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minhosimthings · 7 months

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Icarus's Lament: A Hyunjin oneshot

Synopsis: A siren falls in obsessive love with a human, and it mimics the story of Icarus and Apollo

Pairings: Hyunjin × Fem!Siren!Reader, includes rest of Skz, and an original character

Warnings: fluff to angst, fem!reader, just suggestive towards the end, don't read if you don't want your heart broken, ANGSTY AT THE END, forbiddened love, one sided love, obsessive love

A/N: Kay, finally finished this and I AM OBSESSED. look im a simp for mythology and lore and all that stuff, so yeah writing this was very theurapeutic. im sorry I haven't posted in a long time, but i've kinda been busy with work and stuff so i couldn't find time to write. BUT this baby's out so simp on this while i work on some of my other wips.

PLEASE READ: So this fic is based off of the myth of Icarus and Apollo. you should probably read a bit about it if you want to understand why it has a significance to this fic. And by Icarus and Apollo, i mean the romantisized version of the two forbiddened lovers. Also also also shoutout to my darlings @iutdwae and @1-800-shedevil who are as obsessed with mythology as I am.

Mythology is so pretty isn't it? It's amazing how humans have made stories out of deities whose existence they made up simply because they were too afraid of being authoritarian of themselves. The Gods were made up to fulfill human desire, to tell them that someone is always watching. And the people who defied the existence of a robed man, carrying a cross or some other wooden thing, were burnt to death, no matter if God was watching or not. All so paradoxical isn't it? The Gods were greedy beings, or atleast that was your philosophy. You had Aphrodite, greedy for love, so greedy that the roses were stained with her blood when a lover was shot. Then you had Zeus, greedy for his women, so greedy that he couldn't notice his wife's burning wrath. You had Kore, the flower girl, so greedy for freedom, that she became Persephone for a man who took her from her flowers. Yet you questioned why they weren't reprimanded for their greed. Why were the beings below them scolded for wanting more than they could salvage, while The Gods had statues built of them, overflowing with wine and bread? Why must there always be a punishment for greed, no mater human, selkie or dragon?

"My sister, what are you doing near that mirror again?" Your older sister, Menthe's voice broke you out of your stupor from staring at a jewel encrusted mirror. It was a pretty one indeed, filled with magic and glitter near its seams. "Are you looking at the humans again, darling?" Menthe scoffed and wrapped her arms around your waist, her tail colliding with yours, sending a bolt of electricity through to your scales. "Menthe let me go." You fidgeted in her tight grasp, but you knew you couldn't win. Menthe wasn't the Queen's best soldier for nothing after all. "Stop looking at the humans and maybe I'll let you go." Menthe chuckled, seeing you give up and sink into her hold, feeling the seaweed coat the scales in her arms, protecting them. "Sister when will we be going up by the way? You said we could go together today." Menthe finally let go of you and swam away from you as fast as she could. "Menthe! Don't you run from me!" You chased after her, silently summoning the water to take you faster. Of course the ocean obliged. It always was sympathetic to you. To a siren who got turned when she was pushed into the water, by a man who was jealous of her love. By a ruthless human who hated her for something she had no control over. But still, it confused your sister and the entire mermaid population as to how you didn't remember anything about the incident or that you used to be human. You had woken up on a bed in the castle of the Mermaid Queen, surrounded by a bunch of beautiful tailed creatures. Amnesia, was how they explained. Menthe had taken you in, calling you her own sister and spoiling you rotten, because apparently you were too adorable. Your love for humanity remained though. Every day you would get your magical mirror out, a girl from the Princess of Mermaids, and stare at the humans passing on the beach above. They were fascinating, with how they could jump and run so easily. Even though you could turn into a human and walk on land, you could never jump or run like they did, lest you accidentally rip your beautiful tail, embroidered with glittering scales and the prettiest gradient of colours. You rarely took trips to the land, and whenever you did, you were always sent heavily guarded. The fact of why exactly you were special was still unknown to you, as no one ever had the courage to tell you that you used to human. Humans who were turned into mermaids or sirens, to be more specific, were always special, having the power to control the sea with the mere notes of their voices. But the only problem was that they never knew that, courtesy to siren rule being that the special ones couldn't be told that they were special. Weird rule, you always thought, not knowing that you were one of the special ones.

"Menthe come out from there I can see you hiding." You called out to your sister, who was trying to hide behind her wardrobe. She groaned and came out from behind, flipping her hair behind her, and dusting her tail. "Y/n why do you want to go today?" She whined, pouting. "I cannot take you, you know that?" "I'll go with Chan then." You said, firmly, trying to end the conversation. You hadn't been up on the beach in a long time, four months to be exact and you were greedy. You were greedy to go up there. And greed never exactly suited you because when you wanted something, oh Lord, give everyone around you strength and patience.

"Fine you can go with Chan." Menthe finally gave in. "But, if you even try to run away, I will seriously kill you." You giggled at her sentence, knowing that she couldn't even lay a finger on you if she tried to.

"Chan! It's so good to see you again." You swam up to a stout Siren with broad shoulders and the most adorable dimpled smile. "Y/Nnnie!" He swam over to you and engulfed you in his arms, giving you a sense of warmth from the surrounding cold water. "Going up today? You ready?" You balled your fists up and nodded frantically. To say you were excited would be an understatement. You were basically a hyperactive squirrel today.

"Be safe alright?" Menthe hugged you once last time and gave you a conch shell. "You know what the shell does right?" She quizzed you. You rolled your eyes at her, knowing that you've gone through this routine every single time you wanted to go up to get high by the beach. "It calls you incase I run away and you have to get me because I am a careless incompetent brat." You grumbled. "Well atleast the careless brat part is correct." Menthe chuckled before pulling you in for another hug and finally letting go of you.

"Why can't the sunlight reach down to the water Chan? I love this warm feeling so much." You and Chan stepped out from behind some moss covered rocks completely dry, despite having being submerged in water just a few seconds ago. The secret entrance to what the humans called 'Mermaid land', was known to only a few of the Sirens. It was a bunch of rocks and a humorous piece of driftwood which invoked curiously in the humans, although they never went near it. It was funny, you thought, how humans were scared of just driftwood. It was funny how humans feared everything and that they made up myths to explain their fears. Menthe had very patiently explained to you how humans weren't very smart but you didn't believe her much. If they weren't smart, how would they have invented so many things which made their lives easier, like fire?

"Do you want to go to the market first Y/N?" Chan asked you as you set foot on the warm sand on the beach. You loved the feeling of sand. It was like having a thousand needles prickle the bottom of your feet, except that the needles massaged your feet instead of pricking them, to make them bleed your precious blood. "Sure." You said to Chan. "We can go to the market first and then we can come relax on the beach before going back down. Is that alright Chan?" Chan nodded and smiled again, showing those adorable dimples to you. The people of the town knew Chan, since he came up more often than any of the other sirens. The people knew him not as Chan, but as Christopher, the mysterious stranger who could come down to town often to give remedies for human illnesses, since, to be frank, the creatures of the deep had much more knowledge about medicine than humans did. They didn't question him or ask anything since the dark plague when he basically saved every single child in the town, and the townspeople pledged their loyalty to him. Chan was peculiar to them, not saying a word to anyone but the children who would laugh and go after him, calling out 'Uncle Chan!'.

"The marketplace has gotten more prettier since I last saw it." You let out a breath of amazement at seeing all the trinkets and food being sold in the market. It was a wide lane, flanked with stalls, selling seafood, vegetables, mirrors, cloth, jewelry and tiny trinkets. "You saw it about four months ago Y/Nnie." Chan chuckled softly, as you tried to keep up with his pace. He was more used to walking on two legs than you were, and as you walked slowly behind him, he kept a protective arm around your waist, ready to catch you incase you fall. "Ooh Chan what are those?" You excitedly pointed towards a brass thingamabob. It was like a pillar, with many open top, where something was carved into it. It also had a tiny painting of a rose on it. "That's called a candelabra Y/N." Chan responded calmly. "Humans use it to light fire, in order to bring light." "Can-de-lab-ra." You pronounced the foreign word slowly, making Chan chuckle again at your cuteness. "Can I have one pleease?" You pouted to Chan, who you knew couldn't refuse anything when you asked for it. Two minutes later, you strolled deeper into the marketplace, holding the candelabra and a flower in your hand. Chan had a medical job he had to do in town, so he suggested you come with him and wait outside while he finished the job. "Menthe would kill me if I left you alone, but it wouldn't hurt to tell her." He shot you a mischievous smile. You didn't mind being left alone. You knew enough about humans to interact with them, without Chan's knowledge so you were excited.

"That's the house!" Chan called after a few minutes of walking. He pointed to a brick mansion, which looked like a palace. It was beautiful, with ivy coating its walls and lavender growing in the garden. You could smell the roses and herbs too, and you could hear the meowing of a cat. The mansion was far away from the main town, so you assumed it belonged to some rich family. That's how human society worked, as Menthe had told you. The richest lived far away from the common folk, merry making and drinking wine while the poorer ones starved under a candle. The humans who invented this system of society were cruel and unfair, you thought. Every siren in your universe was always treated fairly, no matter where they came from. And that's how you thought everything worked until you found out about humans, not knowing that you were a human yourself.

"Y/N-" Chan stopped you before you two knocked on the iron gate, guarding the house. "When we go inside, you need to bow when I bow okay? These are some important people according to human society so we need to respect them. And put on your hood to protect your identity. To them, you're my little sister alright?" You listened intently to all of his words, wanting to impress the first humans you would probably see up close. "And also, don't talk too much. I know you love talking, but these people don't really prefer it, okay?" Chan stroked your hair gently before kissing the top of your forehead.

"Ahh Mr Christopher wasn't it?" Most of the humans you'd see everyday seemed kind and lively and approachable but this man standing in front of you definetly wasn't. He had a bulging stomach, smooth, flattened greying hair and a magnificent, protruding moustache which made him look very much like a fat, angry walrus. "Your grace." Chan bowed to the man, surprising you. No one was addressed by 'your grace' except for the princess! It took you a second or two to realise that this was human land. Their rules were entirely different from yours, maybe even worse, you thought as you curtseyed to the walrus man. "And who is this beautiful young lady?" The man looked you up and down, eyes full of hunger. Chan stood slightly in front of you, shielding you. "She is my sister, your grace." His firm voice rang through the humongous hall. "Now I believe your niece and wife are the affected people in the household whom I was summoned to treat?" The walrus man looked slightly furious at Chan's words, but he didn't let his anger flow and instead said, "Yes. Yes they are. I shall guide to upstairs where they are resting. Meanwhile, your sister-" he shot you a look again. "-can explore our house perhaps? I shall send a servant with her." Chan looked at your pleading eyes, and gently smiled. He kissed the top of your forehead and whispered, 'be safe, don't do anything out of line.' and went off with the walrus man.

Was this what freedom felt like?, you thought as you strolled around the huge courtyard of the house, with a servant following you. She didn't talk much, instead preferring to cough every now and then, to remind you that she was there. Sand felt really good on your feet, but grass felt better. You had taken off your shoes, much to the disdain of the servant, and felt the dew-filled grass tickle your feet gently. Butterflies were flying here and there and they reminded you of the starfish that would accompany you whenever you and Menthe would go explore sunken ships and other ruins.

You were about to take a whiff of the lavender bushes you had so excitedly run up to when- "Oh where did you come from?" There was a strange creature tugging at your dress tightly. It had black and white fur and the tiniest paws you had ever seen. A dog. This was a creature called dog. Chan had told you about them on your second trip to the surface and you had always wanted to meet one up close. You bent down to pet the dog, seeing as it was tugging on your dress so tightly, when suddenly it ran away at the speed of a lightning bolt.

"Hey!" You shouted, quickly picking up your dress and running after it. "Come back here!" You ran after the dog, who seemed to be running to a more kempt part of the garden where weeds weren't growing and the grass was trimmed, and as you tightly clutched your skirt so as to not trip over it, you couldn't hear the servant behind you screaming at you to not go there. You could spot a figure in the distance holding something in his hand, and the dog was running up to the slender figure.

"Hey!" You called after the dog. "Wait for me! I'm not used to running!" "You wicked wrench stop right there!', a rough voice called after you and as you finally stopped running and looked back, a stout man jumped onto you and pinned you to the ground. You shouted out in pain, in response to your head roughly hitting the ground. You could feel the man's horrible breath against your ear as he said, "got you now you wrench!"

"What is going on here? Martin get off of the young lady." You heard a silky voice say, on whose command, the man on top of you, got off quickly and stood up straight. The man with the smooth voice extended a had towards you and helped you get up. He was handsome, with black hair framing his face perfectly and the most attractive eyes you had ever seen. His lips were smooth, and cherry red, like an octopus' and his figure was carved by the Gods themselves. He had a strong yet soft grip to his hand, which threatened the shredded appearance of his skin.

"Are you alright Miss?" He asked you, mesmerising you with his voice. Being a siren meant that you had the power to understand the most random. Whether it was the chirping of a bird or the clacks of the claws is a crab, it all meant something to you. It was basically music, or whatever the humans called it. But there was something about this man's voice, that you couldn't decipher. It was silky yet cracked, smooth yet with a tint of roughness to it. It was.... beautiful.

"Uh Miss?" The man said again, waving a hand infront of you, which made you realise that you were probably staring at him. "Oh I'm so sorry! Yes I'm quite fine, thank you." You said, keeping your tone calm. "Ahem Sir." The man named Martin gave a cough. "She was trying to enter the private garden sir. Surely you must punish her." The way he said all of that with a widening smile on his face disgusted you, but the man next to you spoke before you could. "Martin hasn't anyone taught you manners? You mus'nt ever touch a lady, leave pouncing on top of her! Would you like to be out of a job Martin?" Martin looked down at his shoes and shyly shook his head muttering the word no. "Apologise to her. Now." Martin bowed to you and apologized before hastily leaving.

"Im sorry about that Miss." The man bowed. "By the way what were you doing chasing Kkami like that?" "Kk-ami?" You slowly pronounced the word, trying hard not to keep staring into the man's beautiful eyes. The man chuckled softly as the dog you had been chasing ran up behind him, intertwining itself between his legs. "His name is Kkami. If he perhaps bit the seams of your dress, please forgive him. I really do not know why he does that, Miss- uh?" "Y/N. My name's Y/N. And Kkami's forgiven." You smiled at him, as he pronounced your name, spelling out syllable and syllable in his smooth honey voice. "My name is Hyunjin." He introduced himself. "Hwang Hyunjin. May I ask what you are doing in my house?" "I-"

"Y/N! We need to go!" You heard Chan's voice shouting your name loudly, and as you turned around in the direction of his voice, you saw him hurrying down to you and Hyunjin along with the walrus man. "Ahh my son." Walrus man sighed out. "I see you've met the sister of the man who had just saved your cousin and mother." Chan slightly blushed as Hyunjin extended a hand towards him, slightly leaning to shake hands with the shorter man.

"Nice to meet you. Well we really must get going. Thank you for your hospitality Mr Hwang." Chan bowed to the walrus man and hastily took your arm, leading you out of the big iron gate as the walrus man and Hyunjin stood there, blinking at the both of you leaving.

"He was sooo handsome Menthe! Like Apollo himself." You were currently brushing Menthe's long black hair and telling her all about your trip above, especially mentioning Hyunjin atleast a hundred times. "You have only talked about his features, my Y/N." Menthe chuckled. "What of his persona?" You thought for a moment and came to the realisation that you didn't know anything about this man. Just that he was the son of the walrus man, a dog owner and he was pretty kind. You shrugged your shoulders to Menthe, who chuckled again. "Ahh my sister." She sighed, with a smile imprinted on her face. "You're so innocent you are."

"By the way-" she added. "Chan's going up again tomorrow to check on that fat human's wife again. Do you wish to go?" She raised an eyebrow at you, as you jolted out of your shared bed. "OH COURSE I WANT TO GO I LOVE YOU MENTHE." You shouted, startling her as both of you giggled under your breath and went off to sleep, with the water floating calmly around you.

"Y/Nnie come on! We're going to be late!" Menthe shouted at you, as you delicately brushed your hair, making sure each strand stood as perfect as carved stone. "I'm coming!" You yelled back, as you took one last look in the mirror and went off to see Chan and go up to the heavens again.

"Whaat are you two up to?" You peeked your head out of the front door to see Chan and Menthe whispering to each other, about God knows what. Once they took a glimpse of you, with your eyes all curious and your head wrapped around the door, they immediately got away from each other's tails and stood awkwardly with their hands behind their back. Chan's ears got redder and Menthe fiddled with her fingers, a common thing they do whenever they were shy or embarrassed, or hiding something.

"Let's go Y/N, we're already late." Chan said, adjusting his satchel and ruffling his hair as he always does. "You know humans don't like tardiness right?"

"Chan why did you take me up again?" Chan stopped in his tracks as both of you walked up the path to the mansion again. He looked at you, with glassy eyes, and sighed, and then led you to an empty lane. "Y/N, I need you to listen to me very carefully." He sternly said. "The Hwang's eldest son, Hyunjin, the boy you met yesterday has asked for you again if I were to come to treat his mother one more time. He said he would like to talk to you. But I'm telling you-" his voice became deeper. "Do not, in any circumstance, reveal who you truly are. If he asks you where you and I are from, just say we are from a neighbouring village alright? Humans do not like beings like us. So if he finds out about what we hide under the waves, we're done for." He finished his impromptu speech and led his way along to the mansion again, with you meekly following behind him. It was scary to see Chan all serious like that, since he was probably the smiliest siren in all of the Kingdom.

"Mr Hwang." Chan bowed low to the walrus man, who was donning a velvet suit today, making him look like a fat plum. Behind him, stood the beautiful figure of Hyunjin, who eyed you up and down a number of times. "Well Mr Christopher-" Mr Hwang clapped his hands together. "My son wishes to spend some time with your sister for as long as you treat my wife and niece, if you allow. I promise that no harm will come to her." Chan looked at you, with what looked like pitiful eyes and bowed again to Mr Hwang. "I allow it, your grace. But please. I hope your son will be respectful to my sister." Mr Hwang waved his hand carelessly and muttered words of 'yes' and then left with Chan up the staircase, leaving you alone with Hyunjin.

"May we go out into the garden?" Hyunjin asked you, slightly bowing down, his silky black hair falling on his face. "Will Kkami be there?" You blurted out, eyes widened. Hyunjin chuckled and nodded, his eyes calm and collected. He led you out of the front door, letting you be in front while he silently followed behind. The garden felt much more livelier than it did yesterday. However, there was a new addition to the garden. There was large patch of tall, handsome flowers growing over in the spot where you chased Kkami down. They were painted with the hues of dark purple, pink, white and a bit of lilac. "Are you perhaps eyeing the hyacinths, Miss Y/N?" Hyunjin's voice snapped through the air, which made you lose the staring competition you had going on the flowers. "Hy-a-cinths?" You pronounced out, concluding that that was the name of those handsome flowers, which were all huddled together like crabs on the beach on a winter day. "May I touch them?" You tentatively asked him, to which he raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you can. Apparently they're very good poisons, or as my father and the library told me so." "You have a library here?" You had often read about libraries as big rooms with shelves everywhere, stocked with hundreds of books which humans could borrow and return within a time limit. Siren's weren't really that used to borrowing and returning things, so you and Menthe usually had a large collection of books at your own home. Human books had always interested you. How the pages fade with time, how humans like to breathe in their scent claiming it calmed them down, how they used to write stories and make collections of them.

"Miss Y/N?" Hyunjin tapped lightly on your shoulder, distracting you from a butterfly that had landed on one of the hyacinths. "Kkami's here." You looked down to see the same dog, nudging against your foot. Thankfully he wasn't chewing on your skirt and as you bent down to pet him, you noticed how much he looked like Hyunjin. You decided not to voice that thought out loud, sensing that it might be considered rude up here on land.

"He's very pretty." You told Hyunjin, still petting Kkami, who seemed to be enjoying the pets. You had a question burning within you though. Why would this man, who looked like the reincarnation of Apollo himself, ask for you when the only interaction you had with him was mumbled apologies and thank yous?

As if he had read your mind, Hyunjin knelt down next to you, and scratched Kkami's ears. "You must be wondering why I had especially asked for you, Miss Y/N?" God he smelled so good too, like fresh seaweed and the silver coating of Menthe's arrows. The most prominent feature of his, that stood out like a crab in a stingray's nest, was the tiny mole on his nose. It was like a blackhole that you would love to dive into and sleep in. "Well I was wondering about that, Mr Hwang." He smiled softly. "Please, Miss Y/N. Call me Hyunjin." "Then stop calling me Miss Y/N. Just Y/N is fine too." He chuckled at your words and stood up from his kneeling position. "Why don't we take a walk around the garden? I would love to show you the gazebo under which I paint."

The rest of the garden was, in a word or two, simply gorgeous. It was far larger than you had initially taken it to be, and as you took in the sweet scent of nectar, and the lively chirping of the birds, you realised that this house was as big as the Queen's Palace. These people surely weren't royalty. After all royal people have crowns don't they? And Chan hadn't told you anything about their lineage or where their from or if they were someones of importance.

"You look very familiar to me." Hyunjin said, making you slightly jump at his voice cutting through the silence. "As if I've seen you somewhere before." "Is that why you asked for me?" You raised an eyebrow at him, slightly picking up your pace to catch up to him. "If I say yes, would you be mad?" Hyunjin chuckled. "But yes, that is one of the main reasons I wanted to talk to you. Secondly, Kkami told me that he likes you, so he wanted you to come over." You looked down at your feet, to Kkami who was walking happily in between you and Hyunjin. You giggled under your breath. Hyunjin was adorable.

"Well who do I look like then?" You quizzed Hyunjin. His eyes faltered for a split second, as he raised his hand and pointed forward. "Let's talk under that gazebo." His hand was pointing towards a beautiful red structure, supported by four gold-coloured pillars. It had carvings all over it which were, from what you could decipher, love letters. You traced one of them saying 'Mea Vita', before settling down on the green bench next to Hyunjin.

"You look like the exact carbon copy of my late wife, Priscilla." Hyunjin sighed heavily as he said that. "I know it is stupid, rude even to summon you, just because you look like someone I used to love, but I need to know who you actually are, and where you're from." He sighed again before continuing. "She was taken from me, kidnapped, when we were 26 to God knows where. And now, here I am, a 30 year old man, lamenting about someone who I don't know even exists. So I need to know-" he leant closer to you holding your hand in his. You could feel his breath against your skin, as he said in a deep voice, "Are you Priscilla?"

Something in you burst. Something in you wanted to scream 'Yes!'. Something in you said, 'if you say yes, you can stay with him'. Something in you told you to ignore your old life and start a new one. Change is inevitable right?

"I-" "Y/N!" Before you could answer to Hyunjin, you heard Chan's raucous voice again, slicing through the air like a horn. "What are you doing with my sister, Hwang?" Chan spat at Hyunjin, who immediately let go of your hand and stood up. "I was not doing anything, Mr Christopher." He stated simply. Chan took your arm and dragged you out of the gate, before you could even say goodbye to Hyunjin.

"Chan why did you do that? I was talking to him!" You shouted at him, when both of you were well out of earshot of the mansion. "Y/N what was he telling you?" Chan said, taking on that stern voice again. Your mind faltered for a bit, wondering whether or not you should tell him about Priscilla. "He was telling me about the flowers in the garden Chan. Nothing else." You felt your stomach sink at telling Chan a bitter lie, but your mind was currently being controlled by your heart, and you were letting it.

"Y/N are you lying?" Chan looked you up and down, as if he could see right through you, but your mind didn't budge. You went closer to him, put your foot down and said in a tone as if to end the entire conversation, "He talked to me about flowers and nothing else."

"So I heard you upset Chan today." Menthe fiddled with a thread and needle, trying to sew her initials onto a handkerchief. "That's not like you, Y/Nnie." You put your own needle and thread down, and let out an exhaustive sigh. "I didn't upset him Menthe." You picked up the needle again, to continue stitching your crab across the handkerchief. "There was simply a misunderstanding."

Menthe sighed heavily and put down her needle and thread on the bedside table, swimming up to you and putting her tail next to yours. "You can't get close to humans, you know that right?" She put a hand on yours and kissed it gently. "I know you love humans Y/N. But under no circumstances, are you to get close to any of them, understand?" You gulped and nodded gently, kissing Menthe's forehead. It was a wild day today, and it was only about to get wilder. If only Menthe knew what was about to happen that night, she would have bound you to your bed right then and there.

Midnight. That was when Menthe usually fell dead asleep. It was a routine for her and everyone in the Siren Kingdom to fall fast asleep at midnight. You didn't know whether this was a spell or just pure habit, but it was weird how all of them fell collectively asleep together. But you weren't going to be on your bed tonight. Tonight, you were planning to do something. Something dangerous. Something that you wouldn't ever do. Something which was prompted by your newly acquired wings.

The moment you heard Menthe's snores rumbling through the sound of the serene water, you kicked off your blanket and silently got the bag of possessions you had packed and silently crept out of your house. There was certain feeling hanging in the air, something which you just couldn't describe. It wasn't guilt nor excitement which you felt. It was a serene feeling, like the ocean wrapping around you, like feeling a fire for the first time and it felt good, as you crept out of the water, leaving your place behind, possibly for forever.

The sand never felt warmer, even as it was bathing in the moonlight. The blowing wind never felt better, even when it was cold and chilly. The night never felt so alive, even though you had just abandoned the only home you had ever known.

You walked up along the dark and empty street, all alone, to Hyunjin's house. It was scary to be all alone, but I guess it was your determination which got you through the night to reach the iron gates of Hyunjin's house.

"Hello?" You called out, screaming at the top of your lungs. You couldn't see a thing in the darkness, but you could hear footsteps coming from afar. "Who's there?" A harsh voice called out. "Please!" You screamed with all your might. "I am an accomplice of Hyunjin's. My name is Priscilla!" For a moment, it seemed like the footsteps had stopped. You then heard more harsher footsteps and rough voices sounding through the air. And before you knew it, the gate was slowly opening and no more than six men ran up to you, one of whom you recognised. "You! It's you!' Martin said, pointing his finger to you. "Please-" you begged. "I need to see Hyunjin."

"How dare you speak the young master's name like that? You wench!" One of the guards grabbed your arm roughly. You roughed around, trying to break out of his hold when- "What is all this?" A familiar voice rang in your ear. Hyunjin. He came out of the darkness, holding a lamp, in a red robe. "Y/N? Is that you?" He asked you slowly as he held up the lamp. "Hyunjin." You said, silently.

"Let go of her, you bastard." Hyunjin growled at the man near your arm, who let go of you instantly. "Y/N, what happened? Wh-why are you here this late?" Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

"Hyunjin, it's me." You breathed out. "It's Priscilla."

"How do we know you really are Priscilla?" You stood before the walrus man and a thin old woman, who you assumed was Hyunjin's mother. She looked like him, the same eyes and the same lips, but she had an air of someone who liked everything to be perfect. "You may test me or ask me anything." You responded, keeping your head high. "Rest assure, I will answer."

The walrus man scoffed and put down his smoking pipe and leant forward. "What is Hyunjin's best talent, which got him into trouble when he was fifteen?" You smiled widely, and put your hand to your chest. "Forgive me my lord, but please. Do ask something more harder. He got into trouble with the mayor because he had painted a picture of his daughter, nude. Well of course the best painted in town needs the best muse doesn't he?" "And do you know, Priscilla? Whose daughter you are?" Hyunjin's mother asked. "Well, you all know I do not go by my family name anymore. I prefer to be the called, the Girl in blue." Hearing your words, the walrus man and the thin woman gasped. The Girl in Blue. That was the name of the painting which Hyunjin had painted of the mayor's daughter. Or more precisely the painting which he had made on Priscilla. Or should I say, you?

"Y- only Priscilla knows who the girl in that painting is." The thin woman said, in a barely heard whisper. "You- oh my! Priscilla!" She got up and hugged you tightly as Hyunjin smiled widely behind you. "Priscilla my darling." She kept whispering into your ear. Her hug was comforting.... Genuine. And it felt good. It felt so good. That a family like this had fallen for a little girl's lie.

"She did WHAT?" Chan screamed at Menthe and the other guards. They were at a meeting, when Menthe thought it would be good it tell them about the current sticky situation. "I don't know how she did it. Or why she did It. But I can see that she is at that boy's house." Menthe sighed. "Hwang's."

"You know how much trouble it would be if she's there." One of the guards, Changbin said. "She doesn't know of her past and it could be her strong point." "What of her past?" A stern voice came into the room. Minho, the chief advisor to the Queen and one of your friends had strolled in, with his strong black tail, decorated with golden scales.

"What of her past, Chan?" He questioned again, glaring at everyone in the room. "I only know that she used to be human, but someone-" he glared at Menthe. "Turned her into a siren. So I ask you one last time-" he leaned forward, putting both his hands on the table. "What of her past?"

"If I may, Minho." Jisung, one of the younger sirens, and Minho's best friend spoke up. "Y/N didn't use to be just a human. She was the daughter of the mayor of the town under whose waters we live in. She had a twin sister, Priscilla, who loved this boy called Hwang Hyunjin. They got married soon after Y/N turned 26. But unfortunately both the sisters got kidnapped one day. You know how these humans are." He let out a short laugh. " So greedy for money, that they would resort to violent methods. Once the ransom was paid however, the man who kidnapped them, didn't let them go. He had fallen for Y/N's beauty." Chan clenched his jaw at that, catching Menthe's attention. "When she rejected him, however, he grew angry and threatened to throw Priscilla and YN off of the ship. And it seems that Priscilla had offered to take her sister's place. But you know Y/N's persona. Headstrong and stubborn. She must have done something to anger the captain, which ultimately led to where we are right now."

Minho sighed heavily as Jisung finished with his speech. The room turned quiet, with a tense atmosphere. "Does she have the normal powers or anything else?" Minho turned to Chan, who looked down at his tail. "She is an extraordinary siren Minho. But she doesn't know about most of her powers, which us normal sirens do not possess. For example-" chan crossed his arms, showing off his veins like lighting bolts. "Mind reading." The room collectively gasped as Menthe held her hand to her chest. "Is-is that how she tricked them? The Hwangs?" She whispered, her eyes filling with tears. Chan simply nodded as Minho's eyebrows furrowed. "We cannot get her back. We simply cannot. If we try to, the entire human population will be after our kingdom. On behalf of the Queen, I cannot risk that." He swam over to Chan, and put his hand on his arm. "I'm sorry Chan." And he left the room, leaving the rest of the Sirens shocked and wounded.

The day was perfect. The day was pleasant. It was filled with flying birds and bells and bouquets. A sprightly day for a wedding.

You had spent a lot of time with Hyunjin after the day you had proved to his parents that you were 'Priscilla'. It was a pleasure to will away the seeds of dead time with Hyunjin, sitting in the garden, painting. He taught you how to paint, joking about how you apparently used to love colours but could never manipulate them as well as he did. You learnt how to paint his favourite flowers, hyacinths and you gifted him many handkerchiefs, embroidered with hyacinths. You learnt how to play something called a piano. You had seen something similar in the shipwreck you and Menthe had gone to last month but never actually expected it to make noise. It was mesmerising to watch Hyunjin play the piano, how his fingers delicately moved across the buttons, creating melodies only your dreams could ever produce.

The people of the town loved you. They never questioned about where you were from or how 'Priscilla' got back to her lover. You never really knew why, but as the Gods watched from above, upon a scene of you singing to the town's children, not knowing about the power of your voice, they shook their heads in disapproval. You learn how to be more human now, slowly taking in their habits and learning how to hunt, run, jump, climb up trees and nurture flowers.

You learnt the history of humans, about wars, battles, bones and bloodshed. That was the part about humans that you hated the most. That they never learnt to co-operate and live in harmony, like sirens did. One thing that did surprise you though was that you never had a day when you missed the ocean or your life there. You knew you couldn't go onto the beach, because if you did, the beautiful scales on your magnificent tail, would start to glimmer again. And a girl's got to keep a lie, doesn't she?

"Priscilla darling!" Mrs Hwang's voice rang through the dressing room. "Oh my! You look so beautiful." Indeed you did look beautiful in the gorgeous blue gown that Hyunjin had given you, reminiscing about the time when you first got married. Your hair was done up into a gentle ponytail, which made you wince every now and then, from the pain of it sticking to your scalp. "Thank you mother." You smiled at Mrs Hwang. "Might I ask, what you are doing here?" Mrs Hwang let out a tiny laugh, and clutched her hand in yours. When she let go of it, you saw that she had placed something on your palm. An ornamental comb. It was beautiful, green glimmers here and there with a giant blue jewel adorning the top. Tortoise shell, you assumed, as you traced the outline of the comb. It looked oddly familiar. "I thought you'd like it dear." Mrs Hwang said, as she fixed in into your hair. "It was you sister's was it not?" You gulped and nodded, not being able to understand anything. "Poor Y/N." Mrs Hwang breathed out. "She was so sweet." She said, before leaving the room, leaving you confunded and slightly scared.

The wedding was beautiful and as you walked down the aisle, accompanied with three girls, who called themselves your friends, you couldn't help but feel something weird. Something like everything was going to come crashing down any second. Something, like disaster.

"My muse?" Hyunjin cooed to you, as both of you sat on his ivory bed. You sat on Hyunjin's lap, still in your wedding dress, as he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. It was almost midnight, since the walrus man insisted that they pour another shot of barrel wine until midnight. And now as you sat peacefully on Hyunjin's legs, feeling his hot breath hit your neck, there was an overwhelming sense of worry filling you.

"Priscilla? Darling are you listening?" Hyunjin said, cutting you out of staring at the bluejay outside the window. "Y-yes, my love." You stuttered. "What is it?" Instead of answering you, Hyunjin pulled you to him and kissed your lips harshly, biting them. "Hyunjin wha-" "Allow me to do this, my muse?" You nodded slowly, not knowing what the man in front of you, the man you gave up everything for, was about to do to you.

"God you're so pretty, my darling." He chuckled lowly as he moved his hands to your legs, sliding them up your thigh. You moaned out in pleasure, though you didn't know what he was doing. "Hyunjin~" you moaned as he took off your undergarments, and made his way down between your thighs.

"Oh I have been wanting to do this for so long." Hyunjin laughed, taking off his belt and putting you properly on the bed. He kissed you neck softly, all the while keeping his hand between your legs, massaging your privates. "Hyunjin- oh my!" You breathed out as he started moving his fingers faster.

"Priscilla?" Hyunjin slowly got out of the bed. "Priscilla what is this?" He gasped, his face turning into one of horror. "Hyunjin? What happened? Darling are you alright?" You asked him, while he kept staring at your legs. "You-you're not Priscilla." He whispered. You looked at his face, tears forming in his eyes and then looked down at your legs.

Of course. The Gods would never permit a siren and a human together would they? In the joy of the moment, of turning into a human, of getting a man whom you admired, you had forgotten one essential thing. You couldn't stay human, for more than a month. And you had been on land for two months atleast. Lies must always be revealed and yours seems to have come quicker. The scales. The scales of your tail had started reappearing from your thighs. And lucky you, Hyunjin had just saw it, as he bent down to your legs.

"Hyunjin! I can explain! No wait!" You cried as he picked up a dagger from the wall, as screamed for his guards. "Who are you, you wrench?" Pure fury ran through eyes. "What have you done to my Priscilla?" "No- Hyunjin I haven't done anything to her! I don't-" you cried. You could feel everything crashing and burning. You could feel Mother Earth wrapping her arms around you, telling you it was time to go. At that moment, all you could think about, was the ocean, the sea, the fish you would see everyday, Menthe combing your hair, Chan sending you a dimpled smile everytime he saw you. "Guards" Hyunjin commanded. "I want her by the hanging pole by sunset." He spat at you, before leaving the room. "Find out everything you can."

Love is a peculiar thing. We cannot ever exactly define it. It could be obsessive, friendly, or a dying hunger for each other's body. There were nine forms of love too, weren't there? Menthe always told you that you shouldn't ever go after the last form of love. Mania. That it was dark and cold and benefited no one. You would often heard the story of the boy who loved the sun so much that he flew towards it, on melted wings, and scorched feathers. No matter how much he fell, he still flew. And he didn't know that the Sun knew him too.

And the Sun always watched. Apollo watched from his golden chariot. He watched with his eagle eyes, along with Artemis, how Chan destroyed the town that night. How Menthe helped him, to set fire to every house, starting with the biggest one, where hyacinths grew aplenty. How Chan shed heavy tears over a girl who didn't know about him. Apollo watched, and he sighed, remembering the boy who flew towards him, begging for his love. Begging so much, not realising that the Sun couldn't reach him, and when he did, Icarus was all in Persephone's realm, buried deep underneath the sea, hearing the Siren's call one last time.

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miirohs · 2 months

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SKZ WRITERS AND ENJOYERS COME IN CLUTCH I NEED FANFIC IDEAS LAY UR IDEAS ON ME PLEASEEEE ILL WRITE THEM

#skz x reader #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #icarus said #skz au #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic

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plushverse · 8 months

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Fandoms I will write for

I will update this list as I think of more things I will write for!

Ace Attorney

Bee and Puppycat

Balan Wonderworld

Castlevania

Danganronpa

Deltarune

Demon Slayer

Final Fantasy

Genshin Impact

Hellsing (just for Alucard at the moment until I rewatch it)

Honkai Star Rail

Jujutsu Kaisen (I HAVE FINALLY GOT AROUND TO WATCHING IT)

Kid Icarus

Kingdom Hearts

Kirby

Legend of Zelda (I am not accepting TotK characters yet as I have yet to play it!)

My Happy Marriage

OFF

One Piece

One Punch Man

Persona games (may take me a bit as well, but I will write for them!)

Pokemon

Resident Evil

Senyuu

Sonic the hedgehog

Stardew Valley

The Amazing Digital Circus

The Devil is a part timer (I have started watching it again)

Villainous

Wii Deleted You

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jjunieworld · 5 months

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ALL FOR A BET ⸝ ˚⋆

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader

featuring — the rest of txt, yunjin & sakura from le sserafim, jake & sunghoon from enhypen

genre: smau + written, non!idol au, college au, angst, slight unrequited love, fluff, eventual smut

synopsis: choi soobin has always been the popular kid surrounded by his popular friends. you... not so much. one night, soobin and his friends make bet that soobin can't get you to date him in a month. unfortunately for you, you're a hopeless romantic.

warnings: swearing, some bullying, drinking/alcohol, sexual innuendos, lots of love confessions, at some point soobin gets on his knees and begs, some blackmailing, lots of fighting (check chapters for warnings!)

status: complete┊schedule: thurdays, sundays, whenever started: 12/16/23┊ended: 2/22/24 taglist: closed. note: inspired by pink in the night by mitski (more of the general vibes than an actual inspiration)

profiles. the romantics┊the it group

00. prologue ⸝ ˚⋆ 01. oh “dear diary” ⸝ ˚⋆ 02. at 6pm tomorrow ⸝ ˚⋆ 03. spongebob character headass ⸝ ˚⋆ 04. tainted ⸝ ˚⋆ 05. white girl wasted!!!! ⸝ ˚⋆ 06. ghosting ⸝ ˚⋆ 07. wtf is your issue? ⸝ ˚⋆ 08. empty ⸝ ˚⋆ 09. more than anything ⸝ ˚⋆ 10. my beautiful y/n ⸝ ˚⋆ 11. coolest kidz on da block! ⸝ ˚⋆ 12. can you fight?? ⸝ ˚⋆ 13. heart eyes ⸝ ˚⋆ 14. analyzed ⸝ ˚⋆ 15. pink in the night ⸝ ˚⋆ 16. i’ve hacked the system ⸝ ˚⋆ 17. sighs loudly ⸝ ˚⋆ 18. in the clouds ⸝ ˚⋆ 19. backup plan ⸝ ˚⋆ 20. icarus ⸝ ˚⋆ 21. half alive ⸝ ˚⋆ 22. safe space ⸝ ˚⋆ 23. spontaneous movie night ⸝ ˚⋆ 24. the beating heart ⸝ ˚⋆ 25. operation: get him back ⸝ ˚⋆ 26. cmon carrie underwood! ⸝ ˚⋆ 27. the elevator ⸝ ˚⋆ 28. i was right ⸝ ˚⋆ 29. a serious chat ⸝ ˚⋆ 30. it’s not love ⸝ ˚⋆ 31. we are so back!!! ⸝ ˚⋆ 32. just ask and i’ll show you ⸝ ˚⋆ 33. cornered me ⸝ ˚⋆ 34. get a room ⸝ ˚⋆ 35. at 6pm tomorrow (reprise) ⸝ ˚⋆

epilogue. notes between the fabrics

masterlist┊request rules

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too-deviant · 2 months

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jackie and wilson.

previous | next series masterlist

summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour

notes: speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well.

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours.

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it.

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss.

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster.

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty.

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse.

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp.

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got.

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery.

It was cute.

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley.

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over.

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan.

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name.

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow.

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.”

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.”

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion.

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.”

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.”

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly.

“And that?”

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did.

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face!

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered.

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp.

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill.

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day.

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go.

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked.

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.”

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response.

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes.

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet.

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable.

But you really needed to pee.

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door.

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke.

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!”

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up.

“Be quick.”

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed.

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan.

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence.

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.”

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour.

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.”

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.”

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t.

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater.

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be.

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off.

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion.

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe.

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything.

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.”

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse.

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?”

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.”

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on.

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation.

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow.

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.

#@lia’s works #joined a new england subreddit for this fic #so pls give it some love #taking requests #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo

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archiverstappen · 5 months

Text

the cat sitter (part 13) ✧ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem! reader

previous part | masterlist | next part

loosely inspired by the story on how max lost his cat

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maxverstappen1 My crazy cat lady is finally back

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yourusername GUYS DONT WORRY NO CATS WERE HARMED WHILE TAKING THIS PHOTO 🧎‍♀️

↳ username 🤨🤨🤨 suspicious

↳ yourusername BELIEVE ME PLEASE I WOULD NEVER PUT MY KIDS IN DANGER. I WOULD RISK MAX’S WELL BEING TO PROTECT THEM🫂

↳ maxverstappen1 WOW

yourusername starting to wonder, will there ever be a day where you finally post a decent picture of me 🙍‍♀️

↳ maxverstappen1 No

↳ yourusername there will be repercussions for your action

username I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

danielricciardo Okay now i get where the name ‘crazy cat lady’ came from

landonorris 👀👀👀 hehehe yourusername

↳ yourusername sHHHHHHHHH

sophiekumpen 😁🧡

username ANOTHER NON RACE RELATED POST FROM MAX?!?! WE WON

↳ username and it’s of y/n🥹 HE’S DEFINITELY IN LOVE

username SO WE’RE NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT HOW MAX WROTE “MY crazy cat lady”

↳ username REAL, FRIENDS DONT DO WHAT THEY DO😩

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yourusername not fast just furious

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maxverstappen1 SIIIIIUUU

maxverstappen1 Told you I’m a good teacher

↳ yourusername couldn’t see the road properly because my vision was blurry from all the tears that i held

↳ landonorris YOU MADE HER CRY?! maxverstappen

bffusername i jusT KNOW that the driving lessons were chaotic, but props to max for doing something no human being can afford to do 🥹

↳ yourusername iM A GOOD STUDENT!!!!

↳ maxverstappen1 Half of the lessons were filled with her having a breakdown, and the other half were filled with Y/N saying “huh” because she couldn’t hear my instructions through “Tokyo Drift” that was playing in the background

↳ bffusername sounds like the y/n i know 👍

bffusername ANYWAY so excited to finally be yor passenger princess 😘

↳ yourusername i would love to drive you around, but i still don’t know how to park 😁

friendusername Remember that time when you hit my mother’s car in high school? 😂 Look how far you’ve come!!

↳ yourusername THIS STILL KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT!! IM SO SORRY MRS MARTIN 😭

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author’s note: IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i really hope you guys like this one 🧎🏻‍♀️

taglist: : @flwr-stella @reidsworld @myloverjk-blog @debss-319 @hiraethrhapsody @electrobutterfly @love4lando @lunnnix @allenajade-ite @jjsprobablywrong @whoreks @soleilgrec @oscarwildingsworld @christianpulisic10 @thievin-stealing @glitterf1 @elliegrey2803 @trouble-sistar @escapism-writer @cornerofacry @hollie9111 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @ad-astra-again @canyon-lwt @thecubanator2 @lifesuckslife @leclercloml @sunny44 @nmw-am @sachaa-ff @multilovebot @glow-ish @moneygramhaas @whitefireproofs @icarus-nex @iloveyou3000morgan @ccallistata @copper-boom @fictionalcharacterslut @celesteblack08 @maxiel-jpg @slytherheign @lunyyx @series-books-food @coffeehurricanes @shrimpyshrimp @somanyfandomsbruh @justcallmeelli @laneyspaulding19 @ironmaiden1313

pictures (c) to pinterest and instagram

#max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smau #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #archiverstappen

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marvellous1917 · 9 months

Text

Icarus Falling

(Part 2)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader

Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.

Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.

Part one ⬇️:

A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3

———————

Bold is reader’s thoughts.

Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.

The size of the tattoo is in inches.

———————

Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?

Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.

The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.

The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.

“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.

“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.

“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.

“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.

Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.

Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.

“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.

“Why’s that?”

Fuucckkkk.

“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.

“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.

Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.

“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.

Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.

“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.

Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.

To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.

“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”

“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.

“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.

“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.

“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.

“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“

“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.

“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.

“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.

“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”

You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.

He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.

“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.

“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.

“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”

“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.

“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.

“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.

“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.

“I’m good I swear, now go!”

“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.

Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.

James:

Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?

Send me the address to the shop

Now… please

Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.

You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.

James:

See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.

Little shit.

————

You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.

Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.

Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.

Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.

“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.

Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.

“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”

“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.

“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.

“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”

His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.

“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.

“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.

“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.

“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”

“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.

“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.

“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.

“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.

“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”

“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.

Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.

“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.

“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”

Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.

Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.

The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.

If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.

He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.

You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.

He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.

“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.

“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”

Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.

“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.

“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

Christ alive.

“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.

“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.

“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.

“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”

Like I could regret you.

You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.

“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.

You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.

“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.

“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.

I like him. He says okie dokie.

“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.

You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.

“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.

“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”

“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.

“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.

“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.

“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.

————

You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.

“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.

“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.

“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.

God he’s pretty.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.

“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.

“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.

“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”

“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.

————

The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.

“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”

“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.

He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.

You sat in silence as he started to speak.

“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.

The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”

Silence.

“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”

A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-

“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.

“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.

This should not be turning me on, shit.

“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”

His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?

“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”

Oh Clint sounds fun.

“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”

He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.

“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.

“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.

“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.

“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.

“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.

Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.

Ok right back to it. Got it boss.

“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.

“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.

Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.

“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.

He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”

“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.

“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.

“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”

“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.

“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.

“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.

Shit.

“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.

“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.

“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.

He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.

“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.

“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

That’s a new one.

“Uh, say $180?” You respond.

“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.

He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”

You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.

They were hundreds.

“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.

“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.

You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”

“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.

“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”

“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.

“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.

“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”

There it is.

“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.

“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.

“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.

“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.

Fuck me running.

“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.

He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.

“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.

“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.

You say nothing.

He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.

“Would you?” He asks softly.

“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.

“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.

“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.

He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.

Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.

His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.

“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.

“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.

He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.

Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.

————

A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘

I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.

Tags:

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #mob!bucky #mob!au #tattoo artist!reader

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juuuulez · 9 months

Text

📰 | part two: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour!Reader, female reader, father-figure Negan, enemies to lovers, forbidden romance, no use of (y/n) because immersion.

summary: During your first visit to Alexandria, when Carl misfires a gun, you’re instructed to “babysit” him. This does not go very well.

previous | next

I’m glad everyone liked the first part!! This one is definitely more juicy. Kids being kids. Writing the next part now, let me know if you have any particular requests!

Also (finally) titled!! Drawing heavily on Romeo and Juliet, except… more spiteful at the beginning.

A few days later, and you’re back.

The town of Alexandria is actually quite nice, when you aren’t being cooped up in a cell.

Your fellow Saviours seem to think so too, exploring the place, taking supplies they deem useful for the Sanctuary. After all, there’s mouths to feed, therefore you’ve stopped feeling bad for all these communities you bleed dry.

Well, you felt a little bad last night.

The lineup was rough, it always is. You hadn’t seen the brunt of it, instead sitting safe in the RV where Negan had all but interrogated you regarding your time locked up; coming from a place of concern for your well-being. But you stepped out just as dawn was beginning to hit, and saw the aftermath.

It was just for a few seconds, to retrieve a weapon from Dwight, but you felt a twinge of guilt as Negan taunted that poor boy.

At least he wasn’t wearing the stupid hat anymore.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. At least that’s what you told yourself. Guilt had no place in the apocalypse, especially not for the Saviours, a group of well earned apex predators in this bleak world.

That’s how you saw it.

You oversee the work of your people whilst Negan is talking with Rick. Everybody respects you.. or maybe everybody is scared of you. Scared of your father. Either way, it works.

You’re comfortable as a leader. Somebody who can give orders without hesitation. At the start, there was resistance. Who wanted to be ordered around by a teenage girl? But eventually everything fell into place, and people realised that you were a central part to this operation.

Then the sound of a gunshot rings through the air, putting everybody on edge. Weapons suddenly unholstered, dropping whatever menial task they were completing.

You command them to stand down with a wave of the hand, going to investigate yourself.

Fortunately enough, the situation has already been handled.

Or mostly handled.

“Just who I wanted to see.” Negan says with his usual prowess, however it’s dimmed by an underlying irritation. He brings you further into the room with a gloved hand on your shoulder.

He positions you there like a prize, something valuable. Or maybe a dangerous weapon. A constant show of ‘look at what’s mine, look at what she can do.’ You quite like that.

“Now, it appears that young Grimes is too trigger-happy for his own good,” Negan continues, to which you finally notice Carl standing in the middle of the room, “So why don’t you babysit him for me, darling?”

The boy is practically seething. That same expression you’d seen at the lineup, pure anger and rebellion.

You could feel yourself beginning to smile.

“Of course,” You agree, a grin spreading across your lips, “I’d appreciate a tour, to see if anything here interests me.”

There’s no reply. Carl glares at you, then shoots a pleading look at his father, but to no avail. Rick nods his head in the direction of the door, and you feel like you’ve just won the lottery. This was going to be good.

Now, you didn’t enjoy toying with peoples emotions, per-say. But getting them all riled up sure was fun.

And a teenage boy? This was like a gift from above.

Grown men grew tired of your commanding nature, they’d get violent, speak out of line. It was a dangerous game, one that you loved. Like a cat and mouse, or Icarus flying too close to the sun.

A teenage boy was much more in your ballpark.

“You play sports?” You ask Carl, who is walking a few paces behind you, begrudgingly following despite the fact he was meant to be showing you around. But you didn’t mind.

He doesn’t answer.

You turn to face him, shooting him a backwards glare of what the hell is your problem. “What, you took a vow of silence, or something?” It’s snarky, immature, prodding the bear.

But it works.

“No, I don’t play sports.” Carl answers reluctantly, his tone flat and unamused. It’s becoming more and more evident that when you’re in power like this, in control, you can be a nightmare.

You don’t bother to suppress your grin of satisfaction, turning back away from him, “Yeah, didn’t think so, stringbean. Bet I’ve got more muscle mass than you.”

This must do something, as suddenly Carl has closed the few paces between you, and is blocking your path from continuing. He’s in your face, closer than comfortable, but you love it.

“What the hell’s your problem?” He asks, clearly angry at your snide little comments. That righteous attitude is back. “You can’t come in here, and tell everybody what to do. We’re gonna fight back, and when we do, you’ll be sorry.”

You give him a firm shove, letting Carl stumble a few feet back, “Yeah, how’d that go for you back there, huh? Aim much?”

It’s a low blow, you know that, which is why it feels so goddamn good.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt him.

“Didn’t shoot me at the satellite station, either. I’m starting to think you’re more harmless than you’re letting on.”

“I’m not exactly in the interest of murdering children,” Carl retorts angrily, “What are you, twelve?”

“I’m seventeen!” You yell back at him, walking swiftly past the boy, but making sure to harshly bump your shoulders together. “Now show me your armoury. You’ve got something of mine.”

You’re walking too quickly for Carl to shoot back a comment, and he needs to awkwardly skip in order to catch up. This time he takes a few strides forward, making the effort to walk just fast enough to stay in front of you.

He wants to be in charge.

Luckily, you love to be petty.

As the pair of you reach the armoury, you swiftly side-step Carl, entering the room first, much to his dismay. You’re eyes are scanning the shelves, rows and rows of guns and weaponry, with one thing in mind. The bat.

“Too bad we’re confiscating all your guns, this is quite the collection,” You comment, finding a supply sheet to glance over, “Good job on that one, by the way. Aren’t you helpful?”

Carl essentially ignores your sarcasm, speaking from the other side of the room, “Looking for something?”

You turn, a momentary flash of confusion on your face, until you realise that he’s got it. The metal bat clutched in one hand, held up tauntingly. When you take a step forward to retrieve it, he only takes a step back.

“That’s not funny.” You say, a sense of agitation in your tone, that dominant and teasing persona gone in an instant.

It only causes Carl to grin, taking pleasure in this momentary inch of power he’s gained.

“You even know how to play baseball?” He asks, switching the bat into his dominant hand, pretending to slowly swing it.

“I do, actually,” You snap, reaching out to finally grasp the metal bat, taking it from his grip unceremoniously, “Wanna see? I can use your skull as the ball.”

This works to shut him up, judging by how Carl’s eyes narrow into a glare, but he doesn’t dare to say anything. You take this as a victory, once again knocking shoulders as you leave the small space, not bothering to shut the door behind you.

You’re not even a few meters down the street before there are footsteps again, Carl still following you, despite wanting otherwise. It makes that malicious grin to return.

“Aren’t you obedient?” You quip, not even bothering to look back at him as you speak, as if he isn’t worth the time. It’s a power trip, one you’re addicted to, one Carl is unknowingly feeding into. Or, maybe he does know, but can’t do anything about it.

Carl scoffs, “Coming from you. Do you always do everything Negan tells you to?”

It’s smart, getting you to roll your eyes in displeasure, that metal bat swinging by your side as you walk. “It’s called being a good soldier, like you would understand.”

“Yeah? Soldier, or pet?” He continues, and you can basically hear the grin in his voice.

The fuck does he know?

You finally spin around, grip tightening ever so slightly on the bat. Control is slowly slipping through your fingers, this stupid back and forth game beginning to get on your nerves, despite being the instigator.

“You wanna talk about pet?” You spit, closing in on his personal space, “Rick tells you to murder twenty people, and you do it? That’s called being a little bitch, okay, daddy’s boy?”

This works, as Carl’s face twists into a look of anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

But you continue, “This stupid group has had this coming for a long time. There’s no such thing as being the good guys, you’re just another bunch of stupid pricks, who need to be put in their place.”

It snaps something inside of Carl, because suddenly he’s giving you a harsh shove, where you stumble a few feet backwards. You mirror his childish temper, throwing your body at him with equal force, where the two of you awkwardly wrestle in the middle of the street.

You attempt to gain leverage, steeling your feet into the ground, bending your knees. Then, out of nowhere, you’re raising your arm with the bat, ready to try and dislocate his shoulder, or something. Anything. Just to show that you aren’t weak.

But before you can swing, there’s resistance, and you snap out of this little squabble to realise that somebody else is holding your bat.

“The hell are you doin’, girl?”

Negan swiftly lifts the bat from your grip, holding it at an arms length. You let go of Carl, whipping around to glare at the older man.

“He’s being a total jagoff!” You shout, twisting to see a similar look of discontent on Carl’s face, like he’s itching to leap back into your little fight.

It’s no use, because then Negan is holding your shoulder, giving you a gentle push in the opposite direction, “Truck, now. We’re making our departure.”

And you listen, despite everything telling you to continue. To prove yourself, maintain that power.

To make matters worse, Carl has taken this experience as some sort of mental victory, yelling out from the footpath, “Daddy’s girl!”

You can only turn, angrily giving him the finger as you storm off towards the gates, but it acts as fuel to the fire. Getting sick of that stupid expression, you turn back away, footsteps quickening in an attempt to seperate yourself from the ever so slightly humiliating experience.

Next time you’ll get him.

#twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #negan smith #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x you #twd x you #negan smith x reader

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ethical-cain-vinnel · 7 months

Text

okay yall this is my first post so i apologize for the wonky formatting anywho this is what i think each Rory Culkin character would smell like inspired by a post from @icarus-star . (some characters do have x reader because thats all i read sorry not sorry🤭)

CHARLIE WALKER

okay so this dude is a loser (in the best way)

and losers love axe body spray

i think he always smells like he used an entire bottle of axe body spray each morning with a hint of old spice deodorant if hes feelin good

the real reason he uses so much i think though, is cause hes killed so much that he smells like blood no matter how many showers he takes

so his friends will tease him for it but he'll never stop using it

CHRIS KENTON

i think hes pretty aware of smells and is worried that he smells bad but he doesnt have a ton of money to spend

SO his solution is cheap cologne

dont get me wrong though, it smells nice. even comforting at times

sometimes he also smells like coffee (no reason as to why i think this, its just the vibe)

CLAY ROACH

ooooofff i love him but he STINKS

he smells like body odor, sweat, and sometimes other bodily fluids (ifykyk)

i think if/when he gets clean from all the drugs he does, he more so just smells like whatever deodorant he uses but its a very small hint of it

CLYDE

RAHHHHH I LOVE HIM

he uses sandalwood bodywash and matching shampoo and conditioner

but he also smells like weed

he smells heavenlyyyyyy

his deodorant is lavender old spice i take no criticism on this

DANNY COOPER

yall this man is a housewife

i dont think he really cared much about smelling good until he met you

now me PERSONALLY, i hate the smell of a lot of vanilla perfumes and stuff but he does smell like vanilla

but instead of vanilla perfumes, he smells like vanilla extract

or if he knows you guys will have a date that night, he ups his game and goes in with coconut coffee smelling stuff

EURONYMOUS

HE SMELLS SO BAD OMFG

this man smells like shit, piss, greasy hair, weed, alcohol, cigarettes, and every other BAD THING IN THIS WORLD

dont get me wrong babes i love rory's portrayal of him but LOOK AT HIM AND TELL ME IM WRONG!!! YOU FUCKING CANT

bro does NOT wash his ass😭😭😭

GABRIEL

i think he doesnt really smell like anything honestly

sometimes hell put on cologne but usually he just smells like soap

if you have a signature perfume or cologne though, hell douse his clothes in it because it brings him comfort (AHHHH I LOVE HIM SM)

JACK THURLOW

this man right here🤭🤭🤭 i love this man

he is so stuck up and prissy i love it

he smells sophisticated

he smells like a mixture of cigarettes, bergamot, patchouli, and sweet amber

and then he pretends its what he naturally smells like and gets mad when other people dont smell as good as him

KAPPA

at first i was going to say he smells pretty similar to euro but i started thinking about it more and i have come to the conclusion that this is not correct and heres why

hes a cult leader. charming, handsome, manipulative, and welcoming

he has to show that hes the best of the best and one way he does that is by smelling good

he smells comforting. like a warm, home cooked meal that you havent had since you were a kid

and this makes people feel more relaxed and comfortable around him which he uses to his advantage

thats it for now i hope yall liked it!

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444rockstargf · 1 month

Note

Thinking about....fuck idk, maybe Clive? Mike? Jack? No idea - Hanging out with his friends with his arm around you, bragging about how good he fucks you and how well he doms you while you just sit there and smirk, knowing that he's full of shit and that his contact name in your phone is fuckin "Barstool" for a reason.

-high anon

this request screams "mike" so loud.

"never bought into your bullshit." | mike

high by the beach. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @icarus-star @imoonkiss @lankysimp @xxbl00d-cl0txx @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526 @wild-rose-35

female!reader x mike

word count: 929

contents: cunnilingus, mike being subby, masturbation

mike’s hand went clammy as his arm tightened itself around your waist, palpable anxiety coursing through his veins. conversations with leff had always led to an argument and ended with mike crying to you, desperate for an ounce of support. this little chat had gone no different.

“it’s about time you started acting like a man, mike.” leff began, disapproval scribbled all over his face. “how the hell am i supposed to take you seriously when you can’t even keep that bitch of yours satisfied.”

your eyes widened and mike quickly shot back. “a-are you kidding? you can call me shitty at the business all you want but she’s said it herself. no one has treated her better than i have.” leff rolled his eyes. “i know a virgin when i see one, mike.”

mike sneered, hands trailing down to your hips. “you know i’m not a goddamn virgin.” he was getting riled up quickly. you could feel his body starting to tremble against yours. leff extended a hand and patted you on the shoulder. “take it from me, sweetheart. you’d better leave this pussy while you still can before he gets to attached.” he laughed in mike’s face and you felt a grin tugging at your lips.

mike rolled his eyes, gradually becoming more confident. “i fuck her better than anyone could and she knows it. you may view me as some pussy but at least i’ve got the balls to get a girl and keep her around.” he smirks a little. “i even got her crying on my dick. just last night.”

leff was right about one thing. mike had gotten attached to you. like a wounded puppy with a cowboy hat. mike continued to bicker with leff, defending his case about how well he treated you in the bedroom as images flickered into your mind. as mike insisted on wearing the pants in your relationship, you remembered him from just the night before, on his knees and begging you to let him eat you out…

“c’mon, baby… please. i-ill be so good for you, i swear it…“ he sat on his knees in front of the bed were your legs were spread, your wet cunt dripping through the thin fabric of your panties. he was practically clawing at the sheets, bucking his hips against the mattress as he pleaded to get a taste of the honey between your legs.

you pondered for a moment, wanting to see him beg a little more. “are you sure..? i wouldn’t wanna pressure you or anything.” his eyes lit up even more. “it would be my pleasure, doll.” you smiled, opening your legs a little more and inviting him in. “...then show me what you can do…”

like a starved man, he tore off your panties and pulled your hips to the edge of the bed, connecting his lips with your pulsating pussy and moaning as the sweet taste hit his tongue. you fisted a handful of his hair, tossing your head back as you began to fuck his mouth. mike whimpered as you used his tongue for pleasure, the tip of his nose tapping against your clit. “j-just like that, doll. fuck my face…”

you rolled your hips as he sunk into you, dipping his tongue into your hole. you hissed, insides contracting as he inserted a desperate finger into your gummy walls. he reached his other hand down to his aching cock, wrapping it around and pumping it teasingly, smearing his precum over his girth and using it as a lubricant.

he curled two fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out of your greedy cunt. you bit your lip to supress a moan, gripping the bedsheets until your knuckles went white. every nerve in your body was responding to his touch. you uncontrollably squeezed your thighs together, crushing his head in the process.

he let out a deep groan, his entire body getting hot from the feeling of drowning in your soft skin. he greedily jerked himself off, though he was more focused on pleasuring you than himself. you attempted to squirm away as he swirled complicated patterns onto your clit. he held you firmly in place. “i’m not done yet, baby. you just taste so good…”

he was licking and lapping you up like you were a tasty dessert, his cock beginning to throb. whimpers escaped from his mouth as he touched himself. he fed his moans into your hole, sending waves of heat and pleasure throughout your body.

you held the back of his head, rubbing it against your stimulated core. he was a panting mess and you could’ve sworn that tears were running down his face. your body shook and trembled as he reached a harmonic rhythm between his fingers and his tongue. you felt yourself getting closer to a climax. your hole clenching and pulsating around him until…

mike shook you in an attempt to grab your attention, raising an eyebrow. “you okay? i thought we lost you there for a sec.” you had forgotten where you were for a second. and leff was still standing there with that smug grin on his face. “so is mikey here telling the truth? or is he just full of bullshit?”

you glanced up at mike, seeing that submissive expression filcker across his face for just a second. you cleared your throat. “he’s right. i cant imagine being with another guy.” mike nodded, spinning you both around and starting to walk away, happy that you didn’t rat him out for the pushover he really was.

author's note: i need to learn how to write for mike. thank you so much for the request!!

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #smut #mike 5lbs of pressure #mike rory culkin #5 lbs of pressure #honeymoon album #honeymoon #high by the beach #lana del rey

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eddiexmunsonlover · 1 month

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One Step Away From You Masterlist

(Eddie Munson x Plus Size!Fem!Reader/You)

A Best Friends to Enemies to Best Friends to Lovers fic.

18+ MDNI

Chapters:

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

You move back to Hawkins after 3 years away to finish out your senior year. Can you salvage the friendship you once had with your ex best friend, Eddie? Will you be able to push down your deeper feelings for him, or will it all come bubbling out in disaster?

Author's blurb/Fic Warnings: Eddie and Reader are both flawed, traumatized babies but they're trying their best! Y/N will only be used in dialogue, and I'll try my best to keep it at a minimum. The events of Eddie's Flight of Icarus book is canon, but you don't need to have necessarily read it to read this fic (relevant parts will be mentioned and explained). There is no upside down in this fic universe. Friendships outside of Eddie with Steve, Robin, and the younger kids will be relevant and explored. Fic will contain mentions of toxic family relationships, substance use (cigarettes, weed, alcohol), mental health struggles (anxiety, depression, etc.), and some fatphobia/insecurities and bullying. Reader is plus sized and overall comfortable/confident in their body, but still struggles with some moments of insecurity. I will go into more detail with warnings by chapter!

Slow burn, idiots in love, mutual pining. There will be angst, but mostly fluff, and a little smut ;)

ALSO idk about y'all, but I maladaptive daydream about Eddie with music a lot, it's where I come up with most of my ideas. I have a whole Spotify playlist dedicated to it with songs from 86' and before that I'd listen to as a teen in Hawkins in 86'. SO, music will be incorporated into the fic. The fic title itself is from Shot in the Dark by Ozzy Osbourne.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x plussize!fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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miirohs · 9 months

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im writing another fic so do yall wanna see:

Im leaning towards chan rn but we'll see

#icarus said #stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids fanfic

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stevesworld96 · 8 months

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look at me now (part one)

--- steve harrington x fem!reader

childhood friends to strangers to lovers. this is a more realistic look at developing a relationship with steve, set in canon while you know nothing about the monsters, or the nightmares, or all of his scars.

a fic about knowing steve before, during, and after the events of the upside down. including all the ways your friendship with him grows, wilts, then grows again - to blossom into something he probably doesn’t deserve.

tags: fem reader, no use of y/n, childhood friends, typical king steve meanness, yes there is an allusion to steve being icarus, kissing, fighting and making up, cliches, a lot of emotions, depression and suffering etc, reader has an aunt, mentions of death and injuries, codependent steve and robin, steve is so so so so so so so sad. hawkins doesn't get destroyed after the vecna fight - everything else follows canon

please read both parts, i worked so hard on this fic and i'm really proud of it :)

part two!!!

word count: 14878

You knew Steve Harrington better than you knew anybody. At least, you liked to think so.

You were five when you moved to Hawkins into the house right next door to Steve’s, and as things go when you’re a kid, that automatically made you best friends. At that age you didn’t have to try to be friends with somebody - as long as they lived nearby and had a bike, that sealed the deal.

He was only knee high to his mother, hiding behind her legs when she brought him over to introduce themselves. “We’re the Harrington's,” she said, then with a tight laugh, “minus one - my husband. This is our son. Steve - say hi, Stevie.”

He didn’t. Your mothers started a polite conversation and your eyes darted between the tall woman and her son. She was dressed like she had somewhere important to be, with red lipstick painted on her lips and pearls hung around her neck. She was pretty.

Her son didn’t stand with the same pride she had - he was peeking at you, tugging the hem of his mother’s dress and looking down at his feet. You could hardly get a good look at him, and he didn’t even wave back at you. His haircut was prim and proper; the button up shirt he wore was swallowing him.

They came inside for lemonade, and you led Steve into your living room, and by the end of the hour you had instantly become friends, bonding over your toy car collection that Steve loved.

You were kids - of course things were so easy.

To see him, all you had to do was walk over to his front door and knock, and you could spend as much time together as you wanted. Or just wait until his parents needed a babysitter - after they learned how much you and Steve loved spending time together, they started to drop him off at your house and you’d have sleepovers for days.

It was when Mr. Harrington had gotten a big promotion that they’d leave Steve with your family nearly once a week.

“I’m sorry, Stevie, I know me and Dad haven’t been home much lately. But next month isn’t as busy for us,” his mom would tell him.

“It’s okay, Mom,” he’d reply. “Don’t worry, I like staying here, so I’m alright.”

At your age you didn’t see the irony in a seven year old telling his mother that things were okay - shouldn’t it be the other way around? - but those apologies from his mother wouldn’t last very long. And the promises she always made were never kept. Soon enough, she stopped making them altogether.

Sometimes he’d just show up at your door, and your parents didn’t have to ask questions because they already knew more than you did, and you didn’t understand that he was more comfortable in your bedroom than in his own.

The routine of your friendship felt like the foundation of your life. Everything you did was with Steve by your side, like you were tied together with an invisible string that couldn’t be broken. Snacks after school were a must; movie nights every other weekend were your safe haven. The last day of school every year you camped out in his backyard under the stars and then woke up early for a big breakfast and a day spent at the arcade. Even as you got older, those things stayed the same.

You had busier schedules to work around in high school but you still made it work. After-school lunch turned into midnight snacks, and you moved from the arcade to the lake, but you were still intertwined with child-like joy and ease.

Steve’s other friends were another story. Tommy H was a thorn in your side that you couldn’t pick out, but Steve didn’t get why you hated him so much. At first, you didn’t get it either - you just did.

Until one day early in your junior year, Tommy H gave you a good enough reason for your disposition.

Like always, Steve was waiting for you outside of your last class of the day, and you were just about to turn the corner when you heard Tommy’s loud, boisterous, annoying voice.

“Steve, my boy, what’cha standing around here for?”

Steve laughed, even though Tommy had said nothing funny.

“Waiting on your favorite girl so I can get outta here - what’s up, dude?”

“Come on,” Tommy said, dragging the words out. “We got shit to do, ditch her and let’s get a roll on, if you catch my drift.”

You could see his stupid face in your head as he spoke - you just wanted him to go away so you could leave. But you’d wait there forever if it meant you didn’t have to have a conversation with him.

You were hardly paying any mind to their words.

“Can’t, dude, I’m her ride home. Tomorrow though, for sure.”

“She’s holding you back, man.”

But that caught your attention. They were both laughing even though, again, no one had said anything funny.

“Y’think so?”

“She even put out?”

Your eyes rolled so far back to your head they could’ve gotten stuck.

“It’s not like that with her.”

“Oh, that’s not what Kimmy thinks.”

“What? What do you mean - did she say something?”

You knew Kimmy to be the new flavor of the week, Steve’s new eye candy. It’d be someone new in a matter of days - and this was one brand new trait of his you were struggling to overlook.

“Just saying, most of the chicks think you’re taken by Miss Bitch -”

You call Tommy H a dickhead to his face one time and he gives you a nickname that sticks for three years.

“- and that’s why you’re not getting any action, dude. Gotta shake off the fleas, man.”

And then Steve laughed. Loud.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do. You hoped he would defend you even a little bit, but he didn’t. He just laughed, and said, “I’ll think about it, man,” as if he was in on this joke, and then Tommy left.

And you didn’t know how you felt.

It’s not like Steve said it. But he had no problem listening to Tommy H talk about you that way. He thought it was funny.

Or, he was just saving face - did that make a difference?

You knew Tommy’s words were complete bullshit, and you didn’t care about him enough to let it affect you. Maybe Steve felt the same - maybe he just went along with it because it was easier.

You hoped so, because that’s what you chose to do. You brushed it off and walked out of the room and acted as if nothing happened.

“Hey - about time.”

You didn’t reply; he continued talking as you walked together.

“You hungry?”

“Thought you were coming over,” you said. “Told you I wanted to build a blanket fort. Remember?”

He huffed out a scoff, “A blanket fort? Are you six?” The glare you gave him made him reel his judgment back in. “Fine. Let’s go.”

…

As soon as basketball season was over and you had your weekends back to yourself, you were ready to get through your watch list of movies as quickly as possible. You’d never tell Steve that cheering for him at his games was your least favorite part of your friendship with him - you would always keep that selfishness to yourself.

And if you weren’t so wrapped up in your own mind, lost in planning your movie night, you may have been able to see your next conversation with Steve coming.

“There she is, been lookin’ all over for you.”

A heavy arm slung around your shoulders as you walked down the school hall. You didn’t have to question who it was.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“Just want to see my best friend in the whole world, is there something wrong with that?”

You rolled your eyes. Obviously he’s up to something.

“I’m going to choose to ignore you,” you said, shaking off his arm and stopping at your locker. His back fell into the metal next to you.

“What’s up?” he asked, and he was trying too hard to be inconspicuous, but you ignored it.

“Nothing. Oh, I think I finally have a cookie recipe we’ll like. Mrs. Jenkins gave it to me but she made me swear I wouldn’t share her secrets. Gonna pick up the stuff after school - have you picked your movie yet?”

Then his eyes widened, a bit too much to look genuine. “Oh, shit, is that tonight?”

“It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“I completely forgot about that, shit. I made other plans without thinking.”

“Well, cancel them,” you said with a straight face.

“Well… what if you join in on my plans instead?”

You closed your locker and didn’t even consider entertaining Steve’s idea. “My mom’s already planning to make dinner for you. Are you ready to face her wrath?”

“Well - no,” he said. “It’s just - y’know, I was supposed to see Nancy tonight, and…”

“Oh, I get it, you wanna cancel so you can get laid. Is that it?”

“No, Christ - I’ll be there, alright? But next time, I’m getting my way.”

You laughed at him, and the bell rang and ended your conversation.

You didn’t think the night would go any differently than your normal hangouts. Maybe if you were expecting it, the disappointment wouldn’t have stung so bad.

He called you early.

“Hello?”

“Hey -”

“Hey, have you picked up the movies yet? I forgot to get popcorn, so…”

“No, I haven’t. Listen, um…” There was static on the line for a moment before he continued. “Sorry, but - can we - are you sure we can’t reschedule? Like, tomorrow night?”

You groaned, you were annoyed. But even when he argued with you, Steve never ditched your valued traditions - he may act bothered sometimes, but he would always come around. Even if he did gripe about it being childish the entire time.

That’s what you thought this would be.

“No, Steve, I have book club and tutoring and dinner with my aunt tomorrow. You know this.”

“Right. I guess I forgot about that. Okay, well…”

“...Well?”

Once again, he was quiet, and you weren’t sure if he was hesitating because he didn’t know what to say, or because he was nervous.

“Well - I think it’d be really fun if we hung out at my place tonight!”

“I guess I can bring all the ingredients for the cookies over. You do have a nicer oven…” you said.

“No, like, you can come over with everyone else I invited and we could -”

“I thought you canceled that?”

“I was going to, but… Tommy wouldn’t take no for an answer! And we already got the booze, and Nance finally said yes and - and I’d be really happy if you were here too!”

“...Okay.”

“Okay…?”

You thought for a moment, then decided to ask him the question you were asking yourself.

“Would you be happy if I was there, or would you be happy if I’m not mad at you for canceling?”

“Uh - either one.”

“Right.”

That answer was good enough for you, even though it wasn’t the one you wanted. You weren’t getting anything you wanted that night, and you weren’t going to fight for it with someone who already had their mind made up.

“Then have fun,” you said.

“Really? We can cancel?”

The excitement in his voice caused an angry laugh. “Yeah. Bye.” And you hung up.

And you made your cookies, and you watched the movies you already had on tape, and you didn’t miss the popcorn but you wished you had Steve’s lap to put your feet on - and it was fine.

You were sure he was having fun. And maybe he didn’t care at all about your canceled plans - because he was too busy with people who didn’t like you, doing something more exciting than what the two of you did as kids.

It was selfish to be angry. Maybe it was wrong. But you let it boil over anyway.

…

You didn’t talk to him for a week after that. Because you didn’t want to, and you wanted to teach him a lesson, and you hoped it would make him sorry.

Maybe you were being immature, but at this point, you were committed.

You were afraid that you were setting the wrong example - that, maybe, he thought you were angry about him making his own plans, when the problem was how he’d canceled yours so last minute. Or perhaps it was both. But now you had dragged it out too long and you were stuck giving Steve the cold shoulder until he finally caved in and apologized.

That’s all you wanted, really: an apology. And a bribe or two, just to get the most out of this argument. That’s how things usually went: you give him the silent treatment and he shows up at your door with your favorite snacks and a new book, and things would go back to normal.

But not this time.

You’d managed to bike to school without being caught by Steve all week, but you’d underestimated him waiting for you at the bike racks at the end of the day on Thursday.

He stood with his arms crossed and his brows drawn together. The moment you saw him you stopped in your tracks, like if you stayed still he wouldn’t see you, but his gaze was locked on. It didn’t look kind.

So you prepared yourself for this fight.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but his tone said something different - it said, I’m sick of your shit.

“What are you doing?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Just wondering how long you’re going to keep dragging this out.”

You kept darting around his words and moved to get your bike as if he’d let you leave so easily. “I’m not dragging anything out. Don’t know what you mean.”

His arms flung out to his sides as his voice raised, “You’re acting like a fucking kid!”

And your volume matched his, “You hurt my feelings!”

“Well - grow up!”

The short silence that followed felt heavy, but he didn’t let it sit for long.

“I mean - come on - I ditch you one time and all of a sudden we’re not friends anymore? Really?”

“A sorry would be nice, Steve.”

“I’ve said sorry.” Both of you knew that he hadn’t, but it didn’t matter now. “But sorry isn’t enough, is it? You’re just mad that I have new friends. Because I don’t want to just - sit around and fucking - watch movies in your living room like we’re kids -”

“Like we’re kids,” you said, laughing. “Yeah - right, because that’s really what this is about, isn’t it, Steve?”

He looked confused, and you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“Because I’m holding you back. Right? Tommy H said it so it must be true. I’m a bitch and I’m keeping you down and you need to shake me off if you ever want to get any action - that’s what it is. Just say it, Steve.”

“Where is this coming from?” He ran a hand through his hair and his voice sounded desperate, but you weren’t sure what for. Maybe to salvage the remnants of a wounded friendship, to turn this conversation around. But your anger wouldn’t let him.

“You know where it’s coming from. I heard it, Steve, and you - you agreed with him! I’m your best friend but you can’t even defend me to your shitty fucking friends - so just say it! You’re the one who doesn’t want me around -”

“That’s not what happened -”

You were so angry, and he was lying, and Steve never lied to you, and he’d filled you with so much venom that you couldn’t help spitting it out as you stepped closer to him. “It is. And you’re turning it on me when you’re the shitty friend. Stop lying to me and just say it.”

“Yeah, maybe that is what it is - and I was just too fucking stupid to see it before now. That you’re so fucking clingy I can’t even have one night with a girl without you getting jealous. He was right. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yeah, it was,” and you pulled your bike free and your foot hit the kickstand so hard that it hurt, and you told yourself the pain was the reason tears were flooding your eyes.

“Maybe I’m better off without you - have you ever thought about that? Is that your fucking problem?”

“Whatever! I don’t care anymore! You never have to watch another fucking movie with me again, alright? We won’t go to the arcade or build stupid fucking blanket forts or any of the other childish shit you hate so much!”

“Good - fucking - good!”

“And I hope you have fun playing King, and I hope when all your friends turn on you and Nancy dumps your ass - because you’re an asshole - that I’m the last person you run to for help, and I hope your dad is real fucking proud of you, because you’re turning out to be just fucking like him.”

It all fell out like you were pushing rocks off of a cliff - fast and angry and hard. You knew what those words would do to him. You knew you were hurting his feelings more than he had ever hurt yours - that you were putting the knife in too deep to pull out. You knew and you said it anyway, because you were mad and he was being a dick and lashing out felt good. Especially when you could hop on your bike and ride away from him, fast enough to avoid watching the blood pooling at his feet.

The worst part is that you were being honest.

Steve stood there alone and didn’t even turn to watch you ride away. He felt like hitting something, or screaming until his lungs were empty and tired.

And he didn’t even have time for any of this. He was finally making decisions for himself, for once, and who were you to get mad at him for that? He was popular, he had a girlfriend who was actually into him, his parents had finally gotten off his back. Things were going fantastic for him and he wasn’t going to let you mess it up because you were… jealous, or selfish, or whatever it was - Steve didn’t care.

He wasn’t going to lose sleep over you refusing to grow up and give him space. He was on top of the world, and you were trying to tear him down.

He didn’t need you, anyway.

…

Months passed.

And, like you had put a hex on him, all of your words came true - and then some. It didn’t take very long for things to crumble around him, and Steve almost thought it was funny how quickly his wings had melted to send him hurling into the ground.

No matter how hard he tried patching the holes, everyone knows you can’t fly with wings made of wax.

The fall hurt. But it was what came after that brought the real pain - a stinging, striking ache that was impossible to ignore. It felt like he was the last person on earth and he deserved it; like he shouldn’t be allowed to be around other people because he was no good.

And every time he tried putting the pieces back together, things only got more broken - all starting at Jonathan Byers’ front door.

What could get worse than fighting a monster from an alternate dimension?

Or fucking things up with your girlfriend beyond repair?

Or fighting those monsters again?

He learned quickly to stop asking stupid questions like those.

And he learned that he couldn’t just close his eyes and wish it away. He couldn’t run when things got scary; he couldn’t lash out when someone was honest with him; he couldn’t sneak out of his window and into yours when the yelling got too loud. He was forced to face everything he ever hid from, cursed to have regrets and keep them.

At least he wasn’t completely alone - the company of nerdy kid genius Dustin Henderson brought most of these lessons on. And in a normal situation Steve wouldn’t recommend learning anything from a kid in junior high, but he was living anything but a normal life. He’d take friends wherever he could get them, especially during senior year.

Maybe he wanted to set a good example for the kids that suddenly came into his life. Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t his father - that he could do good things without getting something out of it. Or maybe, most likely, he just did it.

He wanted to feel like a superhero, wanted to look in the mirror and feel proud of what stared back at him. But he didn’t, because he wasn’t. He wasn’t brave or heroic or gallant - he was no Clark Kent. And everything he did was because he had to. Because who else would?

Sometimes he felt like only someone as careless as him would fight a man-eating creature with nothing but a baseball bat - because out of everyone he knew, he had the least to lose. Why bother making safe decisions when most days he didn’t even want to get out of bed? What was he risking when he’d already bet it all and lost?

And who would be proud of that?

But there were moments, in the time between the fall and the fight, that he could almost see it. Like a flicker of light passing by he’d see Max smiling at him, hear Dustin’s excited laughter, feel a heavy high five from Lucas and he’d think - oh. Right there, standing in front of him, were the people he had to lose. The ones he was trying to win for.

And then he’d lay in bed at night and get stuck in another sleepless round of self loathing; hatred fueled by every cruel word he’d spit and all the selfish acts he’d taken, and fuck, he was spinning and suffocating and screaming, and maybe he deserved this.

It didn’t matter that he knew how to swing a fucking bat good enough to win more time for the ones he loved, because he wouldn’t love them right, anyway. And he’d turned the best person he’d ever known into nothing more than a crumpled piece of paper on his floor - something to be tossed aside and forgotten. And even if he tried smoothing it out, those creases would always be there.

Sometimes he stared out his window and watched yours. Waited for your light to turn off so he could look away and stop wondering what you were doing and how your life was without him in it.

All he wanted was to see you again. He’d beg for that movie night he ditched on junior year. He wanted to grab you by your shoulders and show you that he’s better now, he’s changed, those last words you told him weren’t applicable anymore and everything can just go back to how it was.

But nothing was ever that easy, was it?

He was glad when graduation finally came around, until he was forced into a sailor’s uniform with an ice cream scoop on his belt like a gun in a holster.

It was one way to spend the summer. It got him out of the house he hated staying in, and put a little money in his pocket, so slinging ice cream at Scoop’s Ahoy was good enough for him.

It distracted him from the vague nightmares he kept having and the fact that he got into a total of zero universities, and the free ice cream counted as dinner on his bad days. And he was fine with his obnoxious co-worker and annoying customers.

He was just fine.

But it was Hawkins. Nothing could stay fine there - not after a little girl with super powers opened a portal to an alternate fucking dimension and turned the town into a magnet for every fucked up thing imaginable.

Steve thought it was over, and then Dustin had him and Robin translating the Russian words he heard over his radio, and they were all pulled back in.

He wasn’t expecting to fall into the Russian lair under Starcourt Mall, to trauma bond with Robin - of all people - or to get any closer to dying than he already had, but he stopped betting on his expectations a long time ago.

By the time he saw the night sky again, he couldn’t remember how many punches he’d been thrown.

His head throbbed to the beat of his heart. It felt like if he tapped his temple, his eye would pop right out. His work uniform was ruined, stained with blood and spit, but the smoke billowing from Starcourt ensured that he wouldn't be needing it anymore.

The events of the night felt like they were years away. All he remembered was running, screaming, crying; he remembered the fist coming toward his face but not the impact. He woke up to pain, and then it was gone - more running and bleeding and fighting and then, it was over.

Robin sat next to him, shivering, on the back of an ambulance. The lights from the siren were blinding, the noise around him was punching his ear drums.

“Are we alive?” Robin asked. Her voice was totally shot.

“Think so.”

“I want to lay down so bad.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Do you have someone to call?”

She sighed deep. “Not really.” She let it be quiet for only a second, then said, “I don’t really want to go home. To be honest.”

“You wanna spend the night here?”

“If I don’t have to be alone, then, yeah.”

He sighed, too, then patted her knee.

He said, “I’ll call someone, alright?” and she nodded.

The payphone was a bit of a walk, and he had to wait behind two people in line, but it was enough time for him to muster up the courage to make the call. Even still, when he had the phone in his hand, all he could do was stare at it.

He was trying to remember the exact words you said to him the last time he spoke to you. Something like, “I hope I’m the last one you call,” he was sure. It was hard to remember your phrasing now, but the memory still stung all the same.

And he knows it’s not fair to call you, but he was going to anyway. Because in all honesty, you were the only option he had.

Any other time, he’d rely on Hopper for a ride. But Hopper wasn’t around anymore.

So he dialed your number and prayed you hadn’t changed it from the one he knew by heart.

Your hand darted out of your blanket to reach your bedside telephone. The ringing killed your half asleep ears, and you hardly knew what you were doing when you put the receiver to your ear.

“Hello?”

You could barely get the word out; your voice was thick with sleep that was slowly creeping over you.

“Hey. It’s Steve.”

With your heavy eyes shut, sleep was pulling you back in. Your whole body jumped a little bit when you attempted to stay awake.

“Steve?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for waking you up, but -”

You didn’t know what was going on, and then you heard sirens on the phone. A jolt of anxiety seared through you at the sound. That’s what got you to wake up - then you realized who you were talking to.

“Steve?”

“...Yeah.”

“What - what’s wrong?”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you sat up in bed, holding yourself up with one shaky arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you held your breath until he answered your question. “There was an, uh - accident at Starcourt, and - I don’t know who else to call. I’m sorry, I can’t drive right now and I don’t have anybody else.”

“Are you okay?”

“Barely.”

You didn’t give your answer a second thought. “I’ll be there in, like, five minutes, okay?”

You could hear his breath of relief over the phone. “Okay. Thank you.”

After stealing your mother’s car keys, you stuffed your bare feet into combat boots and ran to the car. Even though you still only had your learners permit, you absolutely floored it to the mall without a single thought in your mind. It was like you were on autopilot, simply doing what you were supposed to, because you were scared.

You saw plumes of smoke before Starcourt ever came into view, and you swallowed through your dry throat because you knew something bad happened.

You had to fight through crowds and cops before you were allowed to pass under the police tape to search for Steve, which wasn’t easy. Every face you saw wasn’t his and each second that passed dug a deeper pit in your stomach.

The second-to-last ambulance in the lineup is where you found him, sitting next to a girl whose head was on his shoulder.

And when you saw him… it wasn’t him. Your eyes glazed over him because he was hardly recognizable.

You’d seen him beat up before. He’s had his fair share of fights at school; you wiped blood off his face and helped him nurse black eyes. But it was never like this.

His left eye was swollen shut. Crimson stained from his eyebrow to his jawline. His skin was aggravated red, his clothes were blood rusted, his knuckles were ripped open.

And still, somehow, his hair looked perfectly done. That sight alone made you want to laugh and cry at the same time, because of course he managed to keep its style untouched. It was so Steve.

You ran to him; your legs carried you there on their own, shoelaces smacking against wet pavement. You weren’t thinking when you called out his name or when you flung your arms around his neck. You hugged him like it would heal him, like the scent of your perfume could cover the smoke he smelled of.

It’d been almost a year since you’d talked to him, and the jagged edges of your ended friendship still cut deep, but you didn’t care. Not when he looked the way he did; not when he was hugging you so tight; not when your tears were dripping onto his skin.

You pulled back and looked at him, and his wounds didn’t look any better up close.

“Oh my god, Steve, are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I’m alright,” he said. He wouldn’t look at you, or couldn’t bring himself to. “I’m just glad you came. I’m sorry -”

“Don’t,” you said, and then you looked around at the scene. “Have the paramedics even seen you? Why are you just sitting here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I - I’m fine. They said I’m fine. They’re all busy with others but - I’m fine, don’t worry.”

That’s when you noticed the girl next to him, who was looking at you like you were crazy, and you realized what you were potentially barging in on.

They sat close - too close to be friendly. They were basically cuddling when you first saw them. It was obvious what they were, so of course she was looking at you that way.

You didn’t mean to make her jealous, but a part of you didn’t care.

“Are both of you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, answering for the two of them. The girl nodded. “This is Robin, by the way.”

You introduced yourself to her, trying to be cordial even though you were meeting in the worst of situations.

“You two can stay at my place tonight, if you want to,” you told them. Steve asked Robin if she was okay with that, and she said yes, and so you led them to your car.

You weren’t sure why you made the offer to Steve - you wanted him with you, sure. After seeing the condition he was in, you wouldn’t sleep unless you knew you were keeping him safe and sound in your own bedroom.

Old habits die hard.

But, all things considered, you should have just taken him to his own home, where he could be with Robin in peace. Without cut ties lingering in the air like flies.

You drove him home anyway.

Nobody spoke until you got to your bedroom.

“Do you need a shower?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. Robin nodded.

“Okay. Robin, you can take my bathroom. Steve can shower downstairs.”

You dug through bottom drawers to find clothes for each of them - you still had the ones Steve kept stored there, as embarrassing as it was, so it wasn’t a difficult task. And you’d let Robin choose from your pajama drawer.

And then you got back into bed, because you didn’t know what else to do for them.

Robin stood in the doorway of your bathroom, just staring into the room. When Steve opened your bedroom door, she snapped her head back to him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

She glanced over at you. You wanted to hide from the tension in the room.

“I - I don’t know how to use this faucet.”

He showed her how, and then made for the exit, but she called for him again.

“I was just thinking - you know - if we both shower at the same time, won’t the water pressure be super low? And what if the hot water runs out before I’m done, and -”

“I’ll be quick, Robs,” he said. “It’ll be fine.”

Steve took one step into the hallway before stopping. The darkness looked like it went on forever. He didn’t remember your house being so unlit, or having so many hiding places, and suddenly his legs were shaky.

“...You’re probably right, though. I’ll just wait out here until you’re done.”

“Yeah. And I’ll keep the door cracked open, for… all the steam.”

“That’s a good idea.”

And he sat on the floor right outside of the bathroom door. When Robin was finished, they swapped places. As if they couldn’t be apart for longer than twenty minutes.

You didn’t ask them any questions.

…

The two of them slept on a pallet of old blankets on your bedroom floor. Robin made Steve sleep closest to the door. He tried not to be upset about it.

And he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but it seemed to swallow him. He didn’t dream, or toss and turn, but he woke up unrested.

Everything still hurt just as bad as it did the night before. And Robin’s snoring was making his headache worse.

You were no longer in bed, so he decided to get up and find you.

He wasn’t sure what kind of interaction he’d be walking into when he found you in the kitchen, but he tried to keep his head high.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hey.” You had a mug in your hand. “Your eye looks better.”

“It doesn’t feel any better,” he said, and he wanted to make a joke that it actually looks worse - because when he closes his right eye, everything’s blurry - but he held that one in. He wasn’t ready for a comedic coping mechanism quite yet.

You put Tylenol on the island that separated the two of you. “Take them. I don’t know if it’ll help much, but it can’t hurt.”

The bottle said to take two, so he took three. And then the awkward quiet started washing in.

Until, “I saw what happened on the news,” and Steve almost coughed up the water he was chugging.

“What are they saying?” he asked, because he didn’t know what story he was supposed to be playing along with.

“Just talking about the fire,” you said. Your voice sounded so dim, and Steve hated it. “It’s… crazy. Hopper… he…” You couldn’t say the word.

“I know,” Steve said.

“And thirty others.”

His throat felt dry. “Thirty?”

Truly, he didn’t know that many people hadn’t survived. And now, it all felt real. Really real.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m just glad - you were lucky to get out, Steve.”

You had no clue how lucky he’d really been. And hopefully you would never have to know.

“I know.”

You sat your mug down, brushed your hands on your chest like you were trying to wipe off everything you knew of the accident, then blew out a loud breath.

“Let’s just think about something else.”

Almost at the same time as you, he spoke. “Thank you.”

“...What for?”

“For coming to my rescue,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I know that I… didn’t really deserve it.”

“Don’t thank me, Steve.”

“Seriously. You could’ve just told me to walk home, but you didn’t.”

“I’m just being a good friend,” you said, then shrugged. “I hope you would do it for me.”

“In a heartbeat.”

He wondered if this was his chance to say sorry.

Or if there was even a point in it.

He was afraid you’d do no more than laugh in his face, and even if he deserved it he didn’t want to succumb to it.

But he had to. Because he almost died last night. And he could be fighting those monsters again, any day now. Was he going to lose this chance? Or is he going to die without saying another word to you?

He stared down at his ripped knuckles. The wounds still looked fresh. They stung just from touching the open air.

He stared, and stared, and stared, and - he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t face it.

Your footsteps toward him made him jump back.

You were holding a box of band-aids.

You held out your hand, asking for his without words, and he offered both of them to you. First his right, then his left, were covered in pink, green, and yellow band-aids by you.

It was gentle and kind, the way you went about it. Like you would hurt him even more if you weren’t careful.

He still had dried blood under his nails and splinters in his palms. He watched your clean hands holding his beaten up ones and he felt bad, because your skin was too soft to bother with the cuts and calluses on his.

But you held them anyway.

He put his fingers through yours and you didn’t stop him. He wanted to cry.

“I’m just glad you're alright.”

He didn’t know what to say - there wasn’t anything to say, he guessed. Nothing to make it better or change anything.

All he could do was squeeze your hand and watch you wipe tears off your cheeks.

Until he noticed a cut on the back of your hand. He pulled it closer so he could get a better look.

“What happened?”

“I dropped a knife while I was cooking last night. It’s fine.”

It looked fine, but Steve wanted to repay your favor, so he pulled a band-aid from the near empty box and put it on your wound.

“We match,” he said.

You laughed. “We’re even now.”

He felt overwhelmed with melancholy. He needed to rest, he wanted to close his eyes and not open them for weeks.

“I should go check on Robin,” he said as he walked backwards toward the stairs. He kept his eyes to the ground, away from the look on your face. “She’ll flip if she wakes up and she’s alone.”

You said nothing.

…

The following days and weeks were a lot of checking on Robin, and Robin checking on him. Too much waking up in the middle of the night and keeping his eyes glued to his bedroom door just in case. Only feeling safe enough if he had a baseball bat hugged to his chest and Robin snoring next to him.

So - he wasn’t doing well, but it was fine. He tried not to complain about it. Robin was the only person he let himself be half honest with - but he kept the truth to himself, because she’d get anxious if he said what he really felt.

Steve was scared. And he didn’t want anyone else to know it, because all of the others acted as if their lives were perfectly back to normal. They were doing well. So he had to be doing well, too. For their sake.

Weeks after that awful night at the mall, he and Robin conned their way into getting jobs at Family Video. He was grateful, because god, he was too codependent on her.

It was a random night at his place when Robin brought you up out of nowhere.

“I just realized, I never thanked your neighbor for saving us that night.”

“You don’t need to. I’m sure she knows you’re thankful.”

“Yeah, but, I feel like I should pay her back.”

Steve shrugged at her words. He didn’t want to think about you more than he had to - it hurt just a little bit too much.

“Should I give her a gift?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “She likes cookies. Get her cookies.”

And Steve didn’t know it, but the next day, Robin rang your doorbell with a plastic box of cookies in her hands. You opened the door and she started rambling from the get.

“Hey - Steve said you like cookies, so, I decided I’d bring you some to thank you. For showing up at Starcourt in the middle of the night and practically saving our lives. And for letting us sleep on your floor. That was really nice of you.”

You didn’t know what to say. Robin seemed weird. You just went along with it.

“Oh - thanks. That’s cool. Thanks.”

She shoved them toward you, and you took them.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked.

Instead of answering, she just stepped through the door. You brought her to the kitchen.

“I hope they’re good. I just got them at the corner store. But all cookies are the same, right?”

“Well - no, but, it’s the thought that counts.��

“Oh.”

The gifted cookies didn’t look much better than the worst recipes you’d made, but you opened the crude packaging and gave them a chance.

They were fine. Maybe a little worse than fine. You gave Robin one, anyway.

“They’re good!” she said, with a mouth full.

“They are,” you lied. “They’re not homemade, but they’ll do. Thanks, Robin.”

You ate half of your cookie. Robin finished hers. It was quiet.

You figured you might as well try to get to know this girl a bit better. At least be polite and make small talk, just to be nice.

So you asked an easy question. “How long have you and Steve been together?”

But it wasn’t as simple as you thought, because she started coughing up the cookie. “What do you mean?”

“...What?”

“We’re not together,” she said with a heavy dose of sass. “God, I’ll never get over people asking me that. I am not dating Steve Harrington. Gross.”

“Oh - sorry, I just thought -”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Everyone always asks. I guess a guy and a girl can’t be friends without everyone making assumptions.”

You laughed. “Yeah. People used to do the same thing to us. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask a weird question.”

“It’s alright. Actually, I’m supposed to be at his place in, like - well, ten minutes ago. You should come over if you're free.”

“Uh - I don’t know, me and Steve - we don’t really hang out anymore.”

You aren’t sure why you didn’t just make up an excuse. Something about Robin made you feel okay about being honest.

“It’s cool. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. It’s kind of been just us since what happened with - the fire. The fire that happened. So - you know. It’d be nice to have someone else around. If you want.”

You were curious how this would turn out. So, “sure. I’ll come.”

“Great. You should bring a cookie for Steve.”

You brought the whole box, and decided you would accidentally forget them at his place so they wouldn’t go to waste.

Steve’s front door was yanked open from the inside before Robin could let herself in, and his wide eyes became a little less wide when he saw her.

“Where the fuck were you - you were supposed to be here half an hour ago, I thought you got fucking eaten or something.”

“Relax. I was just making a cookie delivery next door. Chill.”

Robin threw her thumb over her shoulder. You poked your head out from behind her and gave Steve a weak wave.

“Oh.”

“What exactly would she get eaten by?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. You noticed he was gripping his car keys in a tight, scarred fist.

“Monsters,” Robin joked. Steve didn’t laugh. You did a little bit. “I invited her over. Is that alright?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

You stuck to Robin all the way to his living room, because that was easier than making yourself comfortable. You hadn’t been in this house in ages, and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

“Where’s my crossword?”

“I finished it.”

“Asshole. You know I hate that. Just get your own.”

“Whatever, you suck at them, anyway.”

Robin, unlike you, had no reservations in the Harrington house. She kicked her feet up and started channel surfing as soon as she sat on the couch.

“Have a cookie,” Robin said to Steve. You reached the box out to him; he sat down next to you to take one, taking up the spot between you and Robin.

It was weird being so close to him again. His knee was touching yours, and it made your skin feel too hot. Still, you didn’t move away.

“These are shit,” he said with a full mouth.

“Hey!”

You laughed loud, because you completely agreed.

“No, seriously, these are awful.”

“I spent five dollars on those!”

You gasped. “Five? Robin.”

“You should have just given her the money instead. Or thrown it in the trash.” Steve dropped his half eaten cookie back in the box. You put the plastic lid back on and sat it on the coffee table.

“I thought they were good. You’re being so rude right now. They were a gift.”

Steve looked at you. “You didn’t tell her how bad they are?”

“I didn’t - I don’t think they’re that bad.”

“You’re lying,” Steve laughed, then he turned to Robin. “She’s lying.”

“I’m not lying!”

“I know you, and I know you’re lying.”

“It’s fine, guys, you don’t have to spare my feelings or anything.”

You sighed, defeated. “...They are pretty terrible.”

Robin scoffed loud and obnoxious.

“Whatever. I’ll enjoy them.”

…

As it turns out, Robin acted like glue between you and Steve. Neither of you would have ever made an effort to see each other again, out of embarrassment or guilt or both, but Robin didn’t have to unpack any of that baggage. She didn’t even know it existed.

Instead, she immediately saw you as a friend. And she brought you in like she had known you forever.

But Robin and Steve were a package deal. So, if you were a friend to her, you had to be a friend to him, too.

And the two of them were weird. Most of the time, they left you feeling like a third wheel on their friendship.

They could be mean to each other. Rough. They acted the exact way you knew siblings do, but that was only surface level. There was something deeper - more than anything a brother and sister had, because it wasn’t the blood in their veins that connected them. It was the roots they chose to grow into each other that kept them together.

Robin spent the night with Steve more often than she didn’t. And she bullied him for his bad cooking, and he told her when an outfit was ugly, and they stood next to each other like two puzzle pieces that didn’t match but fit together with a hard press.

Sometimes you sat on the sidelines and ached, mourning a friendship that had been buried some odd years ago. It was well beyond rotten - something decayed and unrecognizable now. Even if you dug it up, it couldn’t be the same as it was.

But you wished.

And as you sat and listened to Robin chastise Steve for saying something dumb - watched as he meddled her hair into a purposeful mess, you could only laugh and sink into yourself. You were happy and sad; you cherished your time together and dreaded it, all at the same time.

Above it all, Steve was different. Distant in the way he would never meet your eyes, or laugh too loud at your jokes, or sit too close for too long.

It all felt fleeting. Like that week you spent angry at him - stuck in a weird limbo, between friends and strangers, a frustrating purgatory. Some kind of Schrodinger’s Cat of a friendship - alive and dead at the same time.

You would have just said something, if it felt like you could. But if Steve minded, he didn’t show it. If he missed how things were, he didn’t act like it. And, as you knew him, if he wanted to he would.

And it wasn’t totally bad. It was just new. You’d get used to it with a spoonful of sugar and a hard swallow.

On a random day, you had mentioned off-hand that you had been meaning to visit your aunt’s apartment to drop off and pick up a few things. Steve offered to take you, and you agreed, and the next day, you made good on your plans.

The two of you didn’t hang out without Robin very often. Since early August, the number was hardly a handful. But with the radio turned on, it wasn’t too awkward.

Steve had visited your aunt with you several times growing up. He went to her house-warming party when she moved into her apartment. You were thirteen, and you made a game of pressing every button in the elevator before getting off it. Now, every time you’re there, you think about how you used to chase him down the halls.

Her place was the nicest there was in Hawkins, in the tallest residential building in town. Parking was a nightmare, but Steve kept his complaints under his breath, and he even carried your bag for you.

The elevator was the only thing in the apartment’s lobby. As you pressed the button, Steve spoke up.

“You wanna take the stairs instead?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. You laughed.

“You want to climb eight flights of stairs? No thanks.”

“I’m an athlete,” he mumbled under his breath, sheepish. “This thing is taking forever, anyways.”

It dinged as it finally started moving down toward the bottom floor.

“It’s on its way.”

He stepped back, looked around, and he must have spotted the stairwell. “I’ll race you,” and then he took off.

The elevator door opened as the stairway’s door closed, and you rode to the top floor alone.

He didn’t win the race - far from it, and you laughed as he tried to hide his struggling breathing.

“Been waiting for you all day, athlete. Thought you’d take ‘til Christmas.”

“Psh. Whatever. I’ll win on the way down.”

The elevator creaked and hummed as it started moving down, and Steve glared at it.

You laughed, “You’re weird,” and you left him behind to walk down the hall.

He worked fast to catch up, and called out, “The loser pays for dinner!”

“You know I’d never pass up that bet.”

Your aunt wasn’t home - she rarely was. But a key was under the mat, and as you walked inside her tuxedo cat, Webster, greeted you at the door.

“Hey, dude,” Steve said, kneeling down to pet him.

An old cardboard box sat on the dining table nearby, “Glassware” written on the side in crude permanent marker. It’s what you had been instructed to pick up and take back home - you weren’t sure what was inside.

You sat down and opened it and pulled out the first thing you saw: a white paper bag, one you knew printed photos came in.

“This what you came for?”

Steve stood next to you. He had Webster in his arms, who was purring loud and melting into his hand.

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Family stuff, I’m guessing.” You pulled out a fat stack of pictures and the one on top made you bark a laugh. “Oh my god.”

You and Steve, seven years old, wearing matching cowboy costumes for Halloween - you with a white cowboy hat, him with a black one. You stood with a jack-o-lantern between you. You had your hands on your hips and a frown on your face; Steve had his chin pushed out in a wicked scowl.

You turned it to him, and he laughed just as loud as you. “Look at those two mean mugs!”

“Do you remember this?”

He sat in the chair next to you, continuing to look at the photo over your shoulder. Webster made himself comfortable in his lap.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “We fought all night because you stole my -”

“Oh my god.”

“You stole my full size Snickers.”

“I did not!”

“You did.”

“I didn’t!”

The way he looked at you told you this was still a sore subject.

“You went ahead of me to the Smith’s place while I was trying to tie my shoe and you took her last bar. That’s what happened!”

“That’s not stealing!”

“It is!”

“I didn’t mean to leave you behind! It’s not my fault you didn’t know how to tie your shoes!”

“You didn’t, either. And, I learned before you.”

You puffed a sigh and flipped the photo to the back of the stack. “Why are you still fighting over this? We shared all the candy, anyway.”

“It’s the principle. Theft is a crime, and you never apologized.”

You only laughed. No way were you giving him that apology now.

When you pulled the photos out of the box, you didn’t intend on looking through them all, but your curiosity kept you flicking through them. Most were of random family members or photos of the beach, but pictures of you and Steve were littered throughout the stack. There wasn’t a single photo of you that didn’t have him in it, too.

There were from some first days of school, birthday parties, sleepovers. They were sorted somewhat chronologically - looking through them was pure nostalgia, memories hitting you at every angle as you watched yourself grow up.

The next one to catch your eye was from a middle school dance. Neither of you wanted to attend, but your mother insisted. Your one condition was that you could wear whatever you wanted.

So you and Steve had swapped styles. You wore his way oversized Atlanta Flames jersey, a baseball cap, and sneakers that didn’t fit; he had on your purple sweater, a big pearl necklace, and white jeans.

It was cute, and it was goofy, and you wished you could jump into the picture and relive it.

At that age, the only thing you knew was that you and Steve would live forever, together. Now that you know what you know, your heart ached for the little girl in these pictures. What would she think about the space between you two now?

There were pictures from summer camp, swimming pools, and your first day of high school.

Webster meowed. Steve meowed back at him.

As you got to the bottom of the stack, pictures of the two of you were less and less. The last one - the one you didn’t know would be your last picture with him - was of you, him, and a few of your extended family members. A day spent at the lake that Steve really didn’t want to go to, for some reason only an angsty teenage boy could understand, that you dragged him to. It was the summer before your junior year.

In the photo, his arm was draped completely over your shoulder. You remembered him leaning all of his weight on you - to the point that you fell out of your seat after the picture was taken by your aunt.

And you had fun, like you always did. Steve became a member of your family out of happenstance. It was just because he was always around, really. They all saw him as much as they saw you.

You put that photo to the back of the stack and kept carding through them. You didn’t find any more pictures of you and Steve.

The rest were all more recent. Steve stopped you on one that was of you alone - sat at a dinner table, wearing a cable knit sweater.

“That’s a good one,” he said.

“Yeah. It’s from Christmas. Senior year, maybe.”

You acted like you weren’t sure, but you knew exactly when that photo was taken. You just didn’t want him to know how sad you were in it.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” and you laughed, “this was not a fun party.” He didn’t reply, and so you kept talking, sparing him a shy glance. “Everyone kept asking where you were.”

The silence was heavier this time.

“Oh,” he said, trying to bury it. “Yeah.” An awkward chuckle. “I bet that was annoying.”

You laughed and tried to make it sound real - tried to seem like you didn’t care. “Yeah, well, you know how my family always liked you better.”

He shrugged, looking like he was going to make a joke, but he didn’t. His eyes were distant as they moved down to his lap.

You shoved the picture to the back with the rest.

The one behind it was just as lonely.

Still, Steve perked up at it. “Is that from graduation?”

You wore a cap and gown, you held a bouquet of flowers, and you stood all alone.

“Yeah.”

Steve’s hand wrapped around yours holding the picture, and he tilted it toward him so he could get a better look.

“My aunt kept trying to get me to find you for a picture,” you laughed.

“You should’ve.” He smiled something big and real, and you realized with a rush that this is the closest you’d been to him in a while. If you kept looking, you could count the freckles on his cheek. His thumb pressed into the back of your hand. “I remember seeing you. You looked real cute.”

You ignored his compliment to say something snide. “I ignored you so hard.”

Another laugh, “Really?”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah. That’s fair - I would’ve, too.”

You tried not to think about how badly you wished he was standing next to you in the picture.

Steve spoke up, “I -” but you cut him off by accident.

“It’s fine.”

You didn’t mean it. He could tell.

“...Is it?”

It was honest when you replied, “I don’t know.”

He was still holding your hand.

“I never told you I’m sorry.”

“I guess I just figured you were.”

You dropped the pictures on the table, dropping his hand with them.

“Is that good enough?” It was an honest question.

“I don’t know. Maybe it is.”

And your answer was genuine, because you didn’t know. Steve had come back into your life just as easily as he left it - on a whim, without any warning. You didn’t put any roadblocks in his way.

But you stared at the photos spread out in front of you. At the story they told of your friendship that would always be unfinished.

You had to teach yourself how to do life without him. All of those lessons seemed useless, now, because here he was. And you didn’t even know if he ever missed you.

You pulled away from him, a move that was far more snappy than you meant. You did it like he’d reached out and burned you. It had Webster jumping down to the floor.

“It’s fine,” you repeated.

“I think you’re lying just to make me feel better.”

“I don’t know why I’m lying.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he mumbled, and you stood up. The chair scraped the floor in a way that grated your ears. You turned your back to him.

“I thought I knew you.” Your eyes welled up, your nose started to run. You balled your hands up like you were on defense. “I thought you would say sorry, and make everything go back to normal like you always did. But you didn’t. I thought you would miss me, at least, but - but you didn’t.”

“You think I didn’t miss you?”

The shake in his voice had your fist dropping to hit your thighs, defeated.

“I miss you more than anything. I’m sorry - I’m not just saying it to make you feel better, or because I have to, I - I don’t even deserve to be saying it.” He paused, and you could imagine the way he was running his hands through his hair and pacing around with nerves. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend. For not treating you like you deserved - I hate myself for it. You were the best thing in my life, and I know that now. I was just too scared to come crawling back to you because I wasn’t worth your time.”

You breathed in deep, exhaled hard, and it felt like the first breath you had taken in two years. It was that feeling when you’ve forgotten your keys but find the door unlocked - the relief of being let in despite a mistake, it rushed through you, and it had you turning to look at him. You found him standing and staring at you, through you, with glassy eyes you would always know.

“I just miss you, Steve.”

Three steps and then he was around you. And you were safer than a child hiding under their blanket from whatever lurked in their closet - monsters weren’t real if his arms were around you. That had always, always been true.

Webster rubbed up against your leg, then Steve’s. The hug shook with both of your laughter, and he held you tighter.

…

Things didn’t go back to how they used to be after that, but it was close enough. And you were trying to settle into the differences that kept knocking you off your feet.

It started with late night phone calls.

Before, you never talked on the phone. Why would you when his house was a stone throw away? If you wanted to talk, you’d invite yourself to his place.

But the two of you were still dancing on the ripped edges of that two year old fight. Wounds were still healing - almost there, but not quite. So it was easier to take it slow, to treat this time as something brand new.

And it was brand new.

You had caught yourself grinning ear to ear over stories he’d tell you, and you had to force the smile off your face. Like you shouldn’t be acting that way over your friend - you quickly realized you just couldn’t help it.

He’d keep you up too late and tease you for it the next day. And you weren’t sure if he was trying to get a rise out of you, but that’s how you felt. He acted so smug after seeing your cheeks swell in embarrassment.

So it wasn’t going back to how it was before. In fact, it was going down an entirely different road - one that wasn’t even on the map.

You weren’t complaining, because you felt things you hadn't felt before around him. He made you feel warm, and you were addicted to it. You were addicted to him, and you had blind hope that the feeling was mutual.

He’d spend his entire lunch break visiting you, even if your breaks didn’t line up. He’d follow you around the apparel section at Roses and you’d have all your attention on him, just the way he liked it. He made sure to see you every day.

You never thought he’d make you feel so shy, but it was an emotion you couldn’t get enough of. You hardly realized what you were spiraling into until you’d catch him looking at you with a blush on his cheeks, or until you had to stop yourself from thinking about him every night before bed.

But there was something glaring, something major, something you couldn’t look at directly until it came up in conversation with Robin.

Robin and Steve always had Sundays off, so the day was designated to be stolen by their other friends - who were all in junior high.

When you asked why they were friends with junior high kids, Steve called himself their babysitter. Robin said she was their good influence. You avoided asking follow up questions.

It was a lazy autumn day, one where the warmth of fallen leaves reflected in the air - something rare for early November.

The youngest of the kids, Erica, loved putting on a nice outfit and going for a walk. Today it was yellow Chucks, a red silk and pleated maxi skirt, and a long sleeve button up with a rainbow of vertical stripes. (It would have been a tie dyed short sleeve, if Steve hadn’t told her it was too chilly for it.) She had stuck gems beside her eyes, the kind that come in the plastic packets and don’t stay on for long, and Robin packed yellow eyeshadow on her eyelids.

She was downright cute, but if you told the eleven year old that she’d aim her sass at you and shoot to kill. She much preferred receiving a refined compliment, because, “I hear that all the time.”

Today, you told her you loved the way she paired so many colors together. She grinned something beautiful and kicked her foot up behind her and agreed with you.

Steve had once described her as a menace - you didn’t understand why.

You walked with Robin a few feet behind Erica, Dustin, and Steve. Dustin had not stopped talking the whole time, except when Erica butted in. Steve had stolen the younger boy’s thinking cap hat and was wearing it backwards.

“The last time I wore this coat, I found two phone numbers in the pocket.” Robin held up two fingers and gestured to the Letterman jacket she wore. It was Steve’s. “Can you believe that? I mean, what a douche. I wouldn’t even wear this if it wasn’t so warm.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I believe it, actually. They were probably from some cheerleaders or something.”

“Yeah, well, he can’t get any numbers these days. He’s cursed to be forever lame as punishment for the jerk he was in high school.” Robin was smirking wicked and wide, like it was satisfying for her.

“He’s lost all his charm?”

“All of it. I mean, one hundred percent. I used to keep count of how many times he fell on his face in front of girls. It’s magnificent, truly.” Then, quieter, “He’ll get it back, though. One day.”

“He used to have no trouble at all.” The conversation had the gears in your head turning; it had you speaking without thinking. “I don’t know. He’s really different now.”

Robin laughed, like you were joking. “Yeah, he learned manners, for one.”

“It’s not that.” You were thinking out loud. “He’s nicer, yeah, but… it’s almost like he’s not even the same person. I’m not sure what happened.”

The Steve you knew was boisterous. He was unapologetic. He was stupidly confident, the life of the party, and he wasn’t afraid of anything. A wouldn’t take no for an answer, go with the flow, drop of the hat kind of person.

You were lucky to know him when that’s all he was. Before the halls of Hawkins High swallowed him and spit out someone ornery who cared too much but not at all.

You thought it was just Tommy and Carol’s influence. Now that he wasn’t their friend anymore, you thought he’d become who he used to be.

“He told me how close you two were before,” Robin said. She was tugging on a strand of hair that was stuck in her lip gloss. “I guess I never knew him like you did.”

“He’s so quiet now. He used to be so loud.” You meant it more than literally - you hoped Robin would understand. “I don’t know. So much changed and it’s only been a couple years.”

It seemed like she was struggling to reply, because it took her more than a few seconds to get her words out.

“I guess - I mean - I think you’ve probably changed a lot, too. Two years is a long time, right?”

Robin knew. No one could tell, but she knew.

Maybe the differences that you had described of Steve were really there. She wasn’t able to see them the way you could, but she didn’t care. It was selfish to admit that she would never change a thing about him - but one.

He was waiting.

Everyone was, she thinks.

Waiting for another fight.

It wasn’t easy to go back to normal after trudging through hell. It was like coming out the other side of trench warfare unharmed - you didn’t. When a gun fires, its bullets hit. If a bomb is dropped it doesn’t miss a fucking thing, and Starcourt Mall was goddamn ground zero.

And Robin wasn’t there for the disappearance of Will Byers. The death of Barbra Holland. The Upside Down. The Demogorgon. The Demodogs, and the lab, and the girl with psychic powers. She wasn’t there, but Steve was.

Her head hurt just thinking of the stories he’s told her. And she knew his did, too, more often than he’d admit to her.

And she felt bad when her sleeping patterns went back to normal but his didn’t. When she got used to being on edge all the time, Steve still jumped at any noise. His phone would ring and she would watch him prepare himself to answer it - to hear Dustin’s voice on the line telling him that it’s back.

So when you said that Steve’s changed, Robin didn’t know what to tell you. You were right, and she knew that, but she couldn’t tell you why. You knew everything about him besides, well - everything.

Robin wished she didn’t have to know, either. She wanted to tell you that you should be grateful you couldn’t see the shackles on his ankles. You got to know him before - and Robin would give anything for that.

But she couldn’t change a thing.

Instead, all she could do was wait.

And lie.

And pretend.

“He’s still loud,” she said, uncomfortable as all get out.

As if he heard her words, Steve busted out in a stomach hurting kind of laughter at one of Dustin’s stories.

“See what I mean?”

Your destination was in sight now. Steve turned around - letting Dustin steal his hat back - walking backwards, and reached a hand out to you.

“You coming?”

Your pace turned into a skipping sort of jog to catch up with him. When you were close enough he grabbed your hand and didn’t let go. He’d been doing that often.

The kids and Robin broke away, heading for the tiny park that was up on your right. To your left, Steve tugged you to a tiny convenience store.

“Place your orders!” he called.

Dustin and Erica shouted at the same time. Steve mumbled something about not being able to understand them, so you relayed their messages.

“You’re getting two things! No more than that!” he shouted back. “Robin?”

“7-Up.”

“What else?”

“Surprise me!”

You hung onto his arm as you walked into the store, and you weren’t even sure why. He never pulled away when you got that close, so you kept going back.

You went for the drink coolers first. He reached for the apple juice.

“She likes orange juice the best, now,” you said.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“You better be right - if she’s mad at me over this, I’ll be mad at you.”

You rounded up all the snacks everyone wanted, following Steve’s only two items rule. You laughed when he chose plain potato chips as Robin’s surprise - the blandest possible choice. And while he checked out at the counter, you wandered off into the aisles.

He acted like he didn’t want you to go, pulling you back and asking a quiet, “where’re you going?”

“To look around.”

It was straight to the candy aisle for a Blow Pop for Erica, Pop Rocks for Dustin, and sour gummy worms to share. You liked spoiling them - it helped to get on their good side.

You made a stop at the candy bars to grab a Snickers bar before going back to the counter, and Steve immediately shook his head when he saw you.

“What are you doing? What’s all that?”

“It’s all for me.” You dropped it all for the clerk to scan.

“All of it?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though you said you didn’t want anything?”

“I changed my mind!”

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, and you watched his hand move to his back pocket.

“Don’t you dare.”

His wallet was half way out of his pocket as he laughed. “What?”

“You’re not paying. Stop.” You tried to sound mad, and felt you were doing a good job, but he kept giggling at you.

“Oh, are you my boss now?”

“Yes, Steve,” and you bumped into him, trying to push him away. “Don’t make me say your full name.”

“Just let me -”

“Take their things to them! Go!”

You were shocked when he listened, but he only made it as far as the door. He stood against the glass with his arms crossed, staring at you until you finally followed him.

“What are you looking at?”

He pushed his back into the door to open it. “Trying to figure it out.” He reached for your hand, and you swatted it away, only for him to catch you, anyway. And you let him hold your hand, all the way across the street to the park.

Your friends sat at a picnic table waiting patiently. It was actually two tables pushed together, doubling the normal length; Erica and Dustin sat opposite each other on one end, and Robin sat in the middle, crisscrossed on top of the table.

Steve divvied snacks to grabby hands, and you snuck their surprise treats in to the sound of thank yous.

You took your seat on the other end of the table across from Steve. When you sat down, he put a bottle of Coke between you.

“Are you going to share?” you asked.

“Only if you’ve got something to give me in return.”

The Snickers bar made a thud on the wooden table. Steve hummed. “I guess that’s good enough.”

You were almost happy with the trade until you realized, “No bottle opener?”

His eyes doubled their size. “Shit.” Then, he grabbed the bottle. “No, it's a twist off.” The noise he made as he tried taking off the cap was something like a squeak, and everyone at the table laughed.

“Just walk back to the store!”

“Dustin - Dustin! Do you -”

The boy slid a large key ring down the table. It was a wad of keys, keychains, and gadgets.

“It’s on there somewhere.”

There was a mini flashlight, a laser pointer, a plastic Q*bert charm, a pocket knife, keys and keys and keys, a kubaton, and, “Yes!” a bottle opener.

“This is why I keep you around, Henderson.”

“I’m the one keeping you guys around, first of all.”

You grabbed the Coke and guzzled a couple drinks worth in one go, and when you put it back down, Steve had already eaten half the candy bar in one bite.

“Steve!”

His mouth was full when he said, “What?”

“Why can’t you share? Why didn’t anyone ever teach you about sharing?” His laugh was sweeter than the chocolate he was shoving into your face. “Stop, I don’t wanna eat after you.”

“We’ve got the same germs,” he said, and he was feeding you the Snickers before you could make another argument.

The snacks were all gone much quicker than it took to walk and get them, because none of you would ever learn to savor the destination. Regardless, next Sunday, you’d all be sitting in the same spot - give or take a few others, creating a good day for yourselves.

And, if you were lucky, Steve would be holding your hand the whole time.

...

It didn’t matter who you were cheering for on the court, you hated high school basketball games.

Going to Lucas’s game brought back far too many memories than you’d care to recollect. But even though you hated it, you were still filled with pride watching the boy play the game so well.

And Steve hadn’t shut up about it all night. He spoke about Lucas shooting the buzzer beating winning basket like he was recounting a grand story - something from a movie or a comic book. Like you weren’t sitting beside him the entire time.

You stood with him in his kitchen, and the excitement had finally started to settle. You and Steve had spent far too long talking about how weird it was to be back in the high school gym, and both of you agreed that you didn’t miss it at all.

“Is Robin excited for spring break?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “She said she’s spending the entire week here so she can be as lazy as she wants, so - I guess she is.”

You threw a weak fist into his shoulder and he caught it. “What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s gonna steal all my time!” His grin was contagious as he slotted his fingers into yours. “And that means I can’t steal all of yours.”

“Does that mean I’m finally getting a break from you?” You laughed, but he didn’t.

It was weird, the way his entire demeanor changed in a snap. Before you could even take back the joke you made he was shifting his eyes and dropping his grin.

He had always worn his heart on his sleeve, even if he tried hiding it.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” It was a hand through his hair that said the opposite, but you’d never call out his tells. “I just - that reminded me there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” He dropped your hand to cross his arms, and it had you feeling nervous.

“What about? …Did I do something wrong?”

“No, honey.” You weren’t sure when that nickname came around, or when it started to stick, but it had a fairy fluttering its wings in your chest. He started to reach for you again, you could see it, but he stopped himself. “You could never do anything wrong.”

You laughed quiet. “Neither could you.”

You moved to stand next to him, mirroring the way his back leaned against the counter. Your arm pressed to his. He was looking at the floor; you were looking at him.

“Are you sure?” It started as a whisper but jumped into a shake, a crack in his voice that said more than he wanted to. And he looked at you, to see if you caught it, and you swore his eyes were shining. He didn’t show them to you for longer than a moment.

“Steve?”

“I just - I don’t want to fuck this up again.”

“How would that even happen?”

He looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. “I don’t know.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow, again and again, until his crossed arms dropped. Your pointer finger snaked around his, and the touch brought enough bravery out of him to link his fingers with yours.

“What do you know?”

He scoffed into a smile, one big enough to reach his eyes, and it brought him out of his funk. “I don’t know,” he said, moving closer to you as he made the joke.

“That’s what I thought,” you replied. “Not a thought going on in your head.”

Making him laugh was the key to his heart - you knew that, and it worked this time as well as it always had.

He had his head turned, cheek to shoulder, staring down at you; you were so close, you could watch his eyes move across your face and know where he was looking. They wandered, but when his gaze lingered on your lips - you noticed.

“I know one thing for sure,” he said.

When you took a loud breath, you’re sure he heard. He gave you eye contact again, and maybe you were seeing things, but you swore you saw question marks swimming in the green.

He didn’t breathe. You didn’t blink. You moved forward just a hair, and he looked back down, so you pressed on. You wanted to be closer, as close as you could get - it was curiosity or desperation, you didn’t know.

When he tilted his chin toward you, it was hardly noticeable. But you saw it, and it was enough. Your nose was just about to touch his - you watched his eyes close, right before yours did. There was nothing to do but move closer, closer, closer.

And then, when you felt just the softest graze of his skin on yours -

BAM! BAM! BAM!

You jumped back from each other like same-side magnets, gasping and jumping at the sound of loud knocks on the front door.

He moved fast, like he was looking for a way out, leaving you alone in the kitchen. “Shit.”

Steve had a good idea of who he’d see when he opened the door. The knob was jingling when he unlocked it, then pulled it open.

Sure enough, Robin. Wearing a flannel that was his, with wild bedhead that he couldn’t help laughing at.

“Did you walk here?”

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Let me in.”

It was written all over her face why she was there, and Steve felt bad.

Even though she asked to come in, she didn’t move. Her features were all scrunched up, her shoulders were hunched into her crossed arms.

“Robin -”

“I fucking hate this.” Loud, echoing into the night and through his door. “I hate it, Steve, and I swear - I swear it’s not over.” Her eyes wet her cheeks; she looked at him through tears. “It’s going to happen again. I can feel it. And I’m scared.”

He had to pull her inside, because he knew she’d stand in the same spot all night if he didn’t. She pushed into him, shoving her face into his shoulder, wiping her tears on his shirt.

“You just need to rest,” he told her.

She spoke something pitiful, not caring that her words were muffled. “The gate’s really closed, right? For sure?”

“It’s over, Robin, it was just a nightmare - you just need some good sleep, alright?”

She nodded, wiped her runny nose into her sleeve, and tried pulling her tears back in.

“I wish I could sleep anywhere else.”

“I know.” It wasn’t any sort of jab - it was just the truth. The only time she was truly afraid was when she slept alone.

She hit a fist into his chest, something playful that made things feel a little more okay, and then took herself to the stairs.

“I’ll be up in a minute to stand guard,” he joked. She barely laughed but it was enough, and he watched her until he couldn’t see her anymore.

And he hoped you hadn’t heard anything, because he wouldn’t be able to answer any questions you had. When he found you in the kitchen you looked nothing but concerned.

“Is she okay?”

All you knew was that she had nightmares about the mall fire. It was a realistic excuse, in comparison to the unbelievable truth.

“Yeah. You know how she is.”

You nodded. Steve wasn’t sure how to go back to the talk you were having before, so he avoided it.

You spoke first. “I hope she’s alright.”

“I should probably go be with her,” he said.

You were perfectly okay with it, understanding as always. “Yeah. She needs you.”

He walked you to the door, and it was too brief for his taste. But when you were there, he spoke up.

“I’m sorry. Can we finish this tomorrow, maybe? I promise - I… I really did want to talk.”

“Of course,” you said, and it was shy. “Don’t be sorry, Steve, she’s more important right now. We can talk any time.”

His arms wrapped around your shoulders for a crushing hug. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? Before work. We can make plans then.”

And that was it - he watched you make your walk home until you walked into your front door, and that was it.

The moment was ruined, and he might not be able to make it happen again.

…

Steve didn’t call you the next morning.

part two!!!!

#my writing #perhaps the only steve fic i will ever write #if there are typos in this i. lmao i will rage #this took forever this is so fucking long if no one reads it i dont blame truly #anyway #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #fluff #angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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