at his temples were shot through the rest of his hair as well. The effect was incredibly striking. Sienna almost jumped as Owen turned to look at her, propping his chin on his hand. It didn't seem like he'd caught her staring, but rather was studying her face. Finally, he broke the tense silence.

"So you weren't hammered earlier."

Sienna swallowed hard. "Nope," she managed. Someone should give her a medal for keeping a steady voice.

"Not drunk, buzzed...?"

"I mean, I wasn't stone cold sober or anything, but I wasn't so intoxicated to say something I didn't mean."

"Huh."

What was 'Huh'? That still didn't explain why he wanted to talk to her. Sienna studied Owen's face trying to get a read on what he might be thinking. It was then she noticed they were at about eye level, even with him slouched down. That was so not the right thing to be focusing on right now, but apparently Sienna's thoughts had a mind of their own. Owen cut through her distraction,

"So you were serious about what you said?"

Oh dammit all, by the Light, could a sandstorm just sweep me away already? Sienna wanted nothing more than to disappear and be anywhere that wasn't having this conversation, but here she was. C'mon, you faced down Logan, you can make it through this talk with Owen. Still wanting to leave herself a way out, Sienna replied,

"As serious as you were when you joked about it being more fun to rile me up by calling me 'Builder' than Sienna, or all the other times you've said something similar."

Owen stared at her, dumbfounded. "You...you do realize that was all me intentionally flirting with you, right?"

Sienna felt her brain shut down then try and reboot. So many interactions from the past months replayed through her mind, but in a completely different light. Owen gave a forced smile. "I'm gonna take that as a 'no.'"

"I thought you were being polite?" She meant it as a statement, but it definitely came out as a question.

"How many people do I hand deliver meals to when they haven't been in the saloon for a few days?"

Sienna buried her face in her hands, wishing the floor would swallow her whole. "I don't know! But you're so nice and friendly and warm with everyone! And yeah, maybe there were times I thought you were flirting, but also, I kinda just thought that was part of the whole 'local saloon and hotel owner' thing!"

"Well," Owen said slowly, "now that you know how serious I was, do you wanna change your answer?"

It took Sienna's scrambled brain longer than she wanted to remember the answer in question.

When she did she sat up straight and shook her head,

"No. No, not at all."

"So. You do think I'm...attractive?"

Sienna dropped her head against the bar with a thunk. "Sweet merciful Peach, yes." Not lifting, her head, she continued, "Yes, I think you're very attractive. And sweet. And kind hearted. And just an absolutely fantastic person overall, you're just...the best. And I didn't know why you used my name instead of the usual nicknames earlier. It threw me off, so I just...thought I could try and throw you off?"

Owen burst out laughing. Sienna grinned into the bartop at the sound.

"Congratulations," he said, still chuckling, "you succeeded."

A thought struck her. Sienna bolted upright, and turned to face Owen. His eyes still danced with laughter, but he tilted his head questioningly. Sienna finally spoke the thought that had been plaguing her most of the night.

"Why did you use my name earlier?"

To her shock, Owen's cheeks colored ever so faintly. This was a man who was completely unflappable when drunk tourists in his place of business "whispered" about how attractive they found him, and other much more wildly inappropriate things. But somehow her question was what got him to blush. Oh the reason for this had to be good.

Owen cleared his throat and stared at the back wall before saying, "It's kinda dumb, really."

Sienna could wait.

He mumbled, "IwasjealousyouwerehuggingRocky."

There was no way she heard that right. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Owen stared at the ceiling, cheeks an even darker pink now. It was absolutely adorable.

"I said, I was jealous you were hugging Rocky."

Sienna's stomach swooped harder than it did falling into Gecko Station. If he was jealous, did that mean...? Owen finally turned to look at her. The usual warmth in his gaze was taking on an entirely different meaning. It sent a shiver down her spine.

Not about to make things easy on Owen, Sienna asked, "Why were you jealous?"

Owen's face shifted to a more serious expression. As he stood up, Owen closed what little space was between them. Sienna had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. They were such a gorgeous blue, like Sandrock's sky on a clear day. She thought it was oddly fitting, until Owen cupped the back of her head. Then every thought flew out of her mind except for the warmth of his hand-- and the realization that his hand covered almost half her head.

He said, "I was jealous because I wanted to be the one hugging you. You're the most wonderful person I've ever met. If you'll have me, I would very much like to date you."

Sienna swallowed hard, dumbstruck. Of all the ways she'd expected this talk to go, this had absolutely not been on her radar. Unable to find her voice, but not wanting to leave Owen in suspense, she nodded.

"That a yes?" he asked.

Managing to regain control of her vocal chords, Sienna replied, "Yes. By the Light, Owen, yes, I'll have you."

He beamed at her, and Sienna felt herself melt a little at the sight of his smile. Hell, hers was probably just as wide. Maybe he was melting too.

A thought popped into her head. Sienna's smile turned more mischievous as she said, "You know, you can hug me now if you want. Hell, if you ask nicely, I might be persuaded to let you kiss me, too."

Owen's eyes sparkled, "Sienna," --this time, the use of her name sent a thrill through her-- "Would you let me kiss you?"

"Oh hell yes."

Owen pulled her up off the stool into an embrace with ease, the hand at the back of her head tangling in Sienna's hair. She couldn't help the small gasp that escaped at how easily he lifted her up. It didn't go unnoticed; Owen chuckled lowly at the noise. His chuckle made her heart skip a beat. Sienna brought her arms up to wrap around him, pulling herself even closer. Strong muscles shifted under her hands. Then, all conscious thought disappeared as Owen's lips met her own. His lips were soft and plush, a contrast to her own slightly dry ones from being outside all the time. Her stomach was fluttering like mad, and Sienna was pretty sure her heart was about to beat out of her chest. They broke apart ever so slightly, but Owen still held her close. Sienna laid her head on his chest and snuggled in closer.

"Now what?" she asked.

Owen pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Now, we both go home and go to bed. Tomorrow night, Grace is on her own in the saloon, and you can come over to my place for dinner?"

Sienna nodded as she yawned. Neither of them made any move to let go of the other.

Owen chuckled softly. "Okay, how about you come over to my place, we can cuddle until we fall asleep. Then we figure out tomorrow stuff...tomorrow?" Sienna rewarded him by nodding into his chest. Finally, they pulled apart. Owen took her hand, and together, they left the saloon.

#owen x builder #mtas owen x builder #mtas #my time at sandrock #mtas fic #my time at sandrock fic #builder x owen #my writing

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frozenbound · 1 year

Note

Just in the process of reading the request you did for me! I found the original writer of the mchan fic I said about, seemed shorter than I remember but I think that's cause I read your fic directly afterwards which is where I got the tender stuff from which I absolutely adore and needs to be done more often! As I started reading the request I had an evil idea of a cole x hanzo with shimadacest, hanzo teasing genji to near madness by only allowing cole his bussy. Consensually of course

An evil idea...or an inspired one? Heh heh heh...

Sorry for taking so long to fulfill your request! I shouldn't have opened requests right before traveling and having spotty Internet and a crappy laptop, but this prompt was on my mind the whole time and I couldn't wait to finish it!

I hope you don't mind that I kinda combined it with my Shimadacest headcanon #5, just to make Genji even more blue-balled!

(And don't worry, Anon, I have your request, too, and I should have it done soon!)

Hanzo teasing Genji by way of Cole, coming right up under the Read More! Thank you so much for your wonderful request!

“Brother,” Genji whines when Hanzo slows down as they approach his quarters. “Brother, please. Hurry.”

“You’re sure about this, my little Genji?” Hanzo asks, smiling pleasantly yet with that awful low-key mischief that so many people think he’s utterly devoid of. “You’ve come so far, further than you ever have before.”

“Yes, brother,” Genji says, and because the hallway is completely deserted, he presses his body into Hanzo’s and reaches down and removes his codpiece to release his wet, straining erection to press against his brother’s hip. “Please. Please, Hanzo, I need it. I’ll hump your leg out here if you go any slower.”

“That,” Hanzo says with a stern look, “would break the rules. Rutting away like a mongrel dog doesn’t count as me helping you.”

“Then come on, brother!” Genji growls, beginning to rub against him despite his disdainful words and nuzzling his nose and metallic jaw against Hanzo’s neck, his lips moving against his skin as he speaks. “Hurry!”

“Alright, alright,” Hanzo says placatingly, rolling his eyes and breaking away to walk briskly down to his quarters. “Come on, then.”

Genji follows, right on his heels, coming close to panting like the mongrel dog he apparently so resembles.

He doesn’t care about unflattering allegories at this point, though. It’s been three weeks. It’s the longest he’s ever gotten into No Nut November, and it’s an even bigger accomplishment because Hanzo pointedly declined participating in it himself…but he did agree to be Genji’s “failsafe”, just like when they were younger.

Genji can’t just admit defeat and jack himself off. Hanzo has to be the one to do it, both to be a witness to how far Genji got…and just because it’s so, so hot to release so many days’ and weeks’ worth of pent-up sexual energy into his mouth or ass or onto his face and body.

Three weeks’ worth this time.

Genji can hardly wait.

So when Hanzo takes his time to punch in his access code, Genji drapes himself over his shoulders, slotting his cock, still out in the open in the empty hallway, between the swells of his brother’s ass and thrusting and hotdogging against the soft cloth of his sweatpants and the hard muscle of his glutes.

He pulls down the neckline of Hanzo’s t-shirt and begins licking and mouthing at the skin at the base of his neck.

He’s basically starting his lovemaking right here in the hallway, he’s so desperate.

The door slides open.

“Howdy, darl…oh!”

Genji and Cassidy freeze and lock eyes, Genji in the doorway with his lips on his brother’s skin, Cassidy stretched out on his brother’s bed, completely nude, hand around his cock.

There’s a short yet almost eternal moment of silence.

“Ah, yes,” Hanzo says, utterly unperturbed, and even…even amused. “We were going to fuck tonight, weren’t we, Cole?”

“Uh,” Cassidy replies awkwardly, “yeah, we sure were.”

“I apologize, it slipped my mind,” Hanzo says conversationally as he steps forward, pulling Genji inside with him, to allow the door to slide closed. “Genji waylaid me with very singleminded focus and swept me along. My apologies.”

“Don’t, uh,” Cassidy says, wary and suspicious, “don’t worry about it. Should I…go?”

“Of course not,” Hanzo says as though it were obvious. “We have an appointment.” He turns in place, very deliberately keeping Genji’s frozen lips in contact with his skin, and looks deep into his brother’s eyes. “Another time, Genji. It’s late and I’ll be too tired to take care of you once I’m done with Cole.”

But he doesn’t usher Genji to the door.

He doesn’t wait until Genji shows himself out.

He simply turns away, shucks off his pants and T-shirt, revealing what Genji already knew, that he wasn’t wearing underwear, and marches to the bed and grabs hold of Cassidy’s legs and pulls him to the edge of the bed before placing his ankles on his shoulders.

“Lube, please, Cole.”

Cassidy glances between Hanzo and Genji. “Uh…” he says reluctantly.

Hanzo raises an eyebrow. “I’d like to fuck you senseless and then ride you, cowboy. Would you like to postpone?”

Cassidy swallows.

And he does exactly what Genji would do in his position.

“No,” he says softly. “Keep going.”

And he hands over the small bottle of lube sitting next to him. His cock is already shiny with it, and he pumps his cock once or twice distractedly, still glancing over at Genji as he stands stockstill. Watching them.

Then Hanzo starts rubbing circles with a single yet large and blocky and slick finger around his hole, and Cassidy’s eyes close involuntarily and he lets his head fall back.

A glob of precum all but spurts out of Genji’s cock and falls to the floor.

He’s so horny.

It’s been three weeks.

He needs Hanzo’s hands on him so badly that even now he can feel the ghostly touch of his own imagination running up and down his body, repeatedly brushing over the boundaries between his artificial and natural skin, each with its own brand of sensitivity, the artificial skin able to perceive every minute ridge and swirl of Hanzo’s fingerprints, his natural skin drinking in Hanzo’s warmth, and both shuddering under his brother’s increasingly rapid pulse.

Instead…

Cassidy groans as Hanzo gently bites the meat of his thick calf, running his free hand over his hairy leg as he pumps his finger in and out of his hole, and Genji’s hearing is so sharpened by his desperate need that he can hear, he can hear when Hanzo adds a second finger…and a third…

“Hanzo,” Cassidy moans, his hands grasping blindly to palm at Hanzo’s hard stomach. “Hanzo, please…”

“Shh, shh,” Hanzo whispers. “You are nearly ready. You’ve been playing with yourself, I can tell.”

So can Genji. Those squelching, popping sounds can only come from an asshole that’s already pliant and soft.

Genji’s fingers made the same sounds when he prepared himself just before coming in search of his brother.

He’d only barely kept himself under control, just barely, as he stretched himself out good and proper. Hotdogging Hanzo through his pants had been a ruse; he’d planned to push Hanzo onto the bed, clamber up onto his lap, and sink down onto his cock and ride him until he came hands-free…

…but instead, he only watches as Hanzo lines his cock up with Cassidy’s hole and presses in, burying himself balls-deep, before he slaps his hand away from his own cock and takes over, pumping up and down furiously in direct contrast to his slow and steady thrusts.

“Hanzo! Darling!” Cassidy gasps, red-faced and panting. “You’re gonna make me cum!”

“If you do,” Hanzo says calmly with that same mischievous tone he used with Genji, “I can’t ride you.”

Cassidy groans and writhes on the bed as Hanzo suddenly ramps up the pace of his fucking to match the speed of his hand bobbing up and down on his cock.

Genji’s hands long to drift towards his cock and towards his ass.

His cock is straining, his balls are twitching, his ass is clenching.

His skin, artificial and natural, burns.

But he keeps still, his eyes fixed on the tableau before him, as his brother’s hips slap into Cassidy’s over and over, the cowboy’s round, muscled, hairy ass jiggling with each impact, his balls bouncing with Hanzo’s every pull.

That should be me, he thinks distantly.

That should be me getting absolutely railed, my cock in his hand.

I should be the one moaning his name over and over, he thinks, listening to Cassidy’s almost senseless babbling.

I should be the one with my legs over his shoulders and have my toes curling as he pounds my hole. He should be leaning over me as he explodes inside me and says…

“Cole,” Hanzo gasps, his hips stuttering before he buries himself to the hilt inside of the cowboy.

There’s a few moments of quiet stillness as Hanzo finishes unloading into Cassidy, pumping him full of his cum…

…but Hanzo wastes little time before he’s withdrawing from Cassidy’s sloppy, cumstained hole and dropping his feet to the floor and climbing into his lap.

“Such self control,” Hanzo purrs.

It takes Genji a few moments that he’s addressing both Cassidy and him, Hanzo’s gaze trained on his little brother’s face as he lowers himself on Cassidy’s red-purple cockhead.

He must have prepared himself, too.

Cassidy pops past his entrance with little to no effort.

His eyes never leave Genji’s.

“So good,” he continues, smiling. “So good for me.”

He’s enjoying this so much, the bastard. He loves being in control, loves having everyone around him at his whim, loves having them at his beck and call.

He’s smiling as he begins to hump up and down, taking Cassidy so effortlessly, his cock flopping and windmilling around half-chubbed, spent yet valiantly trying to stiffen once again.

He watches Genji watch him, his eyes flicking down to take in his little brother’s cock weeping a steady stream of precum onto the floor.

He looks so radiant and content and proud to be the center of attention, and to be able to tease his little brother once again after so many years, and to have empty balls and an ass full of cock.

So…

So even though Genji feels like his veins might pop at any moment from the sheer force of his hammering pulse as he watches Hanzo fuck himself on Cassidy’s cock…even though his frustration and jealousy is matched only by his lust…even though his balls are so blue he’s almost going crosseyed…

…he can live with all of it, just to see his brother grin in unshadowed triumph when Cassidy cries out and grasps his hips to forcibly grind his ass down on himself as he shoots his wad deep, deep into Hanzo’s fiery heat.

He can live with Cassidy pulling Hanzo into a bruising kiss.

He can live with Hanzo draping himself over the cowboy and holding him close in a warm embrace as they pant into each other’s mouths.

And he can wait patiently as they drift off into a contented, sated sleep, and even pull the covers over their bare skin, and climb in with them, spooning Hanzo from behind even as Cassidy’s hairy arms hold his brother flush to his hairier chest.

He can breathe slow and deep throughout the night as the hours drag by.

And then he can absolutely rail his brother, slamming into him so hard that he knocks his breath out into Cassidy’s awed face as all three of them are bathed in the golden sunlight of the dawn spilling through the window.

It’s been three weeks and one day.

And he makes sure Hanzo knows it.

#shimadacest #genzo #hangen #genhan #yeehan #hanzo shimada #genji shimada #cole cassidy #requests #man the relief I felt when I could finally finally finally work on this #I've been looking forward to it for so long

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hey-that-hurt · 4 months

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Back in high school, I started planning what I recognize now to be a whump fic for the anime Fairy Tail. I ended up losing the notes, but I remember the general premise.

In Fairy Tail, there is an arc where the characters (wizards) are trapped in a dimension where magic is a scarce, essential, and valuable resource, and they are unable to use their own magic.

Two characters are captured because of the specific magic they wield: dragon magic. They are to be used as human batteries, chosen because their magic is particularly powerful, and also heavily integrated with their bodies. The two characters captured are Natsu, typical shonen protaganist kinda guy, and Wendy, a young girl of maybe 13 (I forget).

Also notable: an early bit of established worldbuilding that ends up pretty much completely abandoned is that running out of magic is bad for a wizard (magic changes your body) and the more powerful you are, the more dangerous this is.

Natsu and Wendy are chained up to a wall, placed in front of a machine, and have the magic painfully sucked out of them. Natsu, normally pretty resilient, screams his head off. By the end, they are both completely unconscious. The rest of the characters find them, give them these pills that allow the characters to use magic in this dimension, and both of them are instantly completely fine.

Later in the arc, Natsu gets into a big fight and fights to the point of magical exhaustion (again!!!), but after the arc everyone is totally fine with no big danger to health.

These events disappointed me so much, and I didn’t understand why, but I knew I wanted things to play out differently. I now recognize that this was disappointment that the whump was not nearly as intense as it should have been.

Here’s what I recall of my fic plans:

Natsu would try to convince their torturer to spare Wendy at his expense. I don’t see why he wouldn’t have done this, as he’s basically like her big brother.

They should not have been able to recover easily.

If Natsu was more heavily drained than Wendy, he would nearly die.

The torturer would not want to let them die, because then they can’t be drained again

The torturer would also not abandon their unconscious bodies. That doesn’t make any sense. That doesn’t make any sense at all. As soon as it became obvious that a rescue attempt was underway, Natsu and Wendy would have been taken down and relocated. This would, of course, make rescue much more difficult

UPON rescue, the magic pills wouldn’t do jack shit. They let you use your magic, they shouldn’t restore it. Even if we argue that the pills allow their bodies to absorb the magic from this different atmosphere, we know from the original magical exhaustion incident that reabsorbing magic is a slow process that far from instantly fixes the issue.

The whole end-of-arc plan would have to be rethought because Natsu would be not just unable to fight, but probably still at risk of dying.

Lots of fear and guilt and pain and all the stuff wanted so badly when I was like, 14 watching this episode and wondering why I wanted the characters to be tortured more.

Even though Fairy Tail is not a well-written series and the ending is bad and none of my favorite plot points were handled well and the fanservice is egregious and the plot armor is egregious…

I still crave Natsu whump. Maybe I should write this fic someday, and fulfill my past selves’ whump dreams.

#fairy tail #natsu dragneel #strong whumpee #magic whump

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sluttywonwoo · 3 years

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take it off || k.mg x reader

Pairing: mob!mingyu x fem reader

Summary: as much as you hate to admit it, jealousy looks good on your fiancé

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

“Mingyu, slow down,” you said with a sigh, trying not to roll your eyes.

“What was he thinking?” Mingyu spat, not acknowledging what you had just said. He gripped the steering wheel even harder.

You watched as his knuckles began to turn white and rubbed his arm soothingly. “Baby, take a deep breath. Relax.”

He just shrugged you off and cursed at the car in front of him.

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax.”

“It’s not a big deal, Gyu.”

He actually turned his head towards you and looked at you this time. “You’re joking.”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

You winced, knowing you’d probably made it worse and that Mingyu was likely now picturing the grimy hands of ill-intentioned strangers all over your body.

“I should have him killed,” he snarled.

To most, that threat would sound completely ridiculous or utterly insane, but your fiancé was the head of the Seoul mob-the South West branch anyway- and he was no stranger to violence. Having someone killed would be as easy as snapping his fingers.

You scoffed to call his bluff.

“You think I won’t?” he challenged and you groaned.

“You promised you were done with that.”

It’s true, one of the conditions of your engagement had been that Mingyu agree to put the more sinister side of his business to rest, and although you trusted him, in all honesty, you weren’t sure how well he was upholding his end of the deal.

“I’d make an exception.”

“Well don’t. I don’t want some poor guy’s blood on my hands.”

At that, the car screeched to a stop right in the middle of the freeway. The cars behind you honked and flashed their lights at Mingyu as they maneuvered to avoid a collision.

You huffed in frustration, wanting to bang your head against the dashboard. This was exactly why you didn’t like for Mingyu to drive himself: he pulled dangerous shit all the time like this. Literally, all of his other men had drivers who took them places and you desperately wished Mingyu would hire someone, but he insisted that it was safest if he was the one driving (yet here you were in the middle of the highway).

“You could’ve fucking killed us!” you shouted, more annoyed than anything.

Mingyu took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But y/n, he’s not just some poor guy.”

“He was trying to get a rise out of you, Gyu. He fucking hates you, of course, he’d go after me, and he was drunk.”

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, foot still pressed firmly on the brake. “That’s not a fucking excuse, you of all people should know that. Why are you trying to defend him?”

“I’m not trying to defend him, I’m just saying he doesn’t deserve to die. Can we please just get home?”

Mingyu relented and put the car back into motion making you breathe a sigh of relief.

Even though he didn’t say anything else you could tell his mind was still going a thousand miles a minute. You watched him chew at his lip in silence and wondered what was going on in that beautiful head of his. Nothing good, you could be sure of that.

Mingyu’s mind was darker than most. Occupational hazard. He carried so much pain that you hadn’t known about when you first met him. He’d let you in slowly, keeping you at arm’s length for months, until he almost lost you. And then he knew he couldn’t keep things from you anymore. It was still a challenge to understand his thought process sometimes, but you liked it that way. How could a ruthless, power-hungry mobster also be the most loving, family-oriented person you’d ever met in your life? How could someone who dropped a grand on a dinner like it was nothing secretly rather spend one more night picnicking with crappy Chinese food on the bedroom floor in your old apartment? You couldn’t think of an answer, and you didn’t want to.

The guy at the bar tonight had been some rival of Mingyu’s. You hadn’t seen him before, but you could tell because when Mingyu got up to get the two of you more drinks he swooped in and laid it on heavy. He looped one arm around your waist and placed his other hand on your knee and began attempting to seduce you. Sure, you were uncomfortable but more than anything you were angry. And tired. Tired of being used as bait, something to get to Mingyu.

You didn’t want to make a scene so you listened to the asshole talk about how much better he’d treat you than Mingyu until your fiancé eventually returned with your drinks in hand, face beet red, eyes dark with anger.

The man, you never caught his name, left the bar with a broken nose. Mingyu left with bruised knuckles. You’d thought it would end at that, but of course, once Mingyu got started it was hard for him to stop. It was a gift in the bedroom, but a curse in the rest of your life.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it, Mingyu broke the silence in the car and said “I know what he said to you,” and it all clicked.

Normally, a hand on your shoulder, thigh, ass was enough to set Mingyu off, but combine that with the filthy words he’d undoubtedly overheard spilling from the man’s lips… no wonder all he could see was red.

“Mingyu, I-“

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to start something.”

“Start something? Is that true? Or do you think he’s right?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you think he can satisfy you better than I can?”

“Mingyu!”

“Well do you?”

You shook your head and rubbed your thighs together, fighting a shiver. As irritating as Mingyu’s jealousy could be, the effect it had on you was even more infuriating. The man could already turn you on without doing anything and whenever he started acting a little jealous it was game over for you. It was pathetic, really.

“Why the fuck did he even think it was okay to look at you, let alone touch you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged finally settling in to play the game. “These big dudes with huge muscles just think they can have whoever they want.”

Mingyu whipped his head back towards you. “What did you say?”

You ignored him. “I mean he definitely wouldn’t be as good as you, but he could do some damage.” Mingyu was full-on glaring at you now, and you wanted to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but you couldn’t give up so fast. “I mean, just one of his hands could probably wrap around my whole neck. Like they were giant, and you know what they say about guys with big hands-“

“Do you think this is funny?”

Any sane person wouldn’t even think about taunting Mingyu like this, not with his reputation, but you couldn’t be sane to be with someone like Mingyu anyway, and besides, you knew he was a big softie at heart.

“A little,” you admitted. “You look really hot right now.”

He really did. His hair was tousled with silver highlights from the moonlight streaming in through the windshield, his tan skin was flushed with adrenaline, and his white button-up was unbuttoned just a few times to show off his collarbone. You bit your lip. You were so fucking weak.

“That’s not going to work.”

“No?” You quirked an eyebrow and leaned over the console to see that he was already more than half hard in his dress pants. “Because it looks like it’s working.” You reached over and began to palm him through his trousers, smirking when he cursed and rolled his neck at the contact.

“Y/n, if I have to pull over, you’re not going to be able to walk for the next week.”

Oh no, that’d be horrible you thought to yourself and rolled your eyes. He had to know that’s what you secretly wanted, right? Right? Why were men so stupid?

Either way, you took your hand back and moved it up under the hem of your dress to where you were feeling a little desperate for some friction. You sighed deeply when you rubbed yourself over your panties, not even surprised at how wet you were.

“Fuck,” you hissed out and hiked your legs up onto the seat so you could give Mingyu a better view.

“Stop that.”

He said it so forcefully that you froze, fingers hovering over your panties, about to pull them to the side. Then you smiled.

“No.” You went ahead and did it anyway, slipping two fingers inside of yourself easily.

You weren’t one to defy Mingyu often, especially when it came to what he asked of you in the bedroom, but you knew how crazy it drove him and just couldn’t resist.

Mingyu groaned, trying and failing to maintain an angry expression. His eyes betrayed an absolutely sinful lust that made you want to melt and you wished more than anything he’d just pull the fucking car over.

“Fuck, Gyu,” you gasped, “I wish these were your fingers, you’re so good with your fingers.”

“Yeah? You sure you wish they’re my fingers? Not someone else’s?”

You shook your head vigorously. “Never. You’re the only one who knows how to make me cum that hard.”

“Is that what you want? To cum hard?”

“God, yes,” you moaned, pumping your fingers in and out of you faster.

“Take off your dress.”

“What?” you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right, you were still driving down the highway after all.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Not wanting to push your luck any further you didn’t hesitate to listen this time and pulled the loose fabric up and over your head.

“Good girl,” he praised and you whined. You were still wearing your bra and underwear and as much as you’d love to flash oncoming traffic, you hoped Mingyu wouldn’t ask you to take them off.

“You can touch yourself,” he said and you complied, knowing it was more of an instruction than an allowance.

It felt good, really good, but you still wished it was him instead of you.

“Fuck, darling you look so beautiful like that, God, I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

“If, you stop, killing people,” you managed to get out through gritted teeth and Mingyu laughed.

“I’m not going to kill him, baby. I made a promise. You’re too important to risk losing, even if he is a fucking prick.”

You whimpered, the mixture of complete head-over-heels love you felt for Mingyu and pleasure making you crumble.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said, reaching over and taking you by the wrist, stalling your movements just as you were about to fall over the edge. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget you ever met that asshole.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my taglist

#take it off #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x fem reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x female reader #mingyu x fem reader #kim mingyu x female reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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xjoonchildx · 3 years

Text

snapshot | jhs x reader

summary: after a day at the beach, hoseok has some surprises in store for his longtime love

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff, smut, fluff OH MY GOD SO MUCH FLUFF y'all i apologize

word count: 4.7K

notes: this fic is a commission fic for the lovely @wwilloww as part of the @armyadvocates fundraising initiative to stop hate crimes against AAPI. miss willow asked for an old house, candles and soft smut as well as a mystery box. i did my best to deliver on all counts because willow is amazing and deserves all good things.

thanks go to @hobi-gif @ladyartemesia and @btsarmy9593 for beta reading parts of this story, thanks so much for keeping me on track ladies! a very special shoutout to @sahmfanficbts who helped me come up with a very *key* part of this plot.

warnings: no one dies? no one is in danger of dying? who am i? standard smut, unprotected sex. liberal sunscreen use. low air quality due to paint fumes and sawdust. references to yoongi, who we can assume is cranky offscreen, references to @untaemedqueen first suggestion of what was in the box.

Warm.

Hoseok is so warm right now, inside and out. He stretches his long body out on the length of his beach lounger, enjoying the feeling of the sun beating down on his skin. His buzz is mellow and pleasant. He lets his eyes drift shut, lulled into a lazy calm by the sounds he can hear all around him.

The steady lap of the waves against the shore. Kids laughing as they run around on the sand. Off in the distance, a bluetooth speaker thumps out a song that’s too far away for him to recognize. And after a few minutes, another sound.

Your bright laughter, carried to him on the breeze.

God, he loves that sound.

“You are such a lightweight,” you tease. Hoseok can hear the smile in your voice. “Two beers and you pass out on me.”

He cracks one eye open to find you standing beside his lounger. The early evening sunlight streams through the strands of your dark hair and warms your bronzed skin, bathing you in a kind of golden halo. He gazes up at you, languid and content.

“I’m not passed out,” he argues with a slow grin. “I’m relaxing. Come relax with me.”

Hoseok doesn’t give you a chance to accept his offer, leaning up to grab your hand and pull you down into the narrow space beside him. You laugh when he wraps his arms and legs around you like a starfish, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“I’m just enjoying the perfect day,” he murmurs, nosing at the back of your ear, “With my perfect girl.”

“Flatterer.”

Hoseok can’t see you rolling your eyes, but he knows you’re doing it anyway. Just like he can’t see the way you flush and he knows you’re doing that, too.

“We should eat,” you say after a while, shivering when he strokes the pads of his fingers up the soft skin of one bare leg. “Grab something before we have to take the bikes back.”

Hoseok hums under his breath as he slides his palm up the curve of your thigh, boldly searching for trouble under the hem of your sundress. You bat his hand away and he laughs, hugging you tighter.

“Alright,” he agrees in a whisper, ghosting his lips down the nape of your neck. You jolt in his arms when he sinks his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, nipping playfully. “Just a quick bite.”

There’s not much difference between a sundress and a négligée is there?

Certainly not from where Hoseok is sitting, anyway.

He studies you as he rides close behind, watching the way your hair whips in the breeze as you pedal. One delicate sundress strap slips down your sun-warmed shoulder, exposing just a bit more of your back. Then the wind grabs a hold of your sheer skirt, lifting it just long enough for Hoseok to get a glimpse of the pretty white panties underneath.

God, he loves those panties.

Could stare at them all day, really.

But instead he forces himself to pedal faster and take the lead, grinning when you take note of his advance and glare. It’s for the best because while you think this is just some meandering evening ride, he’s the only one who knows where you’re really headed. For the best because if he falls off his bike and breaks his face because he’s too busy staring at your ass, the entire night will be ruined before it has the chance to start.

It’s quiet on this street just a few blocks from the shore.

Dolmeori Beach is rockier, more wooded than the beaches preferred by most tourists and that’s always suited Hoseok just fine. When he was a kid, he’d steal away when the weather was warm and hop the train here from Gwangju any chance he got.

It’s always felt like his place, his personal piece of sea and sand.

Pine trees loom high over the pavement, canopies so dense they block out much of the waning sunlight streaming down from above. The shade beneath the leaves makes the heat bearable, but it also makes it hard to judge the time. Hoseok steals a quick look at his watch.

Right on schedule. He hopes Yoongi followed his instructions to the letter.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teases over his shoulder, and he chuckles at the sound of frustration you make as you pedal faster to catch up. It takes a few seconds for you to coast into position at his side.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” you fuss, “Wanna clue me in?”

Hoseok turns his head to smile at you, sly like a fox.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

The realtor had said the place would need a little love.

Turns out, it needs a lot more than a little. But Hoseok was able to see right past the weathered wooden porch and salt air-worn paint right away. When he found this place online, he knew it was the one.

He slows his bike to a stop as the two of you make your approach, taking note of the warm light that glows just behind the frosted glass pane in the front door. Looks like Yoongi came through.

“What is this place?” you ask, skidding to a stop beside him. You stand over your bike on tiptoes as you survey the house, brow knit in confusion.

“It’s a surprise,” Hoseok grins, hopping off his bike. He shoves the kickstand into place and offers you his hand, which you accept with a suspicious smile. “Wanna go in?”

“Yeah sure,” you shrug. “We’ve probably already stolen these bikes. What’s a little breaking and entering on top of that?”

Hoseok laughs, leading the way to the front door.

He cringes when the porch floorboards creak loudly beneath his feet, making a mental note to put that project next on his to-do list. You stand with arms crossed, watching silently as he crouches down to lift the mat at the front door, fingers feeling beneath for the concealed key.

You stop him with fingers wrapped around his forearm when he gets to his feet.

“Wait,” you whisper frantically. “We can’t just walk into someone’s house, Hoseok.”

He chuckles before leaning down to kiss the adorable confusion right off your face. Then he slides his key into the lock and pushes the door wide open.

“Not someone’s house,” he corrects, watching you peer skeptically inside.

You step slowly through the threshold and scan the candle-lit front room before turning to him with wide eyes.

“Our house.”

“You bought a beach house.”

It’s the third time you’ve said it by now, and not once has the hushed observation been directed at Hoseok. You said it when you brushed your fingertips over the freshly-dried spackle on the living room wall, said it again as you passed your hand over the base coat of stain on the mantle over the fireplace.

You say it again as you turn to him, jaw slack with disbelief.

“You bought a beach house.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok admits sheepishly, uncertain of your reaction. He tries to see the room the way you must see it now, candles and tools scattered across the tables, floors covered in drop cloths, cans of paint and plaster stacked up in the corners.

Yoongi had done a decent job of clearing up most of the clutter before he left, but judging by the astonishment on your face, he’s probably been romanticizing the mess in here.

He’d really hoped to have a lot more done the first time he brought you here, but he’s learned the hard way that some home renovation projects don’t go as smoothly in real life as they do on YouTube. The process has been a bit of trial and error, with a lot more error than he’d originally counted on.

“I know it doesn’t look like a whole lot right now,” he says, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, “But it’s going to look great when I’m done. Yoongi helped me sand all week.”

You shake your head like you’re coming out of a daze.

“Oh my god Hoseok, no -- ” you vow with a shaky laugh, “ -- no, this is incredible. This is amazing. I’m in shock.”

“Yeah?” Hoseok grins, relief melting over him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted -- ”

“ -- Wait,” you interrupt, one brow quirked high as you step closer. “You said… you said something important. You said this was our house.”

“Did I?”

You narrow your dark eyes at him and he chuckles uncomfortably, nerves kicking in for the first time tonight. The feeling -- and the occasion both call for more booze. Which he’s prepared for.

“Are you going to give me a tour?” you ask.

“Later,” he says. “After.”

“After what, Hoseok? You’re killing me slowly with all this suspense.”

“Hang out here for a second,” he instructs, ducking into the small kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes him no time at all to find the bottle of Moet he’s stashed in the fridge and the clean champagne flutes tucked away into the corner of his dutifully-dusted kitchen cabinet. He double-checks the contents of the box on the counter, making sure everything is in place.

Then he takes a deep breath.

Your brows lift in surprise when he walks back into the room with that box in his hands. You watch him set it down on the floor, saying nothing when he turns back to retrieve the champagne and glasses.

When he finally returns, you’re on your knees -- examining the package. Lips pursed thoughtfully as you press your fingers to the gold flecks on the fabric lid.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, flicking your gaze up to find his. “I have so many questions right now.”

You look so damned beautiful in this candlelight -- like you brought your golden glow from the beach indoors. Like you absorbed the sun’s rays and you’re emitting them now like some kind of superpower.

“Have a drink with me,” he murmurs, “And I’ll answer them.”

Something in the room shifts then; the temperature changes. The silly fun of the afternoon evaporates, leaving behind something heavy and heady. Hoseok knows you feel it too, when your half-smile slowly drops and you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

“Okay,” you agree softly, “Let’s have a drink.”

You watch him with those focused dark eyes as he pops the champagne. The drink bubbles over the lip of both flutes as he pours, on account of his haste and shaky hands. Then you take one of the glasses in hand and offer him the other, which he quickly accepts.

“To this surprise housewarming,” you declare, raising your flute for a toast.

Hoseok clinks his glass against yours, taking note of the way you watch him carefully over the lip of your glass as you’re tilting back the flute to take a sip. He decides he can’t keep you -- or himself -- in suspense any longer.

“You know how special you are to me, right?”

You make a face.

“Did you bring me to your new house to break up with me?”

Hoseok’s startled laugh turns into a cough and tears prick his eyes as champagne bubbles blaze a path up his sinuses.

“Yes,” he says dryly, once he’s managed to collect himself. “I figured dumping you by candlelight sounded like the most romantic option.”

You tip your head back when you laugh, light playing off the curve of your neck, your collarbones, the tiny gold pendant that sits in the pretty dip at the base of your throat.

God, he loves your skin.

Hoseok looks at you long and hard before lifting his flute to take a long drink.

“This is for you,” he says quietly, acknowledging the box out loud for the first time.

“What’s in it?”

“A human head,” Hoseok snorts, flinching when you reach over to pinch his leg. “Don’t be a pain. Just open it.”

Your eyes light with excitement as you smooth your hands over the lid and Hoseok can’t help but smile. But your excitement turns into confusion the moment you open the box and find the neat row of plain white envelopes inside.

“What is this?”

“Quit asking me questions,” Hoseok deadpans, pouring himself another drink. He tops off your glass, too. “And start at the front.”

You shake your head with a wry smile as you work the first envelope open, slipping your fingers in between the paper folds to fish out the contents inside. Hoseok sips his champagne as you produce the polaroid photo, head cocked to the side as you study it.

It was cold that day, he remembers that. You’d been bundled up in a pretty scarf and matching belted coat. In the photo, the mid-morning sun flares behind you, illuminating your profile as you squint up at a display of laminated menus.

“This is me,” you murmur, mouth quirking into a disbelieving smile, “At the coffee truck outside of work.”

“Yup.”

“We’d just started dating.”

“Yup.”

“How did you take this without me noticing?”

“Easy,” Hoseok laughs. “You stared at that menu for five minutes straight. I’ve never seen someone take coffee selection so seriously. Thought you were gonna order the most complicated drink in history.”

You roll your eyes but you laugh. So does he.

“Turn it over.”

You flip the polaroid over in your hands, eyes moving over the neat block handwriting on the back.

coolest girl i ever met

“This is the day I knew I liked you,” Hoseok murmurs, “Like, really liked you.”

Your eyes are a bit glassy when you look up at him now, the corner of your mouth tugging into a soft smile.

“You were that sure that fast, huh?” “Yeah,” he admits, scratching self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was.”

You move onto the next envelope, this time prepared when you pull out yet another polaroid picture. This one is harder to place, taken in the dark, mostly black but for a few splashes of vivid light.

“I don’t know this one,” you frown, ghosting your finger across one particularly colorful blur of red and gold. “I can’t make it out.”

You turn the polaroid over, looking once again for Hoseok’s neat block letters.

she’s into me

You laugh out loud.

“That was the lantern festival in Cheonggyecheon,” Hoseok explains. “I’d invited you, but you’d had plans, remember? And I was just going to get Yoongi to go with me but you called me last minute to say you’d decided to come.”

“I remember,” you say with a smile. “Yeri invited me to a movie, but I cancelled on her. I wanted to hang out with you instead.”

“Yeah, well that’s the night I knew you really liked me.”

“Cocky,” you smirk, reaching for another envelope. “But warranted.”

Your eyes light with recognition the moment you pull the next picture out. You’re crouched down at the edge of his mother’s koi pond, one finger making ripples on the surface of the water.

“First time we ever went to Gwangju together,” you muse quietly. “First time I met your parents.”

You flip the polaroid over.

pretty sure my mom loves her more than she loves me

“Okay, this might actually be true,” you tease, taking a sip of your champagne. “Your mom and dad love me.”

“Yeah, well that was the day I decided I loved you, too,” Hoseok chuckles. “The point where I kind of knew there was no turning back.”

You look up from the photograph then, eyes glassy with emotion when they find his. Candlelight flickering across your face as you look at him fondly.

“You still feel that way?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” he laughs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Keep going.”

The next polaroid is a selfie of Hoseok in bed but it’s by no means sexual. There are dark circles under his eyes and his skin has a sallow tint. Next to his pillow, the bedside table is littered with cold medicine and empty cups.

“Is this when you had the flu?” you ask, flipping the polaroid over. The neat block lettering on the back confirms your theory.

she took care of me

“You were so pitiful,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. “Wrapped up in your blankets like a burrito. I swear, men have zero tolerance for discomfort.”

“I nearly died,” Hoseok protests dramatically. “But you dropped everything to come take care of me. That’s the day I knew you loved me, too.”

Your smile is brilliant now, open and sweet as you reach for the last remaining envelope. Hoseok takes another swig of champagne, slugging it down as you pull out the polaroid and study the image.

You are wearing your delicate sundress, leaned up against the wooden railing that separates the sand and rocks. Standing just next to your bike, nose in the air as you breathe in the salt carried on the wind.

“This is today,” you murmur, brows knitting together when you flip the picture over and find the back side blank. “And you haven’t written anything here.”

“Yeah, well,” Hoseok starts and stops, clearing his throat. “I haven’t had a chance to write it in yet.”

“Oh.”

“That’s the day I asked you to marry me.”

“Oh.”

You blink. Once, then again. Hoseok can hear the shaky breath you take in when your mouth parts in surprise. He sets his champagne flute down, sufficiently bolstered by the booze.

“So that’s what I’m doing right now. I’m asking you to marry me.”

You’re still mute with shock, eyes wide as they go from Hoseok to the picture and back to Hoseok again.

“But uh, the longer you don’t say anything, the less confident I feel about this entire plan,” he chuckles awkwardly.

You take him off balance when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your thighs around his waist. He keeps you both from toppling over with a palm flat to the floor, laughing as you pepper his face with kisses.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you sigh, pressing your lips to his temple, his neck, his jaw. “Yes. To you and to these amazing pictures and to this beach house. Yes to all of it.”

You pull away from him to grab the champagne, eyes flashing mischievously as you take a drink straight from the bottle. “Yes to champagne, too.”

Hoseok feigns shock. “Naughty.”

You kiss him deeply then, thoroughly, enough for him to feel the remnants of the carbonation on your tongue. You tease him with a barely there roll of your hips and his cock responds instantaneously, at the mercy of the warm friction he can feel straight through the thin material of his board shorts.

“You know what I’m thinking?” you murmur against his mouth.

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah,” Hoseok chuckles, sucking a breath between his teeth when you bite the skin just below his ear.

“We have a lot to celebrate, right?” you reason, tone light. “But we came here for a housewarming.”

You lean back just far enough to pull your sundress over your head, tossing it carelessly aside, leaving you in nothing but those pretty white panties he loves so much.

“So we should warm it.”

Hoseok grins, pulling the champagne bottle out of your grip. He turns it up just like you did, finishing what’s left before setting it back down.

“I like the way you think.”

The only bedroom in this house is buried beneath a two-inch thick layer of sawdust right now.

Not that making it to a bedroom seems high on your list of priorities.

The fact that you’re both sitting on top of a drop cloth on Hoseok’s living room floor isn’t stopping you from threading your fingers into his hair, slipping your tongue into his mouth, grinding against his lap.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” you laugh, pressing your bare breasts to his chest once he’s managed to untangle himself from your limbs long enough to shrug out of his shirt. Your pebbled nipples drag across the lithe planes of his chest and his cock jumps in his shorts.

“Clever.”

“That’s me,” Hoseok murmurs against your lips, deft fingers slipping beneath the damp cotton between your thighs. He slides the pad of one long finger across your wet slit and you gasp, rocking against it.

“Gotta get you out of these panties,” he laments, pulling one nipple into his mouth and working it with his teeth. You shudder in his hold. “Quick.”

“What are you in such a hurry for?” you tease, circling your hips to chase the perfect pressure of his fingertips. “We have all night.”

“We have about three more minutes if you keep grinding on me like this,” Hoseok laughs, shifting your bodies to lean you back onto the floor. “So give me a break because I want to enjoy this.”

You lie back for him dutifully, dark hair spilling onto the drop cloth around you, skin gleaming in the candlelight. Your gold pendant twinkles at the base of your neck.

God, he loves the way you look like this.

Flushed with excitement and anticipation. Like a feast laid out just for him. He rids himself of those pesky board shorts as fast as he can, leaning over you on hands and knees.

“You’re gonna marry me,” he muses, burying his face into the soft skin under your jaw. “You already said yes, can’t take it back now.”

Your laughter is echoing in his ears as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, across the bronzed planes of your shoulder. He can taste the day on your skin; the ocean salt and sunscreen mixed with that flavor that’s so uniquely you.

“I don’t want to take it back,” you sigh, whimpering when Hoseok kisses a path down the velvety skin between your breasts. He travels lower, kissing just below your bellybutton as he starts working your panties off with one hand. “I’m gonna keep you.”

Hoseok chuckles as he tosses your panties away, off to somewhere unimportant. What’s important is the way you take a deep breath and hold it when his mouth hovers coyly over your cunt.

“Look at me,” he directs, peering up at you from beneath heavy eyelids. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, candlelight dancing over your pretty face.

“I love you,” he breathes, lowering his mouth to make contact with your clit. The air leaves your lungs in that moment, a soft exhalation of air that makes the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

“I love you too,” you sigh, hips jerking at the contact, fingers digging hard into his hair. “So much.”

He knows you by now, knows how you like to be touched. Your rhythmic panting goes a bit ragged, when he slides two fingers into your cunt, crooking up to stroke you the way you like while his mouth works your clit.

God, he loves this part.

The part where you lose any semblance of control. The desperate sounds you make when you start to come apart beneath his mouth and hands.

“Hoseok -- “ your voice is strangled when you call out, “ -- Hobi, I’m gonna come.”

Something about the way you say his name goes straight to his dick. He grits his teeth when your nails dig almost painfully into his scalp as you start to tremble, shuddering against his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, pinning your hips down with his strong hands, keeping you from pulling away from the pleasure that borders on pain. “That’s it. Sound so good when you come for me.”

Hoseok stays face first in your cunt, nose and tongue pressed against you, until he’s certain the last wave has come and gone. Between his own legs, his cock pulses painfully, leaking pre-come at the thought of finally being inside of you.

Your body twitches with the aftershocks of your release as he slowly kisses his way up your thighs, your mound, your stomach.

“How was that?” he asks with a teasing tilt to his mouth, stealing your ability to answer when he kisses you deeply, fitting his slim hips between your legs. He reaches down to grab his stiff cock, sliding it across your slick entrance. You clamp your thighs together to tighten the drag and he groans at the friction.

“Amazing,” you sigh, dragging your nails over his ass, up the lean muscles of his back. “Perfect. You should let me return the favor.”

His dick practically jumps at the suggestion, stomach contracting hard at the prospect of feeling your pretty mouth wrapped around it. But Hoseok is too worked up, too riled up by the alcohol and the excitement.

“Can’t tonight,” he pants, arousal shooting up his spine when you wrap one hand around his now-wet cock. You pump him lazily, trailing soft bites from his jaw to his shoulder. “Need to be inside of you.”

“Yeah, I’m ready for that too,” you admit, guiding the blunt head of his cock to your entrance.

He surges forward then, pushing past the tight grip of your fingers, groaning as he’s enveloped completely by your warm cunt. You whimper at the stretch, locking your legs around him, gasping when he bottoms out.

He pulls back to the tip only to drive in again, earning another strangled moan. You’re squirming beneath him, breathless and dewy, looking like some kind of wet dream.

“I’ll never get over how good it feels to be inside of you,” Hoseok admits, burying himself as deep as he humanly can into you.

You’re so wet he can feel you spilling out onto the base of his dick and for one fleeting moment he wishes you knew how good this feels for him. How wet and hot and tight you feel around him. How being inside of you like this makes his brain go haywire, reduces him to only instinct and need.

You lift your hips to meet each snap of his, the wet sound of your joining echoing off the walls in this mostly empty house.

He hears you moaning his name in between the other sounds you make, in between the panting and mewling that makes his balls tighten. You grip his forearms as he grinds against you, kissing you in between desperate breaths.

��I think I’m gonna come again,” you gasp against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hoseok groans, pulling back to get to his knees. He hooks one of your legs over the crook of one strong forearm, using his one free hand to press a thumb to your clit. His rhythm falters as he watches himself slide in and out of you, hypnotized by the sight of his body joined to yours.

You lift your ass off the floor, back arching as you chase the pressure of his fingers. Hoseok strokes you desperately, feeling his orgasm looming menacingly at the base of his cock. It takes just a few more strained pumps of his hips to set you off.

The second he feels you clamp down around him, Hoseok folds back over you, arms braced on either side of you as he thrusts through his own orgasm. He shuts his eyes and groans as he empties his cock inside of you, thrusting until he can’t anymore.

He collapses onto you, heart racing as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t leave me,” you groan when Hoseok peels his damp skin away from yours to get to his feet.

He strides across the room, completely nude, grinning when you turn onto your side and go up on one elbow to ogle him.

“Just for a second,” he calls out, pulling out every unorganized drawer in the kitchen until he finally comes across a pen. “Gotta finish something.”

He makes a show of holding it in the air as he walks back into the living room, opening the gold-flecked box, and pulling out the last unmarked polaroid photo.

You’re smiling the entire time you watch him pen the last caption on the last photograph.

she said yes

tag list!

@japzalileo @dionysusrage @hey-itsmina @myimaginationsrunningwild @hauntedlilies @spring2787 @suppbeccc @veronawrites @minyoongiboongi @katbonv

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #jhope smut #jhope x reader #networkbangtan #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

#why am i low key in love with katie?#i want a tall woman who smells of strawberries :(#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers fluff #avengers angst #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #marvel imagines #marvel imagine

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kuroosweakness · 3 years

Text

kiss kiss | sakusa kiyoomi <3

this is the my favorite sakusa mini fic i’ve written yet :)) and my longest work! over 2000 words!

“i don’t think i’ll ever understand the concept of kissing,” sakusa mumbles to komori as he leans down to tie his shoes. his shoes are already tied, but he needs to do something to hide his face for a couple of seconds. naturally, his curls fall to the sides of his face, just as he expected.

komori quickly whirls around with a :) and a :0 face combined. “what was that??” he teases and crouches down to see his cousin’s hidden face.

“i was just sayin’“ sakusa shrugs off. “it’s just people touching lips and sharing saliva. it’s disgusting. why people do it? i’ll never understand.” after dusting off his hands, sakusa gets up from the bench and stands up, having forgotten his tall height and head bumping right into a light.

sakusa grimaces and rubs his head, trying his best to pretend it didn’t hurt at all. “stupid light,” he grumbles as he walks away. komori watches on, trying his best not to laugh while making a mental note to watch out for the low lights.

~~~

“komori.”

“hiya!” komori looks up at his cousin while continuing to stretch out his legs.

“...have you ever kissed anyone?”

“...like, full on make-out?” komori quietly asks as he makes kissy hands to demonstrate. sakusa immediately frowns and crouches down.

“stop making those weird gestures,” sakusa quietly scolds. “it’s embarrassing...”

“what’s there to be embarrassed about?” komori softly chuckles while nervously scratching the back of his head. “why do you ask?”

sakusa’s eyes divert away. “...just curious to know.”

“well....” komori taps his chin in thought. “there’s this one friend i’ve kissed before. but it wasn’t anything too serious...”

sakusa looks at the ground below him, wondering if he should sit his whole butt down or keep crouching. he decides to keep asian-squating. “so how’d you initiate the kiss? like what did you do?”

“...i think we’re supposed to be practicing receives right now,” komori sheepishly says while pointing at their teammates all practicing. the bump sounds and shoe creaks suddenly becomes audible to sakusa.

“oh.” and with that, sakusa gets up and walks toward the pile of volleyballs.

~~~

“remember the question i asked you last week?” sakusa breathes through his mask as he and komori jogs down the streets. he’s overly dressed for a jogger, especially in spring. everyone’s surprised he can move so freely in such a heavy jacket.

“...what..... question?” komori asks, glancing at his cousin before looking back at the road in front of them.

“you know what question.”

“...i dont?” komori pants as he slows down his jogging pace.

“the question....that....made you...do weird hand....gestures”

“ohhhh the kissing question?”

sakusa nods and moves to the side to avoid the kids walking toward them.

“i’ve already told you....i’ve only kissed one person before. say, why’re you curious in my love life?” komori teasingly elbows sakusa as they come to a walking pace.

sakusa annoyingly elbows him back. “is it so bad i want to know?”

“it’s just not like you,” komori chuckles. at the sight of a bakery in front of them, his eyes immediately lightens up. “we should go there!!”

sakusa’s eyes meet where komori’s pointing, then meets komori’s face, wondering if his cousin will share answers if he agrees. “okay. but back to my question about initiating the kiss.”

“well, you’ll have to find someone you want to kiss first,” komori laughs. “and i don’t think you’ve found that person, judging from the way you always judge couples and bad breath.”

“don’t be so quick to assume things,” sakusa grumbles under his mask.

“anywaysss, you kinda have to know that the other person wants to kiss you too, ya’know?”

“i don’t know,” sakusa dryly says, stating out the obvious.

“yeah, tell me something i didn’t know,” komori replies and opens the bakery front door. waves of freshly baked bread fill their noses. komori dramatically inhales and exhales. sakusa lowers his mask. a little “ding” rings as the door opens and closes.

“it’s so warm in here!” komori happily exclaims. “you sure you’re not gonna became toast yourself with that jacket on?”

sakusa rolls his eyes.

“back to the kissing topic,” komori starts. “consent is really important! you have to make sure they want to kiss you. and to know, just before kissing, you have to ask.”

“lower your voice,” blushy-faced sakusa mumbles. “there’s people looking at us weirdly.”

“not at me weirdly,” komori remarks. “just at you!”

“i don’t know why i talk to you sometimes.”

“i’ll pretend i didn’t hear that!” komori happily bounces over to the counter and tells the pretty cashier his order. “kiyoomi, you want anything?”

“no, not really.”

“okay!” komori excitedly accepts his paper bag full of baked goods and eagerly munches into a chocolate croissant. “i was thinking that maybe we can stop and eat for a while”

komori eating = less judgmental komori. who is he kidding, sakusa knows he himself is the most judgmental person he knows. “okay”

as sakusa pulls out a seat facing away from the door, a little “ding” rings through the bakery.

“oh look!” komori munches. “it’s y/n! hi y/n!”

sakusa’s stomach drops. his hands have never felt so clammy and cold before. maybe if he stays completely still, then you won’t notice him.

“hi y/n!” komori calls again.

“we’re going home. stop- stop stop stop we’re going home. i need to go home,” sakusa hastily mutters under his breath and gets up so fast, suddenly wishing his mask can cover his whole face. since you’re standing at the doorway, he waits until you walk inside to walk out.

komori quickly gathers his stuff and says a quick apology to you. “sorry about him! well, we’ll catch ya later!”

confused, yet unfazed, you give him a little smile and waves back.

~~~

“so how was it?”

“...not good,” sakusa’s face and curls fall into his hands. he groans and falls back on the his bed. “anyways, i need to study-”

“no no no, i need to know!” komori insists. “most people’s first kiss isn’t that great so...you’re not the only one.”

“how am i even supposed to see them again,” sakusa groans again and squirms around on the bedsheets. “it was so bad. so bad. so so bad. so so sooooo bad-”

“do you have thoughts about kissing them again??”

“yes,” he mumbles and swiftly grabs the nearest pillow and hugs it to his chest, hiding his face in the process. “all the damn time.”

“then it didn’t go as bad as i thought!” komori exclaims.

~~~

“so you’re not gonna tell me how it went?”

“why’re you so nosy???” sakusa scrunches up his nose.

“you were the one who asked about my first kiss first,” komori defends, pulling back in playful offense.

“like i said, it wasn’t good.”

“how was it not good?”

“the kissing tutorial videos didn’t work.”

“....you watched kissing tutorials????!!”

“komori motoya, if you don’t be quiet i swear-”

“did they at least want to kiss you?”

“...i don’t even know if we’re...together. this is so embarrassing. i was too impatient. i shouldn’t have. i rushed things. they didn’t even tell me they like me. what if they just went along with it and didn’t actually want-”

“i think you’re overthinking too much...”

“can we just walk to school in silence?”

“after you tell me first! i can give advice!”

“i nearly missed their lips. and i froze up when we actually made contact. i was stiff. i couldn’t move. plus my mask shifted upward and completely interrupted us, which i’m kinda thankful for.”

komori stifles a laugh. “so...what’re you gonna do for your second one?”

~~~

“i saw them with his stupid, ugly guy who if you put his teeth next to a beaver’s, no one would be able to tell the difference.”

“....we all know you’re not the nicest person, but isn’t that a little mean..and a bit of an exaggeration?” komori chuckles and shifts his foot inside his volleyball shoes.

“they have poor, poor taste in men.”

“well...they did kiss you once...”

“i don’t know anymore,” sakusa sighs. “i need to just focus on volleyball.”

~~~

“i hate it here. absolutely hate. it. here.” with a grumble he tosses his clothes on his backpack and pads across the gym to get his water bottle.

komori side-eyes his cousin. whether or not to ask what he’s talking about, even though he knows exactly what–no, who–he’s talking about.

“is this volleyball related?” komori asks when sakusa walks back.

...

“you’ve never given up anything you’ve set your heart on,” komori kindly reminds him. “so why’re you giving up now?”

“because all the things i’ve done, i was in completely control of” sakusa swings his backpack over his shoulder. “i can’t control other people’s feelings....nor do i want to.”

“did something bad happen?” komori dashes to catch with his cousin, and the tea.

“guess who i saw them with again? beaver guy.”

“i heard they’re just classmates though,” komori gently reminds sakusa, hoping it’ll somewhat clear his senses. he jogs toward a mini puddle and jumps right into it. sakusa grimaces at the water splashes.

“it doesn’t matter. i don’t care about them anymore. they can have beaver guy so they want. i’m one of the best volleyball players in the country, and i’m ...somewhat good looking, and i’m tall...their loss.”

komori searches for more puddles.

“is it because of my personality?” sakusa quietly says. when he sees his cousins jumping into more puddles, he rolls his eyes. “komori, i’m being serious here”

“when are you not?” komori calls back. he jogs back to sakusa and says, “what makes you think it’s your personality?”

“well....let’s not talk about it.”

“...” komori glares at him.

“well....they’re all smiles around other people and like :/ around me. and y’know, my cleanliness. not that i would change for anyone, but i’m just sayin’”

“if they really liked you then, you wouldn’t want you to change. although, you can be nicer sometimes....just a little” komori cheekily says.

“...you’re right,” sakusa sighs.

~~~

“update: beaver guy’s no longer in their life. he tried to make a move on them and they didn’t like it so they cut him out of their life.”

“wait whaaat? it’s been days since you last talked about y/n. what-”

“can you not say their name so loud???”

“so beaver guy pulled a move on them?”

“yes. and they cut him off because he took advantage of their niceness.”

“...”

“so technically what happened to beaver guy also happened to me.”

komori shakes his head. “y/n hasn’t cut you out of their life....they still talk to you sometimes! and even asked if you wanted to walk home, which you-”

he points an accusing finger at sakusa. “which you said no to >:(”

“don’t point, it’s rude.” sakusa looks away.

“what’d you say no???”

“i didn’t want to appear desperate.”

~~~

“so...how long are you gonna stare at the ceiling? we’re supposed to be doing measurements right now.”

“oh sorry,” sakusa slightly bows down and quietly adds, “i walked them home yesterday.”

komori loudly gasps, which he apologizes for when everyone turns to look at him. “whaaat,” he whispers. “what happened?”

“i walked them home and then walked myself home, that’s what happened.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me. give the details!”

“there’s nothing too important that happened. other than my confession.”

._. “and you’re saying nothing important happened??”

“turns out they like...me...too” sakusa stutters. his ears are bright red. “i feel like i’m gonna throw up.” sakusa’s hands presses against his stomach.

“the good kinda throw up?”

“there’s no such thing as a ‘good throw up’“ sakusa barks back.

~~~

“y/n looked really happy and cheerful today and so do you...which i thought i’d never see...”

normally, sakusa would jab his cousin if he heard that, but today, he chooses to ignore it.

“so what’s going on??”

“nothing much. just some kissing,” sakusa says. his whole face is glowing.

“remember when you said kissing was gross?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” sakusa brushes off. “and you better not tell y/n i think they’re gross when i clearly don’t >:(”

~~~

“hand-holding huhhhh?”

“their hands were cold, that’s why.”

“why am i so invested in your relationship,” komori softly chuckles to himself. “y’all are cute.”

“it does feel nice to have someone to talk to about these things,” sakusa quietly says. komori pulls back in surprise.

“well, i’ll always be here for ya! but don’t you dare try rubbing your relationship in my face.”

“i’d never. i know what it’s like to be single.”

“???? that’s the most non-sympathetic thing i’ve ever heard! obviously, everyone knows what it feels like to be single” komori rolls his eyes.

~~~

“people are saying y/n’s dating me for my money.”

“ignore them >:(”

“people keep saying that y/n probably get no action and that i don’t even touch them.”

“like i said, ignore those stupid people”

“i wish it can be that easy,” sakusa sighs.

~~~

“i’ve lost track of how many times i’ve kissed them.”

komori jokingly pulls back in disgust. “no one keeps track, dummy.”

“i’d say about 43 times”

~~~

and now sakusa kisses you like he’s a starved man who hasn’t eaten in days 😐 basically, engulfing you. long, passionate kisses that gets your heart pounding every time.

and that’s it for now :)) tell me what you think! <3

#sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #komori motoya #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #hq x you #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #lia drabbles

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