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radiosteve · 8 months

Text

I Knew You

Summary: You and Steve Harrington have hated each other ever since sixth grade, which made living next door to him all the more miserable. It hadn't always been like that though, shared smiles and loving gestures in secret before popularity went to his head. But now, Steve somehow keeps finding ways to squeeze himself back into your life, making you question if the boy you once knew, the one you might have loved, still lived somewhere within him.

Note: Its been a bit since I last posted, but I had this idea and really wanted to write it. I'm currently drowning with work and school stuff for my masters so my next fic might take a hot minute and will definitely be shorter. This takes place in the fall after season 4 and both Eddie and Max survived with minimal injuries. It’s also partially inspired by Cardigan by Taylor Swift, hence the lyrics as chapter titles. This ended up being way longer than I intended for it to be, but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as Baby), smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), enemies to lovers, language, mentions of blood/injuries, some cannon divergence, fluff, angst, slowburn.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 30.5k (I got carried away)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

The last salt of the summer air lazed its way through the breeze, picking up the fresh fallen leaves with it. There wasn’t enough foliage on the ground to worry about raking them just yet, but it still brought a chill down your spine at the thought of autumn’s rapid approach. You were sitting on the window bench in your room with a book in your hands and your back against the wall as the breeze floated through the open window, making the curtains dance despite being drawn back. It was a moment of quiet, something you desperately needed.

You were lost in words on the page before you, taking them in sentence after sentence, until the loud slam of a door interrupted your trance. The sound of the door was followed by singing, loud and obnoxious singing. More specifically, Steve Harrington’s loud and obnoxious singing. He had just strolled into his room, playing air guitar along to whatever metal song he was bellowing. A metal song that you presumed Eddie had played so many times on the tape player in his van that it somehow ingrained itself into Steve’s pop-hits brain.

You sighed, shaking your head to try and brush off the noise as if this was a daily occurrence. Well, it almost was, in some form or another. You lived next door to Steve Harrington for as long as you could remember. Your bedroom windows faced each other too, allowing each of you to gain small, often unwelcome, glimpses into the other’s life. Just about every girl in school had come up to you at least once to tell you how lucky you were to have such an easy way to see Steve Harrington. Then they’d always proceed to ask if they could join you for a sleepover at your house, no doubt just to get a chance to spy on the boy in his natural habitat.

Your eyes flitted back down to the page, stuck on the same sentence ever since your ears were met with the unwelcome disturbance that was Steve Harrington’s singing. He’d moved on from singing to vocalizing the song’s guitar solo, which was somehow even more annoying. Steve’s arms moved wildly up and down his fake guitar as he banged his head up and down. If you weren’t so annoyed you’d honestly be impressed by the amount of endurance Steve’s performance surely required. But you were annoyed. Annoyed enough to finally speak up.

“Do you constantly have to make so much noise or do you just like to hear the sound of your own voice?” your remark rang out through the open window, trickling through the air to reach Steve’s room. You didn’t look up from your book, doing your best to look unbothered. Steve stopped singing and thrashing about. His heavy breaths evened out slightly before he responded, slowly approaching the window sill.

“Do you constantly have a stick up your ass or do you just like to pretend that you do?” your eyes widened at that, putting your book to the side as you turned to face the window, to face Steve. He had a smirk on his lips, one that you were more than familiar with by now. It was the smirk he flashed each time he said something that he knew would piss you off. Quite frankly, it was the expression you were most familiar with seeing Steve wear at this point in your life.

“If there’s a stick up my ass then it's only because you put it there,” it was a lame comeback. You knew it. Steve knew it. But they can’t all be winners. You winced as the words fell from your lips, waiting for Steve’s retaliation, which was sure to be unsavory.

“I don’t recall ever doing that. But Baby, if you bend over I’d be more than happy to oblige,” Steve's smirk grew wider. Whether it was the stupid nickname or the sexual nature of his response that caused the flash of his pearly teeth, you didn’t know. However, you did know that you hated it, all of it. You hated that you constantly walked right into his dumb little comebacks. You hated that he seemingly had an endless supply of them just for you. You hated the day that the stupid nickname was ever aimed in your direction and you hated that Steve Harrington was the one to do it.

It was late September 1978. Summer was still putting up a fight, albeit a weak one, to keep its warmth in the air. It had rained the night before, washing away the fresh fallen leaves to get stuck in the gutters along the roof or in the storm drains beside the narrow streets. School had only started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow, Steve found himself climbing the popularity ranks. It was a big deal for a sixth grader who’d only just begun his journey at Hawkins Middle to be so admired so fast, but Steve was already starting to see people worship the ground he walked on. He liked the idea of it, that he could waltz through the door of some place and up and run it so soon. His dad always said that the Harringtons were winners, and Steve knew he would be nothing if he disappointed his dad.

Steve was walking to school that morning, Tommy and Carol to his left as a group full of his classmates followed closely behind. It was as if Steve had his very own entourage. They were a few blocks from the school when he saw it, a bike abandoned on the grass next to the sidewalk. There was a backpack beside it too, laying face down as if it had been thrown off in haste. It didn’t take long for Steve to realize why the bike before him looked so familiar. It was the same one he had seen you on almost every day that summer. The bike you rode to the library, to Lover’s Lake, to the movie theater, to the quarry. As long as it was a place with a good story waiting to be watched or read, or a quiet environment to immerse yourself in a good book, someone was sure to find you there with that bike.

Steve panicked for a moment, preparing himself to run to the police station and report that you had been kidnapped. But then he looked up. You were hunched over the sidewalk a few yards up, picking at something on the surface of the cement. Steve’s legs moved, the others following, and stopped once again, this time only a few feet from where you sat on the sidewalk. Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked down, finally getting a good look at what you were doing.

You sat there, slowly and gently peeling the dried worms from the sidewalk. Then you parted the grass next to the sidewalk, putting the worm down to get it as close to the soil as possible. Steve watched you curiously as you moved on to the next worm. It was then that the breeze picked up a bit, shifting away the hair that covered your face. Steve saw it, the tear tracks running down your cheeks as you struggled with the worms that Steve was sure were already dead. A few chuckles sounded from the group behind Steve, and suddenly he remembered that it was not just you and him on that sidewalk.

You too had suddenly become aware of your audience then, head snapping up to see the group in front of you. Your eyes landed on Steve. His expression was etched with empathy, an emotion Steve still held onto no matter how much Tommy tried to strip it from him in his sudden rise to king status. At that moment you didn’t care about the others or the tears that still leaked down your soft cheeks. You cared about the poor worms that stuck to the sidewalk. Your gaze landed on Steve, appealing to the boy who lived beside you for so many years.

“The rain,” you sniffled and Steve’s heart ached at the sound. He’d seen you cry before, as he was sure you had seen him cry too, through the cracks in the curtains obscuring bedroom windows. Each time Steve had to stop himself from marching over to your house and wrapping you in a comforting hug. It was an urge that he still had to repress, even here and now. “The rain cools down the sidewalk and the worms like to come out onto it. But it- it’s not raining anymore. It's too hot for them now. They- they’re burning alive,” fresh tears fell, replacing the old ones. They ran races against each other, fighting to be the first to drip off of your chin and onto the cement below. Steve’s mouth opened, but he was cut off by the boy beside him.

“Whatever, worm girl. Just move out of the way so we can get to school,” Tommy’s words rang through the air, the entourage laughing at you from behind him. Steve could picture it now, you’d spend the rest of middle and high school deemed as the worm girl. You’d hide in all of your classes, eat lunch by yourself in the library, and ignore the taunts that echoed throughout the hallway. Worm girl, worm girl, worm girl. You’d leave Hawkins the day after graduation, a car full of boxes, your life packed up and tucked away in each, and you’d never return. You’d start a new life in a new city that only knows you by your real name, not some playground-esque tease that stupid Tommy Hagan awarded you in 6th grade. You’d be happy there, build a place you could call home, find your one true love, and Steve would never see you again.

Steve had to stop this now. He had to bury the name worm girl in the ground before it could ever fully emerge. And there was only one way that Steve’s prepubescent brain could think how. Your eyes flickered from Tommy before landing back on Steve, willing him to say something, to defend you. Maybe that was too much to ask.

“Damn, that was lame. Worm girl, really? Are we five?” Steve pulled his gaze from yours. He couldn’t bear to see the look of hope that blossomed in your eyes. Not with what he was about to say next. “I mean, if anything, we should call her Baby since she’s crying like one,” small giggles sounded off behind Steve before being overtaken by full-blown giggles and laughs. And there it was. Steve’s master plan had come to fruition. Replace a bad nickname with a not-as-bad nickname. It wasn’t a great plan, he knew that, especially when he saw the scrunch of your brows and the quiver of your bottom lip, but it was the best that Steve’s 11-year-old thoughts could conjure on such short notice. And Baby really wasn’t that bad. It's a term of endearment for Christ's sake. Or at least that’s what Steve would tell himself.

Tommy laughed from beside Steve, throwing an arm over Carol and guiding her to walk around you. The others followed, hurling a few taunting calls of ‘Baby’ at you as they walked by. You looked back down at the ground, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, ignoring the cracks running along the foundations of your heart. Maybe Steve wasn’t the same boy you had grown up with. Maybe his middle school fame had gone to his head more than you thought it would. More than you hoped it would.

You had just freed another dried worm from its place on the sidewalk when you saw it. A pair of Nikes in front of you. Steve Harrington’s pair of Nikes. He hadn’t gone with the others. It was like he was rooted to the spot. You placed the worm into the depths of the grass, tilting your head to look up at the boy towering over you.

“Screw you, Steve,” you spoke harshly, doing your best to let venom lace your words despite the shake in your voice. Steve didn’t say anything back. He just crouched down in front of you, gently picking up the last worm from the sidewalk. He copied what you had done, parting the grass to place the worm close to the damp earth below. Steve stood up then, walking back to the group that had now passed you, heading towards the school. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone.

Steve rejoined them, sticking to the back of the group to not draw attention to his momentary absence. He looked back at you then, finding you with your head turned over your shoulder, already gazing at him with confusion plastered across your face. He shot you a soft smile, one that he had typically reserved just for you. It only lasted a moment, but for that moment you were more perplexed than before.

In that smile was Steve. The Steve. The one that had plaid wallpaper in his room and hand-drawn pictures of cars taped to the walls (some that you had drawn for him). He was the boy who had a slew of green army men sitting on his window sill, the same ones that he had given you. They sat pointing towards the street out front, and never ever at you. They protected both of your rooms. The soldiers protected them from monsters, wizards, ghosts, and disappointed parents. At that moment, Steve was the boy next door who left messages taped to his window for you to see. The boy who stayed a few paces behind your bike after school to make sure you got home safely. He was the boy who promised to love you always before placing a peck on your lips when you were both five. He was the boy you knew, not the one who humiliated you in front of his friends.

But the moment ended. The smile dropped from Steve’s face as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back around, putting more and more distance between the two of you. You watched him for a moment longer until you finally managed to tear your gaze from his retreating figure. You moved then, leaning over the grass to see the worm that Steve had placed there, worried that he left it too high up. Most of the worms were dead long before you got there, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from trying to help them. All the worms in the grass were lifeless and unmoving despite your efforts. All except one. It was the worm Steve had placed there.

You jumped into action then, using your fingers to dig a hole in the dirt. As quickly as you could, you placed the worm into the hole, covering it with the fresh soil. Its tail poked out just a bit and you watched with bated breath as it slowly retracted, moving deeper into the ground below. You glanced up at the sidewalk again, expecting to still see Steve in the distance, but he was gone. Over the hill and out of your eye line, just like the worm.

“Don’t call me that,” you bit through gritted teeth and Steve just laughed. His stupid, obnoxious, loud laugh. The one that warned you that danger was near anytime you heard it in the hallway in high school.

“Would you prefer I call you something else?” Steve pondered dramatically, bringing a finger to his lip and glancing up as if he were trying to remember something. “Maybe worm-” Steve began, a look of anger more prominent on your face now.

“Fuck you, Steve,” you cut him off before he could finish his taunt. He was about to say something else, no doubt another snarky comment that you could definitely afford to miss. It was about to spring from his lips when Steve was met with the sound of your window slamming shut. You locked it too, pulling the curtains closed and retreating to your bed, no longer in the mood to read. Steve stared at the purple curtains now blocking his view of you. Oh, how he hated that specific shade, knowing that they were the only thing keeping him from gazing at you.

Steve closed his window too, locking it the same as you had. But he kept his curtains open, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of you later. The hand-drawn cars that once lined his walls were replaced by movie posters, ones he had gotten for free from work. He still had the army men littered along the window sill though. Most of them had been knocked over on their sides and Steve never bothered to pick them back up. They pointed at your room now, though Steve never intended for them to do so, unlike you who had purposefully aimed your soldiers at Steve’s window no more than a few days after Wormageddon.

Steve sat back on his bed, laying down and placing his arms under his head. He’d made you mad. Gotten you all riled up, just as he had planned from the second you opened your mouth. So why did he not feel better right now? Why did his stomach hurt and his heart refused to rest? This battle was over. The war waged on but this was still a victory worth noting in the imaginary books. He hadn’t gotten the final word but he still won nonetheless. Isn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was a Harrington after all, and Harringtons were winners. Right?

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss

The sun crept along the horizon, unwilling to give in to the moon just yet. Orange and pink illuminated your room through the open curtains. You sat at your vanity, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips before smacking them together. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had been watching you through the window. He admired the effort you took while getting ready, although he knew you didn’t need it. Steve would never admit it, he’d repressed it for far too long, but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

You turned towards your closet, digging through it to find a pair of shoes that matched your outfit. Steve couldn’t help the clawing desire to know what you were getting ready for. There weren’t any parties that he knew of that night. Maybe you were hanging out with Nancy and Robin. He couldn’t imagine why you’d need to get dressed up for that though. Steve wished your window was open. He would lean on his window sill, asking about your plans for the evening. He’d say it in that snarky Steve Harrington way. The way he knew would elicit an eye roll in response. But maybe you’d give in and tell him. Maybe you’d invite him to go with you. Or maybe Steve was letting fantasy mix with reality.

A car horn sounded from outside, pulling Steve from his thoughts with a jump. He didn’t realize he was still standing at his window staring at you. At least he hadn’t until you rushed to your window, trying to get a glimpse of the vehicle out front. Your eyes locked with Steve’s then and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. You brushed it off, refocusing on why you had come to the window in the first place. Parked on the street in front of your house sat a van. A beat-up, rusty, falling apart at the seams, van. Steve’s gaze followed yours, also noticing the van below. A van he was more than familiar with at this point.

You bent over, pulling on your shoes as quickly as you could before rushing out of your room and down the stairs. Steve jumped into action then, doing the same from within his own house. He burst out the front door just in time to see you grabbing for the handle of the van’s passenger side door. Steve peered through the windshield getting a glance of the unruly curls that rested on Eddie Munson’s head. You hopped into the van and Eddie looked up, seeing Steve cut through his yard and head towards the van. You fastened your seatbelt and looked up, also catching sight of the boy rapidly approaching you.

“Eddie, please drive. Like right now,” you turned to the boy next to you. Your voice came out shaky and desperate. Definitely not the commanding tone you’d hoped for.

“Sorry, princess. Gotta see what the hair is so adamantly chasing us for,” Eddie shrugged and you groaned, throwing your head back. Unfortunately that only made Eddie laugh at you.

“If you leave right now, I’ll do anything you ask for the rest of the night,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together to beg.

“As tempting as that sounds, it’s a bit too late,” Eddie points to the window behind you. You turn, seeing Steve standing next to your window, hand raised in a wave. Eddie leaned over, arm reaching across your lap to crank the window down, because he knew damn well that you wouldn’t do it. Not when Steve was standing on the other side at least.

“You’re like a goddamn jumpscare. I hope you know that Harrington,” you spoke, folding your arms over your chest as Eddie retreated back to his side of the van. He could identify the hint of jealousy on Steve’s face all too well. It was the same look Steve wore anytime a guy got too close to you or made you smile a bit wider than normal. Eddie was well aware of Steve’s complicated feelings for you, even though Steve sure as hell wasn’t.

“Whatcha up to? I thought you were staying home tonight?” Steve asked Eddie, resting his hands against the van’s door. He was close to you, too close. You leaned back in your seat, putting more space between the two of you.

“Well, now I’m not,” Eddie shot Steve a cheeky smile and Steve just blinked in response. “Ok fine,” Eddie gave in, unraveling under Steve’s stare. He hated lying to Steve, especially now that they’d gotten closer. “We’re going to see some band play at The Hideout. We’ve had these plans for weeks. I lied about staying home,” Eddie rushed out and your mouth dropped in shock.

“One look into Harrington’s sparkly eyes and you're spilling your guts? Pathetic,” you groaned from your seat. Eddie rolled his eyes, focusing them back onto Steve.

“You think my eyes are sparkly?” Steve quipped, a smirk growing on his lips. You heard Eddie laugh beside you and you couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face.

“Get over yourself, Steve,” you moved your hand over the window crank, threatening to roll up the window, but Steve stopped you.

“Wait! I wanna come with,” he spoke quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Eddie. You couldn’t help the laugh that formed in your throat. “What’s so funny?” Steve glared at you then.

“Well, for one, you hate metal music,” you began and Steve scoffed.

“So do you,” Steve tried to retaliate, but the smirk on your lips told him he was fighting a losing battle.

“Sure, I’m not the biggest metal fan, but I like it enough and I love the energy of the crowd. Plus Eddie and I have been doing this for years. It doesn’t even matter, you’re not coming with us so you might as well give up now,” you spoke, lifting your hand in a sarcastic wave goodbye.

“Good thing it’s not up to you then. It’s Eddie’s van. He gets to decide,” your head snapped in Eddie’s direction then. You glared at him and focused as hard as you could. When you were younger, you and Eddie were convinced that you’d be able to communicate with each other telepathically if you tried hard enough. It never worked of course, but it never hurt to try. Eddie understood you better than anyone. He became your number-one confidant since the day you met. Surely he could pick up on your brain waves begging him to bar Steve from your plans.

Eddie headed towards the band room at Hawkins Middle with his guitar case swinging in his hand. He was early, intending to warm up on his own before the rest of Corroded Coffin got there for band practice. Eddie flicked on the lights, expecting the room to be empty. But it wasn’t. You were there, in the corner of the room, tucked between some music stands. You’d been curled into a ball and looked up when the fluorescent lights came on, illuminating your hidden figure. There were tears streaked across your face after a particularly brutal day of taunts from Tommy and Steve. Eddie set his guitar down and moved towards you slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, hesitantly approaching. You remained silent, rising from your spot on the ground and wiping away your tears with your sweater sleeve. “I’m Eddie,” he spoke again, extending his hand for you to shake when he got close enough. You told him your name but didn’t meet his hand with yours, not yet.

“But everyone calls me Baby,” your voice was hoarse from crying but Eddie heard you loud and clear. He was an eighth grader but even he’d heard about the poor sixth grader that the popular kids had been calling Baby. It had moved beyond just them though. All of your classmates, teachers, and neighbors had adopted the name for you.

“Well, I won’t call you that, not if you’re not comfortable with it,” Eddie reassured you. He had been victimized plenty by the popular kids. He understood what it felt like, which is why he was shocked when you shook your head. His hand fell back to his side.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve been telling people to call me Baby to help reclaim it, I guess. It took Marissa the librarian forever but she’s finally gotten used to it. My parents still slip up, but that’s to be expected,” you shrugged. What you didn’t tell Eddie was that it still hurt when the name spilled from Steve’s lips. You weren’t sure why it did. But the more you were called Baby by everyone else, the more desensitized you hoped to become to it.

“Reclaim the name?” Eddie asked, eyebrows furrowed. You nodded, suddenly unsure what the boy in front of you thought. “That’s pretty metal,” a smile stretched his lips and his hand shot back up between you, beckoning for yours to join it. “It’s nice to meet you, Baby.”

“You too, Eddie,” you mirrored his smile, finally placing your small hand in his. Eddie’s calloused fingers enclosed around the back of your palm and two became one. You were inseparable. Inseparable in everything except for the reoccurring nightmare scenario that kept popping up in your life. You’d been dragged in early on, being one of the last people to see Barb before she went missing. You’d caught a glimpse of her through your window, sitting on the diving board above Steve’s pool, when suddenly she was gone. You joined Jonathan and Nancy in their quest to find her and kill the thing that took her. It sucked to keep Eddie out of that part of your life, but it was for his own good. Or at least it was until this past spring when Chrissy Cunningham became Vecna’s first victim right before the poor boy’s eyes. Then you told him everything. Your two worlds fully merged, and you and Eddie became totally and fully inseparable.

Your glare bore into Eddie’s and you thought you had gotten through to him. You were wrong.

“Alright Harrington, hop in. Quickly though, I don’t want to miss the opening act,” Eddie conceded, turning to face his gaze towards the road ahead. He could feel you burning holes into him with your eyes. You rolled the window up as Steve opened the van's back door.

“We’re so working on the telepathy thing again. Evidently, you’re in desperate need of a refresher,” you grumbled and Eddie chuckled at how mad you were at the addition of Steve to your plans. Steve closed the van door, lounging in one of the bean bags Eddie kept in the back. After what felt like the longest ride of being tossed around the back of Eddie’s van, Steve was never more thankful to see The Hideout come into view. The three of you filed out of the van as the sound of metal music filtered through the bar’s closed doors. Much to Eddie’s dismay the opener had already started their set. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette smoke, causing Steve to wrinkle his nose.

“Go get us some drinks from the bar. Baby and I will get us a spot up near the front,” Eddie handed Steve a few dollar bills, enough to cover both your drink and his own. You and Steve might hate each other, but you’d been around each other in enough alcohol-fueled group settings to know each other’s drink orders. Steve beelined towards the bar, yelling over the music to order your Dirty Shirley with extra cherries, Eddie’s Rum and Coke, and his own Long Island iced tea.

He spotted you and Eddie pushing through the crowd. You were in front of Eddie, his forearm thrown across the front of your shoulders to keep you close. The two of you stopped not far from the stage. You leaned up to say something in Eddie’s ear, your back flush with his chest, and Steve felt a rush of jealousy run through him. Eddie had told him countless times that the two of you were just friends. That the kisses he’d once shared with you while high were just meaningless, drug-fueled, pecks on the lips. That was a lie of course, but Eddie definitely wasn’t going to tell Steve about the way you moaned against his lips until the two of you sobered up enough to feel embarrassed and swore to never speak of it again. Sometimes Steve needed to be lied to about certain things, mainly so Eddie wasn’t on the receiving end of Steve’s right hook.

The bartender placed the drinks in front of Steve in exchange for the wad of cash slapped on the counter. Steve grabbed all three glasses and began his trek through the tightly packed crowd. He’d gotten really good at holding a bunch of stuff in his hands at once during his brief stint at Scoops. Steve made it up to you and Eddie, passing the drinks to each of you. The three of you watched the opening band’s set, dancing as much as you could with drinks in your hands and a packed crowd.

By the time the opener’s set was over you had sipped enough of your drink to expose one of the cherries in your glass. Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth gaped as he watched you fish the cherry out with your finger, popping the morsel in your mouth and pulling it from the stem with your teeth. Eddie eyed the boy next to him, amused not only by Steve’s aroused reaction to such a simple thing but also by your complete obliviousness to said reaction. Despite the lack of music coming from the stage as you waited for the headlining band to come on, Eddie still had to shout over the buzz of the crowd.

“Show Stevie the thing,” Eddie gestured towards the cherry stem between your fingers. You shook your head in protest, but Eddie gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you were instantly beat. You rolled your eyes, placed the cherry stem on your tongue, and closed your lips. Eddie brought his arm up, glancing back and forth between you and his watch. Steve was baffled by the coordinated performance that the two of you were putting on in front of him. After a few seconds, your mouth popped back open. You plucked the cherry stem from between your teeth and held it up for Steve to see.

“Seven seconds! That might be your personal best,” Eddie exclaimed while Steve looked closely at the stem. It was tied in a knot. He took it from between your fingers and was about to ask how you did it when the band came on stage. Steve’s hand trailed down to his side, tucking the tied cherry stem into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but throwing it away felt wrong for some reason.

The band was really good, especially the lead singer. He was only a few years older than you and he had gorgeous, blonde hair that flowed down to his shoulders. Steve had scoffed when the singer winked at you during their set, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the music. The three of you had a surprisingly good time together, although it's pretty hard to fight with such loud music blaring throughout the room. Eddie and Steve were tasked with finding a table after the band left the stage and you got stuck with grabbing everyone new drinks.

“That was actually really fun. How often do you guys do this?” Steve asked, his pants getting stuck to cheap faux leather as he slid into a booth opposite Eddie.

“Once every month or so. It depends on which bands are playing,” Steve was listening to Eddie or at least he was at first. His eyes had been scanning the bar, trying to find you. When he finally did, his expression hardened. You leaned with your elbow against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back with the drinks, but you weren’t alone. The lead singer of the headlining band was beside you. He was smiling at you, and even worse for Steve, you were smiling back. Eddie noticed the change in Steve’s demeanor, the jealousy that now filled the hazel of his eyes. He tracked Steve’s gaze across the crowded bar, landing on you.

Eddie was impressed. He’d seen you bag your fair share of hot guys after a show at The Hideout, but never had you managed to get with the lead singer of the headlining band. Steve, on the other hand, was not impressed. He was livid. It didn’t help that the lead singer had just placed his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear. Steve quickly slid out of the booth, stomping his way through the crowd of people, heading towards you. Eddie winced, knowing he should chase after the boy, but slightly curious to see what would happen if he didn’t. Steve pushed through the bodies surrounding him, stopping just in front of where you stood against the bar.

“What's taking you so long with the drinks?” He called out and your head shot up at the sound of his voice. The smile that had grown on your lips quickly faded at the sight of Steve. The singer, Corey, looked up from where he had just started to kiss your neck. He didn’t move his hands from your hips despite Steve’s pointed glances.

“Hey man, you’re kind of interrupting something right now. If you want a drink then ask the bartender or whatever,” Corey moved to face you again, but Steve wasn’t done.

“Hey man,” Steve mocked Corey’s words. “You need to take your hands off of her right now,” your brow furrowed in anger while Corey filled with confusion.

“Sorry dude, didn’t realize she was your girl,” Corey assumed based on Steve’s comment and began to move his hands, but you stopped him.

“I’m not, I swear. I barely even know that guy,” Steve scoffed at that and you shot him a glare. Corey’s eyes flitted back and forth between you and Steve. He looked more confused than ever, almost painfully so.

“I’m way too high for this. You have her, man. It's not worth the fight,” Corey held up his hands in defense. Eddie had just worked his way through the sea of people in time to see Corey back away from you, scan the crowd, and head towards some pretty redhead across the room. Steve looked triumphant as he turned his gaze back to you. Eddie thought you looked like you were about to go ballistic. He’d never seen you that mad before in his entire life. You looked even angrier now than you had when Eddie purposefully put gum in your hair and it got stuck so badly that you had to give yourself bangs to get rid of it. Eddie was about two seconds from sprinting out of the building to save himself from being a witness to what was sure to be Steve’s murder when the bartender, Dave, called out from behind you.

“Here’s that Long Island for you, Baby,” you spun around, revealing the Rum and Coke and Dirty Shirley that sat on the counter behind you. You thanked Dave, giving him a good tip, before turning back to Steve. Because even in your fury, you could still be nice to the waitstaff. You picked up the Long Island, marched towards Steve, and slammed the drink directly into his chest.

“Since you wanted it so fucking bad,” you pushed past him, not caring about the way the liquid sloshed over the lip of the glass, coating your hand and Steve’s shirt. You moved towards the exit, slamming the door open into the moonlit darkness outside. Steve took a second to process what just happened. He placed the remainder of his drink back on the counter before following in your path. Eddie groaned, grabbing his now abandoned drink from the bar and downing it. He grabbed your drink from beside his, knowing you’d need it when this was over, and followed Steve. You had made it to Eddie’s van and tugged on the door handle, cursing the long-haired boy for actually locking it for once.

“What the hell was that?” Steve called out from across the parking lot with his arms held wide. He was stalking towards you at a furious pace. You were so pissed that you didn’t even notice your feet dragging you forward to meet him in the middle.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” you asked in response instead of answering his question. Steve stopped when the tips of his shoes touched yours, scrunched faces mere inches from each other. “First you invite yourself along to Eddie and I’s thing and then you ruin my chances with the very hot lead singer of the band. You did that for what, huh? Shits and giggles? I don’t give a shit who you are Harrington, that’s too fucking far,” you yelled, rage boiling beneath your hot skin.

“He wasn’t that hot,” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes widened. Eddie, who had just made it out to the parking lot, was surprised there wasn’t steam shooting out of your ears at this point.

“Is that the only thing you fucking heard from what I just said?” you brought your hands to your forehead in exasperation. “You’re such an asshole! I thought it would end when we graduated. Like you’d grow up a bit after graduation day. Hell, Robin said you’d matured, changed, and left the King Steve shtick behind. Eddie is one of your best friends now, the boy you taunted for years. So what is it about me, huh? Why are you suddenly too golden-hearted to bully everyone else but you never stopped fucking with me?” you had gotten close to Steve, not that you noticed through your tunneled vision of anger. Your heavy breaths fanned across Steve’s lips as you awaited his response.

“I-” Steve opened his mouth to respond and then quickly shut it. He didn’t know. Well maybe he did know, somewhere deep down, but it wasn’t something he could say to you now. Not in The Hideout’s parking lot where a crowd had started growing around you. Steve stepped back, creating the space between you that you desperately lacked at the moment.

“That’s what I thought,” you stepped back too, turning to walk towards Eddie. You quickly stopped, facing Steve once more. “Do me a favor, find some other girl to lurk around for a while. It's bad enough that you live next door. I really don’t need you following me wherever I go like some fucking creep,” you spun on your heels again, grabbing the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand and throwing it back like it was fruit juice.

Eddie unlocked the van and you slid inside, slamming the door behind you. Eddie’s eyes met Steve’s with a grimace. Eddie looked at you in the van and then back to Steve. Steve got the message; Eddie couldn’t take you both home together. Maybe Steve was the one with telepathy instead. Eddie’s remorseful eyes searched Steve from across the lot. Steve conceded, gesturing for Eddie to take you. He was the one that fucked up anyway. If anything he deserved to be the one that had to call a cab. Eddie shot Steve a tight-lipped smile before hopping into his van and driving off. Steve watched the van’s taillights as Eddie rolled through a stop sign, speeding off into the night.

The light in your room was off when the cab finally dropped Steve off at home. He wasn’t surprised, expecting that you’d be at Eddie's trailer, erasing the night from your thoughts with a shared joint. Steve trudged up the stairs, opening and closing his door softly behind him so he didn’t wake his parents. They’d be gone for another business trip in the morning, leaving one less thing for him to worry about tomorrow. Steve’s window was still open from earlier, allowing the cool night air to seep in. He laid back on his bed, thoughts racing in the silence. And that’s when he heard it. A soft sob, then a sniffle. A deep breath, then another sob.

Steve sat up, his gaze aimed in the direction of the sound. His eyes landed on you, sitting on the floor of your darkened room with your back against your bed. Your window was cracked open, the way you normally kept it at night, allowing the birds to wake you with their songs in the morning. Steve stood, moving towards the window. You couldn’t see him from this angle, not that you would have been able to regardless with the tears clouding your vision. Steve frowned. An ache in his chest, the same one he’d felt whenever he heard you cry, flourished within him. He wanted to comfort you. To wrap an arm around you and let cry into his chest. To tell you it would be okay and ask who’s ass he needed to kick. But he couldn’t. You weren’t friends. You hated him. And it’s not like he could kick his own ass.

He didn’t realize, didn’t even feel it, but a tear slipped down his cheek, matching the flood that crowded yours. Steve lifted his hands to rest on the window, leaning against it as his brows furrowed over the broken look on your face. He pushed down, shutting the window softly, locking it, and closing the curtains. He couldn’t listen to you cry anymore. He remembered what you said, and he didn’t want to linger. The tear rolled off Steve’s chin, drowning a little unsuspecting green soldier on the window sill below. Steve moved away from the window and laid back on his bed. He felt around his pants pocket and fished out the knotted cherry stem. Steve’s eyes roamed over it for too long before he set it aside on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard tried. In the quiet dark of his room, Steve swore he could still hear your muffled cries.

Drunk under a street light

Black and white flickered from the TV screen, illuminating the dark room that you lounged in. You were lazing on the couch, mindlessly picking at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. The movie playing across the room did nothing to pull your unfocused stare from the coffee table in front of you. It wasn’t until you received a light kick to the thigh that you could finally shifted your eyes away.

“Okay, ouch,” you glared at Robin who was lying across the couch beside you, feet practically draped across your lap. She sat up, digging her hand into the bowl of popcorn. Her perfume scent lingered in the air around you even after she pulled back. It was sweet and light like she had just finished baking a batch of sugar cookies.

“You’ve been begging me to watch Casablanca with you for months and you’re not even paying attention to it now that I actually am,” she lifted her hand towards the screen before bringing her handful of popcorn to her lips. It's true. You had been dying to get someone to watch Casablanca with you for ages. Eddie watched it once and then refused to do it again after he ended up crying at the ending. Rick Blaine’s selfless act of giving up his one true love to give her a better life brought tears to the cold-hearted boy’s eyes. He made you promise not to tell anyone, especially Dustin.

“Sorry Rob, I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you apologized, trying your best to pay attention to the movie again. You’d been zoned out for the entire first half of the movie, not that it mattered. You knew exactly what was happening on screen, given that you’d seen the movie a million times. It got to a point where Steve started keeping a copy under the counter at Family Video so there was always one available when you came in.

“Are you thinking about Steve?” Robin asked, her voice overpowering Ingrid Bergman’s as Ilsa confessed why she left Rick alone in Paris. Your head snapped towards the girl beside you and you could see the faint smirk growing on her lips.

“Why would I be thinking about Steve?” you answered her question with your own. The smirk fell from her lips then and she rolled her eyes. Robin sat up, pressing pause on the remote.

“Because he was totally jealous and caused some huge blowout fight between the two of you. And when I say huge I mean huge. It’s been over a week and you still won’t even acknowledge that he exists,” Robin explained, turning to face you better. You sighed and faced her too. You tried to avoid talking about Steve with Robin. Ever since they became friends it seemed too weird to talk shit about him in front of her.

“First of all, Steve definitely wasn’t jealous. He’s just a menace that loves to torment me,” Robin snorted a laugh but didn’t interrupt, allowing you to continue. “Second, Steve and I aren’t friends so me not talking to him for a week really isn’t that big of a deal,” Robin shrugged at that, seeing your point. “And third, how the hell do you know about all of this?” a guilty look spread across Robin’s face and you quickly realized the answer to your question. “Eddie’s got a big mouth,” Robin nodded in agreement at your words.

“I would’ve figured it out regardless. Steve’s been moping around for days. He’s really beating himself up over the whole thing,” you chuckled and Robin shot you a confused glare.

“What? I find it hard to believe that Steve Harrington even remotely cares about anything that has to do with me. Well unless it has to do with making my life a living hell,” you leaned back again, digging your hand into the popcorn bowl once more. Robin just stared at you, obviously baffled by something.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe somewhere in Steve’s caveman brain all this ‘torment’ is actually his way of expressing that he likes you?” Robin asked and repositioned the blanket that covered her lap. You stopped mid-chew, considering Robin’s words. You swallowed hard, sitting up and placing the popcorn bowl down on the couch between you.

“So what, Steve pulls my pigtails on the playground and it’s all okay just because he likes me? That’s such a toxic ideology, Rob. Not only that, but the suggestion that Steve actually likes me is insane. I mean have you heard the worm story?” you felt defensive, as if you were being attacked even though you weren't. You couldn’t understand why your heart wouldn’t stop racing at the thought of Steve liking you.

“Of course, I’ve heard the goddamn worm story,” Robin threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over the popcorn in the process. “And I didn’t say that it was a healthy way of expressing his feelings. It just might be the only way he knows how. It’s not like his parents are great role models in teaching him about love and stuff,” a quiet fell over the room while your head raced at Robin’s words. You’d been so wrapped up in your feud with Steve that you hadn’t taken the time to consider his life outside of you.

You knew Steve’s parents were pretty absent based on the lack of cars in the driveway. And it was well known across town that Mr. Harrington was an asshole, no need to grow up next door to figure that out. Steve adored his dad when he was younger, and talked about how he wanted to be just like him. But you had heard the fights that seeped through the open windows in the years that followed. The disappointment that filled Mr. Harrington’s face when he entered Steve’s bedroom and saw the movie posters lining the walls. You wondered then what Steve’s parents thought of his decision to forgo college. Whether they argued with his choice, fought with him to take a chance to change his future, or if they just accepted it, not expecting much else from their disappointing son.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Robin studied your face as you spoke. You looked lost, like you were questioning your past with Steve. After a moment the hint of a smile graced your lips and Robin furrowed her brow. “Still doesn’t mean he likes me,” you quirked as Robin sat up, grabbing another handful of popcorn.

“Oh whatever,” she launched her fistful of popcorn at you, hitting your face with the popped kernels before they fell to your lap. You retaliated, throwing popcorn back at her. The popcorn fight quickly ended when Robin picked up the bowl, dumping the rest of its contents over your head. The two of you fell into a fit of laughter while you tried, and failed, to pick the popcorn kernels from your hair. Eventually, you gave up, resting your head on Robin’s shoulder, the crunch of the popcorn sounding off as you did. Her shoulder was bony, uncomfortably stabbing your cheek with each delicate press against it, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you was very touchy-feely with each other, though you were never sure why, so it was nice to have a rare moment of intimacy. It granted you a deeper understanding of one another and a peak into the mysterious ways that each of your brains worked.

“Go to a party with me tonight?” Robin asked softly, not quite ready to leave the comfortable quiet just yet. You kept your head still on her shoulder and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

“Since when do you actively attend parties?” you questioned and Robin’s shoulder shook beneath you as she let out a gentle laugh. It was a comforting sound, like waves at the beach or rain on the pavement. That’s what Robin was to you. A comfort. Sure, Eddie was your best friend and you’d known him longer, but Robin understood you in a way that he didn’t. She controlled your chaos and balanced it with ease and truth. Robin matched your energy, knew what was best for you, and made you feel heard.

“Since Vickie asked me to go,” Robin winced out the words, anticipating your shift away from her side. Just as Robin thought, you lifted your head, turning to face her.

“So you’re not inviting me to go to a party, you’re inviting me to Third Wheel all night?” you raised your brow, eyes pouring into the girl beside you. Robin winced, shrinking into her spot on the couch. “Alright, I’ll go. Got nothing better to do anyway,” Robin cheered triumphantly at your concession, standing to go to your room and start getting ready together. You stopped her, gesturing to the popcorn that littered the couch and floor. She groaned, reluctantly helping you clean up the mess she made.

You’d walked to the party, arriving after everything was already in full swing. The sticky air reeked of weed and cheap booze as you pushed your way through the front door. It was sweltering inside the house. Sweaty bodies pressed themselves closely together on the dance floor, sipping on whatever deadly concoction resided in the punch bowl. Robin made a beeline for Vickie as soon as she walked through the door. There were familiar faces, people you knew from high school and whatnot, but no one you particularly fancied talking to. That is until you saw a mop of brown curls approaching with a black lunch box in his hands.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you called out over the boombox that was blaring music throughout the room. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to walk along with him. He guided you to the kitchen, stopping in front of a countertop littered with booze. You weighed your drink options, eventually pouring some vodka and Sprite into a solo cup, disappointed at the lack of cherry grenadine. You held up a bottle of rum pointed in Eddie’s direction, but he shook his head.

“Strictly business tonight sweetheart,” Eddie patted the lunchbox in his hands. You nodded in understanding, bringing your cup to your lips. “Where’s Buckley?” he asked, suddenly noticing the missing girl that he was sure dragged you here. You didn’t even have to speak, just pointing your finger to where Robin danced with Vickie across the room. Her hair was already a mess and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. You were about to say something else, keep your conversation with Eddie going, when he received a tap on his shoulder. It was some jock looking to make a deal. Eddie gave your hand a quick squeeze in place of goodbye and led the guy to the back of the house.

So there you were, standing alone in a crowded kitchen, regretting your decision to come in the first place. If only Nancy or Jonathan were there to keep you company, too bad they were both off at their respective colleges. Hell, you might even take Steve’s companionship at this point, because the longer you leaned against this countertop, the more boxed in you felt. What you didn’t know was that Steve was there. He thought it would be a good way to get his mind off your fight, but as he stood in the corner of this too-hot house, sipping a lukewarm beer, and listening to his old basketball teammate drone on and on about how they should’ve won the championship game their senior year, Steve realized he was wrong.

It especially didn’t help when his eyes scanned the room and somehow landed on you. You were alone, searching the room, presumably for a familiar face, when he spotted you. Luckily for Steve, you remained oblivious to his watchful gaze, giving him some time to study you since he felt like he hadn’t been able to in ages. He considered going over to you, to keep you company, but before he could even take a step, someone else approached you first. Your face dropped to a scowl at the sight of the freckled boy who now stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong Baby? Not happy to see me?” Tommy asked, a devilish grin hiding his lips. Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to move. He wanted to march over to you, drag you away from the douchebag before you, but he couldn’t will his legs to trudge across the congested room. He was never good at standing up for you, especially not to Tommy.

“Is anyone ever happy to see you?” you asked, crossing your arms and keeping a close grip on your cup. Tommy looked you up and down, hungry eyes boring into your skin. Suddenly you wished you brought a sweater to cover your bare shoulders. Steve still watched you from afar, his stomach turning at the desire that lingered in Tommy’s expression.

“There are plenty of girls around here that love when I show up,” Tommy grinned, leaning in closer. He reminded you of a shark with his teeth bared, waiting for a lowly seal to stumble into his pathway. “I could show you why if you come upstairs with me,” his lips came dangerously close to your ear, muffling the music that rattled the room.

“I’ll pass,” you grimaced at his offer. Tommy’s grin faltered and you brought your cup to your lips with a shrug, trying not to look too smug at your denial of his advances. That must have been what set Tommy over the edge. He reached up, slapping the cup from your hand, ignoring the liquid that splashed over you both. His face leaned in close as his arms caged you against the counter.

“Fuck you,” he spat, his face close to yours. “You’re just some weirdo bitch anyway,” you were scared at that point, terrified even, but you remained calm. Showing your fear would be the worst thing to do. Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he watched Tommy corner you. He took a step forward, moving in your direction.

“A weirdo bitch that won’t fuck you,” you fired back at Tommy and his face turned red with fury. Maybe poking the bear wasn’t a good idea. Suddenly someone knocked Tommy to the side, freeing you from him. You looked up, seeing a flash of red hair and someone in a striped shirt. Vickie and Robin.

“Woah man, we were spinning around and kinda lost control. Didn’t even see you there,” Robin leaned down to where Tommy now sat on the floor. She shot you a wink when he wasn’t looking. Vickie offered him a hand, but he brushed her off, standing on his own. He looked around, catching the glances of some of the partygoers, and stomped off, too embarrassed to continue trying to pursue you. Steve had made it about halfway through the crowded living room when Robin and Vickie took down Tommy in some sort of weird spin attack. He stood there now, watching as they checked over you. “You alright?” Robin asked you while Vickie inspected you for any bruises or blemishes from Tommy.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Think I’m just gonna go actually,” you looked down at your shirt, taking inventory of how damp it was from your spilled drink.

“We’ll go with you,” Vickie spoke up, taking hold of your arm as if she would guide you out. You shook your head, sliding her hand down to yours and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“No, you guys stay and have fun. I’m gonna try and hitch a ride. I’ve gotta know someone around here that’s planning on leaving soon,” you had no intentions of actually getting a ride from someone. But you knew Robin would never let you go if she knew you were going to walk home alone and you just needed to get out of there. You would ask Eddie, but you knew he needed the money he’d make from selling tonight so you didn’t want to bother him.

“Okay,” Robin nodded, granting you permission to leave. You gave her and Vickie a two-finger salute and made your way to the door. “No rides home from anyone on the basketball team. Past, present, or future. I swear all of those guys are creeps,” Robin called after you, turning a few heads as she did. You chuckled, continuing on to the door.

Steve still stood in the living room, watching the three of you closely. His eyes followed you as you trekked through the crowd to the door. Once you finally made it outside, his gaze shifted back to Robin only to find that she was already looking at him. She motioned with her head to the door, encouraging him to follow after you. So he did. Steve threw away his half-drunk beer and burst through the door. You were already halfway down the block when he got in his car and pulled up next to you.

It was cold outside, especially for early September, a chill lacing the breeze with each gust. It definitely didn’t help that your shirt was still soaked through. You saw the headlights of a car approaching behind you, brushing it off as you shivered and pulled your arms close. It took you a moment to realize that the car hadn’t passed you yet. You turned your head, suddenly facing a maroon BMW with its windows rolled down. A groan escaped your lips, but you still bent down to peer through the window. Steve’s car came to a stop, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of your exasperated face.

“You stalking me now, Harrington?” Steve let out a chuckle and a gust of wind picked up, making you shiver again.

“You wish. Come on, get in and I’ll drive us home,” he studied your face, searching for a sign that you’d agree. He couldn’t find one, your body unmoving from your spot on the sidewalk.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking. Plus Robin said no rides from anyone on the basketball team,” you shot him a sly smirk and stood up straight, continuing your walk through the neighborhood. You’d expected Steve to drive off then, leaving you to walk in peace. But he didn’t, his car followed alongside you. “What are you doing?” you asked, stopping again to see Steve through the passenger window.

“If you won’t let me drive you home, then I’ll just drive next to you,” Steve shrugged, looking up at you.

“What if I cut through someone’s backyard?” you asked and Steve shrugged again, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Then some people are gonna be really pissed to see tire tracks on their lawn,” he replied and you almost wanted to laugh at his persistence, entertained by Steve’s unwillingness to let you be alone. His smile faltered then. “You and I both know the kind of shit that lurks around Hawkins at night,” any amusement from before had slipped away. None of you mentioned the Upside Down much now, not after finally defeating Vecna. It was final, the battle that ended the war, destroying the Upside Down for good. You couldn’t help the lingering fear that you’d missed something, that one day it would all return. And here, on the sidewalk after some lame party, you realized that Steve shared that fear too.

“Ok,” you said simply, shocking Steve as you pulled on the passenger door handle and slid into the seat next to him. He waited until you buckled up before rolling up the windows and driving off. It was quiet in the car, the lingering tension of all the unspoken words swirling in the air. Steve heard the sound of your teeth chattering and your hands brushing the goosebumps on your arms. He quickly reached into the back, grabbed an old sweatshirt that sat there, and handed it to you. Normally you would’ve rejected it, your pride too inflated to accept help from Steve in any form. But it was cold, your shirt was wet, and your conversation from earlier with Robin still lingered in the forefront of your mind.

Steve didn’t expect you to take his sweatshirt so easily, replacing his hand on the wheel when he felt the weight of it lift from his palm. You pulled his sweatshirt on, reveling in the warmth it provided. It smelled like hairspray and lavender, a hint of boy mixed with the two. It smelled like Steve. Silence settled over the two of you again and Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” the words burst from within him, head turning to look at you for a moment. You looked calm and objective like Steve hadn’t even spoken in the first place. “The whole thing at The Hideout was so stupid. I don’t even know why I did that,” you looked at him then, expression still neutral. “I guess I just feel like I need to protect you and I took it too far,” your brow scrunched at that, finally giving Steve an insight into your thoughts.

“Protect me? You and Tommy tormented me for years,” anger rose in your throat. You hadn’t meant to get mad, still considering what Robin said, but Steve’s twisted claim brought it out of you in the way that only he could.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that too. I just- I just wanted to fit in, to be cool. But I realize now that none of that shit ever mattered. I mean, how important was popularity when the one person that I actually cared about couldn’t stand me?” Steve spoke and the tension in your face dropped. The one person Steve cared about? Was he talking about you? You took a deep breath, thinking over your words when the car came to a stop in front of your driveway.

“Steve,” you spoke softly, almost a whisper, like the breeze rattling through the trees. “I can’t just forget about all of it because you’ve abruptly changed. I can’t just decide to be your friend all of a sudden. You hurt me, for a long time. Hell, you still do,” Steve winced, wanting to turn back time to when you were five, when nothing bad had happened to you yet and things were much simpler.

“I know,” Steve’s head sunk, his chest aching with each passing second.

“I just,” you stopped, jumbled thoughts bouncing around your head. “I just think it’s easier when we keep ourselves apart. It doesn’t hurt as much that way,” the streetlights above reflected the swelling tears in your eyes as they threatened to spill. You hadn’t meant to cry, and you surely didn’t want to. Steve understood your sentiments. Being around you only reminded him of how it could’ve been if he hadn’t tried so hard to fit in. If he hadn’t screwed it all up.

“But maybe we could try. Try to be friends,” the words surprised Steve as they left his lips. They came out far bolder than he felt capable of being at the moment. “Group settings, public places. Baby steps, you know?” Steve tried to stop the hope building in his chest, too worried about the damage it would do if you said no. But you didn’t.

“Maybe,” you said in a whisper, a tear finally tracking down your cheek. A soft smile slipped over Steve’s lips, the same one he wore around you as a kid. The same smile you saw before he traipsed over the hill, leaving you on the sidewalk with the worms. Your lips twitched upwards for a second before you pulled the door handle and exited the car.

The feeling of hope now took full form, blossoming in Steve’s chest, filling every crack and crevice between his ribs. He watched you walk up to your front door, still wearing his sweatshirt, slipping inside your house with a small wave in Steve’s direction. Steve put the car back in gear, pulling into his driveway next door. He shut the car off and leaned back in his seat, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. Maybe. He could work with maybe.

You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding

Eddie’s van was a mess. Your legs brushed against fast food wrappers while cigarette butts covered the floor, crunching under your sneakers. It smelled like weed and sweat with a hint of the black ice air freshener that you forced him to buy a while ago. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as Eddie made a right turn out of your neighborhood.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, shifting to look at Eddie. He had his hair pulled up into a messy bun that you insisted on doing for him. It was a rare and rather unwelcome hairstyle for the metalhead, but it was well warranted for the occasion.

“Because Buckley wants to learn how to play basketball and Harrington asked for my help,” Eddie shrugged, approaching a stop sign and making a left. You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air from your chest.

“But you hate basketball,” you groaned, wondering why Robin would even want to learn how to play in the first place.

“Yes, but they’re my friends and they asked for my help, so my help they shall receive,” normally you would have laughed at Eddie’s goofiness, but the thought of being around Steve loomed over your head. You still hadn’t seen each other since the party, just glimpses through bedroom windows. It was hard to say where either of you stood with each other. Becoming friends seemed like an impossible feat on your part, too stuck in the past to care about the potential future.

“Okay, so why am I included in this? Steve didn’t ask for my help,” you pulled your feet from the trash-covered floor, finally sick enough of how the garbage touched your ankles. Your feet rested on the seat and you hugged your knees close to your chest. Your head sat atop them, watching Eddie closely with narrow eyes, trying to figure out if this was some scheme to get you near Steve.

“Each team needs two players, Baby. Kind of hard to play a two v. two with only three people,” you let out another groan and Eddie smirked in response, knowing you couldn’t refute him anymore. He made a sharp right turn, pulling up to the outdoor basketball courts that sat behind the high school. Eddie turned off the engine and tapped your knee. It was his way of telling you to get out of the car and lock your door behind you. The two of you began your walk over and could just barely make out three figures through the holes in the chain link fence that surrounded the basketball courts.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear athletic shorts before. I might pass out at the sight of your legs,” you said to Eddie as the two of you walked through the gate, entering the basketball court. You barely had time to accentuate your comment with a smirk before Eddie leaned in close.

“Reel it in, Baby. Best not to flirt with me in front of Harrington. Wouldn’t want to risk him getting jealous again,” your face grew hot at Eddie’s comment, the thought of a jealous Steve stirring something deep in the pit of your stomach, something like desire. Eddie donned a stupid smile as you approached Robin, Steve, and Lucas in the middle of the court.

“What’s up with you?” Steve asked, noticing your flustered appearance. Your eyes darted back over to Eddie, who continued to wear the same shit-eating grin as before.

“Nothing, just ready to play some basketball,” you deflected and Steve nodded, covering the basic rules of the game. Lucas was acting as the referee for the match, making it feel much more intense than it should have. That’s probably why you took it so seriously, covering Robin as if your life depended on it. Steve won the tip-off, sending the ball back to Robin. She caught it and began to dribble towards the basket. She looked like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time as she made her way up the court, nearly smacking the ball away from herself in the process. You used it to your advantage, managing to grab the ball from her, dribbling up the opposite side of the court, and scoring a basket from the three-point line. Steve retaliated after that, shooting his own shot and tying the score. It continued like that for a bit, Eddie and Robin eventually gave up on trying to cover the both of you, which was how you ended up in front of Steve, desperately attempting to block his shot.

“Worried you’re gonna miss?” you taunted as Steve dribbled in front of you, your back to the basket. A cocky smirk overtook his lips then, bringing the ball up to shoot. It would’ve gone in too, if you hadn’t smacked it out of the air, stealing it for yourself. You sprinted down the court towards the other basket with Steve hot on your trail. He managed to get in front of you and you turned your back towards him, protecting the ball in the meantime before you could get a clear shot. “Come on, Harrington. I thought you were the team captain back in high school. Figured you’d be better than this,” you knew it was dangerous, teasing him in such a flirty way, but it was all in good fun, right?

“Oh, I’ll show you, Baby,” Steve practically whispered into your ear, his chest pressing against your back. If you weren’t so focused on beating Steve you would’ve felt the goosebumps that littered your spine. Steve’s arms came up to circle you, so you moved, pivoting to take your shot and knocking Steve out of the way in the process. He lost his balance as the ball left your fingertips. You felt Steve’s hands find your torso as you watched the ball tip into the basket, dragging you down with him as he fell. Your shirt had ridden up when you made your shot, causing Steve’s fingers to brush against your bare skin. It felt like you were falling in slow motion until you finally landed hard on top of Steve, your back flush to his chest.

Pain shot up your sides as Steve’s fingernails scraped against the semi-healed scars that resided there. You got up quickly, not taking the time to register your pain, lifting your shirt again to see that the wounds had broken open on both sides. It took Steve a second to get up after hitting the ground so hard. The others rushed toward the two of you, but your eyes landed on Steve, his gaze already honed in on the fresh blood pooling on your skin. His hands came down to his own torso, feeling the scarred flesh that matched yours.

After everything was said and done, the dust settled and Vecna gone for good, there was only the matter of medical care to worry about. Eddie was mostly unscathed, with a few bat bites here and there, but nothing some disinfectant and band-aids couldn’t fix. Lucas was sure to have a swollen eye, cuts, and bruises after fighting Jason. Max was delivered to the hospital where the doctors said she would make a full recovery but might need a pair of glasses. Which just left you and Steve. You had jumped in right after him at Lover’s Lake, fighting your way through the water as he was tugged deeper below. When you popped out of the gate mere seconds after him, the bats swarmed you too. It wasn’t until Nancy appeared, oar in hand, that you managed to escape the feeling of the bat’s teeth sinking into your skin.

The bats had gotten you good, doing just as much damage to you as they had to Steve. When the fight was over and everyone was safely right-side-up, you refused to get medical care, worried that you’d be poked and prodded while Owens’ doctors tried to study your wounds. Steve refused too, unwilling to be treated unless you were first, not that you knew that.

Robin and Eddie insisted on staying with the two of you to make sure nothing bad happened in the middle of the night. But you said no, pointing out that Eddie needed to stay hidden until his name was cleared. Not to mention that you just wanted to be alone after the strenuousness of the previous few days. You assured Robin and Eddie that your parents would take care of you if anything happened, same with Steve. They reluctantly agreed, dropping you and Steve off in front of your house, leaving the two of you to go your separate ways.

You were about to trudge up the lawn and enter your house, thinking about finally being able to sleep, when you caught sight of Steve’s empty driveway. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that his parents were out of town, and he hadn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Robin either. Steve had already started walking towards his house when you called his name.

“You didn’t say that your parents weren’t home,” you jogged up to him, wincing at the pain that shot up your side. Steve shrugged, also looking desperate for a decent night of sleep. Steve turned around again, continuing towards his house, leaving you on his lawn. You started following him until he saw you from the corner of his eye and stopped again.

“What are you doing?” the words sounded twisted as they fell from his lips, the same venom you expected from the boy who bullied you for years. Your face grew hot with anger, suddenly wondering if you should just turn back around and retreat to your house.

“You can’t be alone tonight, not when you’re in such bad shape,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to come across firmly in an attempt to discourage Steve from arguing with you. He simply raised a brow in question.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he moved to turn on his heel again, to scale his front steps and enter the cold empty house before him. But your arm shot out, landing on his arm and stopping him in his tracks. Steve froze, mind racing at the feel of your skin against his. He couldn’t remember the last time you touched him, given that you usually kept your distance whenever he was near.

“Steve, I can’t leave you alone in good conscience. If you bleed out and die, that’s on me,” you spoke the words quietly, almost sounding embarrassed to have to say them at all. Steve studied you, eyes roaming over your face. The walls you kept up around him seemingly fell in that moment as he caught sight of the worry hidden deep in your gaze. He nodded then, giving in and leading you to his front door, trying not to look visibly upset when your hand no longer held him.

The house was just as you remembered from when you were a kid. Clean and organized, everything in its designated place. It always frightened you back then, a house so pristine that it didn’t look like anyone could possibly live there. You followed Steve as he ascended the staircase, both of you winded and clutching your wounds when you got to the top. Steve showered in the bathroom attached to his room, offering you a towel and clean clothes before sending you off to the guest bathroom.

The hot water pulsed down on you, blood and grime swirling around the drain at your feet. The water seared your skin with each drop, but you didn’t mind, hoping the sweltering heat would rid you of the horrors you’d witnessed within the past few days. The sight of Eddie being tackled to the ground by a swarm of bats. The sound of Steve’s screams as his flesh was torn open. Your own wails of pain as the bats did the same to you a few feet away. Max’s broken limbs and unfocused eyes as Lucas held her in his arms on the way to the hospital.

You turned the shower off, unwilling to let your thoughts run rampant anymore. You were careful when drying off, avoiding your wounds to keep blood from soiling Mrs. Harrington’s stark white towels. She’d be sure to have a fit at the sight of a stain. You dressed quickly, pulling Steve’s old shirt and baggy sweatpants on. There wasn’t a first aid kit in the guest bathroom, so you headed back to Steve’s room, holding your shirt away from your body to avoid getting blood on it. You knocked gently on Steve’s bedroom door and it only took a moment for him to open it for you.

His hair was wet, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. He was shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as water dripped down his hairy chest. Your eyes lingered there for a moment before trailing to the bandages wrapped around his torso. Steve’s eyes followed yours, landing on the gauze tied tightly to his skin.

“I seem to get the shit beat out of me anytime something like this happens,” he used his towel to gently pat his hair dry. “I’ve gotten pretty good at patching myself up,” Steve shrugged, hanging the towel on the back of his bathroom door.

“Can you do mine?” you asked quietly, lifting your shirt to reveal your wounds. Steve’s gaze flickered down to them, blood from each gash threatening to spill down your sides. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of your exposed skin. It was dumb, just your stomach on display, but it took Steve a second to contain himself. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, memories of your bare skin seen on the few occasions that you forgot to close your curtains before changing. Steve always looked away, but the flashes of your skin were seared into his brain. He nodded in response to your question, going into the bathroom with you trailing behind him. He told you to sit on the counter, pulling out the first aid kit from the cabinet next to your dangling legs. Steve wiped each wound with an antiseptic wipe, cleaning the area and sopping up the thin blood that surrounded it. His hands were gentle and soft like he was afraid to touch you, to break you.

“Hold this,” Steve placed a gauze pad on one of the wounds, his fingers guiding your hand to rest over it, holding it in place. He ignored the tingle in his fingers as his skin brushed yours, moving on to place another pad over the other blemish. Your hand came up automatically, holding it in place without Steve having to tell you again. He unraveled the rest of the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your waist, softly brushing your hands away when he no longer needed you to hold the pads in place. Steve circled it around you a few times, finally securing the gauze tightly in place with a swift knot.

“Thank you, Steve,” you whispered, his face close to yours. Steve hummed in response, letting his eyes drift to your lips for a moment too long before pulling himself away and packing up the first aid kit. He returned it to the cabinet, his shoulder brushing your leg in the process, sending chills down his spine.

Steve stood then, opening the linen closet by the door, searching for a blanket to give you in case the guest room got too cold. You were tired, to the point of exhaustion really, longing to lay your head against a soft pillow. But fear came creeping in, the demons in your closet, or the demogorgons rather, holding your mind hostage. The fears controlled you then, in combination with the exhaustion, speaking words from your lips that you otherwise wouldn’t have even considered muttering.

“Can I sleep in here? With you?” when you were first dropped off all you could think about was finally being alone, but as you sat there now, Steve's clothes covering your skin, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Steve froze, and his quest to find a blanket quickly halted. He looked up at you, taking in the heavy bags under your eyes, the weight of the past few days slumping your shoulders forward. He knew under normal circumstances that you never would have asked, and probably couldn’t have even stood being in the same room as him for more than two minutes, but these weren’t normal circumstances. And he would take what he could get.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed,” Steve turned to the linen closet once more, searching for a blanket for himself this time. He heard you slide off the counter, thinking you’d brush past him and get into his bed, but you didn’t. You stopped next to him, pulling Steve’s focus to you.

“You can’t sleep on the floor. What if you bleed out? I’d never know if you were down there. At least not until the morning,” Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, ceasing your seemingly endless babble. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring back at Steve with a worried brow.

“Okay,” he agreed, trying to calm himself, the jitters of being so close to you creeping in. “We’ll both sleep in my bed,” his hands fell to his sides and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Steve left the bathroom, turning out the light as he did. You slid into Steve’s bed, the sheets pulled up around you as Steve switched off his lamp. The bed dipped beside you from Steve’s weight. You went to roll over, trying to face him, but you were met with pain, gasping and clutching your side with a hiss. Steve shot up, trying to help you but only injuring himself with his sharp movement in the process. You couldn’t help but laugh as you both settled down onto your backs.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you mumbled and Steve chuckled beside you. The room was dark, filled with the scent of a burned-out candle, Steve's lavender-scented shampoo, dirty laundry, and something else inherently Steve. Your eyes watched the ceiling, lying in silence next to the boy you supposedly hated. He rustled around beside you, trying to get comfortable. In a normal situation, you would’ve snapped at him for moving the bed so much, but right now you found it amusing. After another minute of restless movement, he let out a groan.

“I normally sleep on my stomach, but this shit makes it impossible,” annoyance laced his tone as he referred to the bat bites lining the front of his stomach. Your head turned in his direction, silently taking in his side profile, his sharp nose, and long eyelashes. He almost looked normal if you ignored the angry ring of red flesh lining his neck.

“I’m a side sleeper,” you spoke softly, Steve’s head turning towards your voice. For some reason, he liked hearing more about you, even if it was just something as silly as how you normally slept. “I’m in the same boat as you, Harrington,” the wounds on your sides making it impossible to lay that way. Steve could just make out the shadows of your face in the dim light. The curve of your lips, the arch of your brow, the tip of your nose. He thought you looked beautiful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the bats from getting you,” your lip quivered then, tears welling in your eyes as you lived up to your crybaby nickname. You weren’t sure where the burst of emotion came from, chalking it up to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon you. Steve lifted his head, his hand coming up to brush away your tears.

“Are you kidding? You jumped in right after me. If you hadn’t been there I would’ve been dead in less than a minute. You distracted some of them. I would’ve been bat food if not for you. If anyone’s sorry it should be me,” you shook your head and Steve’s hand came down to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against it gently as he spoke. Why were you letting him hold you like this? Why did it feel so comforting? You sniffled, trying to stop your tears from falling. “Baby, you saved me. I need you to know that,” you nodded at his reassurance, too choked up still to use your words. Your eyes were heavy by then, the lack of sleep weighing in on you even more.

“I'm glad I went through that gate then,” you mumbled, words barely audible through your sleep-slurred speech. With the last of your energy, you moved, rolling onto your stomach, the wounds on your sides untouched by the mattress. Steve followed your lead, moving onto his side, and facing you. His arm draped across you, careful to avoid your wounds, and a soft sigh left your lips as your eyes slowly closed. Your breath evened out soon after, slowed inhales and exhales taking over. Steve’s fingers found the bulge of the cotton pads on your side, tracing across them gently, a comforting gesture that you’d never know about. He wished he had superpowers, the ability to heal you with just a touch. But he didn’t, so he’d do this instead, easing your pain with a soft touch while you slept.

When you woke in the morning you had the overwhelming urge to pee. You slid gently from Steve’s embrace, somehow managing to get even closer to him during the night. You tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. The large mirror covering the wall taunted you when you finished, urging you to take a peek beneath the gauze. You caved, hands gently pushing the gauze to the side. The bleeding had stopped and the gashes already started looking better. It was curious how well they had cleared up overnight, but you just shrugged, used to the strangeness of the supernatural by now. You climbed back into bed with Steve after putting the bandages back into place. You wanted another minute of peace, a moment, maybe the last of its kind, when you and Steve didn’t hurt each other. When Steve Harrington was still the boy you knew, not the one you’d grown to loathe.

“Shit Steve, seriously?” You winced as the blood began to trickle down your skin. “It’s a basketball game, not tackle football,” you lost your balance for a moment, Lucas’ arms shooting up to steady you. Steve stood speechless, incapable of fathoming how his hands did so much harm to you. The skin had never quite healed right, you suppose, more fragile than most other places on your body. “Eddie, can you take me home,” you asked, trying to keep your shirt from getting wet with blood, knowing your shorts were a lost cause with scarlet droplets already pooling at the waistband. Eddie nodded quickly, rushing to your side as if he had to carry you to the van.

“I can take you. I mean, I live next door. I’ll clean you up,” Steve suddenly was able to find words, knocked out of his stupor. He moved towards you then, but you raised your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I asked Eddie,” you spoke with a glare, already walking toward the court’s exit. Eddie shot Steve a sympathetic look before following behind you. Robin lifted her hand to comfortingly pat Steve’s back while his mouth fell slightly agape. You got into the van with a wince and Eddie closed the door for you. Robin, Steve, and Lucas were filing off the court then. Steve’s head was down while he unlocked his car. Eddie turned the keys in the ignition, started the van, and began to pull out of the lot.

It was an accident, you knew that, so why did it frustrate you so much? The same hands that once held yours as children now were the ones to lacerate your skin. Maybe it was the ache you buried deep inside, the one you’d never been able to alleviate, the pain Steve perpetuated for years. The one you hadn’t been able to forgive him for no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you wanted to. He left you, tossed you aside like you were some old sweater discarded beneath his bed, like you were nothing. It seemed never-ending like you’d never escape his harmful grasp. You wanted to be five again when the world seemed so much kinder and you loved Steve Harrington. Maybe the latter was still true, maybe that’s why he scarred you more than the others ever had.

As Eddie drove towards the exit, your gaze drifted up, landing on Steve. Robin and Lucas had already gotten into Steve’s car, but he stood outside of it, arms resting on the crook between the car’s roof and the door. His eyes followed you through the van window as Eddie sped away. A strange look overtook Steve’s face, one you couldn’t quite read. It was the look of a boy that never wanted to hurt you, but somehow constantly did.

I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs

The sun hid behind the clouds, peaks of light streaming through the cracks in the sky. Tires rolled against the pavement, making their way across town. The radio was low in the car, some Fleetwood Mac song lulling softly through the air. Your car was old, covered in dents and scratches, with windows that only opened halfway and an engine that grumbled with each press to the gas pedal. Even though your parents offered to help you buy a new one, a more reliable form of transportation, you refused. This car held too many memories in its stained cloth seats. Your first kiss in the backseat, jam sessions with Eddie, driving Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to the science fair where they finally got first place again. You couldn’t let it go, not yet, not while it still had some life in it. You knew how much it sucked to be abandoned.

The tires screeched and squealed as you turned into the Family Video parking lot. You pulled into a space near the front of the store, dim headlights shutting off when you pulled the keys from the ignition. Robin had told you she was working today, but as you looked around you were unable to find her bike in its normal place on the bike rack. You did however spot a maroon BMW parked near the back of the lot. That lying bitch. A sigh fell from your lips, eyes closing at the thought of seeing Steve. It had been two days since the basketball incident and you had been sure to keep your distance. Steve’s sorry eyes peeked through bedroom windows and only made you feel guilty for getting mad at him in the first place. But you couldn’t stall this any longer, the movies were due today and you’d be pissed if you got another late fee. So you grabbed the tapes from the passenger seat, holding them close to your chest as you closed your car door and walked through the entrance to Family Video.

Steve stood hunched over the counter, the same way he normally did when the store was empty like it was now. His eyes were glued to the magazine that rested on the counter before him. It was a Cosmopolitan. He was ashamed to admit that he was searching its pages for tips on how to get back in your good graces. So far he was coming up short, but he still skimmed through it anyway. The bell rang above the door, signaling to Steve that a customer had entered.

“Welcome to Family Video. My name’s Steve. Let me know if you need help with anything,” the words spilled from Steve’s lips automatically, his gaze still glued to the magazine. It took Steve a moment to register the silence he received in response, brushing it off as another inconsiderate customer. At least that’s what he thought until a stack of tapes slammed down on the counter beside him. Steve looked up then, seeing you standing across from him with raised eyebrows. Your eyes trailed down to Steve’s magazine, and his gaze followed yours. In less than a second, Steve had slid the magazine off the counter, quickly tossing behind him. You simply blinked, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as the magazine crashed to the floor.

“I want to return some tapes,” you couldn’t help the smirk that remained as you spoke, pushing the stack of video tapes in front of the boy. Steve nodded, picking up the first tape and scanning it back into the system. “What were you reading there, Harrington?” he could hear your smile through your amused tone, refusing to meet your eyes as he continued to scan your tapes.

“Sports Illustrated,” Steve lied, ignoring the way your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, clutching your sides as giggles poured from your throat. Your laughter was contagious, causing a few chuckles to spring out of Steve too.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you composed yourself, finally ceasing your giggles, but the smile remained taut on your lips. Steve handed over your receipt for the returned tapes, expecting you to leave after clutching it in your hands, but you didn’t. Your feet drifted over to the movie-lined aisles and Steve couldn’t help but follow, tripping over his discarded magazine in the process.

Eventually, you stopped in front of a shelf, Steve watched the way you studied your options. When one finally caught your attention you leaned up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. Your shirt rode up in the process, revealing the large bandages that covered the wounds on your sides. Steve’s heart dropped, the memories of the basketball game, the whole reason he had been reading that stupid magazine in the first place, flooded his mind. Just as your fingers brushed the front of the tape, seconds from getting ahold of it, Steve’s hand lifted it instead, offering it to you.

“Thanks,” you said sincerely, only then noticing the kicked puppy look on Steve’s face. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Steve beat you to it.

“I’m so sorry about the other day. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away,” Steve’s gaze drifted to the ground, missing the pity that swelled in your eyes. “I’m sorry this shit keeps happening. It’s just that when I’m with you I can’t seem to function like a normal person,” he lifted his head then, catching a glimpse of emotion in your expression. Regret? Or is it that underlying anger you saved just for him?

“It’s fine, Steve,” you assured him, but the boy wasn’t comforted. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you didn’t let him. “Dude, I’m sick of hearing you apologize. It's fine. If anything I should apologize for being such a bitch about it. It was an accident, let’s move on,” Steve eyed you, unsure whether you were messing with him or not. But you were serious, hoping that the old Steve still lived within the boy in front of you, and that one day you could make amends. Maybe this was the first step, and if that meant forgiving him for something he accidentally did, then so be it. “Check me out?” you asked, holding the tape up for Steve to see. He nodded, going back behind the counter. He reached down, grabbing a copy of Casablanca from under the counter and placing it next to the movie you had just picked out, but you shook your head.

“You don’t want it?” Steve asked, suddenly wondering if you had been kidnapped and replaced by a clone. That was the only logical explanation for your behavioral change towards both him and your favorite movie.

“Kinda bored of complicated romances at the moment. Maybe another day,” Steve slid the movie back under the counter, keeping it there in case you changed your mind. “I heard this one was good though,” you gesture to the copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that you had picked out.

“Yeah, Robin said that she thinks I’d like it. Haven’t had a chance to watch it yet though,” Steve scanned the tape, fixing his gaze on the computer, where he typed in the code for his employee discount. He did it every time you came in during his shift, thinking he was sly and that you’d never noticed, but you caught on a while ago. It came to light after a rousing argument with Robin about how she had been overcharging you.

You pulled a few crumpled bills from your purse, handing them over to Steve. He waited, knowing you were now going to dig around your purse until you found some coins, never willing to pay with anything other than exact change. After a few seconds, you pulled the coins out, two quarters, a dime, and three pennies. You placed them gently in Steve’s extended hand. His palm tingled with the brush of your fingers, quickly sorting the coins to alleviate the sensation. He handed you the bag with your tape when he finished putting your change away. With a small smile, you turned, heading back towards the door you entered through. Just as you were about to place your hand on the large handle and push it open, you stopped. Steve, who had been watching as you walked away, felt that dreaded sense of hope again, the one he felt so often when you were near.

“What time do you get done here?” Steve’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by your question. His mouth opened, fumbling for words as he checked his watch.

“Thirty-two minutes. Why?” you chuckled at his sudden nervousness. Maybe he really had come a long way from his days as King Steve. King Steve never would’ve struggled like this when talking to a girl.

“Do you want to watch this with me?” you held up the bag that housed the Ferris Bueller VHS, extending an olive branch. Steve’s response was immediate like he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes,” it was a simple answer, but you just nodded in return, a shy smile creasing the corners of your mouth. “We can watch it at my place. My TV is bigger,” Steve smirked, regaining his charming and flirty tone, the one you’d gotten so familiar with as a result of all the teasing. You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, smile still cresting your lips, and pushed your way through the exit.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you called out behind you, repeating the same words from earlier. Steve laughed, watching your retreating figure, the sway of your hips, and the swell of your ass. He looked at his watch again, still displaying the same time as when he had checked just moments before. Steve groaned into his hands. This was going to be the longest thirty-two minutes of his life.

You were enveloped in a book, sitting on your window bench when a light tap sounded off next to you. Thinking it was just the old house creaking or something, you ignored it, eyes scanning the next page. That’s when it happened again, and again, and again. You pulled back your curtains and flung open the window only to narrowly avoid getting smacked in the face by a pebble.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve swore, his cheeks turning red with guilt and embarrassment. He was standing below your window, pebbles spilling out of his hand. A week or two ago, hell maybe even a few days ago, you would’ve gone off on him, screaming about nearly hurting you and potentially damaging your window. But now, you just smiled, taking in the sight of the boy next door. Only Steve Harrington could make a romantic gesture nearly turn into a trip to the hospital. “I tried to leave you a message, but your curtains were closed,” you glanced over to his window, spotting the piece of loose leaf taped to it with the words ‘come over?’ scrawled in black ink.

“Give me two seconds,” you pulled your head back inside, closing the window behind you. As you did, a few of the army men on your window sill fell on their sides, no longer facing the window across the gap between two houses. Snagging the video tape from your desk, you ran down the steps, stopping in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway. Why did you suddenly care how your hair looked around Steve? Brushing off the thought, you continued, opening the front door to be met by the boy next door.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, following as he turned towards his house. You walked closely behind him, catching a whiff of hairspray, lavender, and cologne. Steve led you to the rec room in the basement, which housed the largest television in the Harrington residence. You handed him the tape and he slid it into the VCR before settling on the couch, a good two feet from where you sat. Neither of you mentioned the distance, just watching the movie and laughing at Ferris’ goofy antics.

As the movie progressed a chill ran through you, goosebumps prickling your skin. The Harrington’s seemingly liked to keep their basement ice cold. Steve noticed and pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. He laid it on his lap, extending the end of it towards you. You accepted his silent invitation, closing the gap and sitting close with the blanket wrapped around the two of you. The rest of the movie was spent that way, thighs brushing against one another when either of you moved.

When the credits finally ended, with Ferris Bueller in his bathrobe disappearing from the screen one last time, you felt at ease. You hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable with Steve, but it was almost a relief that you managed to get through a whole movie without wanting to kill him.

“That was so good. Robin was totally right, I loved it. I'm basically Ferris Bueller so it makes sense I guess,” Steve shrugged and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that bloomed from your lips at his comment. Steve turned to look at you, a brow arched in confusion at your humor. “What?” he asked bluntly, a hint of amusement on his face.

“You would think that you’re Ferris,” you spoke, looking smug. Steve's lips stretched into a daring grin, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Okay, if I’m not Ferris then who am I?” Steve leaned in close and you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder.

“It’s so obvious that you’re Cameron. Sure, the people that don’t know you that well might think you’re Ferris, but I know you Steve Harrington, and you’re Cameron fully and completely,” your grin widened with Steve’s look of exasperation. His hand flew to his chest in mock offense.

“What the hell makes me Cameron?” his words still had the air of joviality behind them despite his faux wounded front. The corner of your lips faltered then, suddenly reluctant to divulge more about your characterization of the boy before you. You didn’t want to tell him what he already knew, that he and Cameron shared a strained relationship with their fathers, both all too afraid of disappointing the men who raised them. That up until recently both boys took all the shit that their fathers gave them, too freighted to stand up to them. You didn’t want to say any of it, which was fine because Steve already knew. From the second Cameron appeared on the screen, the voice in the back of Steve’s head pointed out each similarity that they shared. Silence settled over the two of you, smiles fading in the quiet room.

“If it makes you feel better,” you began, voice small and fingers fidgeting on your lap. Steve wanted to reach over and grab them, encase your fingers with his, but he restrained himself. “Cameron was my favorite character in the movie,” you nodded towards the TV screen that now reflected a blank blue shadow over the pair of you. Steve observed your bashful demeanor, thinking about how cute you looked when you got all shy.

“You would definitely be Jeanie,” Steve asserted, breaking through the uncomfortable quiet. Your jaw dropped at the comparison and the smile returned to Steve’s lips at your reaction.

“Ferris’s bitchy sister?” Steve nodded and you shoved him again. He righted himself, continuing to make his point.

“I mean, come on, it’s so obvious,” Steve repeated your words from earlier and you shook your head. “You’re both a little crazy in a hot way. Not to mention you both go for bad boys,” you glared at Steve, but he could tell you weren’t actually mad.

“I’m not into bad boys, asshole,” you defended and Steve’s smirk grew, his rebuttal already concocted in his head.

“Oh really? So it wasn’t you that hooked up with Billy Hargrove at Tina’s Halloween party two years ago?” your jaw dropped again, and Steve’s snickering filled the air. He reached over, pressing your chin up to close your mouth. You brushed his hand off of you in confusion.

“How the hell do you know about that?” you asked, confusion and curiosity coursing through your thoughts. “Did Eddie tell you? I swear to god I’m never telling him anything ever again,” you crossed your arms, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Hargrove used to brag about it to me and try to rub it in my face,” Steve informed you and your face wrinkled, filled with questions. “I guess he thought that it would make me mad since you and I used to be friends or whatever,” Steve shrugged, no longer smiling. He watched you, unsure how you would react to his explanation.

“Did it?” you questioned, and Steve shrugged again. He didn’t want to tell you that it did, that it took every fiber of his being to restrain himself from punching the blond boy’s stupid face.

“A little,” Steve lied and another silence fell over the room, but it wasn’t as tense this time. Steve waited a moment before speaking again, watching the way you avoided his gaze. “Why’d you even hook up with him? I thought you hated him,” Steve’s voice was quiet, unwilling to break through the low noise barrier that settled between you.

“You stole my copy of Pride and Prejudice,” you let out a sigh, gaze shifting to your hands that rested in your lap again. Steve’s brow furrowed, confused about the correlation between his question and your response. “It was the copy my grandma gave me when I was 11. I had notes in the margins on just about every page. You took it from my bag in homeroom the day before the party and refused to give it back,” Steve knew what you were talking about. He couldn’t remember why he took it, but he knew that he still had it, tucked away in his closet, in a spot that only he could find.

“But what does that have to do with Billy?” Steve still didn’t understand. Your hands ran over your face as you let out a sigh.

“You hated him and he hated you. I figured the enemy of my enemy was my friend, which wasn’t true by the way. I was super pissed about the book and a little tipsy. I needed to blow off some steam, so one thing led to another and we hooked up in his car after the party,” you were ashamed of it, regret filling you the second it was over. “I didn’t know that he was such a douchebag when it happened. If I had known how badly he treated Max and Lucas then I never would’ve done it,” you explained, still unable to meet Steve’s gaze, embarrassed by your past. Steve’s hand extended, tilting your chin with his finger, allowing your eyes to finally meet his.

“I shouldn't have taken your book, Baby,” Steve whispered and you gave him a soft smile in return. The nickname rang through the air and reverberated off the walls. Hearing it didn’t bother you for some reason. For the first time in years, the word didn’t sting as it fell from Steve’s lips. Maybe the tide finally turned, the war nearly over. It gave you a sense of courage, making you brave enough to let your next question out in the open.

“When Billy bragged about it, what did he say?” Steve was taken aback, wondering why you would want to know. Billy’s words were far from nice, if anything they were disrespectful and an invasion of privacy. But the way you looked at Steve now told him that you genuinely wanted to know, needed to know.

“It was really depraved stuff, like how your body felt against him,” Steve started and you nodded, motioning with your hands for him to continue. “He said you would start to breathe heavily when he kissed your neck. That you did this thing with your tongue when you kissed that felt insanely good. He said you moaned his name like it was made just for you to say it. That your thighs shook when you…” Steve trailed off, face flushed and unwilling to finish his sentence. He had started speaking slower with each sentence, despite the racing of his heart. The tension floated thick in the air, crowding the room and making it way too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. Steve wasn’t sure when his hand had dropped to your lap, brushing between your legs from over the blanket.

Your eyes were glued to Steve’s, unaware of the distance that disappeared between you with each passing second. His breath mingled with yours, tingling against your skin. Your tongue darted out, bringing moisture to your dry lips. The heat between your thighs ached to be relieved, wishing Steve’s hand would travel higher up your thigh as his jeans tightened at the sight of your gaze alone. The blue from the TV screen that coated the room disappeared as your eyes fluttered shut. Both sets of lips were centimeters from meeting in the middle when the VCR popped out the tape, landing with a loud smack on the ground. Steve had leaned on the remote while moving closer toward you, accidentally pressing the eject button. He knew he needed to fix the VCR, worried about its tendency to spit out tapes rather than the slow half push it was supposed to do, but he’d put it off, too tired after a long day of work. You broke apart at the sound, creating more distance as you moved the blanket from your legs and scrambled back, Steve’s hand falling into the now empty space. Neither of you could look up at the other.

“I wish we stayed friends when we were in middle school,” Steve said after a long span of silence. He never wanted to be your enemy, never wanted to drive you into the arms of an undeserving man. Your eyes met then, his were glassy, which was something you hadn’t expected.

“Yeah, me too,” your voice was small but sure, words speaking nothing but the truth. You didn’t remind him why you weren’t, something you would’ve done a week ago. Instead, you sat in agreement, pondering how different your life would be.

“I wonder what would've changed,” he spoke. It was soft, almost a whisper, and you longed to be close to him again. To feel his words fan across your lips instead of the empty space beside you. “If I would’ve been friends with Tommy, if I would’ve dated Nancy, if we’d be off at a college somewhere instead of this shithole town,” Steve was louder now, melancholy mixed with underlying anger. Even if you were finally able to be friends now, Steve couldn’t help but think about the time he missed out on with you and all the other lingering what-ifs.

“We could still get out one day. Leave the teen angst and trauma behind,” you sounded normal again, reassuring to Steve’s overactive thoughts. “Maybe we could go together,” Steve’s heart leaped out of his chest at your words, but he reeled it back in. It was still new, being able to talk without words slicing into the other’s skin. You looked at him with anticipatory eyes, awaiting his response.

“Just give me the signal Baby and we can be out of here before sunrise,” Steve extended his hand, this was a deal to shake on, a long-term agreement that one day you’d run away together. You grinned, accepting his outstretched hand, wondering about where you’d go. Considering if you were in love with Steve Harrington, if you always had been. Dying to know if he was in love with you too.

A friend to all is a friend to none

Autumn had officially begun, a chill in the air that persuaded the orange leaves to tumble from the trees. It was your favorite time of year, though you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that swelled in your heart at the thought of leaving the warm summer sun behind. Eddie insisted that you come to visit him at work, his desperation ringing out through the static of the phone. After a few minutes of groveling, you caved and agreed to go, which is how you ended up banished to the backseat of Steve’s car on the way to the record store on main street. Robin had called shotgun, but you didn’t mind, having the entire backseat to yourself and stretching out your legs. Steve’s car smelled like pine trees and leather, hairspray and cologne, as it rolled along the pavement.

Steve pulled up to a parking spot in front of the record store, placing his hand on the passenger seat headrest as he threw the car in reverse. He turned his head towards the car’s rear, watching carefully as he backed into a spot, shooting you a wink before he faced the front again. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread over your cheeks, feeling like a bumbling schoolgirl with a crush. Ever since your movie night, your almost kiss, things had been different with Steve. Sure, there was still some teasing and the typical dirty innuendos, but it didn’t sting the way it used to. It didn’t evolve into slammed windows and drawn curtains, loud arguments and bruised egos. Something new coursed through your veins, your heart beating just to hear the sound of his voice. It was scary, the rush of feelings that you’d seemingly repressed for years, hidden under what you thought was hate.

“You coming or what?” Robin leaned back into Steve’s car to face you. The thoughts of Steve had distracted you and you only now noticed that they had already exited the car. You followed suit, unbuckling and sliding across the seat to get out on Steve’s side. He greeted you with an arm slung around your shoulder, purposely messing up your hair in the process. You swatted at him, smoothing your hair back down as you walked through the store’s entrance together. Music wafted down from the speakers that littered the ceiling and you instantly knew that Eddie had picked out whatever metal song was playing. As if he could hear the mention of his name in your thoughts, Eddie appeared in front of you, grabbing ahold of your wrist and dragging you towards the front counter. Meanwhile, Robin and Steve headed towards the back, searching for some Abba vinyl that Steve had been wanting for ages. The absence of Steve’s arm around your shoulder left you with a chill, the tingle brought on by his touch subsiding, but you brushed it aside following the long-haired boy.

You went behind the counter with Eddie, hopping up to sit in the space between the cash register and the pile of records stacked to the left. It was a familiar spot for you, somewhere you’d sat a million times, much to Eddie’s manager’s dismay. In this spot, you’d talk about dates that you went on, someone from high school who got knocked up or married, a new song Eddie was working on, and your hatred for Steve Harrington. But this time was different. Eddie remained silent as you perched before him, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at you with knowing eyes. He came to stand in front of you, his stomach brushing against your knees. You glared at him in response, already knowing the words that were about to crest his lips.

“You and Harrington have been awfully close lately,” a smirk danced across his face, arms uncrossing, hands landing to rest on your knees. You narrowed your eyes, placing your hands behind you, and leaning back on them.

“We’re sort of friends now, I guess,” you shrugged and Eddie leaned in even closer, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead as if he was testing your temperature. You smacked his hand away, earning a yelp in response. The grin reappeared on Eddie’s lips as he shook his hand to alleviate the pain caused by your slap.

“Friends, huh?” you nodded as his question, eyeing Eddie for his next move. Someone entered the store, the chime of the bell over the door alerting the both of you. But the two of you didn’t flinch, didn’t even spare the new customer a glance, too enveloped in your weird standoff staring contest. Instead, Eddie called out his standard greeting, welcoming the person to Rad Records, as his eyes roamed over you, searching for an unspecified answer. “Just friends, nothing more?” Eddie finally continued, needing more evidence to make his case, to find the answer to his unasked question. And you gave it to him, eyes darting away from his and legs beginning to bounce. Eddie’s jaw dropped, a gasp seeping from the open space between his lips.

“Shut the fuck up, Edward,” you rushed out, clamping your hand over his slack jaw. Eddie’s wide eyes trailed from you to Steve and back. His lips moved behind your hand, trying to speak, but you shushed him, refusing to let go until he calmed down. You cringed at the swipe of his tongue against your palm, but still held on tight. After a few seconds, Eddie stopped and you took it as a sign to set him free. Your hand retracted, falling limply onto your lap, where you wiped his saliva onto your jeans.

“Holy shit. You like him. You actually, consciously, like him,” Eddie whisper-yelled at you and it took a considerable amount of effort to not spontaneously combust at his words. It’s one thing to finally admit it to yourself, it’s another to hear it spoken out loud. Still, you felt like there was a ritual you had to play along with, like you had to deny the accusation.

“I so do not,” you spoke stubbornly, but Eddie could hear the give in your voice, knowing the truth.

“You totally do. The fact that it’s taken you this long to realize is insane,” Robin spoke up from behind you, startling you with her sudden appearance. You looked beside her, expecting to see Steve, but he wasn’t there. You didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved by his absence from the conversation.

“Where is Steve anyway?” you shifted on the counter, making space for Robin to rest her elbows next to you. Robin nodded towards the back of the store. Steve’s figure was obscured by the towering displays that littered the room.

“Some guy that he knew from the basketball team came in and started talking to him. Steve called him Jumpy or something. I dipped out as soon as I could, so Steve’s stuck back there now,” you cringed at the name that fell from Robin’s lips. Jumpy was the dumbass nickname of Allen Peterson, some douchebag that was friends with Tommy.

“Ugh, he and Tommy once broke into the girl’s locker room during gym and stole my clothes. I had to walk around in my gym uniform for the rest of the day. It was humiliating,” a frown bloomed on your lips, one that was echoed by Eddie and Robin.

“I remember that. They somehow never got caught,” Eddie’s eyes trailed to the back of the store, still unable to spot Steve. “You want me to kick him out?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised in question, almost begging for the chance to kick someone out of the store. But you shook your head, tapping his shoulder so he’d move out of the way. He did, stepping to the side, allowing you to slide down from the glass counter.

“I want to see if he remembers me. Maybe mess with him a bit,” Eddie and Robin waved you off as you walked towards the back, the top of Steve’s perfectly styled hair coming into view as you got closer. You approached from behind Steve, not able to get a good view of his face. You were still hidden, questioning whether you should continue with your plan or not. Wondering if Allen would do something to upset you, tease you, and make you feel small. But Steve was there, and how could he hurt you when the boy you loved was standing by your side? Just as you were about to take a step out, you heard something, Allen’s voice.

“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been hanging out with such losers,” Allen’s words elicited a soft scoff from your lips. He peaked in high school but here he was calling you a loser? You wished you could see Steve’s face, to know what was running through his mind, the witty comeback that was sure to leave his lips any second now. But it didn’t. All you heard was the smooth sound of his laugh dancing through the store.

“Come on, man. They’re not that bad,” you brushed off Steve’s weak, delayed defense. At least he stood up for you in some regard, that’s what matters.

“Nah man, that Baby chick is nuts. I remember how weird she was in high school, always crying over something. Sometimes I just wanted to bend her over and give her something to cry about, you know?” Allen mimed thrusting his hips as his words hung in the air. It made you feel dirty and violated, like he had already touched you in the way he said that he wanted to. The boy viewed you as an object, nothing more than something to be used to satisfy his needs. Your eyes bore into the back of Steve’s head, willing him to speak up on your behalf. To defend you, to protect you, to punch this asshole in the face. But Steve was never good at defending you and all he did was laugh again. That irritatingly coy laugh, the one that set off alarm bells whenever you heard it. The laugh that belonged to the reigning king, not the boy you loved.

“Oh yeah, totally. One good screw would straighten her right out,” at that moment you could’ve sworn that the entire town could hear your heart as it shattered. You weren’t really sure when you revealed yourself from your hiding spot behind the bookshelf, but your eyes locked with Allen’s, and his stupid smirk dropped. Steve tracked his gaze, spinning on his heels to see you, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, forehead creased, and red-hot anger coursing through you. You turned, moving as fast as you could towards the exit at the front of the store. Steve chased behind you, his hand catching your arm right after you passed through the door. Eddie and Robin looked alarmed at the sight of you both stopped before the store’s glass front.

“Let go of me,” you spoke hotly, cursing the strength of Steve’s grip. Steve’s eyes roamed over you, catching the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face before you restored it to its angry glare.

“I didn’t mean it. It’s just-” Steve began, but you quickly cut him off, still trying to wrangle your arm from his grasp.

“I don’t give a shit what you meant, Harrington. I thought you changed. I forgave you for all the shit you put me through. Guess I wrong to think you were capable of being a decent person,” Steve’s eyes watered at your words, hating himself for making you doubt him and how he feels for you.

“I have changed. I don’t know why I said that shit,” Steve pleaded, he wanted you to understand, to give him five minutes to explain himself. But Steve knew this was it, you’d already made your decision, it wouldn’t matter even if he got down on his knees and begged. He’d broken your trust, said shit he didn’t mean, and now he’d lost you again, the same way he did years before, the way he never wanted to again. Steve let go of your arm, giving you the freedom you asked for when you first left the record store with him in tow. Your arm felt numb, empty, without Steve’s hand there, and you cursed your stupid heart for not wanting him to let go.

“I guess old habits die hard, Harrington. Stay the fuck out of my life,” your words spat from deep within you, fire coating each syllable. Steve watched as you turned, making your way down the sidewalk and turning into an alleyway between two stores. Eddie and Robin burst through the record store’s entrance, ignoring the autumn chill that they were greeted with as they did. Steve wiped his eyes, glad to have tears clouding his vision because he was not sure he could stand to see his best friend's face as he recounted the past few minutes to her. Eddie looked to Steve, silently asking where you went, and Steve lifted his hand pointing in your direction. Eddie took off, turning the corner to the alley to find you slumped on the ground, knees to your chest and head in your hands. He approached you slowly, pulling you into him when he finally got close enough. Sobs racked your body, chest heaving against Eddie’s as he held you in a tight hug, knees resting on the cement below.

“I hate him, Eds. I fucking hate him,” Eddie nodded in understanding, stroking your hair and pulling it from where it stuck to your tear-stained cheeks. “I should’ve known he’d break my heart again. I should’ve known not to let myself fall in love with him,” your tears soaked Eddie’s shirt and he froze, stuck on the words that fell from your lips. Love. Sure, he’d known you liked Steve, but love was different. Love meant more hurt. It held more weight. It meant that you set aside the past and moved on. It meant you finally gave in to the feelings that gnawed at your heart and your brain each night. It meant that Steve really fucked up.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line

Steve’s car finally peeled away and flew down main street, signaling to Eddie that the coast was clear. He walked you back to the now barren record store, save for his co-worker Terry, who was in the back unpacking a new shipment. Eddie asked Terry to cover for him and when Terry saw your tear-stained cheeks and red puffy eyes, he agreed, no questions asked. So Eddie put you in the passenger seat of his van and sped off down the road. You didn’t ask where he was going when he passed the street that led to your house, already knowing where he was taking you.

Eddie’s van stopped abruptly in front of his trailer. Wayne’s car was gone, signaling that he’d already left for work, leaving the trailer empty. It was getting dark, gloomy clouds blocking the sun as the moon rose in the sky opposite it. The porch lights flickered on, illuminating the shadows of your face through the cracked windshield. You caught sight of Lucas’ bike through the back window. It was lying on its side outside of Max’s trailer, thrown in haste. Normally it would’ve made you laugh, elicit a joke about young lovebirds to fall from your lips, but right now you couldn’t even will the corners of your lips to curl into a faint smile.

Eddie opened your car door, gently lifting you by your waist and placing you on the ground. You followed him inside, trailing behind him like a lost, heartbroken puppy with nowhere else to go. He led you to his room, indicating for you to sit on his bed, so you did. Eddie placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the kind a mother gives her child, and lifted your arms. He disrobed you of your heavy knit sweater, your way of protecting yourself from the autumn winds that pierced the air, and replaced it with one of his Black Sabbath shirts. You unclipped your bra through the shirt, pulling it out of your sleeve before tossing it to the floor. The action always amazed Eddie, drawing a laugh from his lips, but this time he remained quiet, too concerned over you to pay attention to much else. Next, Eddie unlaced your shoes, pulling them from your feet. You shimmied from your pants after, throwing them across the room, uncaring where they landed.

With a shaky breath, you laid down, facing the wall, your back turned to Eddie. Eddie pulled off his leather jacket, shucked off his jeans, and moved towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you, Eddie’s body now close to yours. He pulled the bed sheets up to cover you both before draping his arm across your torso. You relaxed into him a bit, fingers and legs intertwining with one another. It was a familiar position, one you and Eddie had shared a million times, but his comforting touch wasn’t working quite the same as it normally did. Not when your heart hurt this much.

Eddie wanted to ask what happened, pester you with questions, and uncover the truth, but he refrained, knowing you’d speak up when the time was right. His heart ached at the feel of your body shaking against his, small sobs springing from deep within your chest no matter how much you wanted them to stop. Eddie only held you tighter, his arms practically crushing your ribs as his own tears began to well in his eyes. You stayed like that for a while, long after the sun fully sank beneath the horizon, leaving the room in complete consuming darkness. The wind caused sapling branches to scrape against the window, becoming the only sound to fill the lingering silence. You stopped crying after a while, wishing you could sleep the pain away, but remaining unsuccessful in your attempts.

Finally, you gave up, shifting to face Eddie, your forehead pressed to his. Breath intermingling, comforting you, letting you know that, yes, your heart may be broken, but you were still alive. Eddie studied you, unsure whether he should be the first to speak or not, but you quickly quelled that thought when you opened your mouth.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave Hawkins?” your question threw Eddie off, his brows scrunching in confusion. It’s not what he expected you to say.

“Not unless the band takes off, and certainly not without Wayne,” Eddie had thought about it before, considered moving to a big city where the lights never dimmed and the gigs would never end. But as much as Hawkins may have hated him, he could never hate it in return. He’d get sick of the city noise and never be able to sleep, craving to hear the chirp of crickets and cicadas instead. So when you asked, he was sure of his answer. But he didn’t echo your question back to you, already knowing that your answer would be a resounding yes. It would be tough for you to leave everyone behind, but you longed for something different, somewhere new to help escape the past and finally look forward to the future. Eddie was lost in thought, still wondering why you asked that when you spoke again.

“He’s exactly who I thought he was,” it was a whisper, one that could easily be lost, left hanging in the air with no one around to hear it echo off the peeling walls. But Eddie heard it, he absorbed your words from the silent room, wanting to know more, so you continued. “I thought he was different now, but it turns out he’s still the same, too wrapped up in caring about what others think,” fresh tears sprang in your eyes, a sob tightening your throat as you spoke. “I’m tired of fighting against his undying need to be liked. I’m tired of losing against it every goddamn time. I’m done,” there was a finality to your tone, one that caused Eddie to lift his head from his pillow, a questioning look on his face.

“Sweetheart, do you want me to talk to him? Figure out what’s running through his head?” Eddie offered, but he knew the gesture would be wasted on you. Once you set your mind to it, it was done. But he wanted you to hear Steve out. He wanted you to find a way to reconcile your differences. For all the pain and confusion that Steve Harrington brought, he also filled you with joy and light. You’d been happier throughout the past few weeks than Eddie had ever seen you, illuminating rooms simply by entering them. Eddie didn’t want that to disappear, to be forever obscured by a compilation of closed curtains and avoidant gazes. But he was met with a furious shake of your head.

“No, Eds. I mean it. No more Steve,” Eddie nodded despite the voice in his head yelling at him to speak up and try to change your mind. It was no use. He rolled onto his back, one arm resting under his head, the other still laid across you. You shifted too, laying with your chest pressed to Eddie’s stomach, head resting just below his. “I wish it was you that I loved. It’d be much simpler that way,” you’re not sure why you said it, maybe the cloud that formed in your head from the day’s events expanded, spilling all of your hazy thoughts through your lips. It was a sad wish, an empty hurt with truth behind it. But Eddie understood, his own thoughts reflecting yours, the telepathy finally working in a way. He wanted to take away your pain in any way he could, but not like this. Not when your heart was beaten black and blue, longing for a simple ceasefire to mend your open wounds. Not when that same heart belonged to another, an echoed call through the woods waiting for the birds in the treetops to sing back with an affirmative answer. Eddie loved you, but not in the way the both of you currently wished for. An irrefutable loyalty that would consciously be limited to platonic fellowship, no romance lingering from either party in the way you held each other close.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s whisper slid through the strands of your hair, a soft kiss placed overtop of it. You’d grown quiet by then, breath evening out as you were finally granted your wish for sleep. Falling deep into a slumber where you were still five and Steve Harrington tucked flowers behind your ears as he whispered to you about love.

Days had passed, an endless stream of the same heartache and emptiness that blended each rise and fall of the sun together, making it difficult to distinguish one from the next. Robin called you probably a million times, but you refused to come to the phone. Your parents opted to unplug the phone from the wall for a few days, growing tired of the incessant ringing. You knew she just wanted to talk about Steve, but that was something you couldn’t quite handle yet. You’d only plugged the phone back in to call out of work, letting them know you had a nasty stomach bug, not caring if they believed you or not. The curtains in your room remained closed with the little army men on the window sill replaced in their defensive stance. To you, this was war.

On the fifth day of refusing to depart from beneath your bed sheets, your mom entered your room, messing with the knick-knacks that covered your dresser as she did. A custom D20 from Dustin, a kazoo Eddie gave you for your birthday one year joking about how you could be Corroded Coffin’s lead kazoo player, a mixtape Robin lent you ages ago, a new pack of colored pencils you’d been meaning to give to Will, and a flower that had been dried and pressed into a glittery bookmark, all littered your dresser’s surface. Your mom grabbed the bookmark, admiring the way the lavender flower retained its shape despite being flattened so many years ago. It was the same lavender that grew from the ground beneath your bedroom window, decorating the grass between the Harrington’s house and your own. You watched closely as she eyed the bookmark, curiosity flooding your thoughts.

“I remember making this with you,” she spoke softly, a gentle cadence meant to comfort you, and it sort of did. “You came running inside with the flower and insisted that we save it. You said it was too important to let die,” she sat on the edge of your bed, bookmark still glinting in the soft glow of the lamplight. You propped yourself up on your elbows, wondering where she was going with all of this. She handed you the bookmark then, and you took it, confused, examining it as if you’d never seen it before.

“I don’t remember that,” your voice was hoarse from crying. It didn’t help that you hadn’t properly spoken out loud in days, too congested with the bustling thoughts running laps around your mind.

“You were five. And if I remember correctly a certain boy had been the one to pick the flower for you,” you understood then, she was talking about Steve. Part of you felt betrayed, like your mother was providing aid for the enemy, but the other part of you wanted to know more, why she wanted to talk about this, especially now. “We always assumed the two of you would be friends, lovers even,” she wagged her eyebrows at you and the corners of your lips ticked up at the gesture. “So it was strange to see the distance that grew between you, the pain you caused each other. I’d always hoped you’d resolve your differences, and fall back into the same ease you had as kids, but I know it’s more complicated than that,” her hand reached up, brushing softly against your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you were crying until her fingers swiped over the fallen tears. “I love you, my Baby,” her words were a whisper, gentle lips pressed to your forehead. She patted your leg through your comforter, standing up as she did. On her way to the door, she stopped, turning back to look at you. “Maybe some fresh air might help. A trip to the store?” she suggested and for some reason you nodded, actually thinking that it would be nice to leave your bed for a bit. She smiled, making her way out of your room to grab the grocery list for you. As she rounded the corner, one foot out the door, she couldn’t help but notice the tight grip you kept on the bookmark in your hand. The flower within it that was always in bloom. Something that could never die.

You opted to go to the store alone, wanting to drive with the windows down and the music up, drowning out the overcrowded space in your head. It was nice to leave the house, to be in an open space with autumn in the air. The crisp leaves crunched under your tires as you pulled into the grocery parking lot. You were so concerned about making sure that you had the list your mom gave you that you completely missed the maroon BMW parked on the opposite end of the lot. Once you had the list, you grabbed a cart, its wheels squeaking loudly as you made your way down aisles, grabbing item after item off the shelves.

There was only one thing left on your list, a bag of tortilla chips, which was your dad’s favorite snack food for some odd reason. You almost chuckled to yourself seeing how his scratchy handwriting interrupted your mom’s pristine list. With a squeal of protest from the shopping cart’s wheels, you turned the corner, eyes roaming over the chip options in front of you. You finally found what you were looking for and stood up on your tiptoes, the top shelf being just a bit too high for you to reach. A warmth washed over you as someone leaned into your space, large hands retrieving the bag and offering it to you. Your breath stopped for a moment and you found yourself unable to move.

“I’m just gonna put these in here then,” Steve spoke softly, placing the chip bag into your cart when you froze. He looked tired, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was flat, almost greasy looking, lacking his usual abundance of hairspray and product. Steve watched you, the way you shrunk at the sight of him and he felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. He never wanted to hurt you, to make you feel less than what you were. And to Steve, you were everything. Steve opened his mouth to speak, an apology sputtering from his lips, but the sight snapped you out of your stupor, suddenly springing to action.

“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” your voice was firm and cold, nothing like the ease it held back at Family Video the last time he tried to right his wrongs.

“Just let me explain, please,” he pleaded, eyes soft, a glimmer of familiarity in them. For a moment you almost let him, finding yourself more than willing to listen to the boy speak. You were reminded of the comfort you found in the sound of his voice recently, the swell it brought to your chest. But that vanished when you remembered the way he laughed when talking to Allen, his vile words leaving your glass heart shattered across the record store’s stained carpet. It felt like a slap to the face, a cut on your cheek, a crack in your rib. You meant what you said, you were done with him. The boy before you showed no growth. He was still the same boy who called you names, taunted you in the halls, stole your favorite book, and scared off the boys you liked.

“No,” it was stony and resolute, an end to the conversation. You pushed your cart away, leaving Steve behind, your shadow cascading over him as you did. You made your way to the register and Steve followed close behind. He got in line behind you, but he stayed quiet, unsure what to say. He only had two things in his basket, which made his checkout go by quickly. By the time he got out to the parking lot, you were still there, placing the hefty grocery bags into your trunk.

“Let me make it up to you,” Steve startled you, appearing at your side out of nowhere. “I swear I've changed, I promise. I care about you, so much,” you slammed your trunk closed, wheeling your cart back to where it belonged. Steve followed you, but you stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge his pleas. He stood in front of your car door then, blocking it so you couldn’t get in. “I don’t want to lose you again. Let me show you I care. Let me prove it,” he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Part of you wanted to reach out and hold his face in your hands. The other part wanted to hurt him more, make him feel what you felt. The latter won.

“You can’t prove shit to me, Harrington. I don’t believe it, any of it. You’re still the same stupid boy you were when we were 11, and I fucking hate you for it,” you spat and Steve’s face hardened. You wanted him to yell back at you, to prove that he felt something for you, something worth fighting for. But he didn’t. He simply stepped aside, a new slump in his posture as he let you go. His gaze followed the battered silhouette of your car as it drove off, a wisp of fallen leaves and Steve’s shredded heart trailing behind it.

When you got home you stormed inside, leaving the groceries in the car for your parents to unload. You fell back into your bed, resuming the same position you held before you went to the grocery store. It took some time, anger encapsulating your every fiber, but eventually, you fell asleep, putting the situation with Steve aside as you escaped to the peace of your dreams.

You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore. Rolling onto your back, you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye, something that was out of place. Your body groaned as you arose, hesitant steps towards your desk, hands slowly lifting the object. It was a book, but not just any book. It was Pride and Prejudice, the copy that your grandmother gave you years ago, the one that was taken from you. You flipped through the pages, fingers tracing the words you’d penciled in on the margins. Stuck between its pages was a bookmark, your bookmark, with lavender and specks of glitter decorating it.

You sat back on your bed, wondering why the book was returned so suddenly and out of the blue. Your mom was the one to put it in your room, marking its pages with the bookmark, but Steve had been the one to take it years ago. Why did he keep it? Why give it back now? Was this the end? A bookend in your tumultuous relationship with the boy next door? A post-it note fell from between the book’s pages and you leaned down to grab it. Written in Steve’s messy scrawl was one word.

“Please.”

And you’d come back to me

The note was metaphorically stuck in your head, lingering like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake from. It didn’t help that it was physically stuck to your nightstand, its fluorescent green shade haunting you with each passing glance. But you just couldn’t will yourself to throw it away. It was a life preserver tossed to you after falling overboard, a worm on a hook meant to reel you in, a last attempt to fix what had been broken, to reconcile with Steve. You meant it when you said you were done, but the ache inside you longed to be quelled. And there was only one person that could do that. The least you could do was hear him out. Find closure, nothing more, or so you told yourself.

A few days had passed since your encounter at the grocery store and you finally felt brave enough to face Steve again. You knew he was home given that his car had scarcely left the driveway in the past few days. Your legs felt wobbly, knees knocking as you marched in the dark through your lawn, crossing over onto the Harrington’s property. It was late, but you knew he’d still be awake, just as plagued with his thoughts as you were. You jabbed the doorbell with your finger, waiting nervously for the door to open, to see the boy that plagued your thoughts. But it didn’t. So you rang it again, and again, and again. Repeatedly pressing the button until the door finally cracked open.

“I don’t want whatever you’re selling, man,” Steve began but stopped when he saw you, straightening his slumped shoulders. He looked worse than he had at the grocery store like he hadn’t slept in days. He let the door hang open as he gaped at you, unable to form words. You took advantage of the open space, slipping inside his house before he could stop you. Steve shut the door, turning to see what you were doing, but you’d already made your way upstairs to his room.

His room was pretty much the same as it had been the last time you were there, back when the world almost ended. Clothes strewn across the floor, trophies lining small shelves, movie posters galore. You noticed a new poster though, one for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Steve finally caught up to you, his perpetual gloominess temporarily taken over by confusion as to why you were suddenly here in his house. You sat on the edge of his bed and he followed suit, worry filling his entire being. Was this the end? Did you come to say goodbye? Steve’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, panic rising in his throat when you finally spoke.

“You said you wanted to explain, so explain,” your voice was soft and quiet, a tone completely unlike the one you used when you were mad. Steve was baffled, wanting to know what made you decide to hear him out, but he knew better than to waste what very well could be his last chance with you.

“I didn’t mean what I said in the record store. I didn’t mean any of it. I wanted to beat the shit out of Allen when he said that stuff,” Steve’s hands shook as he spoke, watching your face for any sign of emotion. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wished he could read your mind. But he couldn’t, so he continued. “It’s like every time I’m around someone from high school, I get pushed aside and someone else takes control of what I say. Someone that reminds me a lot of my father,” angry tears welled in Steve’s eyes. He hated that after all these years his dad still had such an impact on him and the way he acted.

“Steve,” you spoke up, still emotionless in your tone. But Steve stopped you, wanting to continue, practically begging you with his glassy eyes to let him. So you did.

“I know it's not an excuse, and it's so so shitty of me. But he’s just there in the back of my head reminding me that Harrington’s are winners,” a tear dripped down his cheek and it took a great deal of restraint from you to not reach out and brush it away. “I hate that I let him win. I hate that I ever betrayed your trust, that I was so mean to you in school, that I let you out of my life. I hate that I let Allen get away with what he said, that I agreed with him instead, because I don’t. I think you’re beyond perfect the way you are. I don’t want to change anything about you,” Steve stopped for a moment unsure if you’d let him continue. Little did he know that your breath had caught in your chest and extinguished any words that might have spilled from your lips.

“I never ever want to hurt you again,” Steve continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise, I won’t. I want to be better, I want to be the boy you trusted when we were kids. I care about you so unbelievably much. I never stopped, not once. Please let me prove it,” he’d moved closer to you and you let him, trying your best to keep your feelings hidden from your expression. You were close to breaking, to giving in, to letting yourself be unequivocally in love with Steve Harrington. But you still had to put up a fight, to prove it was the right choice, not just a never-ending loop of pain.

“I’ve given you so many chances, Steve. How do I know this one would be any different?” you couldn’t look at him, knowing you’d lose all your resolve if you did. So your eyes fell to your lap instead. Steve watched your avoidant gaze, wanting more than anything for you to face him.

“Because I love you,” it was firm and unwavering, a declaration spilled from Steve’s cracked lips. It snapped your attention to him immediately, granting Steve his previous wish. “I always have, even when we were kids. I got confused when popularity came into play, but it was still there, in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now, and I’ll do anything for you, anything to keep you with me,” Steve grew shy, still unable to tell how you feel. “I want you in any way that you’ll have me. Anything is fine with me as long as I have you back in my life. I just can’t lose you,” Steve finished, leaving his words in the air for you to respond. You took your time to collect your own thoughts, to steady the thump of your heart in your chest.

“Steve,” it was soft, gentle, longing, matching the tone Steve hoped to hear. “I don’t want to lose you either,” the words halted Steve’s heart in his chest. He hoped this was it, that you loved him the way he loved you. “I want to trust you again, but you have to earn it. We can't just keep hurting each other,” you asserted and Steve nodded wildly. You wanted to laugh at the way his hair flopped around on his head as he did it, but you refrained, simply letting a smile crest your lips instead. Steve’s lips matched yours, curling at the edges, and soon you found yourselves incapable of holding back the soft chuckles that rose in your throat.

Steve’s eyes never left you, admiring the smile he’d so dearly missed seeing. He only ever wanted for you to be happy, only wanted you to know you’re loved. And from here on out, he’d make sure that you were. You leaned forward resting your forehead against Steve’s, one last ditch attempt at your silly determination to communicate telepathically. It never worked with Eddie, so why not try it with Steve, the boy you loved since you were five. It would ease the tension, tell Steve what your lips were too scared to say.

“What am I thinking?” you asked, hands coming up to hold Steve’s shoulders in place. His hands wrapped around you, resting on your waist, feeling your scarred skin through the thin material of your shirt. Steve scoured his mind, focusing on you, the soft reflection of light in your eyes, the way your lips were dry and cracked, the curve of your cheekbones. You were more than beautiful to him, you were angelic, bewitching, radiant. You were everything he ever wanted and needed.

“That you like me too?” Steve put on his smug charm, trying to cover up his nervousness. It made you want to laugh, to kiss him, to tell him the truth.

“So close, Stevie. I was thinking more along the lines of love, but if that’s what you’re getting then, sure, we can go with that,” you shrugged jovially, a smile stretched across your cheeks as Steve’s jaw went slack. His eyes watched you for any sign of doubt, of mockery, but he couldn’t find any. He knew it then, you loved him too. Steve found your gaze, eyes whispering to him in their own secret language. Kiss me, they said, and who was he to deny them of their wish? Steve pulled you in, grip tightening on your waist as he did. Your chest was suddenly flush with his, your body now resting in his lap, lips only a breath away from meeting. It was a last chance to bow out, to give it up for good, but you didn’t want to. You tilted your chin, finally closing the gap and brushing your lips against Steve’s. The kiss was encompassed by every flower he’d ever picked for you, every peek behind closed curtains, every taunt and tease and fight, every innuendo, every unseen longing gaze, every utterance of the name Baby, all wrapped together. It felt like winning a game of hide-and-seek that had been called off after an hour of unsuccessful searching, a ring of smoke clinging to the air and lingering high only to be dissipated by the summer breeze, a ceasefire on the battlefield for a war that had gone on too long. It felt like Steve, and you couldn’t get enough of it. His lips danced with yours, never wanting to feel anything but the crush of you against him. But eventually, you ran out of air, pulling back enough to breathe, still keeping your forehead pressed to his.

“I think I knew you loved me because I always loved you too,” Steve’s words were breathy, softened with the heave of his chest. Your smile flashed through your heavy breaths and hot cheeks. Steve Harrington loved you, and you loved him too. It would take some getting used to, but you liked the sound of it. You couldn’t hold back any longer, leaning back in to reattach your lips to his.

A moan mixed in with the kiss, grumbling up from Steve’s throat. His hands shifted down past your waist, landing on your ass with a light squeeze. You laughed at the gesture, keeping your lips pressed against his, and Steve’s heart melted at the sound. But he didn’t have long to linger on the feeling, because your hips rolled against his crotch, catching him off guard. Steve’s mouth opened a bit at the feeling, eliciting a groan from deep within him. You took advantage of the opportunity and slid your tongue against Steve’s. You did the move that you always did, a roll of your tongue against his, and Steve’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.

“Fuck, is that the tongue thing that Hargrove was talking about?” Steve asked, pulling away for just a second before attaching his lips to the column of your neck.

“I don’t want to talk about Billy right now, okay?” you gasped as Steve’s teeth bit into the sensitive spot on your neck. You felt heat flush straight to your core and a whimper slipped from your lips. Steve was mesmerized, enthralled with the sweet sounds you made and the way your breaths picked up.

“Noted,” Steve spoke against your neck, sending vibrations down your spine. He worked his way back up to your lips, hand trailing under your shirt. You flinched when his hand brushed your scar, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. You always had to lie to your hookups about where the scars came from, but you didn’t need to with Steve. He knew you. He had matching wounds. Steve pulled away, worried about the way you shuddered when he came into contact with the healed skin. But you just lifted your arms above your head, signaling for Steve to remove your shirt. The soft fabric slid from your skin, leaving your chest exposed. You’d foregone a bra that morning, and given the entranced look on Steve’s face at the sight of your bare breasts, you were really glad that you did. His hands gravitated towards your chest, cupping it gently. Steve’s thumbs came to rest on your nipples, brushing back and forth over them, evoking a delicious moan from your lips.

His mouth found yours again, and you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind against his, craving friction to satisfy the heat pooling between your legs. You removed Steve’s shirt then, and instead of resuming his previous position, Steve tilted his head down, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. You couldn’t help the pleasure that coursed through your veins, grinding harder against Steve’s lap. He was hard beneath his sweatpants, and his length caught against your clit with each movement, only further riling you up. Soft moans fell from both of your lips in harmony until Steve’s mouth departed from your chest, shifting to lay you down with his body hovering over you. His lips were swollen and red, wet with his saliva as he gazed down at you. He looked at you with a hunger that he’d suppressed for far too long as his hands trailed down your stomach, slowly pulling down the sweatpants that rested on your hips. You lifted your bum, making it easier for Steve to take them off. Once your pants were discarded on the floor, Steve’s face shifted down, hovering over your clothed cunt.

“You don’t have to,” you spoke quietly, suddenly seeming shy and so drastically different from the girl who just rolled her tongue into Steve’s mouth.

“Trust me, Baby, I want to. I want to so fucking bad, have for a long time,” Steve’s eyes found yours, but he didn’t move from his spot between your thighs. His breath fanned over your skin, only adding more heat between your legs. He placed small kisses on your inner thighs and your back arched at the sensation. Steve truly had waited a long time to do this, thought about it late at night while his hand fisted his cock, so he was going to savor every second. His fingers dragged over your panties, drawing little stars over the material. You threw your head back, unable to contain yourself as a result of Steve’s teasing.

“Please Stevie, need you so bad,” you begged, breath coming out ragged and labored. Steve smirked up at you, finally hooking his fingers into the cotton material and yanking them off. He lowered himself further, breath now fanning over your exposed heat. Steve wasted no time, licking into your cunt, flexing his tongue with each flick back and forth through your wet folds. You gasped as he held down your thighs, holding them tightly around his head. His tongue was persistent, like a starved man eating for the first time in days. Steve’s hips rutted against the mattress, so turned on by the noises you made, the way you tasted, how you felt against his tongue. It got to a point where you could hardly keep still, squirming wildly beneath Steve’s steel grip, and he knew you were close.

His mouth came up to your clit, sucking it with enough force to make you whine out his name. He could come at just the sounds you made, but he held back, keeping his focus on your core and the shake that slowly began in your thighs. The coil that had been building in the pit of your stomach snapped, a wave of pleasure flooding through you. Steve lapped at your folds, capturing the last of your arousal on his tongue as you came down from your high, chest heaving and thighs quaking.

“Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, shifting up to place a kiss to your lips. You tasted yourself on him, a whimper escaping you in response. Without breaking the kiss, your hands came down, fumbling to rid Steve of his sweatpants, but he stopped you.

“I wanna return the favor, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good too,” you spoke between kisses and Steve pulled away, hastily shaking his head.

“You do that now and it’ll be all over. I’d rather come inside you, Baby,” Steve's eyes asked you for permission, wanting more than anything to be buried inside you. You understood what he meant and nodded eagerly, the idea reigniting the heat between your thighs. Steve got up quickly, pulling his pants from his legs. You repositioned yourself, now on your hands and knees, facing away from Steve. He kneeled on the bed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass, gently finding its resting place on your waist. His lips placed a quick kiss to your spine as he took his length in his hand. He pumped himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in with a wrecked moan. Your walls stretched around him, squeezing his length as he bottomed out. You couldn’t help the faint pants that fell from your lips at the feel of being so full.

“Fuck, Steve, so big,” you whined, arms weakly holding you in place. He chuckled behind you, trying to keep from blowing his load right then and there. You were so tight, your walls surrounding him perfectly. He slowly started to move, pulling his hips out gently and pushing himself back in. Steve was practically growling at the sensation of your walls clasped so close around him. As you both adjusted, Steve sped up, his hips bouncing quickly off the curve of your ass. It was hot and wet, hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping together filled the room.

“Taking me so good, Baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds. Making ‘em just for me, right?” Steve’s breath was labored, trying hard to hold on as his fingers dug into your hips. You complied with Steve’s request, letting your stifled whimpers echo throughout the room. Steve pulled you up then, your back pressed to his front as your ass bounced off his thighs. He thrusted up into you and his hands came up to fondle your breasts. “Tell me you’re close, Baby. I can’t hold on much longer,” he muttered in your ear, ending his statement with another shaky groan. You nodded, the back of your head moving against his shoulder as you did. He quickened his pace then, using every last ounce of reserve that he had to pound into you, bodies pressing together. Your face scrunched in pleasure and Steve’s followed, both of you toeing the edge of blinding pleasure.

“Fuck, Stevie. Love you so much,” you moaned through ragged breaths, hand coming behind his head in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. The words you spoke and the crash of your lips against his had Steve coming undone. His hot streams of cum coated the inside of your walls, triggering your own high, cries of Steve’s name muffled by the taste of his swollen lips. You sunk back down onto his lap as he finally ceased his movements, resting on the back of his heels, still buried deep within you. His eyes met your soft gaze and he couldn’t help the uptick of his lips. You loved him and that’s all that mattered to him now.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up, slowly redressing to various degrees. Steve pulled on the boxers that were lost in his sweatpants while you draped your oversized shirt back over your frame. You gave up on trying to find your panties, accepting that they were now lost in the mess of Steve’s cluttered bedroom floor. You fell back into bed with Steve, rolling on your side to face him, the bed sheets draped over you. Steve’s legs brushed against yours, slowly intertwining until one of your legs rested between both of his. You caught sight of a cherry stem resting on his nightstand, one that had been tied in a knot, and held back your teasing remarks about him keeping it. Steve studied you, wanting to memorize this moment, each feature of your face. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to the sight of your soft, pleasant smile as you watched over him in the same way he did to you. Eventually, Steve’s lids grew heavy, fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep, you not far behind.

When you woke in the morning, you were still tangled together, radiating heat off one another to fill the otherwise cold morning air. You nestled your head into Steve’s bare chest, a soft groan slipping from him as he awoke. Neither of you wanted to get up, face the morning, and separate after a night together. The only reason you eventually did get up was because Steve had to go to work and you were sure your parents would notice your absence soon.

You went downstairs before him, waiting for him to find his car keys in the mess of his room. You shared a kiss on his doorstep, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as he pulled your hips flush with his. A whine escaped you as he pulled away, leaning down to pluck a daisy from his mom’s well-manicured front garden. Steve tucked the daisy behind your ear, placing one last kiss to your lips before walking over to his car. He opened his car door, stopping for another glimpse of you before he left. You smiled at him, waving him off and watching as he backed out of the driveway. He blew you a kiss before putting the car in drive and pulling away. You held the kiss close to your heart, the heart that now belonged to him, and headed back across his lawn to your own house.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air as you shut the front door behind you. Your parents sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper between them and a cup of coffee each. You drifted into the kitchen, ignoring their questioning looks, and plugged the phone back into the wall. Your parents shared a silent look, a look of relief that the storm was over, that normalcy would soon resume.

You went upstairs then, entering your bedroom and pulling back the curtains that encompassed your window. You planned to leave a note for Steve stuck to the glass, the same way you used to when you were kids, one for him to find when he got back home from work. But when your eyes drifted to the window across from yours, you were met with confusion.

In place of the army of green men that once sat on the window sill was a pencil with a half sheet of white paper attached to it. A white flag. Steve surrendered, and the war was over. You smiled at the gesture before crafting your own flag to mirror the one across from you. It would be a truce then, breaking even and giving up the fight. The ache in your chest was quelled and replaced by an unfathomable warmth. There were no winners or losers anymore. There was just you and Steve, two lovers that took way too long to figure it out.

You would call Eddie and Robin later to explain the previous night’s events, but for now, you sat back on your bed, Pride and Prejudice clasped in your hands. You opened the cover, eyes landing on the bookmark between its pages, mind drifting off to the boy that picked you flowers and told you he loved you so long ago. Maybe you knew him all along. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.

You put me on and said I was your favorite

The summer sun beat down on Steve’s tanned skin, sweat dripping from his brow, making a trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, wishing to escape Hawkins’ summer heat. With a deep breath, Steve leaned down to grab the box at his feet, hoisting it up to hand to you. You stood in the back of a U-Haul, organizing the boxes that were handed to you. Your very sweaty boyfriend flashed you a smile before turning to go back into his house and grab more boxes.

“You guys couldn’t have picked a hotter day to move,” Eddie appeared in front of you, unruly curls stuck to his forehead and neck. You’d offered him a hair tie earlier, but he declined, now stuck suffering in the humid air. His arms were strained with the weight of the box he was carrying, clearly struggling more than Steve had been.

“Sorry, Eds. We can’t control the weather,” you took the box that he had brought out, placing it somewhere behind you in the truck. You brushed away the sweat that had formed above your lip and watched as Eddie shook his head.

“I can’t believe you guys are actually leaving,” a sad smile stretched his lips as he spoke. He knew that it would happen eventually, that you would leave behind this horror story of a town and start anew. You’d suffered more Upside Down related trauma than he had, and he knew the fears that still crept into your mind from time to time. It was a good change, even if it meant leaving the people you loved behind.

“Me too, honestly,” you looked up then, head snapping towards the sound of voices arguing in the distance. Steve and Dustin were on Steve’s front porch loudly talking back and forth about how to move Steve’s dresser from his room. Robin stood next to them, rolling her eyes and dragging Max towards your house to grab the last of your book collection. “I’m glad it's with him though,” you nodded your head towards Steve, who was still deep in his discussion with Dustin, wild hand gestures and all. Steve caught you gazing at him from the corner of his eye, shooting you a look that said ‘this kid is crazy’ before disappearing into the house, Dustin hot on his trail.

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are in love or whatever. We get it,” Mike appeared at Eddie’s side, his slim arms struggling to carry his box. You raised a brow at him, lifting the box from his arms with ease and he faced you with an unamused glare.

“I think it's sweet,” Will approached behind him, also unloading a box into your arms. He smiled at you sweetly, and suddenly it hit you how much you were going to miss all of them. The bickering and the fights, the tight hugs and reassurances that they would call to let you know they got home safe. The late nights spent overanalyzing every detail of some cheesy movie that you’d forget the plot of by the morning. And in the background of it all was Steve. His forlorn gaze as Nancy walked you down her driveway to your car. His open curtains waiting for your lights to flicker on when you got back from work. His grand gestures as he put himself in harm's way, trying to protect you. You pretended to hate each other, but now you know that you never really did.

The afternoon dragged on, the heat weighing heavy on everyone as boxes and furniture were piled into the truck. Eventually, you all finished and everything you owned was packed away. Steve grabbed a quick shower, rinsing the sweat from his body to make the long car ride more comfortable. You hugged your parents goodbye, urging them to come visit once everything was unpacked. The others still lingered, waiting to watch as you and Steve drove away. Tears filled their eyes and streamed down sweaty cheeks as you hugged each of the younger kids, promising to return for Thanksgiving.

Steve began his round of goodbyes, mainly opting for a secret handshake or a ruffling of hair. Robin squeezed you so tightly that you thought she might crack one of your ribs. She sniffled as she pulled away, moving on to give Steve the same crushing embrace. Eddie stood before you, his head tilted towards the ground. You brushed his hair back from his face, catching sight of his tear-stained cheeks. He pulled you close, arms encompassing your frame.

“You’ll call every week?” he spoke into your hair, burying his face in it to hide his swell of tears. You nodded against him, your own muffled cries slipping from your lips. He pulled back then, and Steve was right behind you.

Steve placed his hand on your back, guiding you to the front seat of the U-Haul. He said his goodbye to Eddie before joining you. Steve’s car was hooked up to the back of the truck and your parents planned to bring yours up with them when they came to visit.

You stood on the ledge of the truck admiring the sea of your friends that stood before you. They watched you with tearful eyes as you shot them one last watery smile and slid into your seat. Your gaze was pulled towards the side of your house, your bedroom window that sat across from Steve’s. It was funny to think how close he always was, even when he felt miles away. Steve’s hand brushed yours then, the tingle of skin pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ready to go, Baby?” Steve asked, reaching down to put the truck in gear. His hair was still wet, smelling of his lavender-scented shampoo. You ran your hands through it, brushing the loose strands to the side. Steve caught your hand, placing a small kiss on your palm before you could pull away.

Sixth grade Steve was right, you were leaving with your things packed into boxes and a new city calling your name. But not because you were the worm girl that was running away. It wasn’t because this town had terrorized and taunted you to the point of no return. You were leaving because you wanted to, not because you felt forced out. And sixth grade Steve was wrong about you finding the love of your life once you left too, because you’d already found him, and for that Steve couldn’t be happier.

“With you?” you questioned, eyebrows raised, hand still encompassed by Steve’s. He nodded, showing you that smile that he reserved just for you. The same one he gave you as you sat on the sidewalk with dried worms newly relocated to the surrounding grass. You mirrored his look, gazing into his hazel eyes with all the love and adoration you had acquired for him over the years. “Always.”

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fire-lizard-ro · 5 months

Note

Ohoho Sunday thoughts you say? >:D this is loosely based on the prior ask? But I was just thinking how Sunday would probably try (keyword try) to remain pure and abstain from s*x before marriage, yknow? But when he finally does have you as his own, all bets are off. Angel boi is horny and wants you :( in his mind: it’s pure and simple yet beautiful lovemaking between two souls :( and in my love deprived ass I would melt because I know he’d be big on giving and receiving praise fjgjgjgj even would enjoy the idea of extending the Family if you were down for it (whether or not you could, he enjoys the idea of it) ((also he likes control so))

And don’t get me staarttteddd on his sweet aftercare and pillow talk D: oml you’d quite literally be on cloud nine!! He is too tho :) and he cannot help himself from just being so sweet and genuine orz

ohhHHHHH- Y e s I like this quite a bit. Need this to take a break from the angst I’ve been cookin up with a certain someone (you know who you are OTL).

Fair warning y’all are gonna end up seeing me write a fic about him that is blatantly blasphemous with religious themes (pretends like I’m not already working on one like that with Argenti).

Anyways- Back to this.

Thank you so much for the ask~ I love Sunday so much. <333333

CW: possessive behavior, cumming inside, fluff!!! (crazy I know how very almost off brand of me-), maybe some blasphemous thoughts? (idk that they count with aeons but hey-), marking, breeding kink (he’s saying it regardless of whether you are able to have children or not bc regardless it’s h o t -), praise

Reader gender: gender neutral (I tried not to say anything that would be too telling about what sex the reader is so please read it as such! I don’t think I said anything that was like that-)

So going off the last ask, we’re going to assume that he likes you enough to feel great affection for you. Enough to want you. To feel his own carnal desires rear their head even before you’ve married. It manifests in his seemingly innocent yet wandering hands. A hand on your waist as he passes by you. His hands drifting dangerously low when you hug. Leaning in close to talk to you. Lips making their way down from your forehead to your cheek to the corner of your lips. The placement of his kiss making its way to your lips slowly with every goodbye kiss.

But at some point, he can’t really stop himself from at least using those pretty hands of his on you- Along with that silver tongue and sinful mouth. He’ll make you feel so incredibly good, plunging his long fingers into you and taking you into his mouth. He’s lick and suck at you and even slide his tongue inside you. Perhaps the taste of you would be enough to tide him over until you were properly his- Married to him. It would have to be enough because you deserved to have a perfect wedding and perfect wedding night.

But aeons that doesn’t stop him from pleasuring you with what he can before then in order to hopefully keep himself in line. Even as his cock aches with the need to have you, he’ll just hold you down and whisper sweet promises in your ear. Even if you beg him, he won’t. Just wait for him baby just a little longer-

But after the ceremony is over and the afterparty is done and the guests all leave-

Oh dear. You’re finally left alone with your hungry fian- husband. You’re finally left alone with your absolutely famished husband. And you’re on the menu.

It begins like how many of your other encounters of sexual nature begin.

Sweet kisses that make it seem like he wants to swallow you whole. Gentle hands taking in the feel of you in his arms. Trailing kisses down your throat, eyes closed in ecstasy because you were finally his now. He can have you with no regrets. All that waiting was for this moment. When he could finally have you wholly. And that makes this moment in the warm light of the bedside lamp and the cooler shades of the moon all the sweeter.

Wetted fingers stretching you in preparation for something larger, taking their time in their task despite knowing you well by then. Because even if this was to get you ready to become one with him- He’s wants to draw as much pleasure from you as possible. This is a special night for the two of you. One he will cherish completely and one he wants to make perfect for you. His arm would be holding him up, cradled behind your head for you to lean on while he molds himself to your side. Even as you whine and roll your hips into the curl of his fingers inside you, pressing on that special spot inside you, he kisses your cheeks gently with soothing words. “Good… very good, my love. Just a little more- I want you to finish on my fingers first. Can you do that for me, my sweet? I know you can-”

Just as he gives you your first orgasm of the night, he takes your lips once more while gently coaxing your through the waves of pleasure. He’s so soft, guiding you through the dance even while your mind goes blank for a bit as he watches your expression. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”

It’s then that he kisses you almost chastely before beginning his journey down your body to have his prize. The prize being whatever he’s managed to pull from you. He’d lick it from your body in broad strokes as though he were tasting honey dribbled over your form, caressing your every curve as he went.

Sunday would dribble lube over himself, a hand slathering the viscous substance over his cock in pumping motions. It was almost erotic watching him. The way he'd squeeze just a little at the top and you would watch his hardness twitch and drool between his fingers. But when you look up, the angelic man would only be looking at you. Gazing lovingly- longingly at you.

That's how it always was. Ever since meeting, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. You were simply radiant to him. Unlike anything or anyone else he'd ever seen.

Leaning over you to settle himself between your legs, Sunday would give you another kiss before asking if you were ready. While waiting for your answer, he'd go back to nip and lick at your neck. He wanted to mark you for all to see- You were his. His lover, his spouse, his soulmate. His. No one else's. He would love and care for you in every way, he'd think to himself.

And no- Don't just nod at him. "I need to hear you say it, dove. Please? For me, my dear?" Once you'd given him your clear consent, he'd bring you into a deep kiss while lining himself up with your stretched out, wet entrance. He can't even bring himself to tease you a little. Though the thought crossed his mind, he knew he'd been waiting far too long for this.

Once he was in the proper place, he'd rest his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing in each other's air while he looks down at where the two of you would be connected, fingers drifting to fondle you in order to distract from any possible pain you may feel with a gentle hum.

As Sunday would finally push in, cockhead popping inside, he'd gasp against your lips with twitching hips he had to force still. "Are you alright, love?" Taking a moment for himself to regain his composure and steel himself, he'd hide away in the crook of your neck to breathe in your scent and feel your pulse beneath his soft lips. Once you were ready it would be but a slow rock of his hips, moving gently inside you, to eventually sheath himself completely inside. As he worked himself into your tightness, Sunday would whisper sweet words into your ears in a whisper, as though the words were only for the two of you despite no one else being around- The words would come in between kisses while he rubbed a hand up and down your side to comfort you, the hand occasionally straying to rub your sex or pluck at your nipples to distract you from the strain of this part of the night.

Once bottomed out, your ass resting in the cradle of his hips with his body covering yours, he would ask you if you're alright and give you time to adjust. It's all praises here, the man telling you just how good you are for him and saying that you're doing wonderfully. After some time passes and you rock your hips against his to test your comfort, a small moan would be startled out of him before it devolves into a chuckle. "Are you ready, my love?"

It'd start with hip just grinding into you, firm but slow and accompanied by a pleasured sigh from him. He'd hold back none of his sounds because he wanted you to know how good you made him feel. Then he'd pull out only just a bit before thrusting himself back in. At some point he had begun to properly fuck you, the push and pull like the rocking of a boat on a gentle sea. This was making love. And after angling his hips, he found your sweet spot he'd only ever touched with those pretty fingers of his.

It'd be a struggle to not lose himself in you. In your all-consuming presence and the pleasure you gave him- In the love you showed him as you reached up to bring him close with a whimper of his name. It was like hearing the gospel fall from your lips. And they might as well have been. For now you were his everything. His god, his true Harmony. Were you to say it, it would be so. And right now, you were telling him that it felt good and asking him to keep going. So, he would.

With teeth gently marking all the places he'd been, his darkened eyes would watch the way you arch your back and moan to the heavens (they were yours anyways). Sunday is something that knows how to hide its teeth and disguise itself in the form of a man. He was careful to dull his claws so he would not hurt you when he held you close. Careful to veil the violence that was part of him, showing in his eyes, when he was with you. But he was a beast who knew the taste of blood. And yet you, his pure and lovely dove, loved him and accepted him. You said he was a good man and that you loved him. You were his truth. So, it must be so.

He wanted to claim you so wholly that none could ever deny that you both belonged to one another. That none could mistake that you were his deity and him your humble and devout servant who worshiped you here in the temple of your bed, giving you his offerings in pleasure, loyalty, and love. That brought another idea to mind of just how he could claim you and show you his deepest love.

"I want to breed you, my love. To carry on the family and mark you inside with my cum. Would that be alright? Do you want that as well, dove?"

He would speed up now, thinking about how he could have a family with you. How lovely you would look with a child tottering around behind you. He would make it happen no matter what so long as you wanted it as well. When you agree, he'd smile so wide his face hurt and shower you with kisses. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, my love my heart my everything-"

He can hardly fathom how he'd lived without you before.

Touching and kissing you all over he drove the two of you to your peak, the both of you moaning and whining against each other's lips as you kissed through the high. His hips continued to rock into yours to prolong the waves of pleasure that washed over you before slowing to a stop when you both became overstimulated.

"Thank you, love. You did so well- So very good for me. I love you so much," he'd praise and declare between kisses that he planted all over- Everywhere he could reach while wrapped up in your arms and holding you so close you wondered if the two of you could fuse together. "I love you, too," you'd mumble against his lips as he came back to them for a proper kiss. The chaste peck turning into a sensuous slide of lips, unhurried and full of undeniable love.

Even when he withdrew from your now cum-filled hole and began to clean you up, he would praise you and ask you how you felt while pressing kisses every place he touched. Once everything was done and he'd had you drink water, he'd lay down and pull you to lay on his chest. While stroking your back and pressing a kiss to your hair, he'd bid you goodnight and say yet another "I love you" before quietly humming to help you drift asleep.

Hopefully that was to your liking~ I had fun writing it! Thank you for the idea and for letting me write more about Sunday! <333

Feel free to send in another request if you want, hehe.

#Roro writes #gn reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn reader #honkai star rail x gn reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #sunday smut #hsr sunday smut #bottom reader #top character #asks answered

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urgonnaneedabiggership · 1 year

Note

Could you make a fic where Miguel gets the female reader pregnant and they're happy but he's worried about her safety? Maybe have a villain find out? Cause some angst?

Risk Something (You're Losing Me)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language. Spoilers (Miguel's backstory is mentioned). Angst! Alert!, Unplanned pregnancy!Alert.

Word count: 4.3K

A/N: Since I had already established some background and emotional intimacy, I thought I could write this as a sort-of-sequel to my previous one-shot Host of a Ghost. I was so excited to write this, especially because I don't usually write angst but I like to push my boundaries and leave my confort zone. Hope that it pays off and, of course dear anon, that you like it <3

Part III

You’d never really believed in long-distance relationships. After being witness to so many unsuccessful ones, you’d cataloged the entire concept into a box labeled “certain failure” and tucked it away in the back of your head. And yet, with an inconsistency worthy of your friend Hobie, you’d gone and gotten yourself involved in no less than an interdimensional relationship.

How? Well, that was a good question.

All it took was five simple steps:

Step one: Live a regular life. Go to school, graduate, and try to go for a Ph.D. that gets you working near genetically modified insects for just the right amount of time for you to become careless enough to let one crawl onto your backpack, take it to your apartment, and let it sting you. Throw in some negligence, forfeit going to the hospital, and go on about your afternoon. Warning, some side effects like loss of consciousness or intense headaches can be expected.

Step two: Congratulations! You’ve now become a super-powered person with abilities that range from climbing walls and performing gravity-challenging parkour to creating a sticky web-like element that helped you swing from one building to another. Toy around with your new talents, and grow comfortable with them before realizing that you can actually use them to be the much-needed help your city needs.

Step three: Turns out you’re not the only one with this kind of ability out there. There’s a whole Spider-Society full of similarly enhanced people who try and do their best to keep their own dimensions safe, and you’ve not only caught their eye but have actually been invited to join them. Let your new guide Jess Drews show you around, and explain all the benefits that come from joining a team such as theirs. If you decline, you can go back home and that’ll be all.

If you’re interested, it’ll be necessary to convince the leader but they could use some extra help so it shouldn’t be particularly hard. It sounds like an amazing chance. Information you wouldn’t have access to otherwise, mind-blowing facilities where you can polish your newly acquired abilities, possible new friends that actually know what you’re going through…Say you’ll think about it. Right as you’re about to leave, the most fucking gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your entire life walks past without paying either of you any mind, busy while speaking to another Spider-Person. You ask who that is, turns out he’s the aforementioned leader, “will I ever have to work with him?”, you ask. “Probably, eventually” Replies Jess. Ask when you can start.

Step four: Do your best to earn your place in this elite group. Successfully improve your fighting skills, read everything available on interdimensional traveling and the multiverse. Understand it almost instantly because that’s how smart you are, kudos to you. Realize that for some reason, despite never actually interacting with you, Spider-Society leader Miguel O’Hara tends to stare. A lot. Is it because you’re progressing as fast as Jessica says or because she’s a complete liar and you’re actually doing it all wrong? No idea. All you know is that even during mundane scenarios like laughing in the hall with all the newest additions to the team or in line at the cafeteria, you feel a certain tingle in the back of your head that makes you turn around. Of course, the moment your eyes meet, he turns around and leaves. An odd one, yes. But you’ve also heard things. Rumors, here and there about his life before creating the Society. Whispers about a lost family and some video archives being the only evidence that they even existed in the first place. And, of course, the fault he had in the destruction of their dimension. You sympathize with him, despite his apathetic attitude towards you. You’ve seen him interact with those he’s closer to, and you know there’s more to him than he lets on. You’d be elated if he ever let you take just one look at the smidge of his old self that sometimes peeked out from behind the iron curtain. Well, not really. One look wouldn’t be enough. If anything, it would only cement your feelings for the man.

Step five: Curiosity killed the cat. We all know that. You know that. And yet, you decided to go snooping around Miguel O’Hara’s computer and personal files until you accidentally switch his computer on for long enough to let the videos he’s always watching start playing. He…his daughter…an entire lost life gone before his eyes. Then, before you could do the right thing and turn the computer off, an eerily familiar voice called at him from behind the camera. So, of course, you had to keep watching. Long story short? All those oddly constant stares, that coldness towards you, unwillingness to look you in the eye, was because of two reasons: first, you were a nearly identical interdimensional variant of the wife he’d lost in the dimension he unwittingly erased from existence. Two, as he’d confessed after realizing you’d found out about the truth, Miguel had come to terms with the fact that he was in love with you, not as a replacement for somebody from his past but as a new presence in his life that he’d been struggling to watch from afar, unwilling to let all his repressed feelings spill out like water from a broken dam. Until that night, of course.

Now, eight months later, you’d come to realize there was actually a sixth step you’d never actually considered until now that you were in this…situationship.

Step six: Uncomfortably avoid every and all circumstances in which interdimensional disparities and canon consistency regarding your relationship could come up. Don’t say anything like “Well, it’s been nice but I’ve got to go back to my own dimension” because that would remind him that his dimension was not yours too. That you were after all still a stranger in a strange land. Which of course also meant never inviting him to stay in your dimension.

Deep inside, you knew that all those details would eventually cause problems, especially regarding the inner conflict Miguel was always dealing with knowing what he was doing…what you were both doing, went against his strongest principle. But by God he was happy. Happier than he’d thought he could ever feel again. More than he deserved. So he just ignored those intrusive thoughts and focused on whatever task was at hand. And you were too. Even after just eight months, life without him already seemed unimaginable. He was your first thought in the morning and your last before you went to sleep, and more than once his presence beside you had been not just a figment of your imagination, but a part of your reality as you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer whenever you strayed too far from him in bed as he groggily whispered, “¿Y a dónde crees que vas, preciosa?”, Or when he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, lining it up with soft kisses that sometimes ended up in both of you being late for your assigned tasks. With so much on the line, you were more than happy to avoid those spiky subjects. It seemed like such a small price to pay with all you were getting in return.

You weren’t sure of where all this was going, but none of that mattered. Right now, you were together. Inside the Spider-Society you were a great team and each one was a valuable asset. Outside, every second spent in your arms was enough to make him forget Spider-Man. To you, he was Miguel and nothing more. And that was all you needed.

Life was good. You were happy with the way things were. Until, as it usually happens, a necessary disruption came quite literally crashing into your life in the shape of a fifteen-year-old that carelessly swung around a corner and crashed into you after you’d been chasing him like the rest of the Spider-People after receiving Miguel’s message.

“Miles?” You asked, recalling his name, which you’d actually been hearing for quite some time since the circumstances of his existence started being a problem for your boyfriend. The boy didn’t answer. He just looked at you, his eyes filled with confusion and fear until you hesitantly took a step aside to leave the escape route open for him. If anything he looked even more baffled, but when the noise of his pursuers reached your ears he rushed down the hall and you lost him after he took a sharp turn.

Before you could be spotted, you ran in the opposite direction and hid around a corner as you tried to call Miguel on your watch. Of course, it was in vain. Well, Plan B. Fortunately, this time you did get a reply.

“(Y/N)?”

“Peter! Yes, it’s me! Where are you?”

“Where do you think? I’m going after him like everybody else. I need to get to him before…sweetie, please just get back in there, Daddy’s on the phone right now…I need to get to him before- “

“He’s already left the headquarters,” You informed him.

“Wait, you saw him?”

“About a minute ago. He was on his way to the North exit.”

“(Y/N), are you sure you should be a part of this chase right now?”

“Why not? Jessica is there, isn’t she?” You replied, smiling to yourself. Good old Peter B., looking out for you like some sort of self-appointed brother figure.

“Well yeah, but she’s not running, kid. Although I don’t think she should be on one of those death machines either, I don’t what she’s…”

While he kept on rambling for a bit, you looked around and wondered if you’d ever seen the building this empty.

Empty.

Your eyes slowly ran along the pearly white walls until they landed on the hallway that led to the room where the Go Home Machine was kept. Practically unchecked, if Spider-Byte had joined the pursuit.

“P.B., I’ll talk to you later,” You absent-mindedly replied, hanging up on him without waiting for an answer as you dashed down the hallway.

You kept thinking about that poor kid’s eyes. After having all that information unloaded onto him, instead being given enough time to somewhat process everything he now had to escape from the very people he was supposed to feel safe amongst. When he sat on the floor right in front of you right after the crash, he was sure you would immediately hand him over. Maybe a few months ago you would’ve done it without hesitation but now…things had changed.

There it was. The Go-Home Machine. You thought you saw a purple blast inside that let you know Byte was still there. However, if your theory was correct, Miles would have to go through that hall and therefore, you. A few minutes later, a sudden voice booming from your watch startled you.

“(Y/N)!”

“Miguel? Where are you? I’ve been trying to…”

“(Y/N), listen to me! Miles lured everybody out on purpose, he’s trying to get to the machine. I can see your location back at the headquarters and he should be coming your way in less than a minute!”

“Alright. I’ll handle it.” You replied, ending the call before he could ask you to elaborate on that.

Sure enough, light footsteps came in your direction shortly after. Right as Miles entered your field of view, an alert issued by your watch made your stomach drop and a dreadful feeling fill your chest. However, you’d made up your mind. There was no going back now.

Mile spotted you at the end of the hall and stopped in his tracks. His eyes were determined, not as afraid as a few moments earlier. If he was there that meant he’d somehow gotten past Miguel. You fought back a smile when you wondered how pissed he’d be about it. Having his ass kicked by a teenager was something that, maybe under different circumstances, you could tease him about.

“He’s a delight, isn’t he?” You finally spoke, trying to somewhat lighten the mood while taking a step toward the kid. However, he got in a defensive stance, furrowing his eyebrows in distrust.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.” You assured, showing him both your hands, “Miles, listen very carefully. This is exactly what Miguel was talking about a while ago. At this very moment. Right now, I’m supposed to stop you from getting to that machine and handing you over,”

Of course, he took another step back.

“Miles I’m not going to do that,” You assured him.

“Why not?” He immediately asked, constantly looking behind him, wondering if this was just you trying to stall him like, unbeknownst to you, he thought Peter had tried to do a while ago.

“Because I’m sure there’s a better way to go about all this. I love him so much, I do, but he’s so afraid that I don’t think he’s willing to see other possibilities and by the time he does, it might be too late for you. Now go before anybody else gets here.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. Miles darted past you as soon as you finished talking, taking a second to look back before reaching the dimly lit room where his ticket home was. His eyes scanned your face and darted down for one second before he looked up at you, a new worry in his eyes that had you wondering whether his spider-sense was strong enough to perceive something you’d just found out yourself.

“Are you going to be okay?” Miles asked, his eyes looking down for a moment once again. Did he know? Did he mean “you” as in just you or as in…?

“Yes, don’t worry. Now get out of here.” You insisted. With one last hasty “thanks”, he ran into the room as your left in the opposite direction. You weren’t worried about Spider-Byte. She was a good kid, and she’d do the right thing.

The right thing. What did that even mean anymore?

You’d deal with the moral implications later. For now, as you found yourself on the other side of the headquarters, your mind was set on finding Miguel. Maybe you could try and talk some sense into him, make him reconsider whether this was…

“What the hell was that?”

By now you’d gotten used to Miguel’s habit of sneaking up on you. Usually, hearing his voice coming out of nowhere brought a smile to your face. This time, you closed your eyes and winced as you felt his presence behind you.

“Don’t even try lying. I know that voice you used in the call. The one for when you’re about to ignore whatever order I’m about to give you, so I checked the cameras.”

“Miguel, I…” You began to explain yourself just to be harshly cut off.

“(Y/N), what were you thinking? Do you realize what you just did? Do you have the slightest idea of the consequences…?”

“I do realize that you just asked a fifteen-year-old child to stand by and let his father get killed right before calling his existence a mistake, Miguel. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking of our safety, and that includes Miles’. You’re right, he’s a kid and that means he’s selfish and immature enough to endanger everything we’ve all been risking our lives to protect for years.”

“Miguel, listen to me,” You insisted, “You’re scared. I know. I am, too, but have you ever considered that maybe there’s another solution? Do we even know for sure that allowing the kid to go and try to save his father is going to cause any real damage?”

“What if it does? Are you just going to tell me “Sorry, Miguel, you were right” and that’s all? (Y/N), Dios mío, piensa. Gwen said the same thing but we couldn’t trust her with being objective because he’s her friend,”

“Wait, what do you mean couldn’t?” You asked. Miguel clenched his jaw and turned away, unable or unwilling to look at you.

“Miguel, please tell me you didn’t send her back. Not with how she left things back there,”

His absolute silence told you everything. Shaken, you took a step back.

“What is wrong with you?” You hissed the disappointed look in your eyes hurting like a sharp dagger to his chest.

“(Y/N), mi amor, I’m just trying to…”

“You’re such a hypocrite,” You angrily spat out, “You go around preaching about how important sticking to your stupid canon is and the delicate balance of the multiverse when you know damn well that what we’re doing goes against every single one of those things,”

“No, no, that’s very different,” Miguel disputed,

“How is it different?” You argued back, boldly moving closer to him wishing you were taller so you could face him, “I’m from another dimension, there is no way that we were supposed to meet from the beginning. You had your world, this world, and when you tried to live another life in a different one, an entire dimension was destroyed. I had my world, and for all I know maybe there was somebody there that I was supposed to meet but thankfully I ended up here first so I could meet you. But you know what? My universe is fine, yours is too and I swear I had never been happier in my entire life.”

“You’re right.” He muttered in deep thought.

“Yes, I am. And maybe…” You started to say, a relieved smile tugging at the edges of your mouth until he looked up and the expression in his eyes made your throat dry up.

“We’ve been messing with fire all this time. There is probably somebody you can be with without endangering your entire dimension. And this…this is the hand I was dealt and I should just accept it and live with it. You’re right. Maybe this was all a mistake from the beginning.”

“No. No, come on, you don’t mean that.” You shook your head in denial, lifting both your hands to cup his face in your hands, to bring him close like he had done the night you finally could let all the love you felt for him escape its confinement in your chest.

Miguel grabbed your hands before you could touch him and moved away from you before releasing them as he finally built up the courage to look you in the eye.

“Are you serious?” You asked, your voice quivering with anger as you felt tears begin to dwell in your eyes, “So that’s it? You’d rather sacrifice us than find a different way to solve this?”

“Well, what did you think was going to happen, (Y/N)? That this would go on forever and we’d keep pretending everything is fine and that you don’t have to wear a fucking machine on your wrist every time you come to see me because even the cells in your body know you were never supposed to be here?”

“Oh, right, so you expect me to believe that you always knew this was going to be temporary? Then what was this? Something to take the edge off after a rough day until you decided it was time to stop fooling around and just be done with it?”

Deep inside, you knew what his response was going to be, but every inch of your heart silently pleaded for you to be wrong. To pull you into his arms and apologize for trying to send you away and promise that you’d get through this because you loved each other and that was all that mattered.

“I don’t know why you thought it was anything else,”

For a minute, you wondered if this was all actually happening. Maybe this was all a nightmare fueled by all the training simulations you’d gone over lately, and you’d wake up crying just to find Miguel asleep next to you, his wide back slowly rising and sinking with every calm breath he took. Your crying would wake him up and he’d furrow his eyebrows and ask what had happened.

“I had a nightmare, that’s all,” You’d say, wiping your tears off and trying to downplay it. But he knew better. He always knew better. He would pull you close and bury your head in his chest, placing a kiss on top of your head while warning you that he was the only one allowed to have nightmares because otherwise he’d have to start comforting you too and neither would get a full night of rest. And you would laugh softly as you drifted off, lulled by the warmth of his chest and his smell of sage lotion and cheap fabric softener.

But no. You were very much awake, and instead of comforting you with promises and reassurances, he was walking away from you after delivering the final blow to your heart.

Since he had his back turned to you, you felt free to let the repressed tears freely fall down your face as you helplessly watch him go until he disappeared around a corner. All of a sudden, you felt as if the walls of the headquarters had begun to close around you to asphyxiate you, and the sound of the returning Spider-People made you realize you didn’t want to be there for one more second.

Thanks to your watch, you were back “home” in a few seconds.

“Home”. Your empty apartment where you’d lived alone for years. Where he’d never set foot, and at least in that way it was free of his memory. Or so you thought until you looked over your shoulder at the ajar bathroom door. Inside, atop the porcelain sink, still rested the positive pregnancy test you’d left there before having to rush over to the headquarters to help with the latest anomaly.

That memory felt so distant now. As if it had happened years ago, in a different life. You suppose in a way, it did belong to another life. A life that was over now.

Numbly, you made your way toward the ragged sofa, collapsing on top of it as soon as you were close enough. It was only then that the full weight of the last day and a half sank in and, as you gently wrapped your arms around your stomach, you let the tears fall until your throat burned, the dusty cushions muffling your broken sobs.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard correctly, you did what?”

The seriousness of the situation was enough for Peter to fasten a small strap in Mayday’s baby carrier to make sure she won’t go anywhere for a few minutes as he waited for his friend’s platform to reach ground level. He couldn’t be chasing his toddler around and ripping Miguel a new one at the same time.

“I did what I had to do. It’s for her own good,”

“Right, because you’re such an arrogant…” He paused to carefully place his hands over Mayday’s tiny ears, “…such an arrogant dick that you think you know what’s best for everyone, including a fully grown, intelligent, woman like (Y/N)”

“Shit, Parker, do you think it was easy for me?” Miguel uttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before resting his face against the palm of his hand, “What I said about this being the hand I was dealt…I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with that. Hell, I don’t even know how I’m going to keep myself from showing up at her dimension to try and get her back here the first chance I get.”

“And why would you have to keep yourself from doing that?” Peter asked patiently. It sounded like a better alternative to “Miguel, I love you man but I swear you’ve got the emotional availability of a tree stump. Beats me how (Y/N) was able to get you to admit your feelings without prying your chest open with a jigsaw to see your pounding heart for herself.”

“She was right. We were never supposed to meet in the first place. Not like this. It’s not…”

“Miguel, I swear if I hear the word ‘canon’ even once in this conversation I’m going to drive my head through a wall,”

“Just because you don’t take anything seriously doesn’t mean everybody’s the same,” Miguel hissed back.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Last time I didn’t take something seriously, I ended up just like you will unless you get your priorities sorted out. Alone, and regretting not focusing on what was important,”

“This is important,” Miguel stubbornly argued.

“More important than what you had? Look at yourself. Just forty-eight hours ago you were as happy with (Y/N) as you’d been for the past eight months. And as happy as I’ve been with Mayday and my wife who, by the way, wouldn’t even be with me if it wasn’t for that kid you just called a mistake. And do you see my dimension going up in flames? Or yours? Or hers?”

Unable to find an argument against that, Miguel remained silent, his eyes fixed on an empty spot on the wall in front of him.

“Listen, I know you’re afraid. You don’t want her to get hurt, but if you love her as much as you claim to, then you’re taking the choice of a coward right now. And you can’t afford to be one, especially now.”

“Especially now?” Miguel inquired, turning to look at his friend who, much to his surprise, pressed his lips together as if he’d made a mistake and instead focused on getting Mayday’s hair out of her face.

“My point is; I know you well enough to know you worship that woman. And she thinks you’re pretty decent too. And I can tell you from experience that you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life if you let this come between you.”

Not knowing what else to add, Peter gently patted Miguel’s shoulder before leaving the room, hoping he’d given him enough to think about. Hopefully, enough to make him change his mind.

Meanwhile, Miguel hadn’t moved since Peter left the room, mulling his words over.

Two, particularly, had stuck with him for some reason.

Especially now.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv #angst #female reader #reader insert

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bloodynereid · 7 months

Note

Hi, Jordan Li fan here again! Could you maybe write an angst/comfort fic where (preferably gender neutral) reader really likes Jordan, but because Jordan and Marie have been getting closer they’re scared to confess? So they try to distance themselves from Jordan and eventually the secret comes out? Bonus points if there’s some sort of panic attack + comfort in there :). Again, completely understand if not, no pressure. Have the best day!!

Whiskey in the Shadows

pairing: jordan li x gender neutral reader

tw: cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of suicide, death, canon typical violence ish, panic attack, kissing

description: jealousy is a rather stupid emotion that unfortunately you have to contend with.

a/n: hope you enjoy this one <33 i literally wrote it out in like less than an hour and i'm actually happy with the result so yayyy. requests are open as always and yeah don't have much else to say.

Life at God U was something you had to adjust to over the years. It was completely different from the time you spent in high school but it definitely felt way better to be surrounded by supes, not just humans who constantly pushed you away because you were ‘different’. A plus was definitely being in the top 10, which meant you had extra privileges the other students didn’t have. One was your friend group.

You first met Luke in the first week of school. You were both taking the same mandatory intro to marketing seminar and were paired up together to make a sales pitch for a product that could combine both of your powers. God, that day was almost as vivid as if you were living it right now.

“Hi.” You jumped slightly and looked up from your notes to see a tall blonde guy standing in front of your spot.

“Uh hi.”

“You want to be my partner?” You scanned the room and saw that everyone had already paired up.

“Sure, I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Luke.” He was about to set down his bag when he realized the mess that surrounded you was going to make that difficult.

“Right, shit. Let me get this out of the way.” You quickly took all the multicolored folders from the spot next to you and shoved them into your bag, Luke pulled out the chair and sat down next to you before pulling out a notebook.

“Why the fuck do you have so many folders?” Luke said as he watched you struggle to organize them in alphabetical order.

“This class is bullshit so I mostly spend time catching up on outside projects.” You say as you are finally able to fix all your folders and turn towards Luke who has an incredulous look on his face.

“Jesus, I guess I picked the right partner then.”

“Oh don’t count on me doing all the work.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He said with a smirk before he started to rattle off ideas of what your pitch could be.

From that moment on you two had become instant friends, eventually your little group expanded to include Luke’s girlfriend, Cate, who was probably the nicest person you had ever met. Then Andre, a legacy who didn’t actually act like it. Jordan was the last to join and all of it happened during one of your many sparring sessions with Luke.

“Ok come on you have got to be cheating!” Luke complained as you once again pinned him down on the soft mat. Your little spar was gathering some attention because the boxing ring was now crowded with supes holding up phones.

“Nope. I’m just better than you. Oh shit.” Luke took advantage of your distraction to grab your shoulder and flip you around so you landed hard against the mat.

“I win.”

“Fuck you.” You bit out before you used your powers to wrap and twist shadows around Luke’s wrists so he tumbled down next to you.

“Ok now that’s cheating.”

“We never said no powers.”

“It’s an unspoken rule!” Luke exclaimed but he had a big smile on his face as you offered a hand to him after jumping up from your own spot.

“Truce?”

“Truce.” Luke said as he smirked and grabbed your arm, allowing you to pull him up. The crowd around the ring started dispersing as you climbed out through the ropes.

“That was pretty fucking badass.” Came a voice from one of the few remaining spectators, you expected their voice to be focused on Luke but their intense stare was pinned on you.

“Why thank you. Luke’s an easy one to beat.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed in indignation as he jumped down next to you and threw you one of the spare water bottles he had. You grabbed it with one of your shadows and screwed open the cap.

“I’m Jordan.”

“Nice to meet you Jordan, I’m Y/N and this is Luke as you already know.”

“Hey.” Luke said as he did some kind of military salute.

“So what are your powers?” You asked when suddenly Jordan shifted in front of you. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s fucking awesome.” Luke said as he finished taking a long drag of the water bottle.

“If you’re ever up for a spar come find me.” You said as you checked the time on your phone and realized you were going to be late for class. “We have to go but it was great to meet you Jordan.”

“You too.” They said with a smile as you and Luke grabbed your bags from the floor. You waved as you went your separate ways.

“Someone has a crushhhh.” Luke said with a sing-song voice when he realized you were still staring at Jordan’s retreating back.

“Fuck off.” You said as you slapped his shoulder, making a booming laugh explode out of Luke.

Somehow you had managed to keep your crush on Jordan secret when you all reached junior year. Luke was the only one who knew and he constantly teased you about the situation, any time you stumbled over your words or got flustered in front of them. It just seemed harder and harder over the years to actually confess to Jordan. They had gotten so damn confident and like a thousand times more attractive - which is something you didn’t think was possible.

Everything sort of started to fall apart in your life the first days of junior year. It was like the universe decided to throw a wrench in your stableish life. Incident 1: Andre nearly kills a woman in the club you like to frequent. Incident 2: Luke’s nightmares get worse and he keeps having to bunk in your room because for some fucking reason he’s getting suspicious of Cate. Incident 3: Jordan is making heart eyes to someone who is not you. (not that you don’t like Marie but that was the problem, she was too damn perfect) Incident 4: Luke kills himself…

It was like your world was torn apart in the space of half an hour. Your best friend, who you considered a platonic soulmate and brother, killed Brink and then himself right in front of you. The last thing you said to him was that you loved him. Right after he hugged you as tight as humanly possible before flying off to his doom. He was fucking Icarus in that moment.

Incident 5: Luke has a brother, who’s somehow stuck in a fucking underground experimental facility in the school. Incident 6: Brink’s memorial gala…

You carefully adjusted the all-black suit embroidered with shiny black vines that you had gotten in preparation for Luke’s birthday… something that wasn’t even going to happen this year or any year for that matter. Fuck, not the time to cry. You mentally chidded yourself before assessing your look one last time in the mirror before making your way out of your dorm.

You really fucking hoped you wouldn’t run into Jordan tonight. It was getting harder to be around them… every time you saw them, they either started ranting about why Marie was around so much (you almost hoped they actually hated her for a second there but there was a certain spark in Jordan’s eyes whenever they spoke about Marie) or well yeah more complaining about Marie.

You had taken to spending more time alone, you still had a bad feeling about Cate and Andre spent most of his time with Cate so that left alone time as your only option. It had started taking a toll on you though. Mourning wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

You stepped into the decorated hall and cringed at all the posters with Brink. You knew he was a good man but… Luke wasn’t fucking crazy. You had been trying to help him for months, he had a reason to do it and you were going to try to find his brother… as soon as this damn gala was over.

You picked one of the champagnes off of a random waiter’s tray and quirked your lips up. Time to put on a real fucking show.

The next hour was spent mingling and chatting up potential sponsors. They all seemed hesitant to even speak to you because they knew how close you and Luke were but you reassured them that it was nothing to worry about. The Vought PR lines left a sour taste in your mouth that by the end of the hour you were itching for something stronger than champagne.

Once you were sure that the bartender was looking the other way you extended one of your shadows and snatched up one of the good whiskey bottles off the shelf and into your hand. You fucking loved your powers so much sometimes. Happy with your little prize a genuine smile made its way onto your face. Only to fall when you saw Jordan directly talking to Marie. They were smiling softly at each other, making a knot form in your stomach.

You hadn’t cried since Luke. All that had managed to come out of your eyes was a single measly fucking tear right before blood rained down from the heavens. But it seemed like Jordan’s moment with Marie was your fucking breaking point.

A sob threatened to force its way out of your throat as you hurried towards one of the alcoves that you knew this damn place had. What you didn’t notice was the way a pair of brown eyes followed your rushed movements. The second you were cocooned in your shadows was the moment that the tears slowed and a hiccup left your throat.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

“Y/N? Look I know you’re in there. I know your shadows when I see them.” The distinct voice of Jordan Li permeated your little hideout, disturbing the peace that you had somehow been able to culminate.

“Fuck off.” You said in a strained tone, tears were threatening to force their way out of your eyes once more so you opened the bottle and took a long swig of burning whisky.

“Y/N… is this about Luke? Shit- I haven’t even talked to you- I’m so sorry.” Those last few words made the stupid little resolve you had left deplete so you waved your hand and the shadows parted like curtains exposing Jordan’s ethereal face which looked incredibly apologetic. She climbed into your alcove as you closed the shadows back up.

“It’s fine, Jord. You had your own shit to deal with.”

“No, it’s not fine. You- you’ve been listening to me rant about Marie and I didn’t even ask if you were okay. I’m a shitty friend.” A resounding pang echoed through your heart at the word friend. Fuck. Another swig of the fancy whiskey.

“It’s not about that Jord, I’m really fine.”

“You’re drinking whiskey… you only do that when you’re stressed and/or depressed.” It almost hurts to realize how much Jordan actually knows you.

“It’s not that Jordan.”

“Then what is it?!” Jordan almost yells, probably exasperated by your perceived stubbornness.

“I fucking like you okay? I’ve been in love with you for fucking I don’t know how long. So can you please just fuck off and leave me alone.” You yelled out, only realizing after you finished speaking what you had just said. Oh. Oh no. A familiar panic started to seize your chest. Shit, they were going to reject you. Shit. Shit. Shit. You could almost feel yourself drifting off to join your shadows when warm hands gently got a hold of you.

“Y/N, Y/N. Listen to me, you have to breathe. You have to breathe with me. Come on. No passing out on me tonight. You didn’t even hear what I was going to say. Hey.” Your breathing started to slow down as you listened to Jordan’s calming voice. They were slowly bringing you back to earth as their hands rubbed against the material of the suit, creating a calming pressure.

“Sorry about that.” When Jordan realized I was calming down I saw a quirk of a smile appear on their face, her eyes twinkled in the dark with an intensity I had gotten familiar with over the years.

“You don’t have to be sorry at all. You get those often?”

“More now than before. I’m really fucking sorry, let’s just forget I sa-”

“No, nope. No take backsies. How the fuck did you think I didn’t like you, no wait sorry, love you back?”

“I-umm” You stuttered out as you looked at Jordan in awe. They loved you back. Holy fucking shit.

“Who came up to who first? I’ve wanted to ask you out on a date for years.”

“And why didn’t you?” You said as Jordan smirked at your renewed confidence.

“Because you are wayyy out of my league. I mean you are like the most incredible being to grace the Earth.”

“Ok now you’re exaggerating things, Jord.”

“No I’m not. I can’t believe you didn’t realize I wasn’t totally gone for you before.” You let the giddy feeling of love spread through your extremities when a realization made you stop short.

“What about Marie?”

“Marie? What are you talking about?”

“You’re like-” You made wavy motions with your hands that had Jordan’s laugh resonating against the shadows, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you watched them.

“Oh fuck, you are too funny, love. No, me and Marie are not-” Jordan repeated the wavy motions you had just done which made you smack her playfully. The movement had you shuffling closer to Jordan so now your faces seemed like they were only millimeters apart.

“Fuck.” You uttered under your breath as your nose skimmed against Jordan’s.

“Fuck is right. Can I- I umm really want to kiss you right now.”

“What are you waiting for?” You answered just as Jordan surged forward and your lips met in an explosion of sensations. You felt your shadows jump and play around you excitedly as you pulled Jordan impossibly closer by threading your fingers in their oh so soft hair. That decision rewarded you with a little whine from Jordan that had warmth spreading over your body once again.

Reluctantly pulling away you rested your forehead against Jordan’s as they smiled giddily up at you. Her eyes sparkled in the darkness and you smoothed the pads of your fingers against their cheek.

“Hi.”

“I really fucking love you.” You said as you looked into those brown eyes that looked just like the perfect cup of coffee. Inviting, warm and absolutely enthralling.

“I love you more.”

“Always a competition with you Jordan.” You said with a chuckle, making Jordan laugh in response.

“Well you should have known what you were signing on for when you fell in love with me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

so... reader's powers in this one are known as darkness manipulation which are sort of like the darkling's powers from shadow & bone (they're suit for the gala is literally directly inspired by the darkling's kefta lol) also here's the link to the superpower wiki page if anyone's interested.

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magpiepills · 1 month

Text

Only Teasing

EXPLICIT! 18+ MDNI

SMUT (including but not limited to: PIV, light londage, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap (20s and 40s) oral- m and f receiving, slight angst, size kink, fingering, pet names) mentions of alcohol consumption

Summary: you’ve been teasing your neighbor, Joel, but he’s got other ideas.

AN: this is a repost! this is my first published fic! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, after all the esquire stuff this morning I was inspired to finish the fic that has been easiest to write so far! Many thanks to all of the many wonderful writers who I read, like, reblog for the inspiration and keeping the Pedro fantasies alive!

Word count 1.6

“Look at you, baby, getting so wet and ready for my cock. Do you want it? Tell me what you need.” You try in vain to speak, but with your panties stuffed in your mouth, all you can do is whimper and groan at Joel’s touch. “All y’gotta do is ask.”

All summer, you’ve been doing your best to torment your neighbor, Joel. He’s probably 45 or so, with salt and pepper hair, and tan skin that covers muscles he built as a contractor. What you wouldn’t give to see him man-handling bags of cement and using heavy machinery.

The closest you got was when he came over to help your dad build a gazebo in the back yard. You couldn’t stop yourself from choosing the times he was in the back yard alone to swim or sunbathe, to call your friends to talk about your dates, to suck wantonly on popsicles under the mid-day sun. None of this ever garnered a reaction from Joel and it drove you crazy. You aren’t a narcissist, but you feel like you’re fairly attractive and you’d gotten plenty of attention from boys at college. It’s summer now, though, and you’re back home. You’re bored, you’re horny, and you love the thrill of teasing a hot older guy. You were having fun until the night the gazebo was finished and your dad and Joel celebrated with shots. You had joined them, made small talk with Joel, as innocently as possible. When it was clear your dad couldn’t handle another drink you took him inside and put him to bed.

You didn’t expect to see Joel still there when you came back out, but he was sitting in a chair, drink in his hand, watching you. “Guess he got carried away.” You said, smiling and beginning to fold the towel that was draped over your own seat. Joel didn’t speak for a few moments, just stared hard at you. “Been getting kind of carried away yourself lately, sugar.” You froze at his words. Unsure of what to say, you mustered all your confidence and courage and walked over, easing into his lap, offering yourself to him with a grin. “You ready to quit playin around now?” He didn’t give you a change to answer before lifting you and carrying you next door to his house.

Now you find yourself in his bed, hands tied over your head, and his mouth pressed to your secret heat. You were shocked and turned on by his unabashedly nasty language. No one had ever said such things to you in moments of passion. Joel seemed to bloom into his full self here in the darkness of his bedroom with you beneath him. “I need you to come, and I need it soon, baby girl. Can you give me one more?” You’d already came on his thick fingers, before he stuffed your panties into your mouth to keep you quiet. “That’s it, baby. Good girl” he cooed into your neck, one hand gently at your throat while the other pushes into your slick pussy, tracing his thumb over your swollen clit. It didn’t take long before you came undone and your hips jerked in response. Joel wasted no time and buried his face between your legs, licking a broad path over your folds, backtracking to suck your clit into his hot mouth, flicking his tongue over it as he sucked, and pushing you over the edge when he slid two fingers back into you. Wet, vulgar sounds filled the air. It was too much and not enough. You cried out and bucked against his weight. Joel was mad with lust and hell bent on ruining you. He was tired of your games and he was going to put a stop to it tonight. His hands felt hot as they slid over your hips and up to your breasts, where he rubbed and squeezed them, running his fingers lightly over your nipples, pulling at them until they hardened under his touch before turning his attention back to you. His cock was thick and heavy, straining against his tight boxer briefs, leaving a dark, round spot of pre-cum before he finally released his full length and sinking down on the bed before your face, pressing his member to your lips, rubbing it over the fabric of your panties, before pulling them from your mouth and replacing them unceremoniously with his dick. You moaned and the size of the smooth, hot head and the slightly salty flavor of pre cum. “Suck.” He commanded, and you hesitated for a second before opening wide and taking all you could in your mouth from the angle you were at. You moaned around his cock, sending waves of delight through his hips. He thrust into your mouth, frustrated that he couldn’t get deeper in your throat. “Need you to give me more, sugar. M’gonna untie you, but you gotta be a good girl for me, alright? Can you be real sweet for me? Let me see how good you can suck my cock. See if you can take it all, baby. See if you can earn a fuck.” You nodded quickly, desperation in your eyes.

With one swift motion he loosened the tie that was around your wrists and you dropped down in front of him to bring his cock into your mouth once more. With deliberate breaths and careful movements, you traced swirls and stripes up his length with your tongue until the fat head was at the back of your mouth, then you opened as wide as you could and pushed down further, feeling an ache in your throat that made your eyes water. You were drooling and struggling to breathe, but Joel was ready with encouragement. “That’s it. That’s it sugar. You’re doing so good sucking my cock. I could tell you wanted this. Knew you you were just actin’ up cause you needed your pretty face fucked by a man who knows what he’s doing.” His hand was at the back of your head, not pressing, but not allowing you to retreat. Panic was starting to creep over you when he relented, pulling away all at once with a groan. “You really think you can handle a real man, girl? I’m not one of your little college boys. It’s all fun and games until nobody else ever fucks you like I can. Gonna make you sorry, baby girl.” You didn’t care.

All summer you’d been dreaming of seducing him, and now he had you in his bed, reduced to a needy mess. You’d never seen a cock so big and you couldn’t go on without feeling it stretch and fill you. A whimper fell from your lips. Joel’s eyes were on yours, watching the torment wash over your face when he denied you the only thing you wanted. Slowly and deliberately, he held his throbbing cock, pressing it against your clit, a few taps for good measure as you squirmed, desperate to feel him inside you. Joel looked down at you, amused. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s see if you can handle me.” He notched the fat head at your entrance, and pushed. He moved slowly but with steady pressure until you felt the tip just inside, you were incoherent, head back, eyes squeezed shut, panting. “Be a lot easier if you relax, darlin. Take a deep breath cause you got a lot more to go and I’m not ready to stop.” “Don’t stop Joel, I can take it.” “I know you can baby doll. You’ve been teasing me for weeks, you gotta put your money where your pussy is.” You were sure he was pleased with his little joke, but you couldn’t ask because when he pushed in further, easing out slightly before each forward movement, you saw stars. You’d never felt anything like it, burning and tearing you in half. “You’re so big Joel! So big.” Is all you could get out.

Your dreams of whispering to him until he was wrapped around your finger, intoxicated by your charms, and ready to give you the world for the chance to worship at your altar dashed. He only let you think you were in control until the lights were out. No longer taunting you, he groaned into your neck as he pounded you down into his mattress, your own heavy breaths near his ear. His rhythmic pace faltered, his weight falling heavier and heavier on you. “I’m coming. Where you want it?” “Inside.” His hips jerked again and you felt his release, warm and thick inside you. “Atta girl.”

He rolled over and lay beside you catching his breath in silence, then left the room, leaving a pit in your stomach. Even when he returned with a washcloth for you, you couldn’t think of what to say. You had orgasmed again and again and you’d fucked the man you’d set your sights on, but the way he turned the tables had you disoriented and unsure of what yo do next. “Is that what you wanted? You wanted to fuck a real man, how was it?” You blinked at him, no words forming in response. “No more playing around. I don’t have time. If you want me, you better say so.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou #tlou smut #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #bat writes

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hanniluvi · 2 months

Text

HIS EXPECTED FATE — JUNGWON FF

“ one day, i will stop falling in love with you. ”

PART TWO OF (Y)OUR EXPECTED FATE. ( READ FIRST ? )

SYNOPSIS Jungwon was going to try to move on—he had promised you. But, with his new career choice, he found himself writing books about his past lifetimes with you. As he convinced himself it would help as he could finally “let go”, you just had to come stumbling into his life again…after all, promises are sometimes meant to be broken.

( 🗝️ ) THE PAIRING author!jungwon x fem!reader

𓍼 WARNINGS character death, mentions of injuries (blood), use of petnames (my love + dearest), profanity (barely)

⌞ + ⌝ GENRE doomed immortal x mortal, angst, fluff-ish?

♡⸝⸝ WORD COUNT — 2.6K+ ( 2694 WORDS )

AUTHOR’S NOTE FINALLY part two is here !! i just loved part one too much so i had to let it get its moment one more time ( yes , we have favs around here !! ) writer jungwon is to DIE FOR and ugh, i just might write a long fic based on that idea SOLELY for my own satisfaction so yeah the wheels r turning in my head as we speak 🤍 but i hope you enjoy ^^

Jungwon should’ve known.

Each step echoes in the hollow corridors of his mind, a haunting reminder of the cruel cycle of fate. Your fragile form lies before him, a mere whisper of the vibrant soul he once knew. "YN!" he cries out, his voice choking with anguish as he gathers you into his trembling embrace.

With his eyes blurred with tears, he notices how you looked up at him, life escaping from you within the minutes, or even seconds you had left.

Through tear-streaked eyes, he watches as your gaze meets his, a bittersweet reflection of love and loss. "Jungwon..." your voice is but a fragile whisper, fading like a distant echo.

“Why are you still smiling?” His voice trembled, his fingers caressing the side of your face as if he was trying to remember every detail about you into his memory.

How could you still smile so beautifully during your final moments?

Searching into your eyes for answers, he notices you trying to speak to him. Yet, instead of words, trickles of blood start escaping your lips, only intensifying the moment. “Take your time, YN…” His voice quivers as he tenderly brushes away the blood that mars your once radiant face.

Looking at your current state, he knew time was no longer a factor. Still, those words spill from his lips, a feeble attempt to offer comfort to both you and himself.

"I'm always here for you, remember?"

"I'm sorry," you murmur, your voice barely audible above the relentless march of time.

As the weight of your apology hangs heavy in the air, Jungwon's heart clenches with a mixture of sorrow and regret. "There's nothing to apologize for," he whispers, his voice barely audible amidst the suffocating silence of impending loss. “I should’ve done more.”

"You've done what you could. I was the stubborn one," you reassure him, your words a soothing balm to his troubled soul.

"I still could've tried harder," he persists, unable to shake the burden of guilt that weighs heavily upon him.

"Stop blaming yourself, my dearest," your pet name pierces through his turmoil, a reminder of the depth of your connection.

How many more times would he hear it before you slipped away?

“Listen, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything you ask, I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, my love.”

“Pursue in something else in your life. Something that isn’t me.”

"How?" Jungwon's tone is laced with uncertainty, his mind grappling with the thought of creating a new path without you by his side. He’d always believed that you were the person he needed to have to live peacefully. But, the more he thought about it, the more he had led himself to the most painful goodbyes he’d forever remember.

"I know you can do it. You've spent so much time searching for me, knowing that I won't remember a single thing about our past lives—isn't that right?" Your words striked something within him, a painful reminder of the futility of clinging to pasts that can never be reclaimed.

"Try to change your fate," you urge, your voice tinged with hope.

"I can't see a life without you—even if you're in different bodies, or lives—I need you," Jungwon confesses, his desperation laid bare for you to see.

"You're..." you cough out, a sudden wave of panic flooding through him. "You're only going to keep hurting yourself."

“But—”

"Jungwon. Please," you implore, your voice barely above a whisper yet filled with unwavering determination.

"Okay," Jungwon concedes, his resolve crumbling in the face of your earnest plea.

"Promise me," you insist, your hand trembling as you extend your pinky towards him, a silent vow of mutual understanding and commitment. Despite your weakened state, your arm strains to support your hand as it reaches out to him.

Jungwon clears his throat, his own hand trembling as he interlocks his pinky with yours. A fleeting smile graces your lips, a final testament to the love that binds your souls together.

"I love you, my dearest," you whisper, your words a tender farewell as the grip of your hand on his begins to loosen.

Tears stream down Jungwon's cheeks uncontrollably as he watches you slip away, the echoes of your parting words resonating within his shattered heart. No matter the amount of lifetimes he has gone through, he could never get familiar with the pain he’d experience when losing you.

The only thing that was different was the thought of him finally wanting to take your advice seriously. After all, he did make one last promise with you.

“I love you too, my love.” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion as he finally surrenders to the overwhelming tide of grief.

“I’ll try my best.”

Sinking into his chair, Jungwon's gaze drifts across the scattered stacks of notebooks adorning his desk. With a flick of his wrist, he switches on the desk lamp, its soft glow casting a comforting aura over the room as he reaches for the nearest notebook within arm's reach.

With pen in hand, he begins to jot down the fragments of ideas swirling in his mind. As the words flow effortlessly onto the paper, he can almost feel the weight of his burdens lifting, if only for a fleeting moment.

Dropping the pen onto the desk, Jungwon stretches his cramped fingers with a small groan, the fatigue of sleepless nights finally catching up to him. Adjusting his posture, he straightens his back and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the lenses reflecting words he had written in such a short amount of time.

Writing the last sentence, Jungwon closes the notebook with a sense of accomplishment, a faint smile gracing his lips as he flips through the pages one last time before setting it aside. It was one of the fifth notebooks he had put aside for this book—one of the books he’d spent so much of his time in because you had told him to follow his dreams.

So, he took it to heart, and he seriously never thought he’d be so committed until he finally managed to publish a couple of books of his own.

Finding himself in one of the bookstores, he found himself staring at one of the copies he had made. The countless hours spent hunched over his desk, the sleepless nights fueled by caffeine, and sheer determination had finally paid off.

Stepping closer to the display of his book, Jungwon feels a surge of pride swell within him as he runs his fingers over the glossy cover.

This couldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for your words.

Just as Jungwon is about to place the copy back onto the shelf, a voice startles him from his reverie. "Oh, you like that author too?" The sound of the voice breaks through the silence of the bookstore, drawing his attention to the person standing beside him—a cheerful stranger whose presence catches him off guard.

As he recovers from the sudden startlement, Jungwon's shock only intensifies when he realizes who is standing before him.

It's you.

You've been reincarnated, your familiar presence sending a shiver down his spine.

Quickly averting his gaze, Jungwon feigns casual indifference as he shifts his attention back to the shelves. "I was just curious, that's all," he replies with a slight nod, his heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief and longing.

Though he knows that you cannot possibly remember the countless lifetimes you've shared, the mere sight of you was overwhelming him. It was as if you knew, and you were simply mocking him for his misery.

“Oh, cool.” It would’ve been cool if he didn’t happen to bump into you now, especially since he tried his absolute hardest to not go out looking for you again. But, fate seemed to have their plans, and brought you to him like it was nothing.

“I didn’t know they released a new book—did you?”

“I’ve heard about it, that’s why I went to check it out.” he continues, his gaze fixed on the books before him as he struggles to maintain his composure. Despite the casual tone of the conversation, every fiber of his being longs to reach out to you, to hold you close and never let go. But he knows that such desires are futile, destined to remain unfulfilled in the cruel dance of fate.

He can’t fall for you again.

“Mind telling me what you heard about it? I’m quite curious as well,” Jungwon's heart races as you scoot closer to him, his pulse quickening for several reasons. It's been a while since he last saw you, and the sudden proximity is enough to make him feel flustered, a jumble of conflicting emotions swirling within him.

"Well, it's about a knight and a sorcerer," he replies with a bitter smile, carefully masking his true feelings behind a facade of casual indifference. After all, he can't afford to reveal his true identity as the author—not when he's spent so long hiding it from the public, especially for moments like this.

"Is that so?" you hum in response, your curiosity piqued as you peer over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the book in his hands. Jungwon's shoulders tense up, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected interaction. Should he reveal his secret to you, or continue to play along with the charade?

"It's quite different as the male lead is convincing the female lead to stay with him—oh and I forgot to mention, the female lead is a knight," Jungwon remarked, his enthusiasm evident in his tone.

"Wow, that's kind of badass," Jungwon chuckles, momentarily forgetting his unease in the warmth of your reaction.

"She certainly was," he responds almost instinctively, before catching himself with a slight frown. "...from what I heard, that is," he quickly adds, cursing himself for the slip-up. He can't afford to reveal too much, not when his true identity as the author must remain hidden.

"What do you mean he was trying to convince her to stay though? What happened?" you inquire, effortlessly steering the conversation in a new direction. Jungwon feels a wave of relief wash over him at your gentle redirection, grateful for the sudden change.

"Well, since he's immortal, he had finally figured out a way for her to stay," Jungwon recalls, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "But, she refused. And even with his pestering, nothing could convince her."

"Yikes—this author hates seeing people happy, huh?" you remark sadly, your empathy for the characters noticeable in your tone. "They always manage to write something sad, I feel bad for the characters."

Jungwon chuckles at your words, though there's a hint of sadness underlying his amusement. It's not that he hates seeing people happy; rather, he's grappling with his own memories, desperately trying to come to terms with the past in order to find solace in the present.

"It seems so," he finally manages to say, his voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within him. "But, you know, I haven't read the whole thing. It could have a good ending, who knows," he adds optimistically, though he knows all too well the outcome of that particular fate.

"I like the creativity though, I wouldn't have imagined this," you remark, your admiration for the author's imagination evident in your words. And as Jungwon listens to you speak, he finds himself drawn to the warmth of your presence, fully knowing he shouldn’t be.

He would only hurt himself again.

As silence envelops the room, Jungwon finds himself lost in his thoughts, the weight of his past with you casting a shadow over the present. But then, your voice breaks through the quiet, pulling him back to the present moment.

"I don't blame her though—I would've done the same," you added, your words tinged with understanding and empathy. Jungwon's gaze shifts to you, his heart aching at the familiarity of your smile. It's a bittersweet reminder of the lifetimes they've shared, each one leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

Meeting your gaze, Jungwon is struck by the overwhelming sense of deja vu that washes over him. Your face, so achingly familiar, holds a mirror to his memories—the way your hair falls in gentle waves around your face, the curve of your smile, and the moles that adorned your skin.

Your moles.

As Jungwon's gaze lingers on the moles scattered across your face, he can't help but feel a surge of nostalgia wash over him. Each mole seems to hold a memory, a testament to the countless kisses he had left upon your skin in your previous lives.

The urge to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss each mole floods Jungwon's senses, a longing that was meant to be fulfilled every lifetime. His heart falters, torn between the overwhelming love he feels for you and the bittersweet ache of your shared pasts.

You are just too pretty, he thinks, his breath catching in his throat as he struggles to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume him. In that moment, you are more than just a familiar face—you are a living, breathing reminder of everything he has ever loved and lost.

He knows no matter how many lifetimes may pass, you will always hold a special place in his heart.

"Why?" Jungwon asks, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation as he searches for answers in your words, hoping they will provide solace for the choice you made to leave him in your past life.

"Living on forever doesn't seem like a good thing. It could get boring, so I would understand the female lead's thoughts. After all, not knowing the outcome of your life could only push you to work harder, no?" you respond, your words carrying a wisdom that resonates deeply within him.

"Even if it meant staying with your lover?" he presses, his heart pounding with anticipation as he awaits your response.

"Even if it meant staying with your lover," you affirm, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes.

Hearing your words stings, but Jungwon finds himself strangely grateful for the insight they provide into your perspective. They were all too familiar, and it was as if you meant to give him that reminder in every life of yours.

Perhaps he had always viewed love through a narrow lens, assuming that staying together for eternity was the ultimate expression of devotion. But now, as he reflects on your words, he realizes that love is as much about understanding and acceptance as it is about passion and commitment.

"I see," he murmurs softly, the words heavy with resignation yet tinged with a newfound sense of understanding. Maybe, just maybe, he should stop chasing after a love that may never be fully realized. "I understand, thank you."

Just as he is about to turn away, ready to take the first steps towards letting go of his past, he feels a tug on his sleeve—a gentle reminder that some bonds are too strong to be easily broken. Turning back to face you, Jungwon is surprised when you hand him a piece of paper. Confusion flickers across his features as he accepts it, watching as you walk away with a smile.

Opening the paper, his eyes widen in surprise as he reads the number scrawled across it.

"You're cute – call me? :)"

The boldness of your gesture catches him off guard, but a warm feeling spreads through him nonetheless.

Chuckling softly to himself, Jungwon realizes just how much he has missed you. Despite the promise he made to himself to let go, he finds himself unable to resist the temptation of reconnecting with you.

After all, you in your previous life never managed to keep your promises either.

With a sigh, Jungwon inputs the number into his phone, a mix of apprehension and excitement coursing through him. Perhaps, he muses, promises aren't always meant to be kept—at least not when they stand in the way of finding happiness and connection with someone he cares about.

Sending the first text, Jungwon felt like this was bound to happen.

As if it was his expected fate.

💬 : 🥸

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

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whiskygoldwings · 18 days

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WHISKY'S FOXY FIC REC LIST

Okay! The promised Fox-centric fics rec list is here WOOOO! I’ve split this into complete and not complete. I did have grand plans about sorting it into genres but uh, that might be for later when I've regained the will to live... I’ve also been recommended a few I haven’t read, so have given those a section of their own. These are FOX-CENTRIC fics. … Mostly. I’ve said where the focus is more on someone else with Fox as more secondary!

THIS IS ALL HUGELY BIASED! I have my personal tastes, and know they don’t fit everyone else’s. Just because a fic isn’t on here doesn’t mean it isn’t good, and just because a fic IS on here doesn’t mean you’ll like it. I also simply haven’t read all the Fox fics out there! I’m trying to, but you folks keep writing new excellent fics and I can’t keep up! Also, I do like to occasionally do other things… Very occasionally…

Within the basic headers, none of these fics are in any particular order. Also, I HAVE ABSOLUTELY MISSED FICS. PLEASE REC ME ANY YOU THINK I HAVE MISSED. I’m intending to update this as I read more, these are just the ones I could remember/find at the moment!

I have included with the link – any ships, tags people may need to be aware of, length and a brief summary. I CLONESHIP. So yes, there's some fics with cloneshipping in here. Honestly, not anywhere near as many as I thought there would be. I have used the pairings as given by the author on the fic, so if I have missed a pairing, that's why. IF YOU THINK I HAVE MISSED SOMETHING PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW, PLEASE TELL ME. I do my best, but I’m very (very) fallible. I’d rather know and be able to fix it than not know and someone be hurt by something. (This literally goes for anything else).

If you have a fic that’s not on here and you think it should be – comment/message/ask!

With the intro over, let’s get into the meat of things!

COMPLETED FICS

Commander Fox’s Ultimate Bucket List – Blackkat

PAIRINGS: Fox/Mace Windu, Padme Amidala/Thorn/Stone, Depa Bilaba/Grey, Agen Kolar/Cody

WORDCOUNT: 27,509

TAGS: AU – Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Humour, Crack, Seduction, Murder Attempts, OTP: Anakin/Consequences, Romance, Friendship, Let Fox be a little unhinged 2kforever

SUMMARY: Fox has a second chance, a to-do list, a stolen lightsaber, and a complete willingness to give everyone around him grey hairs. Plus a Jedi Master to seduce. It's going to be a ride.

My thoughts: Y’ALL. WELCOME TO RAREPAIR HELL WITH ME. I actually tried to draw fanart for this I loved it so much. It is WONDERFUL. Hilarious. The characterisation of Fox is just brilliant.

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Our Guard (a docu-holo sponsored by the Coruscant Communications Bureau) – FortinbrasFTW

PAIRINGS:NO PAIRINGS

WORDCOUNT: 54,034

TAGS: Various original characters, Comedy, Fix-It, Dead Sheev Palpatine, that what we do in the shadows meets fox accidentally kills his boss au, mockumentary, bail and fox are bros, Crack treated seriously, no ships really in this but kit and fox are def some kind of exes, every clone deserves a droid sidekick

SUMMARY: Nonstop civilian protest duty for over a month, the senate's latest hobby seems to be getting abducted for kicks, and now he had to deal with a camdroid shaped pain-in-the-ass following his every move. The powers that be seemed to think that putting him and the rest of the Guard in some holo was the best way to work up some civilian sympathy. Well, at least there was no way his day could get any worse...

My thoughts: You all thought this list was gonna be just angst didn’t you!?! This is another, just excellent, hilarious Fox fic. Such a brilliant idea, and one I can absolutely imagine happening. Fox is so done, and his interactions with the camdroid are beautiful.

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To Be Free Once More (That’s Worth Fighting For) – Batsutousai

PAIRINGS: Fox/Obi-Wan Kenobi

WORDCOUNT: 154,695

TAGS: AU – Canon divergence, Fix-it, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Jedi Shadow Investigator Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi culture and tradition, Jedi appreciation, Coruscant Guard Troopers Deserve better, Force-sensitive Clone Troopers, Protective clone troopers, Clone trooper mistreatment, Clone trooper and Jedi relationships, Institutional Abuse, Discrimination, Strangers to friends to lovers, Trans clone troopers, nonbinary clone troopers, Nonbinary Jedi characters, Sheev Palpatine being an asshole, Character death, Palpatine and some Corries die onscreen, Implied/referenced character death, Deaths of original Jedi characters are reference, The young of Melida/Daan, Clone trooper Inhibitor chips, Force-sensitive Fox

SUMMARY: As a Jedi Shadow, Obi-Wan hadn't expected to have much to do with the clone troopers. Until, suddenly, he does.

My thoughts: I uh… I already broke my own rules for this list… Oops! I’m really not sorry for it though… Obi-Wan is the central character in this, with Fox as a secondary character. However the handling of Fox and Obi-Wan’s building relationship, and the way Obi-Wan interacts with the clones/the Corries is wonderful. This is a freaking excellent story. I’m breaking the rules to recommend you something you should ABSOLUTELY read.

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Operation: Don’t Wake The Commander – AlleyMoslof

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 7,034

TAGS: Fox needs a hug, Tired Fox, Fox deserves better, These shinies are dedicated, Coruscant Guards, Let Fox sleep, Fix-it, Thorn is Chaos Personified, The Guard has no impulse control, Fox is a good bro, the adoption genes are strong with the Guard, Fox IS the Guard’s impulse control

SUMMARY: “So basically, Commander Thorn ordered you to make sure Commander Fox slept a decent amount and didn’t give you any restrictions as to how to do this.”

The shiny looked up from the ‘pad to smirk at him, “sir, yes, sir.”

My thoughts: Just adorable! This is so sweet! Those Shinies sure are dedicated, and Fox gets a well-deserved nap. *heart*

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And I Did It My Way – Miyaji_08

PAIRINGS: Fox/Quinlan Vos

WORDCOUNT: 23,039

TAGS: Hurt/Comfort, Fox Needs a Hug, Coruscant Guard troopers need hugs, Coruscant Guard troopers get hugs, Coruscant Guard troopers as family, Quinlan Vos needs a hug, Protective Quinlan Vos, Ferus Olin needs a hug, Ferus Olin gets a hug, Quinlan and Fox think they’re in a murder mystery but really it’s a comedy, The best way to get away with crime is to completely forget how and why you did it, Clone troopers and Jedi as found family, Obi-Wan Kenobi needs a drink, Protective clone troopers, Protective Jedi, Coruscant Guard troopers deserve better.

SUMMARY: Commander,” High General Windu says, brows raised in suspicion. “This is the Chancellor’s office holo, is it not? May I speak with him?”

Fox stares at the general, and then down at the black smudge on the floor where Palpatine’s body used to be. Slowly, subtly, he shifts so he’s standing on top of it.

“Uh,” he says. “…No.”

My thoughts: This is angtsy, and wonderful, and Fox is so tired and his characterisation is brilliant.

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Galaxy-Saving Memes – musicmillennia

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 3,152

TAGS: Memes, Social media, chatfic, Fix-it, crack, humour, whump, Fox needs a hug, and he GETS one plot twist, they all get one!!, unhealthy coping mechanisms, trauma, reconditioning, mind control.

SUMMARY: You can only access the page if you're GAR. The Coruscant Guard decides to infiltrate it because they are tired of being ignored, and honestly? Their memes are way better.

Or, the Guard saves millions of lives through stupid internet posts.

My thoughts: BRILLIANT. HILARIOUS. The Guard are so nonchalant about the shit they’re dealing with that they turn it into memes. *chefs kiss*

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Their Days are Darker – always_a_slut_for_hc

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORD COUNT: 23419

TAGS: Clone troopers deserve better, hurt/comfort, abuse, Fox needs a hug, Wolffe is a little shit, Whump, AU – canon divergence, Dehumanization, Gaslighting, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE

SUMMARY: After the death of ARC Trooper Fives, an altercation at 79's leads Wolffe to spend his leave snooping around the Coruscant Guard. Fox assumes he'll drop it and leave the Corries to their fate; it's what everyone else has done.

He is very, very wrong.

My thoughts: One of my all-time favourite Fox whump fics. I have re-read this several times. It does hurt, it is painful, but it does get better. Love it.

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Commander Fox is Completely Fine – Maddy_B

PAIRINGS: Fox/Quinlan Vos

WORD COUNT: 275,029

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. RAPE/NON-CON. Fox needs a hug, Tired Fox, Fox whump, Coruscant Guards, Slow burn, Dissociation, Panic attacks, Gender dysphoria, Body dysphoria, Dysphoria, Explicit sexual content, Slavery, Implied/referenced rape/non-con, all explicit sexual content in this fic is consensual, Bad parent Jango Fett, Implied/referenced torture, Mild gore, Blood and gore.

SUMMARY: Cody was still staring at him. Fox wasn't sure what made him keep talking.

"It's always the shinies who think they're invincible," he muttered, "who think they're above the rules."

Cody nodded slowly.

"Yeah," he said, voice a little hoarse, "that's usually how I lose them too."

Fox watched as his little brother finished the rest of his drink and stared down into his empty cup.

It wasn't the same, he wanted to say. That's a battlefield, this is the centre of the Republic, it's different. The truth is that it's not as different as it should be.

My thoughts: This is a long haul fic folks, but it is deliciously worth it. The angst/whump is very real. The comfort is also very real. Fox and Quinlan are plonkers who eventually get their acts together. There’s wonderful interactions with Fox and Padma, Bail and Riyo. Wonderful fic.

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Do-Over – TooManyTeeth

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORD COUNT: 109,352

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Time travel fix-it, Fox needs a hug, Depression, Suicidal thoughts, Hurt/comfort, Brotherly love, Cuddling and snuggling, Blood and gor, Torture, Palpatine is a giant asshole, Fox gets better I promise, Abuse, The Coruscant Guard collectively need a hug, Fox needs a nap, Non-consensual kissing, Non-consensual touching, Friendship, Medical inaccuracies, Unintentional betrayal, Fox gets a hug

SUMMARY: Fox made a mistake. Fox was punished. Fox died. Fox woke up.

My thoughts: Oh the hurt and angst is very real with this one folks. So is the comfort though. Eventually! An excellent story, painful to read in places, but beautifully done. I’m very excited for the sequel!

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With Nothing to Lose, There’s Everything to Go – Batsutousai

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORD COUNT: 4,706

TAGS: Clone troopers deserve better, Clone trooper-centric, Abusive Sheev Palpatine, Past abuse, Abandonment, Fox needs a hug, Fox gets a hug, Fix-it, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, PTSD, Little bit of hurt/Lots of comfort, Family reunions, Protective siblings

SUMMARY: The end of the war arrived, but nothing changed for the Coruscant Guard.

My thoughts: If you need something to just make you feel a little bit better about the world, give this fic a read. Lovely one-shot. Lots of feels.

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Commander Fox’s Guide to Touring Coruscant – KakashiKrazy256

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORD COUNT: 7,910

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Hurt/comfort, Bros being bros, Dialogue heavy, Fox needs a hug, And he’ll get one, Fox’s brothers telling him he matters and he short-circuits, Ponds is alive because I said so, Injury

SUMMARY: The painkiller he had been giving just half an hour prior is still working fine, leaving him relatively...alright. Nothing hurts particularly bad, but there’s a fuzziness layered over everything, making it hard to think too hard on anything beyond the first thoughts running through his head.

Go inside. Find the rest. Sit down. Drink. Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t get caught. And...and just be there to properly enjoy the company of his brothers.

Don’t forget these memories.

Fox gets injured but decides to keep it secret for the sake of his batchmates. For the prompt 'is that a bloodstain?!'

My thoughts: Lovely fic. The interactions between Fox and his brothers are just wonderfully well-written. And Fox’s pain throughout is thoughtfully done.

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Foxhunt – OysterTori

PAIRINGS: Pre-slash Bacara/Fox. Side pairings of: Ponds/Mace Windu, Thorn/Cody, Echo/Fives/Rex, Bly/Aayla Secura

WORD COUNT:14,406

TAGS: Hurt Fox, Fox needs a hug, Coruscant Guard troopers as family, Coruscant Guard and GAR, BAMF Fox, Mind manipulation, Coruscant Guard loves Fox, Protective Coruscant Guard troopers, Sheev Palpatine being an asshole, Palps dies off screen because fuck him, Fox got to murder him as a treat, All clones have a competency kink, Bacara has the biggest though, Fox gets a hug, Trans clone troopers, Clone trooper reconditioning

SUMMARY: Fox has to flee after killing the Chancellor and as the events unfold he gets hunted across Coruscant by CorSec (not something to worry about) and the GAR (something to worry about).

But his Corries have his back, as always. They won't let someone take their ori'vod away from them.

My thoughts: … Honestly I just love that Fox is a BAMF MF and everyone wants him in this! From memory, I think the story actually focuses on other characters a lot more than Fox, but it’s brilliant anyway!

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It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine – cats_and_dr_pepper

PAIRINGS: Depends on which chapters, but Fox/Thorn.

WORD COUNT: 62,395

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. Fox needs a hug, Fox whump, Protective Fox, Tired Fox, Fox deserves better, Fox needs a nap, Protective Cody, Cody’s name is Kote, Cody is so smart, Injury, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Sheev Palpatine being an asshole, Clone medics are scary, Angst, Whump, Coruscant Guards, Coruscant Guard needs a hug, Self-indulgent, WIP, One-shot collection, Din Djarin cameo, Parental Jaster Mereel, Force ghost Jaster Mereel, Eldritch, Angst and hurt/comfort, Hurt/comfort, Hurt no comfort, Character death, Suicide attempt, grief/mourning, Crack, hijinks and shenanigans, Graphic descriptions of injuries, Order 66

SUMMARY: WIP AND ONESHOT COLLECTION

My thoughts: I could recommend pretty much all of this author’s library, but I’m trying to limit it a little! While this is a collection of one shots, they’re just beautiful. I am particularly fond of Chaps 4 and 6/7. Folks, mind those tags and the chapter specific summaries.

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Trich – cats_and_dr_pepper

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORD COUNT: 1,328

TAGS: Angst, Whump, not too bad though, Trichotillomania, Fox needs a hug, Fox-centric, Fox whump, Sad Fox, Hair-pulling, in the least sexy way, Body focused repetitive disorder

SUMMARY: It was easy. It was easy to do. Any time Fox needed an extra… something to deal with the day on Kamino, he’d pull a hair. Never from the same place, never more than one, but for some reason, it helped. He didn’t quite know how or why, but the little stab of pain, the sound of the pluck through his skull, how sometimes the whole root sheath would slide out—it was something he could do.

On Coruscant, it gets out of control.

My thoughts: Look, I know I LITERALLY JUST SAID I was going to limit myself, but I have to rec this one. It holds a special place in my heart. I’ve had dermatillomania all my life. The two conditions are very related, and this whole fic spoke so much to me. Beautifully done depiction of the condition. My thanks to the author for this.

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Corrie Red – musicmillennia

PAIRINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 24,294

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. Lovecraftian Monsters, Eldritch Coruscant Guard, Horror, Body horror, Blood, Blood drinking, Gore, Non-linear narrative, Implied/referenced mind control, Manipulation, Angst, Fix-it, Cannibalism, No one is helping the Guard so they help themselves, With their new limbs, The Corries can have a little murder as a treat, Vomiting, Self-harm, Codependency, Temporary character death, Unreliable narrator, Protective Fox, Protective Coruscant Guard

SUMMARY: A Sith opens a Door and keeps it open. Something else slithers through, and it likes the Coruscant Guard. The Coruscant Guard likes it too.

My thoughts: DO YOU LIKE ELDRITCH HORROR!?! Boy have I got the fic for you then!!! Super excellent, wonderful body horror. Very creative, the descriptive language is beautiful. There are several more sidestories and a sequel in the works as well, which I highly recommend. This is the fic that made me love Eldritch Guard!

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But Still, Bless Me Anyway – bitebackbaby

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 52,977

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. AU- Murderbot Diaries fusion, canon-typical violence, Canonical character death, Clone trooper mistreatment, Clone trooper reconditioning, Clone trooper decommissioning, Coruscant Guard troopers-centric, Coruscant Guard VS GAR rivalry, Coruscant Guard troopers deserve better, Coruscant Guard troopers need hugs, Fox whump, Fox deserves better, Fox needs a hug, Eventual happy ending, Angst with a happy ending

SUMMARY: CG-Unit 1010 is functioning at perfectly normal parameters. It obeys orders. Enforces the law. It is not afraid of the Masters that bought it. It does not mourn the Units that fail to measure up to their exacting standards. The Behavioral Chip does not allow such aberrant behaviors.

GAR Units are given many allowances. Fox wonders, sometimes, exactly when they will face the consequences of that.

(aka: built and deployed on coruscant, the cybernetic constructs known as the coruscant guard come face to face with the rest of the galaxy, and begin to notice some discrepancies.)

My thoughts: The utter GENIUS of combining the CG with SecUnits. This is absolutely amazing. It’s not kidding about the eventual happy ending, there’s some grief to come first. YOU SHOULD ABSOLUTELY READ THIS FIC. Even if you know nothing about the Murderbot Diaries. You need not have read the Murderbot Diaries, but just so you know, YOU SHOULD.

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Tachy – postapocalyptic_cryptic

PAIRINGS: NONE WORDCOUNT: 1,806

TAGS: Whump, platonic cuddling, Protective Wolffe, Fox needs a hug, Fox whump, Tachycardia, Panic attacks, Exhaustion, Protective siblings, Order 66 happened differently, Post-war, AU, PTSD, Tired Fox

SUMMARY: “Come on, Fox, head between your knees. You know the drill.” As gently as possible, Wolffe pushes Fox upright and helps him arrange himself in an approximation of the recovery position. He’s gasping and shaking and, now that Wolffe has his hands on him, burning up. “There you go,” Wolffe murmurs, keeping one hand on Fox’s head, carding through his hair, and using the other to comm medbay. “Deep breaths, Fox’ika.”

The war is over, but Fox is far from out of the woods.

My thoughts: Short fic with Fox suffering the aftereffects of everything? Yes pls!

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Finding the Way Back – slotmachines_fearofgod

PAIRINGS: Implied Fox/Quinlan Vos

WORDCOUNT: 7,122

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Angst and hurt/comfort, the comfort is minimal, Fox needs a hug, Coruscant-Guard troopers-centric, Protective Fox, Protective Wolffe, Fox needs a nap

SUMMARY: Wolffe stops by the Coruscant Guard complex to pick up some unruly members of the 104th, and tries to reconnect with Fox. Certain things are revealed that set off some warning bells for Fox's batchmates

My thoughts: I love Wolffe and Fox interactions. I headcanon them being close brothers, so it makes me very happy! Wolffe’s not going to let this go Fox…

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I’ve been sent up and I’ve been shot down – always_a_slut_for_hc

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 1,919

TAGS: Hurt/comfort, Implied/referenced self-harm, Touch-starved, Imprisonment, Solitary confinement, Fox needs a hug

SUMMARY: After the court martial, they put Fox away.

Just - put him away, up on a shelf like a little toy soldier. He’d laugh, if it wasn’t so fitting. They created him to do a job and he went out and did it and now they were done with him.

My thoughts: I love this fic, and basically all of the Febuwhump 2022 collection. There’s a follow up to this as well. It’s angsty folks, but SO GOOOOOD.

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Up In Our Bedroom (After The War) – lux_arcana

PAIRINGS: Queerplatonic Fox and Thorn

WORDCOUNT: 4,690

TAGS: AU – canon divergence, Dead Sheev Palpatine, Post-war, Autism spectrum, Autistic burnout, PTSD, Fox needs a hug, Fox gets a hug, Stimming, Queerplatonic relationships, Therapy, Jedi culture and tradition, Clone trooper culture, Mind control aftermath and recovery, Emotional hurt/comfort

SUMMARY: In this strange new world that Fox got to live in, he woke up safe, warm, and comfortable. Everything around him was soft, muffled, heavy. He rolled over and moved into an even warmer spot, and stretched out languidly, as cat-like a behavior as he had ever done. Without opening his eyes, he knew exactly where he was. Kamino was not safe, warm, or comfortable. The Guard Barracks, though safe, were not warm, and the only comfort they had was each other. But here -

In the Temple, he was always warm, and he was always safe, and he was almost always comfortable. His bed was soft. It was comfortable. And, as he moved into the spot Thorn had just vacated, it was warm.

“Go back to sleep,” Thorn’s soft voice whispered, and Fox did what he did best; he obeyed.

(Fox, Thorn, and the rest of the Guard, after the war.)

My thoughts: I love this fic. I love the gentleness of it. I love the pain of it. I love the recovery.

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Gar Shuk Meh Kyrayc – MageOfCole

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 1,553

TAGS: Sleep deprivation, Exhaustion, Fox needs a hug, Cody is a good bro, Cody is a little shit, Thorn is a good bro, Fox needs sleep, Clone troopers deserve better, Touch-starved Fox, Sheev Palps being an asshole, Clone troopers speak Mando’a, Mandalorian clone troopers, hurt/comfort, whump

SUMMARY: (you're no use dead)

Fox has barely slept in the last month, only enough to function in his tasks; he’s exhausted, and sore, and tired, but he has work to do. It’s his duty to always be there, ready and willing to take orders, but - Prime's tits - he's so tired.

My thoughts: I love fics where Fox’s brothers come in and make him sleep. Short, angtsy fic where Fox gets to take a good, long nap.

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Reset Restart Repeat Repose – KairaKara101

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 15,641

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Fox needs a hug, Protective Fox, Tired Fox, Fox whump, Coruscant Guard troopers as family, Coruscant Guard troopers-centric, Protective CG, hurt/comfort, Emotional hurt/comfort, Angst, CG troopers deserve better, CG troopers need hugs, Manipulative Sheev Palps, Clone trooper reconditioning, Clone trooper decommissioning, Mind Manipulation, Clone trooper inhibitor chips, Clone trooper mistreatment, Clone troopers speak Mando’a, Isolation, Amputation, Mental instability, Mental breakdown, Mental anguish, Identity issues, Loss of identity

SUMMARY: CC-1010 held a secret that none of his current batchmates, squad mates, guard vode, and vode knew about. He’d rather take that secret to his death and beyond.

My thoughts: A really interesting look at Fox having to continually reset himself. The whump is fierce with this one.

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No One Worth Remembering – RMWrites

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 1,709

TAGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. AU, Lies, Posing as someone else, Implied/referenced character death, Manipulative Sheev Palps, Thorn and Pals are in the background, Order 66 didn’t happen, Fox deserved better, Hurt no comfort, Angst, The happy ending is only for some people, Fox needs a hug, Implied/referenced suicide

SUMMARY: Fox the Original, as he called him, had gone MIA on a mission for the Chancellor a year and a half into the war. To keep the pretense of normalcy- for losing a Marshal Commander on the “safe” posting of Coruscant would cause far too much public panic- the replacement Commander had donned the painted armor of the late Fox, took up his name and number, and studied the plethora of reports left behind to mimic his voice.

He was Commander CC-1010 "Fox"- the ninth to hold that name.

My thoughts: I LOVE this idea and I love this fic. This idea is just fantastic, and I highly recommend you go read it!

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The Guard Are (Not) Fine – redhairedmuses

PAIRINGS: Fox/Quinlan, Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bly/Aayla Secura

WORDCOUNT: 14,419

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. Heavy angst, Angst, Angst and tragedy, Angst and hurt/comfort, Implied/referenced torture, Implied/referenced abuse, canon-typical violence, Mental breakdown, Fox whump, Fox needs a hug, Protective Fox, Fox is a good liar, Alcohol, Protective Cody, Minor character death, Creepy/manipulative Sheev Palps, Dissociation, Fox has issue, and he blatantly ignores them.

SUMMARY: In his service to the Coruscant Guard, Fox had learned to become a very good liar. Some would argue one of the best.

But how long can he keep lying to himself?

aka. the corrie guard deal with a lot of shit on coruscant and no one really does anything about it.

My thoughts: Yeah, we all know I love a good bit of Corrie angst. Here’s a delicious one.

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CHTHONIC – catboydogma

PAIRINGS: Fox/Quinlan Vos

WORDCOUNT: 17,062

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. Meet ugly, Getting together, Let Fox say FUCK, Anti-clone prejudice, Fluff, Angst, Whump, Emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, Canon-typical violence, Gore, Corpses, Mind control, Mind control aftermath and recovery, Enemies to co-workers to lovers, Worldbuilding, Planet Coruscant, CG, Coruscant Underworld, Coruscant’s Haunted, Horror elements, Falling in love, Fix-it, AU – canon divergence, Order 66 didn’t happen, Past torture, Referenced decommissioning

SUMMARY: Not even two days later, Fox revised his opinion. This wasn’t a disaster. This was a Grade-A, first order, fresh off the hot plate fuckfest. Fox’s day had gone something like this: lay in bed. Get up. Knock back some of the sludge in the mess masquerading as caf. Go through forms. Fill out forms. Bust open a closet in which the Senators for Uyter and Kinyen had both managed to get “stuck” in. Go through more forms. Fill out more forms. Get called up to the Senate dome to tell a Senator that no, the Guard did not address noise complaints. Find that the stack of datapads on his desk had somehow tripled over the last two hours. Despair at the state of his inbox. Etcetera, etcetera. And then.

My thoughts: YEEEEES DEEEELIIIICIOUS!

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Red Like My Dreams – Quarra

PAIRINGS: Fox/murder

WORDCOUNT: 8,637

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, AU – canon divergence, Blood and gore, Serial killer!Fox, Attempted murder, So much attempted murder, Murder, Unhinged!Fox, Fix-it of sorts, Fives lives, Sith flirting, Happy ending, Humour, Unhealthy relationships, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Torture, Crack treated seriously

SUMMARY: Fox wants to murder his boss so badly that he can taste it. The problem is that fucking Sheev is a difficult person to kill. That’s fine. Fox is a stubborn bastard. He can follow his heart and achieve his dreams. He just has to work at it.

or,

The one where (nearly) everyone is worried and Fox is (more than a little bit) unhinged.

My thoughts: UNHINGED FOX GETTING HIM SOME SITH-DAMNED MURDER. *chef’s kiss*

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Commander Fox’s Rules for Shinies – sleebyama

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 3,736

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Brothers, Brotherly bonding, Fox is a good bro, Ori’vod Fox, CG Dogma, Implied/referenced rape/non-con, Implied/referenced character death, Implied/referenced Abuse, Fluff and angst, Fox needs a hug, Clone trooper decommissioning

SUMMARY: Shinies are always the first to laugh at his rules.

Those who laugh are usually the ones that learn the hardest lessons.

My thoughts: Hey folks, do you like those fanon headcanons about the abused Guard? Do you like Corrie Dogma, OC shinies, and Fox adopting the shit out of people? HAVE I GOT A STORY FOR YOU!

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Don’t Ever Utter Those Words Again, I’m Begging You – Mamuzzy

PAIRINGS: Fox/Thorn

WORDCOUNT: 982

TAGS: Hurt/comfort, Injury recovery, Established relationship, Married couple, Riduurok/Mandalorian marriage traditions, Anxiety, Overprotective Fox, Cloneshipping, Whump, Crying, Art included

SUMMARY: Thorn was injured in one of his mission on Coruscant and Fox feels guilty about it.

My thoughts: Oh Thorn is so wonderfully sweet and honest! Also, THE ART! I love it so much!

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Full Body High – menphina

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 6,231

TAGS: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Angst with a happy ending, Trans clone troopers, Trans Fox, Trans female character, Fox needs a hug, Fox gets a hug, Internalized transphobia, Implied/referenced transphobia, Gender dysphoria, Panic attacks, Clone trooper dehumanization, Fox deserves better, Protective Fox, Order 66 didn’t happen, Clone trooper decommissioning.

SUMMARY: Fox looks in the mirror as he washes his hands, and there’s a lurch deep in his gut.

He doesn’t know why.

It’s his own face staring back at him, hair regulation-short, a bit of scruff around his jaw, a few grizzly scars. He runs his hand across his chin. It feels like someone else’s.

He looks away.

My thoughts: I love this fic. I love how gently Cody handles things when the command batch realise what’s happening. I subscribe heavily to the likelihood that there are trans/non-binary clones, and they deserve to have their stories heard.

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In Lieu of Flowers – kakashikrazy256

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 7,418

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Angst, Hurt/comfort, hugs, Wolffe needs a hug, Fox needs a hug, PTSD, Malevolence arc, bad treatment of clones

SUMMARY: “We asked for funds. It wasn’t a lot. Just, just enough for a salvage mission. To get the bodies of some vode back. Or a memorial announcement, at the very least something.”

“The General got a response yesterday, from the Senate. They...they said it wasn’t in the budget. Fox, I—I’ve always known but to...to read it...we’re fucking expendable. We always have and always will be.”

Fox knows. He knows because he had been the one to draft the response and send it to Plo Koon yesterday morning.

After the destruction of Plo Koon's fleet to the Malevolence. Wolffe and the rest of the survivors are sent to Coruscant to determine their fate. Fox is there to pick up the pieces of his brother.

My thoughts: Hey folks? This one HURTS. It’s brilliant, but it’s painful.

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A Taste of Freedom (Only Makes it Hurt All The More) – MagicalStardust

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 2,104

TAGS: Fluff and angst, starts off peaceful and then the agonies start, mentions of abuse, Fox-centric

SUMMARY: Fox gets some rare time off-world and realises how good life can be, that maybe he's meant for something other than dying in an alleyway in the depths of Coruscant.

Of course, his freedom must come to an end.

My thoughts: This is so sweet, and then so painful…

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Learning Solitude – here_be_bec

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 4,088

TAGS: Fox whump, Emotional/Psychological abuse, Physical abuse, Fox needs a hug, Manipulative Sheev Palps, Hurt no comfort, Abuse of authority, Isolation

SUMMARY: It's a gradual, insidious thing, Fox's absorption into the Chancellor's office. The Chancellor wants a clone commander of his own, so he gets one. All Fox gets is a position far away from his brothers, a lesson in how to work around natborns who detest his very existence, and a seemingly endless list of monotonous jobs to keep him occupied through all his waking hours and beyond.

Fox misses Kamino.

My thoughts: OH THIS ONE HURTS SO GOOD. It’s brutal, it’s ruthless. It poses the question of what if Fox was isolated from the CG the way the CG is fanon isolated from the GAR and it answers it in such a cruel, wonderful way. Take the hurt no comfort seriously though folks.

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Our Deepest Condolences – Hasta_la_vista_byebye

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 1,343

TAGS: AU – Everyone lives/Nobody dies, Mace Windu is so done, POV Fox, POV Mace Windu, A full on Corrie Guard fic with no hurt at all, Non-binary Fox, Fix-it, Crack, ALL THE CRACK, Palps gets eaten by a Zillo beast

SUMMARY:After the Chancellor's death, tragically eaten by the Zillo Beast, the grieving Republic holds a funeral ceremony in honor of their regretted leader.

But not everybody attending is in the mood for mourning. In fact, the Coruscant Guard feels pretty great.

My thoughts: LET’S BRING BACK THE CRACK! Hilarious. Love it. Mace wants to put his head in his hands and laugh. A little humour after all the previous recs angst!!!

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A Flint and a Fire – Meshurkaan

PAIRINGS: Fox/Rex, Jesse/Kix, one-sided Rex/Fives

TAGS: Training on Kamino, friends to lovers, First kiss, First time, Canon-typical violence, Post-first battle of Geonosis, Canon temporary character death, Clone trooper inhibitor chips, Cloneshipping, Fix-it, Everybody lives, endgame Fox/Rex/Fives but that is later in the series, POV Rex, Not canon-compliant: The Bad Batch, A little bit of Mando’a, Drinking games, Clone trooper shenanigans, Drunken shenanigans, Fox’s bad taste in holodrams, Some angst

SUMMARY:Rex was engineered to be a perfect soldier, yet no amount of training could have prepared him for what he’d face on the battlefield (and off of it).

My thoughts: Oh look! I’m breaking my own rules again!!! The main POV in this is Rex, but Fox features heavily and HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS JUST GO FREAKING READ THIS FIC. I can’t WAIT for the endgame Fox/Rex/Fives!!! This is all SO DELICIOUS!

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All Of Life Is But a Game (And I’m Winning) – rook (jsunday)

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 16,582

TAGS: Coruscant Guard, Clone troopers deserve better, Clone troopers need hugs, Engineers, And that is a WARNING.

SUMMARY: It had started, as these things tended to do, with a bad idea at 79's. When it came to the telling, there were as many variations of who was there as there were batches on Kamino, but most clones generally agreed on a core group: Quorum, an engineer with the 212th, with ideas bigger than the GAR budget allowed; Harris, logistics officer in the Coruscant Guard, who had more contacts than the city planet had levels; and Ponds, commander of the 91st, who had never met a bad idea he couldn't make worse, and held the power to sign forms permitting it.

In which an idea is had, and two million clones run with it. So much bangcorn is eaten.

My thoughts: Look, maybe Fox isn’t the ONLY focus in this one, but he plays a starring role damnit!!! And there’s an EXCELLENT follow up which focuses on him and the Guard! This is wonderful, humorous, and the clones basically create themselves secret sports festivals and art galleries. Somehow, this will save the Galaxy… IT’S AMAZING.

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Blame – Jaigeye

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 862

TAGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Canonical character death, Grief/mourning, Whump/Angst, Character study, Introspection, Tragedy, Fox thinks about his choices, Clone trooper Culture

Summary: Thorn is dead. Fox isn't- at least not yet.

My thoughts: This hurts, in a dark, hopeless way. This and it’s follow-up fic are just excellent. Really well-written. Highly recommend.

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Category 5 Shitstorm – cats_and_dr_pepper

PAIRINGS: Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

WORDCOUNT: 6,987

TAGS: Hijinks and shenanigans, Crack, Fox needs a nap, He technically gets one, Fox is so done, Mace Windu is so done, Fox and Thorn are not romantically together, it’s all a joke on Thorn’s part, Fake marriage, Grizzer is a good girl

SUMMARY: Fox clutched his cup of caf desperately in his gloveless hand. He still didn’t know where his vambrace was. Someone (Stone? Unclear.) was wearing his armor, and whoever it was didn’t have his vambrace comm either. He took a loud, slurping sip, and spat it back out immediately, directly back into the cup. Was this decaf? Disgusting. His day was getting worse.

“How,” he said, looking at each of the vagrants in front of him, “the fuck did this happen?”

My thoughts: OKAY. A THIRD ONE. I’M SORRY. But a, I promised I’d rec this one, and b, IT’S HILARIOUS Y’ALL. GO FREAKING READ IT.

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The Graveyarder – Trixree

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 10,697

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. CG Dogma, CG centric, Post-Umbara Arc, Clone trooper reconditioning, Psychologicial horror, Psychological trauma, Memory loss, Sith are Eldritch horrors change my mind, Eventual happy ending, Canon-typical violence

SUMMARY: They call them the graveyarders.

They shuffle off of the transport, armor scrubbed shiny white and new, brains scrubbed just as clean. They move aimlessly, startle when spoken to, and don’t answer to any name other than trooper. They are the dead walking, coming back from the grave, and they aren’t the vod they were.

My thoughts: This fic is just excellent. I love it so much.

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“May Those Who Defy Their Fate- - independent_variables

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 4,276

TAGS: Dialogue heavy, canonical character death, Angst with a happy ending, Guilt, Fix-It of sorts, Brotherhood

SUMMARY: Three days after Fives died, Kote visited Fox.

***

―be granted glory.”

My thoughts: Excellent, short but sweet.

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Sacrifice – cats_and_dr_pepper

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 10,050

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. Character death, Suicidal actions, Angst, Whump, Grief/mourning, Hurt no comfort, Clone trooper inhibitor chips, Mind control, Mind control aftermath and recovery, Unwilling sacrifice, Fox kills Palps, Manipulative Pals, Pals being an asshole, Protective Cody, Suicide attempt, Fox knows he’s going to die and damn it he’s going to get what he wants, Plo Koon is doing his best, Thire where did you get that slugthrower, Order 66, Order 66 Fix-it, End-of-life care, Vokara Che is so done

SUMMARY: Fox heard running footsteps from outside the office, getting closer and closer. He listened to the buzzing hum of several lightsabers and plastoid shuffling. There was a small army of Jedi and GAR outside the door, and Fox knew what he and his brothers would be used for.

Meat shields if they were lucky, executioners if they weren’t—and given that they still had their minds, he suspected it would be the latter.

“How could this happen…” Fox watched Kenobi whisper. “How could we forget?” .

“Ah, but letting them kill themselves would be too easy. It’s annoying when my little toys break themselves too early. Though, it is fun when it’s on my orders.” No, no, please, no. “Commanders, execute Order 66.”

Or, it's difficult when you realize that your actions have consequences. Permanent ones.

My thoughts: Folks, the tags are NOT MESSING AROUND. This is dark, and it’s painful. It’s also, fucking excellent. And something I could absolutely imagine Palps doing. You should read it.

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The Cadaver Remains – menphina

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 1,622

TAGS: Suicidal thoughts, Suicidal ideation, Depression, Angst, Heavy angst, Hurt/comfort, Fox needs a hug, Fox gets a hug, Fox needs therapy, (Fox does not get therapy)

SUMMARY: Fox was fine, most days. He went on patrols, chipped away at the mountain of datawork in his office, delicately soothed the egos of ruffled Senators. (Helped the medics forge decommissioning certificates. Went on missions for the Chancellor that left him shaking apart in the sonic.)

And on the days that Fox wasn’t fine, they had a system.

My thoughts: The Corries support their Fox. Especially when he’s breaking at the seams.

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If Somebody Loved You They’d Tell You By Now – weareallstardustfallen

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 3,305

TAGS: Hurt/comfort, Angst, Abuse, As usual Fox is having a very bad day, sibling relationships, hurt Fox

SUMMARY: Thorn hesitated. Fox gave him a narrow-eyed squint, waiting for him to spit it out.

“Also Commander Wolffe’s here,” Thorn said, purposely casual.

Fox sighed. “Here, picking his problems up from the tank, or here, he wants something?”

“Here, he got his boys out already and he’s still waiting around,” Thorn said apologetically, and then with an amused tilt of the head, “We told him you were busy and he said he’d wait until you were done working.”

Fox snorted. Fox, just like Thorn and the other Guard commanders, was never actually done working.

Or: Fox is maybe not okay, and Wolffe is maybe not okay with that.

My thoughts: The series for this is brilliant. Again, I love Wolffe and Fox interactions. Especially when Wolffe sticks his stubborn little heels in and refuses to give up on Fox.

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I’ll Take My Heart Clean Apart (If It Helps Yours Beat) – shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 12,050

TAGS: Episode s03e10 Heroes on Both Sides, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Blood and injury, Mental menipulation, Poisoning, Hopeful ending, Brotherhood, Family, Clone trooper-centric, Clone troopers deserve better, Clone trooper dehumanization, Nightmares, Hallucinations, Fox needs a hug, Protective Fox, Protective CG, Fox is the best big brother, But he needs to take better care of himself let’s be honest, Fox whump

SUMMARY: Fox tried to not think about the destruction that was waiting for him, or how the medical team was having trouble triaging all the injured clones and civilians, or how the Coruscant Security Force was as usual almost no help because, after all, this had been a Senate bombing and outside of their jurisdiction, or how— How the whole thing was Fox’s fault. If he just hadn’t let those cleaning droids in, they could’ve avoided the whole thing. ... “I just—I don’t know how—“ Thorn blew out a frustrated breath. Fox cracked his eyes open and saw him shaking his head to himself. Thorn's fingers were curled around Fox's armor. “One day you’ll see that taking care of yourself takes care of us, too.” ... In which everyone blames Fox for the Senate bombings. Everyone except his brothers, who, almost frustratingly so, keep trying to convince him otherwise.

My thoughts: I can just imagine fox eating himself alive over the results of this episode. Loved this.

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Mindless Shadows and Puppet Strings – WitchDetective

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 7,886

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Fox needs a hug, Fox needs a nap, Tired Fox, Fox is not okay, Palps being an asshole, Manipulative Palps, Clone troopers speak Mando’a, Clone troopers deserve better, Ep s06e04 Orders, Overworked Fox, Heavy angst, Canonical character death

SUMMARY: Fox has been miserable since the start of the Clone Wars, but he at least thought that his life couldn't get any worse.

He was sadly proven wrong when a blackout caused him to have possibly the worst night of his life; one where he made a grave mistake that he will not be able to fix no matter how hard he wished he could.

This time, even his Corries might not be able to stop him from spiraling.

My thoughts: Fox aaaaangst. I love it. Not gonna lie. It gives me LIFE.

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Redemption Inside The Grave – kakashikrazy256

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 1,821

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. (YOU’VE BEEN FUCKING WARNED BY THAT BTW). Post-Scipio, Fox needs a hug

SUMMARY: Fox and Thorn have a conversation after the mission on Scipio.

My thoughts: I re-read this quickly because I was having trouble remembering what it was about and Y’ALL. I cried. This is heart-breaking.

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AND AFTER ALL THAT!

UNFINISHED FICS/WIPS

Life During Wartime – Chermit

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 63,750 9/? chapters

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. AU – canon divergence, Fix-it, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/comfort, Suspense, Murder mystery, Mind control, Memory loss, Implied/referenced suicide, Cognitive dissonance, Clone trooper inhibitor chips, Fox needs a hug, The Corrie Guard is Freudian slip central, and Fox is the doublethink KING, Post-episode s6e4 Orders, Sporadic updates

Summary: Commander Fox has a lot on his plate: managing his Corries, filling out piles of forms, dealing with obnoxious Senators, and not thinking about the way he keeps waking up covered in other people's blood. All that considered, he really doesn't have time to deal with being investigated by the Captain of the 501st and the Head of the Jedi Order for two separate murders he (probably) didn't (want to) commit. But Fox is a soldier, and good soldiers follow orders, so when does he ever get what he wants?

My thoughts: I wish to make this fic into candy and eat it. OMNOMNOM. Brilliant. Will sit on the edge of my seat waiting for more. Deeeeliiiiccciiious

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The Last Reason – Meerlicht

PAIRINGS: Fox/Quinlan Vos

WORDCOUNT: 89,170 13/? chapters

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. Fox needs a hug, Mind control, Suicidal thoughts, Implied/referenced abuse, Minor character death, Platonic relationships, Fox is an unreliable narrator, Alcohol abuse/alcoholism, Dissociation, Panic attacks, Body dysphoria, It gets worse before it gets better, Miscommunication, Rated M for violence, Slow updates, Platonic cuddling

SUMMARY: Cody has a scar now, and it’s the only thing that differentiates him from Fox appearance-wise. For one, they both have the same circles under their eyes. Fox assumes that’s what comes with being a Commander. Their hands are the same, too, damaged and bruised at all times.

But the biggest difference Fox sees when he looks at Cody isn’t the scar. It’s the rage. Cody doesn’t wear that same rage.

Fox’s hands ache with the need to punch something.

Or: Fox dealing with Senators, little brothers, the terrifying ordeal of asking for help and a menace called Quinlan Vos.

My thoughts: Oh this is beautiful. And so, so painful. This is very much angst focused in the beginning, and it’s not afraid to show the worst side of things. Brilliant fic.

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And I Turned ‘Round and There You Were – never_going_home

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 3,666 2/5 chapters

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Fox needs a hug, CG deserve better, CG VS GAR rivalry, Implied/referenced sexual assault, Implied/referenced animal death, Fox-centric, Fox whump, Fox has anxiety, Trans Bly, Angst, Angst with a happy ending

SUMMARY: Fox wakes up face-down in a pile of flimsi with his hair in his mouth. This in itself is not particularly unusual, because he’s been sleeping at his desk for the last—five months? Six months? He doesn’t care enough to recall. Whatever. Point is, it’s been a long fucking time since he’s bothered to drag himself into his bunk. His steel desk chair is comfortable enough to while away the four hours he has between finishing paperwork and starting his first shift.

(This is a lie so fucking big it beggars belief. Fox’s steel desk chair is the stuff of children’s nightmares and one day, if the war ever ends—if he lives that long—he’s going to take a great amount of pleasure in attaching several detonators to it and throwing it in the ornamental lake of the Supreme Chancellor.)

Fox hasn't been doing well. His batch notices (eventually).

My thoughts: Really enjoying this fic. All the delicious angsty-ness I hope for from Fox whump!

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Why Not’s and How To’s – Trixree

PAIRINGS: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul, Fox/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Clone trooper characters

WORDCOUNT: 68,091 11/17 chapters

TAGS: Legally Blonde Jedi AU, Lawyer Obi-Wan, Clone trooper angst, Clone trooper emancipation, Clone trooper-centric, Darth Maul redemption, Polyamorous character, Open marriage, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Flashback heavy, Obi-Wan Kenobi is not a Jedi, Anakin Skywalker is not a Jedi, Angst and hurt/comfort.

SUMMARY: Two months after the Guard officially moves to Coruscant, the lawyer shows up.

In which Obi-Wan Kenobi never returns to the Jedi order after the war on Melidaa/Dann and instead finds another way to follow the Force's will. Namely, by fighting sentient-rights abuses all over the galaxy and emancipating the Grand Army of the Republic, one clone trooper at a time.

My thoughts: Fox-centric I said… Okay, but hear me out! The POV changes regularly in this, and Fox is absolutely one of the POVs! It’s sexy, and fun, and I’m not gonna lie, I love it! If Obi-Wan’s not your thing, probably better to steer away!

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Unexplain the Unforgivable – always_a_slut_for_hc

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 22,556 14/15 chapters

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Imprisonment, Coercion, Mind control, Torture, Dehumanization, Clone troopers deserve better, Fox whump, AU – canon divergence, The Fives incident, Clone trooper reconditioning

SUMMARY: Fox shoots - Fives lives. The commanders of the Coruscant Guard are arrested and taken into custody by Captain Rex and the rest of Torrent Company.

Something is rotten in Coruscant, and Rex thinks it's Commander Fox's heart.

My thoughts: Fuuuuck. This is another, just excellent fic. What if Rex did arrest Fox after he shot Fives? I don’t think Palps would like that very much, DO YOU???

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My Star in the Sky – Gravitymay

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 29,980 8/? chapters

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Hurt/comfort, Misunderstandings, Blood and injury, Whump, Protective Alpha-17, Fox needs a hug, Sheev Palpatine being an asshole, Medical procedures, Fluff and angst, Minimal fluff, maximum angst, Planet Kamino, Fix-it of sorts, Anxiety

SUMMARY: commander cody, through careful investigation, uncovers disturbing information about the coruscant guard. he takes it to one of the few men he trusts to do something about it - alpha-17.

cody's trust is well placed, and what alpha finds is worse than either of them imagined.

My thoughts: This is mainly from Alpha-17s perspective, but I have been thoroughly enjoying this so far. It’s another painful, angsty one (it is my leaning, sorry!).

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For your Protection – cats_and_dr_pepper

PAIRINGS: Fox/Thorn

WORDCOUNT: 30,253 6/?

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Beskar, Mandalorian culture, CG trooper-centric, CG troopers as family, BAMF Fox, Clone trooper inhibitor chips, Fix-it, Everyone is sassy, Everyone is gay, Angst, Whump, Eventual happy ending, Anxiety typical of an overworked soldier in the military, It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, Sleep deprivation, Din’s covert lands on Coruscant, Military lingo, Food issues, Planet Aq Vetina, Chatlogs

SUMMARY:Mando’ade were personally offended by their existence on all fronts, and it didn’t matter what faction. Kyr’tsad hated Jango, the Haat Mando’ade hated what the clones meant for them, and the New Mandalorians hated war and all its pieces. The last thing Fox needed was another shipment of empty, bloody plastoid delivered to the bricks.

There really was no telling which one sent the package.

A whole squad.

Gone.

Fox hoped they were dead. Anything else was too painful to think about.

Or; Fox finds a huge cache of beskar. The potential ramifications of this do not escape him. And then a new faction of Mandalorians arrives on Coruscant. Fox decides he's too tired to deal with this shit anymore.

My thoughts: SO. FREAKING. GOOD. Yes. Excellent idea. Love it.

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OTHER PEOPLE’S RECS I HAVEN’T YET READ (BUT WILL NOW BE DOING LOL!)

But Oh, Don’t You Know How It Goes (We Are All Walking Each Other Home) – Anonymous

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 108,245

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. Cyborg Cody, Emperor Cody, Dark Cody, But there’s some nice bits too!, Brainwashing, Clone trooper inhibitor chips, Non-consensual body modification, but also consensual body modification, Medical procedures, Cybernetics, Mind manipulation, Running an empire is a lot of work guys, Medical experimentation

SUMMARY: After the highly public and highly violent execution of Emperor Palpatine, the Sith Empire is under new management. It doesn't make much difference to Fox whether the Emperor is an evil murdering Sith Lord or an evil murdering cyborg, but as Fox accompanies the Emperor throughout the early days of the new Empire, he realizes there's something--or someone--strange hiding under that faceless armor.

Someone hauntingly familiar.

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Dead Dog (Bye-Bye Baby Blue) – batchmates

PAIRINGS: Background Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

WORDCOUNT: 48,875 4/? chapters

TAGS: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. Angst, War, Politics, Conspiracy, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Graphic violence, Force-sensitive Fox, Mandalorian clone troopers, Canonical character death, Implied/referenced sexual assault, POV multiple, Additional warnings in author’s note, Dark, Dialogue heavy

SUMMARY: The way it happens is simple: at some point during your service in the Guard, you’ll lose time.

The thing wiping the Guards’ memories gets sloppy and Fox remembers the order not to let Fives leave the surface alive. It changes everything and nothing at all.

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Twilight on Owl Creek Bridge – yellow_caballero

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 33,048

TAGS: Time travel, Fox snaps like a rubber band, Fox and Leia have become unstuck in time, Fascism: good or bad? And other moral questions, The mortifying ordeal of working retail under totalitarianism.

SUMMARY: SUBJECT: Regarding Senate Guard Objectives For Today

This is a polite reminder to all guardsmen that patrol schedules for the Senate vote ratifying dictatorships are posted in the breakroom. I am also issuing a warning to linear time that days should follow sequentially and are not intended to repeat. Please cease repeating. I am getting a headache.

Additionally, I'd like to remind all guardsmen that it is illegal to harbor invisible women in the Senate. If you see a ghost claiming to be Leia Organa, please remove her from the premises. She will be making a scene.

Thank you for your cooperation in preserving the peace of the Republic, and all hail the Empire. FOX

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Invictus – Airlock_Failure

PAIRINGS: Riyo Chuchi/Fox, Embree Spicer/Dawn, Talon/Malice

WORDCOUNT: 118,993

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Hurt/comfort, Slavery, Torture, Suicidal thoughts, Suicide attempt, Clone trooper decommissioning, blood and injury, Amputation, Drug use, Sleep deprivation, Political unrest, Near death experiences, Chronic illness, Injury-recovery, Force-sensitive Fox, Force-sensitive Slick, Asexual Fox, Fox needs a hug, Fox needs a nap, Workplace violence, Violence, Espionage, Clone trooper inhibitor chips, Clone troopers deserve better, Clone trooper relationships, Clone trooper emancipation, Clone trooper medics, Cloneshipping, Implied/referenced child abuse, Implied/refered rape/non-con, Implied/reference abuse, Panic attacks, Anxiety attacks, AU – canon divergence, Minor character death, Implied/Refered character death, Kidnapping, Vaginal sex, Anal sex, Unprotected sex, Angst, Fluff

SUMMARY: The most decorated soldier of the Grand Army of the Republic doesn't care about awards or medals. Commander Fox cares about keeping his soldiers operating at peak performance. He cares about keeping the civilians of Coruscant safe from anti-Republic attacks (even if those same citizens spit in his direction on the street). Above all else, Commander Fox cares about his men, their well-being, and keeping them safe from a predatory system designed to churn them up and spit out their carcasses.

He can manage. He's fine. Really, he's great.

Except he can't stop dreaming about Kamino. And he can't help but feel like he's drowning.

SEVERAL PEOPLE RECOMMENDED INVICTUS. I can’t believe I’ve never read it somehow!!!

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Corrie Red Taints Your Soul – Lia_ka2020ad

PAIRINGS: Fox/Thire, Thorn/OFC, Fox/Wolffe

WORDCOUNT:205,891 62/80 chapters

TAGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, RAPE/NON-CON. Fluff and angst, Hurt/comfort, Smut, Pain, PTSD, Everyone is mentally ill, Malevolence Arc, Fox needs a hug, Fox gets a hug, Fox is a little shit, Fox deserves better, Implied/referenced sexual assault, Suicide attempt, Dead Dove: Do not eat, Substance Abuse, Clonecest, Palps being an asshole, I ship everyone, Clone trooper decommissioning, Clone sex, Clone trooper culture, Clone trooper speak Mando’a, Mando’a language, Childhood memories, Clone trooper training on Kamino, Politics

SUMMARY: Fox exists, awesome. He has brothers that he loves and even unlimited access to drugs, even better. Work is still shit though, and his mind constantly tries to murder him. Luckily his brothers are annoying bastards doing everything to keep him alive, and maybe he can even find a way to silence the voices. And to figure out how in all nine Corellian hells he is supposed to serve the Republic when it's drifting more towards Authoritarianism every day.

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A Secret Third Thing - Apollotaire

PAIRINGS: NONE

WORDCOUNT: 10,840

TAGS: Autistic Fox, Trans Fox, Meltdowns, Stimming, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, In the form of, Self-injurious stimming, Autistic burnout, Internalised ableism, Gender identity, Non-binary Stone, Non-binary Fox, Autism, Hurt/comfort, Emotional hurt/comfort, Dissociation, Echolalia, Cody's name is Kote, Fox-centric, Autistic Cody, Trans Bly, Mentions Murderbot Diaries, Post The Clone Wars, Fox needs a hug, Fox gets a hug

SUMMARY:

After the war, the effects of four years of pretending to be the perfect Marshal Commander catch up with Fox. Luckily, Fox has an amazing support system. - “I love Fox, she’s my best friend, and they love to read Murderbot. Fox is kind to those he commands, and xe secretly has a soft spot for shinies. Ze is very loved, and I am happy to be helping hir.”

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#commander fox #marshal commander fox #Fox fic recs #Fic recs #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #cloneshipping #not my fic #Whisky's Foxy fic recs

150 notes · View notes

whitedarkmoonflower · 5 months

Note

GIRL! You should write a Sihtric ffc that takes place when they are trying to get Bebbanburg back and they take him and Finan and chain them. While they are chained, Sihtric notices a girl also being chained in a corner (the oc) and after the battle he rescues her…the rest up to you. If you do pls tag me 🤭😳

Here you goo girly! Copy and pasted <3

Bebbanburg

Authors note: It's my last fic this year. I hope you'll enjoy. I found it not so easy to write, but here it is. A big thank you to @the-irish-girl for helping me with the ideas and writing prompts. I appreciate it a lot!

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: a lot of Angst and a bit of Fluff. That's it .

Word Count: 4,8 K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius@hb8301@zillahvathek@alexagirlie@gemini-mama @verenahx@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf@willowbrookesblog

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Constantin's voice pierces the inner yard, “He's no man of mine,” he declares, putting a very fast end to their venture.

'Your Scottish accent sucks,' Sihtric grumbles, his teeth clenched, as his hands are forcibly bound behind his back. Like Finan before him, he's quickly disarmed. They are surrounded by too many warriors, the resistance is futile. Surrender appears to be their only reasonable choice for now. At least this might buy Uhtred more time and divert the guards' and Wihtgar's attention from him.

"At least I gave it a shot," Finan shrugs with his shoulders as they are hauled away.

The air in the dungeon is musty and stale, the smell of mould and mildew mixing with filth and rot. It’s not under the ground, the cliff of Bebbanburg has made it far too difficult to dig deep. It stands as a separate building at the fortress's far end, with double wooden walls built on top of a stone base likely still left by the Romans. Its exposure to the sea winds and dampness is evident. There are no windows, its sparse lighting comes from flickering torches that cast long, ominous shadows across the walls and the metal bars of the cells.

“Torture them for answers,” Lord Wihtgar orders, his frame obstructing the entrance. The threatening tone in his voice suggests that he's more interested in retribution than actual information. He’s been fooled and humiliated before the Scottish king and wants revenge, eager to make them suffer. He approaches Finan, intent on delivering the first strike, as the astir voice of his commander distracts him.

“My lord, soldiers approach from the south.”

“How many?”

“Many.”

“Lock them up and then head to the ramparts,” Wihtgar commands and storms out of the dungeon. The guards roughly shove Finan and Sihtric into separate cells. The heavy metal doors slam shut with a resounding clang, the sound of keys turning in the locks echoing in the room as the guards depart, leaving behind a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the torches.

"It could’ve been worse," Finan remarks with a half-hearted chuckle, making himself as comfortable as possible on a pile of straw in the corner of his cell. He glances over at Sihtric, in the cell across from him, worried about how he's handling things. Finan is well aware of his fearless friend's sole vulnerability.

Sihtric clutches the metal bars of his cell, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. He takes deep, deliberate breaths in an effort to remain calm, but his anxiety is palpable. The walls seem to inch closer, the pervasive darkness reaching towards him like insidious fingers. Each breath he draws feels oppressively heavy, as if pressing down on him, dragging him towards the ground. Sihtric shuts his eyes tightly, trying to take another deep breath, fully aware that it’s his own mind playing tricks on him, yet unable to shake the feeling.

When he finally forces his eyes open again, the cell is pitch black; the torches have burned out. The space feels even more confined than before. He finds himself sitting on the hard floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, back pressed against the wall. The distant sound of water dripping is the only thing that pierces the silence. Time has become a blur—hours, days, weeks? He can't tell.

Touching his swollen lip, Sihtric winces at the pain but is relieved to find his teeth intact. He curls up tighter, shutting his eyes, longing for sleep to claim him, but it remains elusive.

The cold in the cell is piercing, cutting through his thin clothing and his stomach is growling with hunger. Sihtric shivers, his teeth chattering from the chill. His gaze falls to his legs, barely covered by a worn rug, down to his bare, skinny feet. They're blistered and dirty, stained with streaks of blood. His blood.

He can still feel them—the blows from his father’s fists, the sharp sting of the dog whip in Kjartan's hands as he lashes out, his face flushed with anger, infuriated by Sihtric’s silence as he doesn’t cry out. He never does; he never gives Kjartan that satisfaction.

He can still hear them—his mother's desperate, pleading cries as she kneels before Kjartan, begging for mercy for her son, willing to do anything to end the brutal beating.

A vicious blow sends Sihtric sprawling to the ground; he instinctively curls into a ball, protecting his head and face, bracing for the rest of the assault. He doesn't make a sound, and Kjartan, losing interest, tosses the whip aside and refills his mug with ale. Strong arms grip him like iron claws, hoisting him up and tossing him over a shoulder. Sihtric catches a glimpse of his mother weeping on the floor, managing a small smile for her before he's taken to the small, damp cell in Dunholm's basement. Again. It’s not the first time and not the last.

No, no, no—it's not real, it can't be, Sihtric reminds himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. He's not the small, scared slave boy anymore. He's a warrior, a grown man who has endured more battles than the years of his life. He has risen above everything his father, Kjartan, sought to deny him. Kjartan is gone. This is Bebbanburg, and his friends are counting on him. He can't let the ghosts of his past haunt him, not from beyond the grave. He can’t let his father win this battle.

Yet, here he is, seemingly back in that same cold, dark cell in Dunholm, wiping away tears with the frayed fabric of his sleeves. This hidden place being the only spot where he lets them flow freely.

"Hey, hey, Sihtric, listen to me," Finan's urgent voice pierces through the haze, jolting Sihtric back to the present. His eyes fly open. He finds himself still upright, clutching the iron bars, his head leaning against them, breaths coming fast and heavy. A sheen of cold sweat coats his forehead, and his entire body quivers. If not for his tight grip on the bars, his legs would have surely given way by now.

"There's something in your cell. Sihtric, are you hearing me? Check out the corner behind you. Something's moving," Finan's voice, though somewhat muffled, carries a distinct note of urgency that spurs Sihtric to slowly turn his head. In the far end of his cell, he catches sight of a peculiar, quivering shape. It isn't merely moving; it's shaking, accompanied by faint, muffled noises.

Forcing himself to release the iron bars, Sihtric turns for a better view. The torchlight is too dim to make out details, so he cautiously takes a few steps closer. His muscles tense, ready to react to any threat.

He halts, concentrating on the sounds emanating from the shape. It quickly becomes apparent that what's under the tattered blanket is a living, scared creature, its quiet, stifled sobs reaching his ears. With careful movements, Sihtric edges closer, extends his hand, and slowly pulls back the ragged blanket, unveiling the source of the quiet sobbing.

—---------------------------------------------

You're abruptly roused from sleep by the sound of voices. Straining your ears, you recognize the voice as Wihtgar's. It's been a while since the Lord of Bebbanburg visited the dungeons, not since your arrival. You quickly rise and hurry to the iron bars of your cell, moving as swiftly as the clanking chains around your ankles permit. The metal chafes against the bruises left by the shackles, but you barely notice the pain. Desperation to speak to him, to plead for your freedom, urges you forward. You've done nothing wrong; you've been falsely accused, and you need him to know that.

The voices grow louder, and you catch sight of two men being dragged in. They're strangers to you. Probably intruders. Pirates? Or even worse, Danes? Hastily, you retreat into the shadows of your cell, curling up on the small pile of straw that serves as your bed. Your fingers grip the ragged blanket given to you by a guard – a young lad with a pale face and kind eyes who'd seen you shivering, your teeth chattering in the cold night.

You watch as the men are hauled to the cells. The sound of keys turning in locks and the snapping shut of iron-barred doors send a shiver down your spine as you realise that one of the men has been locked in the same cell as you.

"Oh God, help me," you whisper under your breath, noticing the pagan pendant hanging from the neck of the stranger in your cell. Your fears are confirmed: you're locked in a cell with a Dane, the kind of ruthless, heartless warrior you've heard countless stories about. You are frozen, too afraid to move, aware that the slightest sound of your shackles might reveal your hiding place. You hold your breath and pull the blanket over your head, silently praying for the guards to return quickly, before that wild beast in the shape of a man discovers you, before he lays his hands on you.

Blinded by the blanket, you're cut off from seeing what's happening in the cell, but your fear is too great to risk a glance. The silence is broken only by the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional shuffle from the other cell where the second man is locked up. You feel your legs begin to tingle, going numb from the tension and your cramped position. An involuntary shuffle causes the chains to clink softly, the sound reverberating through you like a fanfare.

"Oh no, please God, no," you silently plead, but it's too late. They've heard you. You bury your head between your knees, wrapping your arms around it, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You curse your trembling limbs as footsteps draw nearer. The stillness around you is palpable. Time seems to stretch on endlessly, each shallow breath feeling like an eternity. You wonder, anxiously, what he is waiting for. Your lungs spasm, your ability to breathe constricted, and a mix of whimpers and sobs escapes your lips as your shoulders shake uncontrollably.

The blanket is suddenly whisked away and a sharp yelp escapes your lips as you recoil. Your arms instinctively rise, shielding your head in a protective gesture.

Sihtric's eyes quickly take in the figure before him, immediately recognizing you as a girl. The hands covering your face are small and delicate, unlike those of a man or boy. He notices the shackles binding your ankles and his expression turns to one of surprise and rising anger, wondering who could be so cruel as to confine and possibly torture a woman.

"Hey, you don't have to be afraid of me," Sihtric says softly, carefully moving closer. "I won't hurt you," he reassures, tentatively reaching out his hand, as if to gently touch your shoulder.

From the corner of your eye, you see his hand approaching. In a reflexive movement, you spring to your feet, driven by fear, and scramble further into the corner, trying to press yourself into the rough wooden wall. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with those of the man beside you.

His presence is intimidating: tall, strong, with broad shoulders and chest, muscular arms visible under his sleeveless armour. His hair, braided on top, falls in wild curls to his shoulders. Even in the dim torchlight, you can see scars marking his forehead and cheek, and an unusual tattoo on his neck. Panic surges within you, and you wrap your arms around yourself protectively, covering as much of your exposed skin above the neckline of your dress as possible. Your trembling legs can no longer support your weight, and you sink back to the ground.

Sihtric observes you, his fingers raking through his hair. There's something about your tightly curled, trembling form, your wide, red, and swollen eyes filled with fear and disdain, that resonates with him. That feeling of being trapped and terrified, it’s all too known to him, it’s still there, it still lingers in his bones. He finds himself unable to look away. Cautiously, Sihtric crouches down, maintaining his distance, not wanting to frighten you further by moving too close. His gaze softens as he watches you, remaining still and quiet.

"I am Sihtric," he introduces himself gently, a softness in his voice. "I understand you're scared. But I promise, as long as we're in this cell, you're safe from me."

You are surprised by the softness of his voice and by the fact that he speaks your tongue, but it does little to calm you. He is what he is – a heathen, a savage and you are completely at his mercy, as the fleeting hope that the guards might return soon fades. It’s only now that the meaning of the words you overheard has sunken in - the fortress is under attack, and you've been abandoned to a fate that seems increasingly grim, forgotten by a world that seems to have no place for you.

With each movement deliberate and cautious, Sihtric settles himself on the floor near the wall. He leans back, drawing his knees to his chest, and places his hands on his knees visibly, a non-threatening gesture meant to reassure you.

He sits there for a while, quietly watching the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight. From the opposite cell, the sound of Finan's soft snoring indicates that he's making the most of this unexpected respite. Sihtric wants to convey to you that he is no threat. Understanding that words alone cannot convince you, he chooses to show it through his actions. So he just sits there patiently, giving you the space and time you need to realise that he means no harm.

You steal covert glances at the formidable Dane seated beside you. There's something compelling about him that repeatedly draws your gaze back to the stranger. He has remained still for some time, silent and not even looking your way. The air of strength and assurance he exudes is captivating, and his mere presence beside you has an unexpectedly soothing effect. Gradually, you feel the tension in your muscles easing and your sobs slowly subsiding.

Sihtric senses this subtle change in you, indicating that you're no longer overwhelmed by panic. He turns his head just enough to see you and clears his throat gently.

"Please, don't be afraid," Sihtric speaks in a soft, hushed tone. "I mean you no harm," he reassures once again.

Slowly, you lift your head, and your eyes unintentionally lock with his. The warm sincerity you see in them starkly contrasts with his intimidating appearance, and you reluctantly acknowledge that if he had intended to harm you, he wouldn't have waited this long. You break your gaze, only to let out a sharp shriek as you spot a rat sniffing near your feet. Startled by your cry, the rat quickly scurries away, disappearing through a small gap between the wall and the floor.

A smile slowly forms on Sihtric’s lips as he shifts his position slightly and stretches out his legs, his arms resting comfortably in his lap. He begins to speak, his voice calm and even. He tells about his childhood friend, a small, clever rat he had named Loki, after the trickster god.

"Loki was smart and fast. He'd come and go as he pleased, squeezing through the tiniest cracks in the walls. Each day, I'd save a bit of my sparse meal to share with him."

You find yourself captivated by his melodic voice, tinged with a slight accent. It almost feels as if he's speaking to himself, and only the occasional discreet glance in your direction reveals his awareness of your presence. As you listen, your breathing steadies, as you are drawn into Sihtric's story, finding solace in the sound of his voice. He recounts how Loki always found him, even in that dirty hole beneath his father’s fortress, and when he pauses, the last words hanging in the air, you unexpectedly find yourself asking, "What happened to him?" surprised to hear your own voice break the silence.

Sihtric's smile dims. "I don't know. When I finally left my father's place, I couldn’t take him with me. But I like to think that Loki kept having his little adventures in those dungeons, maybe even making friends with someone else who needed it. Like that little fellow you probably scared half to death just now."

You don't know whether Sihtric's story is real or invented, yet it stirs something within you that you believed was long extinguished. Is it gratitude? For a fleeting moment, the tale allows you to escape your grim reality, to forget the shackles chafing and bloodying your ankles, the hunger gnawing at your stomach, and even the bleak prospect of having no future.

"So tell me, why are you here?" Sihtric inquires, turning his gaze towards you.

You pause, your eyes lowering to your hands clasped in your lap. For reasons you can't quite explain, you feel a sense of safety in his presence.

"I'm accused of being a witch," you say quietly, your voice carrying a tremor of fear. "I'm waiting for my trial."

"They say I have unnatural powers, that I can summon spirits and cast curses," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not true. I've never harmed anyone. I just... I know herbs and remedies. People in the village would come to me when they were sick."

"People fear what they do not understand," you hear the Dane saying. "And in their fear, they can be cruel."

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. "I'm scared," you admit. "I know what happens to those accused of witchcraft. I've seen... I've seen the pyres."

Sihtric extends his hand slowly, offering a gesture of comfort. You're hesitant at first, but then, driven by an unexpected impulse, you place your hand in his. His grip is warm and reassuring, and you allow yourself to be drawn into a soothing embrace. It's been so long since you were held with such tenderness that you can't even recall the last time. Sihtric gently strokes your dishevelled hair, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat just beneath your ear.

Your moment of solace is abruptly interrupted by a surge of voices and the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Four guards burst into the dungeon, heading straight for the cells. The doors swing open, and Sihtric, along with Finan, are abruptly pulled to their feet and dragged out. Amidst the chaos, Sihtric exchanges a quick, knowing glance with Finan and swiftly reaches into Finan's boot, retrieving a small, concealed sharp object.

With rapid precision, Sihtric attacks the guards. The ensuing scuffle is fierce but brief. Within moments, the guards are dead on the dungeon floor, and you stifle a scream, covering your mouth with both hands in shock.

Sihtric casts a quick, conflicted glance back at you in the cell, torn between the need to escape and the desire to help you.

"Please, don't leave me here," you plead, rushing to the iron bars of your cell.

"Sihtric, we don't have time. She's chained and we don't have the tools to free her," Finan urges, grasping Sihtric's arm. But Sihtric resolutely shakes off his grasp and re-enters the cell.

"Lady, I will return for you. I promise," he whispers, his large hands gently resting on your upper arms.

"Please," you plead, your voice quivering as your fingers cling to his armour. "No, no, no, don't do this to me, please, no..." Your voice cracks, fading into a hoarse whisper, your eyes desperately seeking his.

"I will come back," Sihtric assures you again. His gaze doesn't waver as he cups your face in his hands, looking directly into your eyes. "I will."

He gently frees himself from your grip and turns to leave. Your world seems to crumble around you, despair engulfing you. You grasp the iron bars for support, but they provide little comfort, and you slowly sink to your knees, a desperate cry breaking out as you watch both men swiftly leaving the room, leaving you alone once more.

—---------------------------------------------------

The battle is over, the chaos engulfing the field before the fortress just moments before replaced by a haunting stillness. The ground is littered with fallen warriors, shattered weapons and broken shields, covered with dust and blood. Catching his breath, Sihtric lets his eyes wander around. He spots Finan nearby, bent over and breathing heavily, hands resting on his knees. Sihtric gives him a nod before continuing his search, but there's no sign of Uhtred.

"He's inside the fortress," Finan says, pointing towards Bebbanburg as he straightens up.

Sihtric turns, and a sharp scent of burning hits his nose. Bebbanburg is ablaze. The flames have taken hold of the fortress's roof, and a thick plume of smoke billows into the sky.

"Mighty Godfather, no," Sihtric mutters under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for Thor's hammer pendant on his chest. He hears Finan swearing and calling out to him, but he doesn't pause to listen. Driven by urgency, he breaks into a desperate sprint towards the fortress, pushing through the fatigue that weighs heavily on his muscles.

—-----------------------------------

The first warning is the smell. A sharp, acrid odour of burning reeds gradually fills the dungeon, accompanied by a thin veil of smoke.

"Is anybody there? Help!" you shout, tugging at your chains with increasing nervousness. But the only response is silence, a deep, unsettling quiet. Your heart races, pounding a frenetic rhythm of fear in your chest. You pull against the chains again, as if you hadn’t done it already hundreds of times since your first days here, even though you know it's futile. Still, driven by desperation, you persist. As smoke from the burning fortress above seeps into the cell, your efforts grow more frantic. You keep yanking at the iron shackles, the metal chafing against your ankles, turning raw and aching skin into bleeding wounds. But you don't stop. You can't.

Breathing becomes increasingly difficult as the air thickens with smoke, stinging your eyes and scratching at your throat. Your mind races, frantically replaying every moment you've spent within these walls, desperately searching for some overlooked detail, some key to escape that you might have missed. But there is nothing. The cell walls appear to be closing in, the shadows deepening and becoming more threatening as the flames above intensify.

Your hands, now raw and bleeding from your futile struggles, tremble as you keep tugging weakly at the chains, tears streaming down your cheeks, not just from the smoke but from the crushing helplessness. You are alone, there is nobody in this cursed world that cares for you, that will miss you and remember you.

Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes, as you have heard it told so many times. It settles around you like a heavy cloak, woven with threads of regret, unfulfilled dreams, and the bitter sting of injustice.

"Hey, Loki!" you find yourself smiling at the small rat near your feet. "Will you tell Sihtric that I waited for him? Tell him I believed him. Tell him I have no hard feelings. I just hope he's safe," you say, your voice breaking as you reach out to gently touch the little creature, but it is gone.

Suddenly, you hear the metallic clang of the cell door flying open. Strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pressing you close to a broad chest. "I'm here. You don't need Loki to deliver your messages. I promised I would return, and here I am," you hear Sihtric's familiar, soft voice whispering in your ear.

"You came back? For me?" you whisper, your voice trembling with sobs, barely able to believe what you're seeing. Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, you lean into the sturdy embrace of the very man whom you had feared so profoundly.

The sound of Sihtric's axe pounding against the stone foundation of the fastening is deafening. Despite his efforts, the Roman-built wall is solid and unyielding. He shifts his focus to cutting through the chains, but his axe has dulled from striking stone. With one final, forceful swing, the axe shaft snaps, leaving Sihtric holding a broken handle, the blade clattering to the ground. Undeterred, he grasps the chains with his bare hands, pulling at them with all his might.

"It's no use," you say, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please, listen to me," your voice grows louder, trying to break through to Sihtric, who seems oblivious to your words.

"Stop it!" you finally cry out, grasping his hands in yours. Sihtric's eyes meet yours, his face a canvas of pain and despair, his fingers still tightly gripping the chain.

"There's no more time. You need to go. You have to save yourself," you implore, cupping his face in your hands, ensuring he can't look away. "Do you understand? Leave! Save yourself!" your voice rises almost to a yell.

A heavy silence falls between the two of you, your eyes locked. Then you hear the dull sound of the chain hitting the ground as Sihtric finally releases it, his arms dropping limply to his sides.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I… I've failed you."

"No, you haven't. You kept your promise. You came back," you reply, your fingers gently caressing Sihtric's thick, curly hair. You wonder if the warmth and ragged breathing you feel against your skin are from him or from the encroaching fire above.

You lift your face towards Sihtric, the tears on your cheeks mixing with the dirt and soot. Gently, almost hesitantly, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, filled with a sense of urgency. Sihtric shudders as he responds in kind, his lips crushing against yours so eagerly, so desperately. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer, and you feel his fingers trembling as they caress your back.

There's a raw honesty in this moment, the rest of the world – the smoke, the distant sounds of the burning fortress – all fade into the background. For those few seconds, it's just the two of you, sharing a moment of solace in a reality that seems increasingly bleak.

With a strength you didn't know you had, you manage to pull back, breaking the kiss.

"You have to leave, Sihtric! You can't stay here with me," you plead, panic and despair evident in your voice.

Sihtric looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and sorrow. "I can't. I can’t leave you like this. Not alone, not chained," he says firmly.

Before you can protest further, he gently scoops you into his strong arms and lowers both of you to the ground. Your backs rest against the wall of the cell, his arms encircling you protectively.

"Please, Sihtric, you have to go! Save yourself!" you cry, your hands weakly beating against his chest, your pleas muffled against the fabric of his armour.

But Sihtric only tightens his hold, pulling you closer into his embrace. "I won't leave you," he murmurs, his voice resolute yet tinged with sadness. "We're in this together now."

Your struggles gradually subside as the realisation sinks in that he won't be swayed and you cease your futile attempts to show him away. Nestling against his strong body you let your tears flow freely.

“I don’t want this, Sihtric. It’s madness. Why are you doing this?” you mutter through your sobs, but Sihtric’s grip around you gets only tighter.

—--------------------------------------------

As your energy fades and your consciousness begins to slip away, the distant sounds of the dungeon seem to grow louder and more urgent. In your dwindling awareness, you hear the hurried footsteps of multiple people and the muffled clamour of loud voices.

Amidst this chaos, a distinctive sound cuts through the haze - the pounding of a hammer, resonating through the dungeon.

Suddenly, you feel multiple arms reaching for you, lifting you from Sihtric's embrace. You're too weak to resist or understand fully what's happening, but you sense movement as you're carried away from the cell.

You're vaguely aware of being brought into the open air. The cool, fresh breeze on your face contrasts sharply with the stifling, smoky air of the dungeon.

As consciousness slips from your grasp, the last thing you become aware of is the sensation of being laid down gently, with a flurry of urgent voices surrounding you. The chaos around you becomes distant, fading into a blur. Yet, amidst this disorientation, there's a distinct, grounding sensation - a hand clasping yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

In that brief, fleeting moment, you recognize the touch. It's Sihtric. Despite the confusion and the murmur of voices around you, his presence is unmistakable. The strength and warmth of his grip offer a sense of safety and comfort, a silent promise that you're not alone.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #arnas fedaravicius #arnas fedaravičius #sihtric fic

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1004tyun-archive · 1 year

Text

❥ late bloomer

✿ pairing: non-idol!taehyun x noona!reader

✿ summary: your high school and college years were nothing short of uneventful. no first dates, no first kiss, no first boyfriend, nothing. but when you and taehyun hit it off at an art exhibit and start a relationship, you know you want him to be your first for everything. but does taehyun know he's your first?

✿ genres: established relationship, smut, slight angst

✿ warnings: slight age gap (reader is 25, taehyun is 21), virgin reader, soft dom taehyun, body worship, mirror sex, voyeurism

✿ word count: 5.8k words

✿ a/n: hi friends! i've been noticing an increase in the taehyun noona lover agenda, so i thought why not toss my hat in and give y'all a noona reader fic of my own? i hope you enjoy <3

very special thank you to @cherrypeaking for being my sounding board while writing this fic! screenshots were shared, tears were shed, memories were made 🥹

You zoom down the streets of Seoul with purpose, the wind blowing through your hair as you blast Carly Rae Jepsen’s entire discography in your car, not caring if anyone’s bothered by the way the bass shakes your car. Today’s a special day, after all.

You and Taehyun’s halfiversary, to be specific. It was like pulling teeth trying to get him to play along with the gimmick of celebrating the first six months of your relationship, but you were too excited not to celebrate it. You had a feeling there would be many more months to come, you knew it from the first date. You’ve never been more certain about anything.

You roll up to Taehyun’s apartment complex and turn your music down to a whisper’s volume. You text him indicating that you’re outside and he steps out moments later. He looks so dashing in a white dress shirt, black pants, his dark hair pushed back, and a Rolex adorning his wrist. As soon as he slides into your car, you’re hit with the scent of his woodsy, floral cologne.

Does he have any idea how irresistible he is?

“Happy halfiversary, baby,” you say and lean in, smiling into the kiss he gives you. You playfully smack him on the arm when he doesn’t return the greeting and he holds back a smile, his lips pressing into a line.

“Come on, you have to say it too!”

“Or what, the magic won’t work?” he asks dryly.

“Come on, say it!” you whine, then cross your arms. “I’m not driving us to our reservation until you say it.”

His smile gets harder to suppress as you give him puppy eyes, you can tell his resolve is beginning to crack.

“Happy… halfiversary, Y/N,” he finally says. You pump your fist and kiss him on the cheek. He can’t stop himself from smiling and neither can you.

If there’s one thing you’ve grown to admire about Taehyun, it’s his dry sense of humor. He takes so much pleasure in messing with you, but you love to return the energy, pushing the boundaries of just what you can get him to do in the name of love.

You switch to the playlist you and Taehyun made when you first started seeing each other and warmth spreads in your chest as you reminisce.

It hasn’t been too long you started dating, but every day has been so bright since Taehyun entered your life.

You’re relieved by everything he is. Protective, kind, warm in his own special, Taehyun way. His warmth radiates even as he sits across from you and holds your hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. The flame of the candle between you enhances the brown in his eyes.

Being an art museum security guard is a niche job that requires you to look tough and always be on your toes, but being around Taehyun allows you to let your guard down.

You’re the older of the two of you; you’re a couple of months into being 25 and Taehyun turned 21 just days before you met, but you turn into such a giddy child whenever he’s around.

You swing your arms as you hold hands and walk through the city streets together, and Taehyun watches you in amusement, a quiet fond smile on his face.

You make your way from the restaurant to the grocery store to stock up on snack foods for the night.

As you and Taehyun load your many bags of snacks into the trunk of your car, it finally hits you.

You’re going to be spending the night with him for the first time. You’ve never spent the night with a boyfriend before, much less even had a boyfriend before, period.

Your CRJ marathon continues as you drive back to Taehyun’s apartment. Want You In My Room starts to play and the heat rises in your cheeks. You try to keep your cool as the song plays. You’re having good conversation, but of course it settles to silence in the middle of the first chorus.

♪ I wanna do bad things to you / Slide on through my window / (I want you in my room) / Baby, don’t you want me, too? ♪

You get flustered and quickly switch to the next song.

“Subtle,” Taehyun remarks and you want to bury yourself in your steering wheel.

Despite your prior embarrassment, Taehyun has your back pressed against the wall the moment his front door shuts behind you. His hands slide up your waist and to the side of your neck as his lips press against yours.

He kneels in front of you and runs his hands up your legs and under your dress to play with the tops of your sheer tights.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, running his his hands down to rest on the backs of your thighs. He’s so breathtaking from this angle, looking up at you with those eager, glittering eyes.

His breath is fanning against your thigh, sending tingles up your spine and making you dizzy. Every cell in your body is urging you, screaming at you to say yes.

And yet…

“Wait,” you say, breathing a little heavily. “I… uh, I-I didn’t shave.”

“That doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, it bothers me,” you emphasize, sounding more offended than you intended. Taehyun pauses to look at you for a moment before the warmth of his hands slowly leave your body. You feel a pang of guilt and offer a meek apology as he rises to his feet.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

But that’s the problem. You do want to, you really really want to.

But there’s a massive roadblock that always stands in your way whenever situations like this arise.

A roadblock called inexperience.

You change into your pajamas and spend the rest of the night watching competitive cooking shows on Netflix while gossiping about your work lives and sharing snacks like you’re two kids having a sleepover.

You fall asleep on the couch snuggled into his side and you’re stirred awake by his movement.

“Let’s get to bed,” he says sleepily. He helps you up from the couch and you can’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you realize you’ll be sleeping in the same bed together for the first time.

Once it dawns on you that you’re sleeping together, you’re too giddy to possibly fall asleep. You say goodnight when Taehyun falls asleep, but you’re still up, taking in the atmosphere of his bedroom. He has blackout curtains but a small, round galaxy lamp casts shadows on the ceiling and grants the perfect amount of light to the room. Everything smells like him, floral and woodsy like his cologne, but also like the lavender scent of his hair shampoo.

You could imagine yourself here more often.

When you wake up hours later, all you can do is stare at Taehyun’s sleeping face. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, even with his mouth slightly open and messy hair.

“Morning,” Taehyun says. His morning voice is so sexy, it warms up your entire body. He throws an arm over you and snuggles you closer. You’re close enough for the tips of your noses to touch, close enough to hear his breathing.

“G’morning,” you say then kiss the tip of your boyfriend’s nose.

“I made a brunch reservation for 10:00,” he says. “It’s a quarter to 9 now, so we have time.”

“Time for what?” you ask.

“Time for this,” Taehyun pounces on you and kisses you. You kiss him back and things get heated pretty quickly with his tongue making its way past your lips and into your mouth.

Your heart catches in your throat when you feel his morning wood poking at your inner thigh.

“Wanna make a mess before we get ready?” he asks, his tone suggestive as he slips his fingers past the fabric of your worn t-shirt. Your heart is hammering in your chest as the warmth of his hand against your waist makes you dizzy.

“I-I think we should start getting ready,” you say, shying away from Taehyun’s touch. He looks a bit disappointed but ultimately does what you say and removes his hands from your body.

You quickly get up to get your clothes for the day and go to take your shower.

The rest of the day is awkward, to say the least.

You and Taehyun walk back from brunch. You reach for his hand and hold it, but he doesn’t hold yours back. Taehyun, the chronic hand holder, not reaching for your hand as soon as you left the restaurant already raised a red flag, but him not holding your hand at all?

You get back to his place and take a seat on the couch. Taehyun sits on the couch too, but not immediately next to you. And at first, you chalk that up to him needing a bit of space. It’s not like he was icing you out, he wasn’t kicking you out, after all. He was still in the same room with you, just a little more quiet and distant than usual.

He’s pretty quiet for the rest of the day, giving you tacit responses when you ask questions and giving a half-hearted laugh when you try to tell a joke or make him laugh.

You finally notice things are wrong when he’s cooking dinner. You wrap your arms around his waist and he exhales through his nose.

“Now you want to touch me?” he asks. Your heart breaks a little as you let go of him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

Oh, so now it’s back to the short responses?

“No, it’s not nothing,” you say, it’s impossible to hide that you’re upset. “What did you mean?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he asks. Where did this tone come from? He sounds like he’s joking, but not really. It’s really setting you off.

“Clearly there’s something I’m not getting,” you say.

“Then maybe you need some time to figure it out. Time away from me.”

You’re taken aback.

“Taehyun, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you should probably go,” he finally turns to face you and his face is devoid of any warmth. When he looks at you with those cold eyes, it’s like the warmth leaves your body as well.

You search his face for any inkling of mirth or signs of him joking, but you don’t find any.

He really wants you to leave.

“Fine, I have work tomorrow anyway,” you stuff your clothes back into your bag, and storm out of Taehyun’s apartment without even a second glance. He doesn’t even look at you as you leave.

You walk to your car, not being able to hear much over your heart pounding in your ears. By the time you’re seated behind the wheel, your heart plummets.

It hits you that you’ve hurt your boyfriend’s feelings big-time. You didn’t need to see him on your way out to know that.

You can’t even bring yourself to start your car. You sit behind the wheel and hold back your tears until you can’t any longer, tears spilling down your cheeks while you mentally beat yourself up for having done this. Why were you so afraid? Why were you going out of you way to drive a wedge between the two of you?

It’s like you wanted him to hate you.

You check your phone at every red light, hoping and praying that he reaches out to you first, but to no avail. No message, no phone call, nothing from him.

A sinking feeling festers at the pit of your stomach. You’re not sure if you even want to go home, but you can’t think of anywhere else you could go.

Your housemates Jihyo and Nayeon are sitting in the living room laughing at something on TV and you know you’ve tanked the energy the moment you step through the door.

“You’re back,” Jihyo greets from the couch. “How’d it go?”

“It was… nice,” you say, voice strained.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, clearly detecting that something’s wrong.

You can already feel the tears returning and you can’t stop them from falling. You break down into sobs and both Jihyo and Nayeon get up to console you. They lead you to the couch to sit down and you tearfully explained everything that has led up to this point.

“I hurt him,” you say between sobs and Nayeon rubs your shoulder. “He’s never gonna speak to me again.”

“Did he say that?” Jihyo asks.

“No, but he didn’t need to. Ever since this morning, he’s been tiptoeing around me and walking on eggshells trying not to upset me. He didn’t touch me, he didn’t even sit near me. He probably thinks I hate him.”

“Sounds like he thinks you’re mad at him,” Nayeon suggests.

“I’m not mad at him, I’m just.. scared of messing up.”

“Why are you so scared of going through with it?”

“I-I don’t think I’m ready. It’s something I want, but I don’t feel ready. There are only so many articles you can read and videos you can watch in preparation. Nothing compares to actual experience, and until meeting Taehyun, I’ve had none. What if I do something wrong? What if there’s something wrong with the way I smell or the way I taste or I can’t get into the right positions or—”

“—Y/N, no one’s first time is perfect,” Nayeon says. “The only way it can be close to perfect is by communicating with each other.”

“Right,” Jihyo adds. “Just like how you can’t read his mind, he can’t read yours either. You have to talk things through with him, even if it’s hard.”

You fall silent.

“Does he know he’s your first?” Jihyo asks.

You shake your head, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Y/N, you should tell him,” Nayeon says. “He should understand, he loves you.”

“After tonight, I’m not so sure he does. I don’t wanna lose him.”

“Please, you should see the way he looks at you,” Jihyo says. “He looks at you like you hung the moon and put every star in the sky. You’re not gonna lose him over this, just talk it out.”

You keep Jihyo and Nayeon’s words in mind as your fingers hover over your phone screen the following afternoon.

You have to do this, it’s now or never. A knot forms in your throat as you begin to type.

you: Hey are you busy tonight? I want to talk

taehyun: We’re talking now

you: No I wanna talk to you in person

you: If that’s okay

you: We can meet at that cafe you like

taehyun: That’s fine I have time after work

you: Okay see you then

He doesn’t respond and your entire body gets tense. Jihyo wasn’t wrong about this being hard.

You end up arriving first, standing outside the café with your hands in your pockets mentally hyping yourself up for this difficult conversation. You can do this. It’ll be hard but it’s important for your relationship.

You spot Taehyun from the corner of your eye and walk toward him, greeting him and giving him a hug. He doesn’t hug you back, that on its own worries you, but you try not to let it discourage you.

“How are things?” you ask from the across the table.

“Fine,” he says. His tone is so cold, not like the playful kind of cold tone he uses to tease you, but genuinely cold, distant even. A frigid silence settles between the two of you and your throat tightens.

“I wanna apologize for last weekend,” you start. “I didn’t mean to be so weird.”

“It’s fine,” Taehyun says, his voice is tense and it unsettles you.

“No, it’s not fine. I hurt you when I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry.”

Taehyun is unusually quiet, part of you wants to ask him why but you also want to give him the proper space to think.

"Y/N, be honest. Are you trying to break up with me?"

That question hits you like a slap in the face.

"What?"

"Whenever I try to touch you, you always push my hands away, change the topic, or run away. This didn’t start with last weekend, it’s been going on for a while now and I don’t know if I can take it anymore. What am I doing wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, no. Taehyun, you're not doing anything wrong."

"Then why are you pushing me away?"

"I’m not pushing you away, I just…" you hesitate, looking down at your hands then back up at Taehyun, who's looking at you expectantly. He’s a bit upset, but it's clear that he wants to hear what you have to say for yourself.

The thing is, you aren't completely prepared to say it. You swallow, fighting the dryness seizing your throat.

"I’ve spent all my life feeling invisible. My friends had their first kisses before I did, got married before I did, started having kids before I did while I couldn’t even get a date. I felt like time was running out for me, and then I met you. Taehyun, you make me feel seen. Being with you makes me feel like the lovesick teenager I never got to be. Before we got together, I'd never had a boyfriend, been on a date, held someone's hand, or had my first kiss. You've been my first for everything, but whenever sex comes into play, I-I get scared.”

“Scared?”

“Scared that I won’t measure up, scared of how you’d react. You’ve had years of experience with different partners while I just bought a vibrator for the first time this year. Can you believe it? 25 and I just bought my first sex toy,” you say with a wry laugh. “You make me so happy, Taehyun. There’s no one else I’d rather have my first time with, but the thought of disappointing you or making you slow down for me hurts too much. I don’t want to do that to you."

There’s a long silence between the two of you. Taehyun pulls you into a tight hug. You’re startled at first, but you soon close your eyes and wrap your arms around him in return.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he sighs. “I’m- I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Another thing you’ve learned to love about Taehyun is his firm belief of actions speaking louder than words. The way he holds you tight in this café speaks for him perfectly. Sometimes words aren’t needed and this is one of those times for him.

“Let’s make some plans,” Taehyun says, determined. “I’m gonna give you the best first time you’ll ever have.”

As the week progresses, Taehyun texts you asking about your sexual preferences, your kinks, anything you’d like to try, and you answer to the best of your abilities. You blush when he tells you the things he’d like to do to you.

Things like tying you up, spitting in your mouth, overstimulation, the works. He emphasized that he’d only do these things if you want him to, but little does he know that you’d let him run you over with a tractor as long as he called you his princess while doing it.

But maybe you’ll reserve those for after your first time. Baby steps.

You open your underwear drawer and the tip of your one and only vibrator is staring you right in the face.

You stare at it for a good minute, wondering if you should bring it along on your journey. You suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea and tuck the toy into your purse.

You throw on your best dress and heels and make your way out the door. Your heart is beating at a thousand miles a minute but talking things through with Taehyun all week combined with your housemates’ good luck texts this morning give you all the confidence you need.

Your heart is pounding as you walk down the narrow hallway of his floor and get closer to his apartment. You knock on the door and you’re greeted with a surprisingly dressed down Taehyun. He’s got a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants on, a far cry from the glam look you decided to go with for today.

“Wow, you got all dressed up for me?” Taehyun wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you.

“I feel so overdressed,” you confess.

“Don’t worry, that won’t matter later,” he says with a smile and your cheeks burn. He leads you to his bedroom, but you can hardly wait to touch him, to kiss him, to feel him.

You don’t even make it to the bed before you pounce on him, pressing his back to his bedroom door and kissing him hard. He leans into it almost automatically as his hands find your waist to pull you impossibly closer.

“Have I ever told you how sexy your legs look in tights?” Taehyun asks, running his hands up your legs.

“No, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it a couple hundred more times.”

“As you wish,” Taehyun kisses your neck and his hands go to the tops of your tights. He peels them off of your legs and casts them to the side. He sucks on the skin of your neck and you sigh at the sensation as he leaves a few pretty hickies behind.

His hands trail up your ass and to the invisible zipper on the back of your dress. Your heart skips a beat as you feel your dress slowly fall off of your body and pool around your feet on the floor. Taehyun grabs your shoulders and turns you toward the full-length mirror. He snakes his arms around your waist to hug you from behind.

”God, look at you,” Taehyun whispers against your skin. “I can’t believe no one’s gotten their hands on you yet. How did I get so lucky?”

Taehyun sits at the end of the bed and pulls you down onto his lap so that you’re still facing the mirror.

“Lift your hips,” he says into your ear. You do as your told and lift your hips so he can take your panties off. Once he rolls them down your thigh, you wriggle out of them and kick them off to the side. Taehyun unhooks your bra and pulls it off of you, letting it fall to the floor next to your underwear.

It’s a little embarrassing, sitting in his lap completely naked while he’s fully clothed.

Taehyun explores your naked body with his hands, fingers dragging up your thighs to your stomach to squeeze your breasts. You close your eyes and relax into his touch, feeling every individual callus on the skin of his palm. He slides his thumb over your bottom lip and you sigh, granting him access to your mouth. He shoves two fingers into your mouth and your tongue lazily swirls around his fingers before you begin to suck on them.

“That’s it, princess. You’re a quick learner,” he says and you tingle from his praise. He thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth and you suck on his digits with every movement.

After a minute or so, he pulls them out of your mouth with a wet pop. Your eyes shoot open when you feel his saliva coated fingers in your pussy. Your back arches from the sensation and you make a noise you’ve never heard yourself make before. Taehyun chuckles.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers and kisses the shell of your ear. “So wet already and we’ve just barely started. I can’t wait to make a mess of you.”

He grabs your jaw with his free hand and turns your head to face the mirror head-on.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror for me.”

You obey, but it’s so hard. Your vision goes blurry as you watch as his fingers thrust in and out of your wet, throbbing entrance. He curls them in just the right way to have you moan so loudly that you shock yourself. You throw your hand over your mouth, but Taehyun quickly removes it.

You've never seen or heard yourself like this before. He’s driving you absolutely wild.

His erection presses against your ass and when you grind against it, his breath hitches.

He rubs at your swollen clit with the heel of his palm. It’s enough to have you clamping your legs shut and squirming in his lap. Taehyun uses his free hand to hold your leg open as he continues to tease your clit at that same, excruciatingly slow rhythm.

You come undone, high pitched moans leaving your lips as you writhe in his lap and he holds you in his strong arms. He continues to finger you through your orgasm until you’re reduced to a panting and whimpering mess.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “You’re so good, princess.”

You go limp in his arms and he holds you, closing his eyes and burying his face in your bare shoulder.

“Are you okay? Do you have enough energy to get on the bed for me?” he asks. You nod and he helps you up anyway, taking your hand and getting you properly seated on the bed.

You sleepily watch as Taehyun slowly undresses, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it into the nearest laundry basket. He pulls a foil packet from the pocket of his sweatpants and places it on his nightstand.

And then, suddenly, you have a lightbulb moment.

“Can we try something?” you ask.

Taehyun raises an eyebrow. “In the mood to experiment already?” You nod shyly and he leans in, eager to listen.

“Can you get my vibrator from my purse? I want you to use it on me.”

It’s a simple little thing, a pink silicone rabbit vibrator about five inches tall.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, hand resting on your thigh.

You shrug, “I don’t know, be creative.”

“How about you show me how you use it?” he tosses the device to you and your mouth goes dry.

“You’ve used it on yourself before, right? I want to watch you use it.”

You’re frozen in place as the gears in your brain slowly turn in an effort to process what he just said.

“You’re already naked, love. Just get in the usual position you’re in when you use it. I won’t judge you, I promise.”

You’re hesitant but you eventually roll over onto your stomach and shift onto your knees so that your ass is in the air and your face is buried in the softness of one of the memory foam pillows. It smells just like his shampoo, you close your eyes and bury yourself in the scent until your eyes suddenly snap open and you remember what you’re in the middle of.

You can’t see Taehyun but can you feel his eyes on you and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m waiting,” he says in a teasing tone and your face heats up. You press the button at the bottom of the vibrator to turn it on and hold it against your pussy, not yet sliding it inside. You take a breath and rub it against your slit, your thighs twitching when it brushes by your sensitive clit.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

You jolt at the question, already feeling flushed.

“Don’t be shy, you can tell me. It’ll be our little secret.”

He must think he’s so funny. It’s hard to concentrate, your mind is already foggy as you try to focus on your own pleasure while trying to put on a good first show for your boyfriend.

“Put it inside,” he says, softly but commanding. You do as he says, mewling as you push the silicone toy into your dripping core.

“Do you imagine me fucking you?”

Taehyun hovers over you, his toned chest pressing against your back. He kisses your shoulder and slides a hand down over your busy hand, helping you to thrust the vibrator in and out of you.

“It doesn’t compare to me, does it? Doesn’t stretch you out and fill you up like I can, either.”

The mere thought of having him inside you is enough to turn you on even more. Your pussy tightens around the toy, but he’s right. It isn’t enough. You want— no, you need more.

You need him.

“What’s wrong, princess? Can’t cum? Not even with me helping you?”

Your eyes are brimming with tears, you’re so close yet overstimulated at the same time and you’re not sure you can take this any longer. You wordlessly shake your head.

“Want my cock instead?” he asks and you nod fervently. He pulls the vibrating toy out of you and the vibrating sensation that initially numbed your pussy is replaced with the head of Taehyun’s cock. You whimper and he kisses your shoulder.

“Let me know if I need to slow down, okay?”

You give a nod and he plants another kiss on your shoulder before aligning his cock against your pussy and pushing into you. You hiss, hands tightly gripping the cotton sheets beneath you as you feel him slowly fill you. Your body feels like it’s on fire, stretching around him burns, but the pain slowly starts to settle in the boundary of pleasure as Taehyun slowly slides into you until he bottoms out.

You’re pretty sure you’ve elevated to higher plane. You can feel every curve and vein of his length inside you, he fits you so perfectly.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice soft as a feather.

“Mhm,” you sigh. “Feels so good…”

“Mm, that’s my girl,” he rubs your thighs and up towards your stomach. “Relax, okay? I’ll take good care of you.”

You steady your breathing for a moment before he drags his length out of you and plunges it back in. He thrusts particularly deep and hits a spot that has you drooling and grabbing the sheets until your hands start shaking.

“Fuck, Taehyun…!” you cry.

“I’m here, princess. I’m here,” he says soothingly. “You’re doing so good.”

He continues to pound into you, hitting that same spot over and over, it feels so good you could cry. His girthy cock is filling you up, stretching you out so perfectly; you can’t imagine why you waited so long for this, but you’re so glad you’re experiencing it now.

Your entire body runs hot and your thighs quake as you feel a pressure building in your hips.

“T-Taehyun, I’m… ‘m- shit, I’m so close,” you squeak.

“Cum for me, princess. I want you to fucking drench me,” Taehyun says, thrusting faster. “Come on, give it to me.”

You cum so hard that your entire body shakes and your voice breaks. You call Taehyun’s name over and over like it’s a prayer and he holds you tight. Your reaction is enough to push him over the edge as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You’re mine, no one else can have you,” he breathes, thrusting in you faster and faster until he finally cums. You shudder at the way his cock swells inside of you. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath.

“C’mere, I wanna look at you…” Taehyun pulls out and turns you over on your back so that he’s hovering over you. The outline of his toned body has your heart racing. It’s only been seconds but you already miss the feeling of him inside you.

“You’re so pretty,” he leans in to kiss your forehead and you instantly get butterflies. He falls onto you and you wrap your arms around his waist. You lay there for a minute, still catching your breath until your breathing is in sync.

“Y/N, I want…” his words trail off, he looks flustered. You silently urge him to continue and he gives you a shy, hesitant look you’ve never seen before.

“You might not have been my first, but I want you to be my last,” he confesses. “I know it might be too soon to say it, but I—”

Before Taehyun can continue, you grab his face and kiss him. It’s clumsy, your faces mush together in an awkward kind of way but you can’t help the way you’re feeling. All the admiration and fondness you have for him overtook you like a tidal wave. You separate and he stares at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, continue.” you apologize, breathless. Taehyun looks at you with amusement.

He chuckles, “No, I think that spoke for me just fine.”

“Come on, say it.”

“Are you gonna interrupt me again?”

“Only if you want me to,” you say with a suggestive raise of your eyebrows. Taehyun laughs, it sounds like the ringing of bells.

“I love you, Y/N. I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re mine.”

You smile, holding back your tears of happiness, “I hope you know there’s no getting rid of me now that you’ve said that.”

“Wouldn’t want that for the world,” Taehyun kisses you and lays his head on your bare chest. You run your hands through his hair.

“I love you, Taehyun. I love you so much.”

#taehyun fic #taehyun oneshot #taehyun x reader #txt smut #txt fic #crystal's fics #terry bear 🐻‍❄️❤️‍🔥#bye this was so much fun to write

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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A Broken Sort of Normal (Start)

WC: 588 CW: (updating as the fic continues), Gen but ships may be added Danny Fenton/Wally West pre-relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Major Injury, Minor Character Death

They were going to lose.

It's a simple, unavoidable fact and it hits Danny like one of Superman’s punches. He fumbles in his attempt to triage Barry’s leg before the limb was lost.

The man standing in the middle of the ruins of Metropolis would win. He and his army of hive mind clones would sweep across the rest of the planet. Humanity would fall.

They were going to lose.

He finishes tying off the field tourniquet, not sure how he manages, not with his hand slick with Barry’s blood. Something of his thoughts must be showing on his face because Barry reaches out and grips a weak hand around Danny’s wrist.

“Kid?”

It was still a stupid nickname. Danny hadn’t been a kid since before joined up with the Justice League as a field medic four years ago. But Danny was the same age as Wally and many of the other Teen Titans— all long grown out of that name— and so he got lumped in as ‘kid’ to the more senior heroes.

And now all these wonderful, heroic, brave people that Danny had come to be friends with were going to die. The monologue happening in the middle of the street made that much clear. No hero would be left alive; any chance of a future uprising would be snuffed out this very day.

Because they were going to lose.

Danny smiles softly at Barry and pries his hand away.

“Kid, whatever you’re thinking—” Barry could have no idea what Danny was thinking. No one could.

No one could, because no one knew what Danny could do.

Danny had played to the curse perfectly for seven years. A curse set on him in a stupid moment of one last teenage angst fueled vent. He had just wanted to be normal.

Sam and Tucker were going off to college. Danny wasn’t, not with his grades. Jazz was practically waiting for her girlfriend to propose. Danny couldn’t imagine even dating with his secrets. Jack and Maddie had a new contract with the GIW. Danny had stopped trying to reason with them.

Everyone else was moving on with their lives while Danny was stuck half dead. A freak of nature. A man out of life yet still living. A walking corpse.

He just wished he was normal.

He’d forgotten that he shouldn’t wish.

A wish is only a curse waiting to happen.

Well, he got it— his wish that was a curse. As long as Danny never used his powers in any noticeable way he would just be seen as a regular kid to the rest of the world— just plain, normal Danny Fenton. If he got caught using them even once— if he got caught being not normal, his powers would be gone, taken by the curse. Without his powers keeping his core humming happily along and sustaining his half dead body, Danny would be gone.

Danny had forgotten he shouldn’t wish.

But he did.

And suddenly, just like that, to everyone else, Danny was normal— no ghost attacks to fight, no GIW hunting him, no Team Phantom.

Sam and Tucker drifted quickly away without the team to bond them. Jazz checked in less and less— no need to worry about her little brother being shot. Jack and Maddie… well, they stopped having a reason to talk with him too. They had to prove the existence of ghosts! There was no time for… well, someone as normal as Danny.

Normal turned out not to be so great.

-----

AN: I got sent the the field medic prompt going around, for some reason? (there was no comment sent with it). It's a cute idea with some fun responses, but not really my jam to write. I'm not much into exploring ageless immortal, dimension hopping Danny in my own work. I have more of a weakness for exploring what makes Danny still human. And, as @mokulule pointed out: "I see you mentioning no angst XD".

(Have you all caught on yet that I like my angst?)

So of course I had to ask if I were to write field medic Danny, how would I get him there? And how would I hurt him once he was there? So I threw out all of the prompt and I bounced it around with Moku, her prodding me along with great questions and thoughts, and now here we are.

Because apparently my brain didn't want to warm up on one of my current ideas. This will be a one shot so help me-

(BTW: While in the very vaguest sense this started with a prompt, the above writing is not a prompt. This will be finished, it's 99% planned out already, just needs the writing.)

#dp x dc #abson #Danny Fenton/Wally West #quick death

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tiathecreator · 6 months

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⋆⭒˚｡⋆ my love mine all mine. ( dick grayson ) !

��‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎.𖥔 ݁ ˖✎ᝰ synopsis — " nothing in the world is mine for free, but my love, mine, all mine, all mine. " blk reader.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏�� ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟwarnings — possibly ooc dick ( i never write characters how they actually are lol ),angst, possibly hurt/no comfort ( ? ), unrequited love ( sorry y'all), she's a doozy y'all, dramatic x 100000.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ tia speaks — i need to stop listening to mitski while i brainstorm new fic idea because i just keep writing song fics. but alas, here we are. i literally love this album and i lowkey might make a masterlist for my song fics because i write sooo many of them. i hope y'all like this because i am proclaiming song fics to be my brand. i also suggest listening to the song as you read the latter half of this. dedicated to @pinkhoodi cuz this OUR man.

"you'll be there, right?"

"are you kidding me? i wouldn't miss it for the world."

"where's dick?" your mother asked as you took a seat next to her at the dinner table. she was expecting the young man's presence, having gone as far to prepare one of his favorite side dishes and a little extra to take home. "i thought you said he was coming tonight?"

"more excited to see him than me, hm?" you joked, attempting to avoid your mother's question. she gave you a deadpanned stare, causing you to sigh dramatically before answering. "he told me that he couldn't make it a few hours ago, i just forgot to tell you."

"oh, honey..." your mom started, but you shook your head and offered her a reassuring smile.

"ma, it's not a big deal. i told him we could just celebrate another time," you lied, resting a hand on her shoulder as she gave you a sympathetic smile. your eldest brother sat across from you, having noticed dick's absence, but chose not to mention it. having heard the topic of conversation, he grabs your attention to congratulate you.

you were a small fashion designer, often dealing with making pieces for special events for the small city of bludhaven. you work out of a small shop that you rent with some of the money from your designs as well with the income from being a art teacher for the local elementary school. you took a leap of faith and sent a few of your designs to a big name corporations and they loved them, immediately offering you a position. this was your dream and everyone was excited for you.

and now, you're at the celebratory dinner your parents planned in your honor. the same dinner that dick was supposed to be at, pouring you a glass of merlot. he hadn't said a word. he hasn't answered your calls nor your texts. you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, trying to convince yourself that this was just a misunderstanding on his part, but you couldn't help but care about his absence.

but this was your night. so, you sucked it up and smiled for the pictures with your friends and family. you laughed at the jokes. you even gave a big teary speech with the power of brandy.

"did you drive tonight?" your second eldest brother asked, watching as you swayed a bit before turning to look at him.

"no. i figured i'd have a ride home given that this was my celebration and i knew i'd drink, but..." you shrugged. "i'll probably just get a taxi."

"get in," he opens the passenger door, gesturing for you to get it. "i'll give you a ride."

you stared at him for a few seconds before giving him a drunken smile. "awww big brother, you're too kind."

"yeah, yeah. just remember me when you're rich and famous with your own fashion line, okay?" he said as you got into the passenger seat, drunkenly settling in the seat before turning to him and giving him a cheery smile and a thumbs up. he huffed a laugh before closing his car door.

he rounds the car, gets in, and begins to drive. he glances over at you before sighing at the melancholic gaze in your eyes.

"so," he started, his tone gentle. you perked up at the sound of his voice, turning your head to look at him. "dick didn't show."

"yeah," you sighed out, turning away to look out the window. "he didn't come."

"why?" he asked the pressing question that you were sure many others wanted to ask at the dinner as they noticed the empty chair to your left.

"he just... didn't come."

"you two fighting or something? because i can't seem to think of another reason as to why he wouldn't—" your brother started but you cut him off.

"i don't really wanna talk about it," you rubbed eyes, effectively messing up your makeup for the night. you didn't want to talk about how your best friend wasn't there to celebrate your greatest achievement to date. that was a tomorrow ( read: next week ) problem. "he didn't come. that's it."

there was a pause before he sighed. "okay."

"okay," you repeated, slouching back in your seat before smiling to yourself. "drop me off at the bar by my apartment? i could use one more drink."

"i think you've had enough to drink for one night," he responded as the parking garage of your apartment building came in the view.

as he pulled toward the gate of the garage, you looked out the window, noticing a familiar figure sitting on the hood of a car in front of your apartment building. you let another tired sigh before looking ahead of you.

"yeah, you're probably right."

you woke up to someone pounding on your door, coupled with the pounding headache as a consequence from last night's drinking. you remove yourself from your bed, dragging your feet over to your door as the knocking continued.

"yeah, yeah, i heard you the first time," you groan as you open the door, keeping the chain lock secured as you did so. you rubbed your eyes as you asked "what?"

"y/n," you startled at the sound of his voice, immediately looking up and being met with the guilty gaze of dick grayson with a bouquet in his hand. hurt and anger filled you as you rush to close your door, unsuccessful as he shoved his foot in the crack of the door. "y/n, please. i'm sorry! just-just listen to me for a second."

"go fuck yourself, grayson," you said, leaning your full body weight on the door as you tried to get it to close despite his foot being in the way. "move your foot or i'm gonna fucking break it."

"just let me in so we can talk, y/n. okay? i just wanna talk," he begged as he tried to push the door open and away from his throbbing foot.

"i said, move. your. fucking. foot." you emphasized your words as you threw your body against your door, further crushing his foot. he removed his foot, allowing you to close your door. you leaned against it as the tears welled up in your eyes.

"y/n, please. just let me in. i know i fucked up, just let me in, so we can talk," he spoke through the door. you scoffed aloud, shaking your head at the desperation in his voice. you thought about leaving him there to talk to the door as you wallowed in self pity in your bed, but your hoping heart got in the way of your vengeful mind. you stood up and undid the chain lock before open the door and walking away, allowing him to let himself in.

"why?" was the first thing you said when he closed the door behind him.

"y/n, i know you're upset—" he started, but you shook your head.

"why didn't you come?" you asked again.

"i didn't mean to flake on you like that. okay, you know you mean the world to me. i just got so caught up yesterday, y'know? like with work and barbara, i just lost track of—"

"barbara? you missed the dinner because you were with barbara?" your voice cracked as you stared at him in disbelief.

barbara.

it was always barbara.

it was barbara when he didn't come out with you for your 21st birthday. it was barbara when he missed all 10 of your calls when you found out your apartment was broken into and you just needed a place to crash for the night. it was barbara when you got rejected from your dream fashion academy and dick was the one person you wanted to comfort you and tell you that you were still good enough.

it was barbara when you finally worked up the courage to tell dick that you had been in love with him since you first met and he tells you that he finally got barbara to agree to give him a chance.

and each time, you sucked it up and forgave him, whether he knew he hurt you or not.

"yeah, i had some time to kill before the dinner and she asked me to come see her. and i mean, she's my girlfriend, so of course i went. and then i realized that it had gotten pretty late and by the time i would've gotten to the dinner, it would've been over. i came by last night, waiting for you to come back. i got this big bouquette and a cake from that shop on 2nd—" he rambled, sitting the flowers down on the counter and pacing across the floor as he tried to redeem himself.

"you missed my dinner for barbara? the dinner that my family, who lives 3 hours away, planned to celebrate me achieving the one thing that i've wanted since i could write...for barbara? for a little alone time with your girlfriend? you mean i sat through two hours of my mom coddling me because the one person i wanted to celebrate with, who i wanted to support me, didn't show because you were with barbara?" you interjected, fighting tears and swallowing the lump in your throat. dick stopped his pacing to look at you, a huge sigh leaving his body as he scratched the back of his neck.

the two of you stood in silence as you stared at the nervous man in front of you. dick opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to say as he notice the quivering of your bottom lip and the dewy glaze of your eyes.

"yeah," he broke the silence. "i know i fucked up yesterday, but that's why i'm here now. i wanted to fix my fuck up. y'know, take you out for like breakfast or to the art museum a few towns over with the fashion exhibit i told you about. we can spend the whole day out celebrating."

"well, i don't want to celebrate today. the time to celebrate was yesterday at dinner which you missed so," you shrugged at him, turning around walk into your kitchen area, hoping to contain your emotions for a few more seconds.

"i know this is important to you, okay, and i'm sorry that i missed the dinner yesterday, but i think you're being a little unfair to me, right now. i mean, i know that we're best friends and we always want to be there for each other, but i also have a life of my own. you can't always have me, y/n," he said.

you can't always have me, y/n.

the words rang through your mind as your head fell forward and your shoulders began to shake as the dam broke. your tears fell rapidly as you silently cried, refusing to make a sound to save the little bit of dignity you had left.

maybe you were being unfair. it was just a dinner and he was trying to make it up to you now. he was a busy man and you knew that, so him clearing his schedule for you was a good sign that he was sorry. and beside, he was right. you couldn't have him.

but just a little part of you, a very naive part, hoped that you could one day matter more that barbara when it came to dick.

you sniffled and let out a weak laugh. "you know what, you're right. i can't expect to have you all the time."

"y/n, you know i didn't mean it like that," he tried, approaching you to pull you into a hug as your tears still fell. you pulled away from him as you moved to lean on the sink. you crossed your arms before letting out another watery laugh and looking at the man.

"i think you should go home," you give him your best smile. it was strained and shaky, but it was all you could muster up.

"y/n, what about the museum—" he tried again. you shook your head for the umpteenth time.

"i'm not up for it today. you can make it up to me some other time but i really can't look at your face right now," you walked to your front door and held it open, waiting for him to walk out.

"no. i'm leaving you here to cry because i missed your dinner," he looked at you, frustrated that you suggested that he left you alone in the state that you were in.

"it's not about the dinner, dick," you exasperated. "i just think you should go. i'll give you a call when i'm free, okay?"

"y/n..." he started, not moving from his spot.

"dick, please leave," you finalized, gesturing to the door as you held it open. he began to walk to the door, dropping his head in shame. "take the flowers, too."

"the fl—you love daisies."

"barbara loves daisies. i like lillies. i appreciate the thought, but i think you should take them, too," you told him. he looked at the bouquet on counter before retreiving it and making his way out the door. he was silent as he left out of your apartment. he stopped in front of you for a few seconds, opening and closing his mouth a few time before leaving. you closed the door lightly behind him and slid down the door, resting your back against it as you allowed yourself to cry once more.

nothing is the world belongs to me, but my love, mine, all mine.

nothing in the world is mine for free, but my love, mine, all mine, all mine.

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sanjoongie · 5 months

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𝐇𝕠ռ𝜚𝘺𝘦𝒅 𐐛𝗶ҽ𝒔 𝑎𝒏𝖽 ɑ 𝓢ѡℯ𝟈𝘁 𝙱ꭵ𝚝ⅇ

📗Thrill of the Hunt collab Masterlist

📗Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin (Gean-Canach Fae) x Reader x Choi San (Part Fae Part Hound of the Hunt)

📗Au: Fae au, Artist au, Writer au

📗Trope: s2l, mated pair, lovers to enemies

📗Genre: smut, angst, dark themes

📗Warnings: ⚠Please be aware of the dark themes featured in this fic⚠ imprisonment, slave/servant treatment, mentions of blood, death, violence (choking), humans kept for breeding, cannibalism, torture, broken heart, pregnancy

📗Kinks: prey/predator, penetrative sex without a barrier, knot dynamics, imprinting "mated" sex, celibate! San, feral sex, biting, baiting San into fucking you, "just the tip" mentality but from the reader!, rip-able clothes, aphrodisiac (willingly taken by reader), slight hate sex mentality, breast worship

📗Summary: after being lured to the Fae Realm by Hyunjin on a false pretense, you decide enough is enough and risk attempting to escape your pretty prison. What you didn't expect was to fall for the Fae that was sent to bring you back.

📗Word Count: 10,331

📗Dedication: @mejuii speedy beta reader @stardragongalaxy provided Txt's Kelpie! Kai cameo, @flurrys-creativity 's winged Faerie! reader & Brownie! Changbin, and finally @anyamaris 's reader makes a cameo as well as Rose! @smallfrye who let me get excited about this and bounce ideas off of her

📗Songs to listen to while reading: Seventeen's Monster, Jackson's Bullet to the heart, Ateez's New World

“Oh human!” A melodic voice called into your room.

You sighed loudly and closed the book you had been reading. You may live in a wondrous set of rooms in a tower at the end of a valley, but it was a prison all the same.

“Hyunjin,” You sighed, “You could at least refer to me by my name.”

Hyunjin threw the doors open to the room you currently inhabited. “Ash is so dull. Like you're what comes after a great fire.”

Your mouth felt like it was full of ash. Hyunjin never hid how quickly his passion for you became ash. Now you were simply a human caught in the fae realm, his muse for creativity when he, as an immortal, could find none.

Still, Hyunjin prattled on, not swayed by his purpose. “What have you been working on?”

There was no use trying to keep it away from him. He would cajole it out of you sooner or later. You tilted your book towards him and he peered over. His intelligent and bright eyes moved with alacrity, consuming the words you had put to paper. He smiled in glee, wicked and cunning. “I know the perfect painting for that.”

This was the ever-turning of your life. You couldn't tell the pass of time, not like in the mortal realm. There were different seasons, but Hyunjin lived in a valley that was permanently caught in the throws of high summer. So the only way to judge the passing of time was your works, and the works of Hyunjin that followed after. Either he would create from inspirations of your writing or you would write from inspirations of his paintings. It was a torturous pairing, and one that you would sever, if only you could.

You had first met Hyunjin when you were a burgeoning writer. You were young and fearless but also clueless. Hyunjin had been a gorgeous temptation. His sharp mind was what lured you in, another kindred spirit of the arts. You had fallen fast for the beautiful man, but he had a secret.

“If only I could bring you back with me,” Hyunjin sighed as the sun set. He leaned against the windowsill of your tiny cottage.

“Back to the city?” You wondered curiously, interest suddenly piqued.

Hyunjin shrugged. “It’s amazing there. So many others like us, who love the arts and want to live their lives surrounded by the arts.”

“We can go!” You jumped up, cheeks flushing at the pleased look in Hyunjin’s eyes.

“Are you sure? Didn’t you say your elder sister frowned upon our companionship?” He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You sighed heavily. “Oh, poo, she can sit on a stick. I want to live my own life.”

Despite your elder sister's warnings about Hyunjin, your head was full of dreams of creating a life with others that honored the arts--unlike everyone else in your tiny, back water village. You followed Hyunjin, hand in hand, down your well-worn road and into the forest. Hyunjin sent you a mischievous smile when you wondered why you had left the road.

“This is a special shortcut,” he said.

A jolt of excited electricity shot through you at the thought that perhaps shortcut was an euphemism for some slap and tickle, perhaps Hyunjin would indulge you with his head between your legs like you had fantasized--

“Over here,” Hyunjin brought you back to reality, tugging your arm towards a mushroom circle.

“You’re not about to lure me to a faerie circle, are you, Jinnie?” You teased back.

“And what if I was?” Hyunjin drew you into the circle of his arms just barely hovering before the circle.

“I would follow you there,” You murmured back, drunk on his attentions.

It took a while to settle into the fact that Hyunjin was Fae. As soon as the two of you crossed over into the Fae Realm, his glamor had been dismissed. The delicate curve of his ears was the most apparent, along with the blast of his power, it practically radiated off of him, alluring and warm like the sunshine of the realm you had crossed over into.

The sex perhaps distracted you from the majority of the way Hyunjin mindfucked you into believing this was the life you had traded for. The first time he bent you over your desk to fuck you, was titillating.

“I’m here to give you inspiration,” he murmured into the shell of your ear.

His flowing shirt fluttered over your lower back as he pressed into you. “My muse,” he cooed and continued to enter you until he hit the end of you.

“Hyunjin!” You whimpered, nails digging into the oak wood below you.

“This is only the beginning of the pleasures I can give to you,” Hyunjin promised.

He urged your upper body to lift up, so that he could whisper further honeyed lies into your ear. He waxed poetic of the world the two of you would live in; he would wrap himself around you for years and you would write and he would paint and your lives would be fulfilled.

This was when he imprinted on you, biting into your shoulder and connecting you with himself forever. You heard from the lesser Fae that imprinting was usually meant to connect two Fae, like a pact of marriage. Your heart surged when you heard this, sure in your decision to follow Hyunjin away from your mortal life.

And for a decade or two, you were so utterly in love with Hyunjin, that you grew ignorant of the way he treated you. Hyunjin kept you locked up in a wonderful tower. He told you it was to keep you safe from the other Fae, even though he was never a threat to you. He told you the tower let you view the city, the valley, all the inspiration a writer would need. And it worked.

Until he stopped visiting your bed, stopped whispering honeyed lies about how much you meant to him. Oh, he meant every word that you meant a lot to him for he could not lie, but it was not about love, like you had been interpreting it. Hyunjin valued you for your human emotions, for your human imagination. Being immortal meant that you grew bored, you lacked any new sights, but a human--a human was full of new eyes and thus the perfect muse.

When you caught up with his trickery, it was too late. You were bound in your pretty prison, bound to repeat whatever Hyunjin wanted in order for him to live his best immortal life. And that’s when your summary, lovely, warm life started to leak its colorfulness.

You started to rebel and truly learned what it was to be at the mercy of a Fae Master. Hyunjin didn’t take well to you refusing to create anything for him. Your first set of punishment was to be worked as a servant for the Fae. You spent a spell as a food server but the atrocities you were privy to truly opened you up to the world you were trapped in. Torture was a passing amusement for Fae while they ate. You once watched a starving human be served up their own foot and ate it.

But nothing was worse than the months you were forced to serve the humans that were kept in the breeding pits. “You should watch your tongue, mortal, before I cast you in with that lot,” Hyunjin had threatened you when you broke your quill and threw your book out of your window.

Certain humans were kept in a series of cells in the very tower you were trapped in, unbeknownst to you. The Ciaradh court loved to study humans and they were constantly obsessed with creating new young. Some Fae theorized that getting a human fat with child was easier than bunnies fucking in spring, so there was a dedication to seeing if it was so true.

There were chances when said breeding humans were ‘walked’, for their benefit of course. Hyunjin would also, upon feeling like boasting of his Human Muse, take you for a walk in the beautiful cultivated gardens surrounding the tower. Of the flowers that grew there, there was one that was a washed-out blue, a rose that seemed to get skimmed over, but you were drawn to it. It was an imperfect color that reminded you of the skies in the human realm, unlike the perfect summer-sky blue that this realm always seemed to maintain.

You remembered this particular poor human, in a ratty white dress that barely covered her modesty, whom you had fed in the breeding pits. This one you found a few times smiling at a bluebird singing to her. You had fondly called her Rose, for you two were the only ones who admired the washed-out blue rose that the Fae sneered at for its imperfection--that only made it more beautiful to the two of you.

Back to the current time, where Hyunjin was painting something dark and seductive--which matched your mood to a T from your writings that you showed him. You couldn't help but resent the fact that he could still pull creatively from you, despite your connection to him remaining solely in the fact that he had imprinted on you because of his ambitions.

Hyunjin put down his paintbrush and sent a look your way; you knew what that look meant, he was going to torture you. You were starting to wonder if physical torture might be preferred to the methods Hyunjin enjoyed.

“Doesn’t she look like she’s enjoying herself?” Hyunjin wondered at his painting.

The painting wasn’t completed but you couldn't help but agree. The human lady in question, flowing robes not bothering to conceal her nakedness, had a Fae at her throat and a Fae between her legs. She was giving and taking, caught between violence and passion; exactly where you wanted to be.

“Yes,” You said dryly.

“Oh, come on now!” Hyunjin stood up from his stool, “No need to be jealous!”

“I’m hardly jealous, Hyunjin,” You spat.

Hyunjin’s eyes, dark and cruel, focused on you. “That’s right. It could be worse. I could throw you to the hounds, see if they eat you up or create a new mongrel for the court.”

Your anger seethed through you, fear interwoven within. “You’re so very considerate,” You replied blandly, attempting not to rise to Hyunjin’s barbs, even though you knew he could tell exactly how you felt, through your bond.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “You’re no fun anymore, human.”

When Hyunjin left, you threw a fit. You threw books and tore papers, spilled ink and broke quills. And when you were done letting your anger course through you, you were left with a broken heart and a near-broken mind. You couldn't do this anymore, you simply couldn't. Centuries more like this and you were likely to truly go mad, and the worst thing was, that would delight Hyunjin all the more. That you could not let happen.

You had to escape.

You knew what happened to humans who ran. The stories were practically drummed into you after Hyunjin broke your heart but wanted to dissuade you from even risking the chance. You knew the consequences, the repercussions. But what if you could twist and tailor this escape to benefit you? You had lived amongst the Fae long enough to have learned a trick or two.

For weeks, the plan coiled and formed in your mind. If you ran, Hyunjin’s bond would direct him where you were. But Hyunjin was a spoiled rotten Fae, he wouldn’t dirty his hands and go after you. He would run back to his parents, for he was from the Oidhche court originally. When you were still starry-eyed for the Fae world, Hyunjin would fill you with stories from the darker realm. He told you of how they would hunt humans for sport, to make you squeal and giggle. But you distinctly remember the stories about the Hound.

The Hound was a cautionary tale but a useful one. During one of the many wars between the courts, a Fae Hound had been changed from a dog to a humanoid form. It had been a way to save one Fae from fighting teeth and claws. That Hound had survived the war, miraculously, and gone on to settle down with a Fae woman. They had copulated and made a child, who much to the horror of the mother, had his father’s characteristics that he had kept hidden. The child was left at the mercy of the dark forest within the Oidhche court’s borders, but had grown up, albeit a bit more wild than most Fae children, which was saying something, really. That Hound Child was indebted to Hyunjin’s father who had taken him in, and that particular Fae would be sent to bring you back.

How were you going to escape when a Fae who was part Hound of the Hunt was tracking you? Well, you had an answer for that. You see, Hyunjin had also taken great glee in telling you said Hound was celibate, and had been for as long as Hyunjin could remember. So if you could offer the hound sex, tempt him with breaking his vow, he would be forsworn and nothing meant more to a Fae than his word. He would be worthless and without standing in his court. He would be… at the same level as a human, basically a death sentence. You could work with that. You would need a liquid aphrodisiac to prepare yourself for the seduction but you knew in your gut you would need more to seduce a century’s old Fae.

Hyunjin found your rooms the next day in ruins. But the true fact that actually made his face cloud over in anger was his ruined painting. That sent you to servants quarters. They put you on duty to the breeding pits, delivering their pittance of food.

You found Rose in a bad place and yet still she found a smile for you. An idea struck. It was very clear that Rose was recovering from a game played with her body and a Fae. You told Rose of your idea to escape and asked to exchange your clothes for the provocative dress that covered Rose’s body.

“Are you sure about this?” You couldn't help but worry that Rose would get in trouble for losing her dress.

Rose’s smile was strong despite her fragile appearance. “Even if they take it from me tomorrow, at least I’ll have slept in some clean clothes that were warm for one night.”

Rose’s attitude, despite what the world had thrown at her, only made you steel your spine. You were going to be like Rose and persevere. You were going to leave this place behind.

Hyunjin’s visits, however, were throwing you in a loop. You had a pack prepared and stashed for weeks before you were given an opportunity. If you left and Hyunjin found you gone too quickly, your escape would be pointless. So you had to wait until Hyunjin visited you next but there was no rhyme or reason to Hyunjin’s visits.

All you could do was work on perhaps the last thing you might write in your human life.

You wrote a story thinking of your sister, of your childhood, of how not everything was better on the other side of the grass. You wrote and distracted yourself and soon enough Hyunjin visited. You showed him your work, his eyes gleamed with inspiration and then he visited for three days before his painting was finished. And if you were honest with yourself, his painting was one of his best in decades.

Hyunjin eyed you curiously. “What’s got you suddenly so fired up? You haven’t written something that refreshing in years?”

You shrugged. “I’ve got a new lover.”

Hyunjin blinked at you blankly for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. He would have felt your lust if you were having sex with someone else through the bond. He knew how lonely you were for companionship, it practically wafted off of you when he visited. Hyunjin clutched his arms around his belly before finally he wiped some tears from his eyes. “Well, whatever it is, keep it up. I might let you come back to court if you do.”

Honeyed lies were Hyunjin’s specialty. He had you living off hopes and dreams forever until you let your love for him die for him. He would promise the world and mean it but there was no keeping track of the amount of loopholes he could find. He was Fae after all.

Once Hyunjin left, you could hardly contain yourself until nightfall. Then, during when the moon rose to its highest peak, you stole into the night in a dress that would lure every predator out. You ducked your head and told each guard passing that you were finally destined for the pits. They either made noises of sympathy or laughed at your demise, having seen you with Hyunjin during one time or another.

That was how you made your way down the Tower. At the base, you brightly informed that guard that Hyunjin had finally taken you back. You watched as a romantic look passed through his eyes and he let you go. For Fae that twisted the truth to their own benefit, slipping through them as a lying human sure was satisfying.

You pulled out a map and followed the landmarks to quickly get out of Ciaradh and cross over into Oidhche territory. Hyunjin would think you were an idiot, moving closer to the Fae that would be hunting you but that was all a part of your plan. You wanted the Hound to find you.

First things first, you had to get out of Ciaradh.

The various cities were easy to avoid. It was the faerie mounds and valleys that made it hard to travel. There was nowhere to hide. Just the beautiful rolling hills, which was the other reason why you wanted to get to Oidhche.

There was one place that you spotted and thought perhaps it would give you relief. A tree had fallen high atop a hill. With its roots still clinging to the earth, it made an impromptu overhang. You’re not sure if an ogre had knocked down the beautiful, solitary tree or perhaps the earth was simply taking back what once it gave, but either way, the hair on your arms rose with the feel of power once you reached the shadow of the overhang.

This was a well of the natural magic of the Fae realm. With it, you would be hidden from the majority of any Fae magic. The natural magic simply messed with anything else. Except you weren’t the only one that thought that it was a good hiding place for a human fleeing.

During the early morning after you had slumbered in the well of magic, you heard talking and shouting, waking you up immediately. “Oh, Yeon-Yeon, are you hiding here?”

You froze as an adorable female Fae with wings poked their head from the top of the overhang. “You’re not my human,” she said, clearly perplexed. “He’s not here, Binnie!” The head disappeared and you thought perhaps your luck won out. It had not.

The female fairie yanked you by your arm and half flew, half dragged you out to show the other Fae she was with, that you were, in fact, not ‘Yeon-Yeon’. You protested and ended up landing on your ass in front of a very buff Brownie. “I told you he isn’t smart enough to hide here!” She scoffed.

He frowned down at you, arms having a hard time crossing over his chest, but contemplated you with a hand at his chin. “But I swore I smell him this way.”

“Are you sure we can’t just take this one? She’s adorable too!” The female cooed at you. You slapped her hand when she reached to bop your nose.

Binnie’s frown deepened. “No. We have to find OUR human, Heart. This is not our hunt. And you know we must respect another’s hunt. Now respect ours and leave that human.”

The female sighed heavily. “Fine. I don't like that one anymore anyways. She’s not that cute if she slaps.”

After your encounter with the two Fae, you continued to hit your streak of bad luck. You almost got lured into a satyr’s traveling party, where the music got your feet tapping and dancing, and you would never stop. As a human, it was a death sentence. You ate a flower that you thought you read gave you night vision but in fact made you believe the opposite of everything you thought true. You almost backtracked a full day before it wore off--your feet trying to take you back to Hyunjin.

You almost cried in relief when you saw a dark forest in the distance. That was the territory marker for Oidhche. You had felt Hyunjin’s rage a few nights ago zoom through your bond and you knew that the hound would be sent to retrieve you. The second part of your plan was about to come into effect and you couldn't help but be excited. And that’s when you downed the Faerie Dew, preparing to seduce a Fae.

🐕🐕🐕

“Get up, Hound.”

A boot kicked San’s foot and he rolled his eyes upwards slowly in response. “Hyunjin,” He acknowledged.

Hyunjn’s eyes scrunched up into half moons, malicious delight beaming from them. “I’ve got a job for you.”

“I don't do jobs for you,” San retorted and closed his eyes again.

“It’s an order from my father,” Hyunjin said tightly.

San sighed heavily. “What is it?”

“It’s time for you to hunt down a little lost human,” Hyunjin revealed.

San rolled his eyes and stood up. He rolled his neck, cracking it dramatically. “Why do I feel like this has to do with you?”

To say that San did not like Hyunjin was an understatement. San was a useful tool to have in the household he was adopted into but Hyunjin was the prized son. Where San was made to work and toil, sneered at by the majority of his peers, Hyunjin was sought after, praised and elevated. The two had never liked each other; Hyunjin because San was the son his father chose and San Hyunjin because he was never a beloved son.

“It doesn’t matter why the command was given, just follow it like the good little doggie you are,” Hyunjin sneered.

“At least I didn’t flee my family because I couldn't live up to their expectations,” San shot back, balling his fists and readying for a fight.

But San would get none. Hyunjin’s power was not in his fists but in his words. “Go fetch my scraps, doggie. That’s all you’re good for, after all.” Hyunjin threw a piece of personal clothing of yours at San and turned around.

Every muscle in San’s body tensed but he knew he could not attack his benefactor’s son. He would lose the tiny foothold he had in the Oidhche Court, however tiny it was, it was something he clung to. He would always want to be a part of the Fae, to prove he was worthy of remaining amongst them; that he was not an animal.

Hyunjin walked away, confident that he came out on top, and from his point of view, he had. But San had the true last word.

“I’ll fetch her and come back and be told that I am his most worthy son, that you are worthless, and that I should have been born to him.”

🐕🐕🐕

San transformed to his other form, a Hound of the hunt, in order to use his abilities to the best. His sleek, powerful form ran through the Oidhche dark woods and marshes, ruins and lakes. He followed your scent, nose to the ground, taking only time to drink water and rest only minutes at the time. His endurance could take him far but his determination even farther.

Something San did not call was that he would encounter another Fae on the hunt. He drew abreast with a horse that was not a horse. San recognized Kai in his other form, the dark horse with long fangs, a Kelpie.

Kai, like himself, was a bit of an outcast within the Oidhche court. Kai had slowly become blind when he changed courts and was looked down upon, like San was as a half-breed. They weren’t friends but more like allies in a world that saw them as the bottom of the barrel of Fae.

Kai threw his head to signal that they should veer towards a nearby lake and San barked in reply. The two of them slowed their pace and then changed forms, to speak to each other.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” San said first, cupping his hands and pouring water over his head from the lake.

Kai looked amused. “I’m hunting a human but what’s your excuse?”

“Fetching trash for the master’s son,” San grumbled.

Kai’s amusement slowly melted away. “You should snap it’s neck then.”

San ran a hand through his hair, shaking out access water, and stood up. “Wish I could. You know we can never interfere with a hunt. An escaped human is an escaped human.”

Kai’s slightly amused expression was back and present. San recognized it as Kai’s default face, the mask he wore at court. “Then we should do what’s in our power to help each other out.” Kai gestured with his chin towards the lake that spanned far and wide. “I’ll help you cross the lake.”

San shutdown the feeling of gratitude and surprise he felt immediately. Kai wouldn’t be able to see it anyways but his court training of not truly revealing what he felt kicked in regardless. “That would be appreciated.”

Kai waded into the water and changed form once again. This was his third form, his truest form. His upper half was that of a horse and the lower part of a fish. San rode on Kai’s upper back, amazed at the speed of the kelpie. That lower half that was tail helped them sail through the lake’s waters and Kai’s Kelpie presence kept all the other, nastier, baser Fae away. What would have been hours of circling around the lake was cut in half as Kai swam through the center of the lake and delivered San on the other shore.

Kai changed back to his human form to rest but jauntily saluted San as San turned back into a hound and went back to his hunt.

📗📗📗

Your attitude once you were inside the dark forest was a bit 50/50. Your heart was in your throat, knowing at any moment a Fae Hound would be on your heels, and you were excited for that, but what if he never changed into his human form? What if he simply clamped his jaws around your wrist and dragged you back to his master…back to Hyunjin?

Soon, you felt like the forest was fighting against you. Branches tore at your bare arms as if they were trying to slow you down. Roots threw themselves in your way, trying to trip you up. Noises, that which you had never heard during the years you had lived in the Fae Realm, haunted you. There was a small part of your human mind that knew you shouldn’t be here but was that a part of the dark spell that was this forest or was that instinct kicking in for you to survive?

Your lower half was slick and wet, preparing for someone to fuck you and that conflicted with your state of mind. How could you be so turned on but so terrified about what was around each thick, gnarled tree trunk? Did your heart beating in your throat add to the throbbing of your cunt? It had been so very long since the last time Hyunjin had fucked you, perhaps this hadn't been a good idea to tempt yourself, and fate, like this…

A loud howl broke through your inner thoughts and you shivered in response. The hound had found you. You knew it in your bones that this was the defining moment that would free you… or break you.

You broke out into a run, stumbling at first and then becoming hyper aware of everything. The rocks that you had to jump over, ducking under low-hanging branches, you ran in the opposite direction of where the howl had sounded.

“Please, please, please, please,” You chanted to yourself. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, the need to fuck and to survive prompting them. You dashed them away with the back of your hand. That wasn’t going to help.

Soon, the howls began to get closer, and you could hear sharp barks. Did he smell your scent as a human or did he smell how wet your sex was? Was he eager for the hunt or for your cunt? Your heart and mind were working a million miles per second, the unknown playing with your mind.

A growl made you jump and you almost tripped and hit the ground. You caught yourself, pushing back up and running. You didn’t dare look back, afraid you would lose your courage in completing this if you did. You did hear a snapping of jaws and a snarl and you hoped that your planning would all work out in the end. It had to.

You gasped as something hard and real slammed into you and you finally fell. There were no nails digging into your shoulder blades nor teeth snapping at you, so you felt relief to know that the hound had changed into his humanoid form and sealed his fate.

The snarl in your ear was just as real as the body pressed up against you, pushing you into the soft, forest floor. The snarling tampered down to a quiet, curious growl. You could feel puffs of air along the skin behind your ear and then down your neck. Your pulse was beating wildly and you were worried for a moment that instead of this moment pushing towards lust, it would turn towards bloodshed like its original intent.

You pushed your ass back into the body above you and the snarling started up again. “Do not struggle, human, it’s futile.” The one on top of you was Fae, you knew that, but his melodic voice was not what you had expected.

“I think you like the struggle, pup,” You shot back at him.

You pushed and rubbed your ass further into the hard body and struggled to halt your smirk. You could feel him hard against the soft material of your dress. His hips pressed forward to pin you harder but he only managed to choke on a moan at the friction.

Just as soon as your body had been pushed against the ground, you were flipped over and hauled up with a harsh hand around your upper arm. The sharp cut of his jaw and cheekbones almost took the breath from your lungs, despite living amongst the beautiful fae for so long.

The hound opened his mouth to probably threaten you some more but no sound left it. His eyes scanned over your dress, that was ripped in a few places that definitely aided in your plan. The globes of your breasts were pushed up, the swell of your hips framed by the cut-outs in the dress, it was the perfect peekaboo dress.

His eyes snapped upwards to meet yours. “Where did you get such a garment?”

You smiled sweetly. “I live amongst the Fae. Is it so odd to acquire a few pieces of their beautiful clothing?”

The hound shook his head, almost as if he needed to clear it. “I’m taking you back now.”

You were still in close proximity, so you boldly pressed your hand to his tight leather pants. “This poses a problem, does it not?”

The whimper that escaped the hound’s lips made you clench your thighs tightly together. Anger immediately radiated from him. “Stop with your human tricks.”

You cocked your head. “Tricks? But I’m a mere human. What could I possibly offer?” The heel of your hand grinded down on the head of his cock and he gasped softly.

The hound grabbed your wrist and wretched your hand from his cock. His shoulders moved slightly, indicating you’ve got his breathing increased at least. “I am under a vow of celibacy, you will cease your antics.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “A willing vow of celibacy?”

The hound kept his grip on your wrist and began to tug you back the way he came. “I am a mongrel; I cannot further pollute the bloodlines,” He muttered over his shoulder.

You tugged back, trying to halt your movement, but just ended up slamming into the broad back of the Fae sent to bring you back to your life of torture and tedium. “I’m not Fae. You won’t muck up my bloodlines.”

You felt rather than heard the sigh from the hound. “A vow is a vow. Now, be quiet, it was hard enough tracking you down from one kingdom to another.”

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his tiny waist, fingers tracing his padded leather armor. “We don’t have to head back so soon,” you purred.

Once again, you were manhandled. Both of his hands clamped down on your wrists. With movement speed beyond a human’s comprehension, you were whisked around his body and pinned up against a tree now, your wrists in manacles made by his hands, the bark digging into your back.

“I don’t know what your intentions are, and I do not want to know. All I know is that I’ve been ordered to track a human pet that’s escaped from the Ciaradh kingdom and to drag her back. I’ve been ordered to bring you back alive but accidents can happen.” And in all his righteous anger, he was a glory to behold. You had struck gold, to be hunted by such a Fae.

You licked your lips in anticipation. You hooked one of your legs around his slim waist and arched your back. “Is it really breaking your vow if you slid into me just a wee bit? Surely getting your tip wet isn’t against the rules.”

You watched as the hound’s adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed. “Why do you tempt me?” He whined, perhaps already feeling the temptation you were offering.

“You are temptation itself,” You whispered back. Your eyes moved over his features, strong and handsome. “How could one not want to tempt you?”

He scoffed, looking away. “You are a human drunk on Fae magic.”

“I have lived for a long time amongst the Fae. Their magic isn’t as strong as it used to be on me. I speak no lies,” You pushed.

The hound examined you for a moment, pursed his lips and then looked away again. “You could be lying about a lie, you are human after all, and do not have to adhere to our ways.”

“What do they call you, hound?” You wondered, feeling yourself falling into your own trap, in a way.

The hound’s eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. “Why? I am nothing.” He shook his head. “You are a peculiar human.” When he saw you still waiting patiently, he professed his name was San.

“San,” You tested it out, like it was candy on your tongue. “It’s a good name to scream during ecstasy.”

You watched as his eyes changed, a fraction from his righteous anger, to curiosity. He simply did not understand why you were offering what you were. Surely he was used to the games the Fae played, he was one of them after all. But he did mention he was a mongrel. Perhaps he did not get treated as one of them?

You took the moment to wrap your other leg around his waist. San’s arms flexed to balance out the weight so that your upper half was still pinned successfully as your lower half pressed against him. “I’m offering a taste. Don’t you want it?”

“I have been celibate for more years than you have been trapped here,” San whispered, a tinge of sadness coating his words.

You weren’t sure when was the last time Hyunjin touched you. It had been so long that you gave up ever hoping for it again. It was odd to have such a thing in common with one of them. Your body was practically singing for San. This was how you survived but couldn't you perhaps enjoy it as well?

You rolled your body against San’s again, groaning lowly when your completely uncovered bottom half ran against San’s leather-covered groin. “Please.”

San’s precarious control snapped like a leash on a feral dog. His lips slanted over yours, tongue tangling with yours. His hands released your wrists and connected at the small of your back, urging your body against his. He sighed into your mouth, this time of relief instead of defeat, still kissing you in earnest, messy and full of saliva. Your hands curled around his jaw in an attempt to hold him in place, to gain control, but there was none of that with San.

He led the pace and the pace was grueling. He was rutting against you and you were very sensitive due to the aphrodisiac, the Faerie Dew, you had drunk. “Wait, wait,” You protested against his mouth, “You should be inside me, not against me.”

San panted heavily now, eyes wary and dangerous. “I should not. We can circumvent my vow this way. Simply take what I can give you, human.”

His sentence gave you a bad taste in your mouth, similar to how you felt after interactions with Hyunjin.

“Oh human!”

“My name is Ash,” You snapped.

San narrowed his eyes on you. “And I'm the Fae in charge of hunting you down. The Hound. We all know our place by now.”

You reached between your bodies and desperately pulled at the ties of his pants, undoing them and revealing something mouth-watering. Hyunjin had always been long and slender, but San’s cock was heavy and thick, something that looked like it deserved to part lower lips. “Goddess,” you cursed under your breath.

“Just the tip, right?” San reminded you, tongue coming out to lick his lips.

“Just the tip,” You reassured him and then sunk down on his cockhead.

You both groaned in unison, eyes rolling into the back of your heads. You started to move your hips when San’s hands grasped them hard. “Don’t move,” He ordered you.

“I plan on doing more than moving,” You informed him, lifting a little only to push him further into your heat.

“You--you can’t,” San whined, his eyes getting a faraway look.

“Who would imagine, a Fae pussy-drunk on a human’s cunt.”

San’s eyes sharpened on you. He pulled out of you completely and you almost cried out at the loss before he slammed into you full-hilt. Your breath was caught in your throat at that moment. You were so full and he was so thick--

“What’s wrong, Ash, stupid from my dumb mongrel cock?” San hissed into your ear. His nose ran along your neck, inhaling deeply.

“It’s so--” You desperately shook your head. You had a plan to enact, you couldn't afford to fall into the lust so deeply. Your life depended on this.

The hard snap of San’s hip against you had your body jolting. San’s eyes zeroed in on the mounds of your breast bouncing because of his harsh pace. He withdrew and then snapped into you, his head dipping low to lick the tops of your breasts. “So good,” He growled.

You wrapped your arms around San’s head, pushing him into your bosom. “Indulge in me,” You encouraged him.

“I--” San raised his head, looking as if he was barely treading water from his lust-filled mind.

“Take it,” You whispered, pressing your forehead back to his. “Take what’s freely offered. Take what you’ve been denied.”

San’s eyebrows furrowed again, pain and pleasure etched across his strong features. “I can?”

You reached down to the neckline of your dress and ripped it effectively freeing your breasts. “You can have whatever you want, San.”

It was off to the races after that. With the freedom to indulge, to experience, to take what he had been denied for so long, San was lost in his urges. He licked and sucked all over your breasts, leaving marks and bites, even whimpering when he fought over the need to hold them in place or leave his hands on your hips so he could hold you in place. His thrusts were calculated sometimes, looking to hit that sweet spot inside of you, to hear your moans of his name. The rest was lost to his passion, fucking into your wet pussy in search of his climax.

“Oh, Goddess, yes,” You cried out, feeling your climax approach. “Fill me up, pup.”

San’s eyes took on a look of fear for a moment. “I can’t!” You realized you had said the wrong thing.

“You can, you can!” You held his head between your hands, making him focus on just you. “I’m just a useless human cunt, right? You can just fuck me like you were fucking your hand. It’s the same thing.”

San shook his head. “It’s not the same. You don’t look at me with derision or perverse pleasure. You don’t play with me, you encourage me, you…”

You began to panic. Where was the feared Hound, the legendary Fae from the Oidhche court, who executed others with his teeth dug into their jugular, just at the whim of his master? Who was this creature peeking out of the mask, looking for softness, looking for heart? Fuck, what was that pushing feeling at the base of San’s cock?

You looked down and took San’s gaze with you as well. He paled at the sight of the base of his cock pushing outwards, almost as if-- “Nonono,” San began to chant, “I cannot--!”

You had to throw all caution to the wind, despite the worry that you were about to be connected to a Fae for a few hours, by the looks of things. Not what you wanted when you were about to make said Fae break a very important oath, but there was no avoidance of it, it seemed.

“Follow your instincts,” You whispered before slanting your lips over his. Your teeth tugged playfully with his bottom lip. “Let us both see the stars behind our eyes, come on, San.”

San whined but thrusted up into your cunt. “So close,” he allowed, closing his eyes as if he couldn't witness his own treachery.

You moved your body up and down on his length, encouraging his head into your bosom once again. “Fuck me San, fuck me full of your cum, release inside of me, release your beast, let yourself go.”

With a loud howl, his back arched and his head thrown back, San ejaculated inside of you. He panted and sighed and then the knot at the base of his dick stopped, the copious amount of cum he had just dumped inside of you, firmly sealed inside of you. The knot pushed against your g-spot and sent you into a spiraling orgasm you didn’t see coming.

You gasped, squeezing San even tighter to your breasts. “That’s it, pup, fuck, that feels so good.”

With a precious look sent up towards you, filled with raw emotion, San closed his eyes and then bit onto the mound of your tit. You were so deep into your climax that you almost didn’t register the pain but the flood of emotions that weren’t your own into your skull sure let you know what you had let happen a second time…

“San!” You panicked. “You! You imprinted on me!” What did that mean? Wait…

“Mine,” San said drowsily. A wave of satisfaction was felt through the new bond as he lazily lapped at your breast and then he started to sink to the ground.

“San? San!” You protested, your dress barely protecting you against the bark rubbing against you as you sunk with him.

“Tired,” He mumbled. His tongue absent-mindedly licked at his bite.

You had a dick tight inside of you, a large Fae slumped against you, and your tit hurt from a bite. This was not really how you were looking to finish this plan but perhaps this worked even better in your favor.

📗📗📗

“What have you done?!”

That rage and fear woke you up reasonably fast.

“What I had to do to get what I wanted,” You replied quickly.

“I have broken my vow!” San moaned, pacing a few steps from you.

You preened at your success. “And thus, you cannot go back. They will see your word broken. You will be worthless.”

San stopped his pacing. “...you planned this?”

“I've lived here for centuries and you think I'd just up and run away?” You sneered at him. “I may be human but I am not stupid.”

“And now I've even imprinted on you!” San looked horrified.

“That was your fault, I didn't do--”

Your words were choked off as San’s hands wrapped around your throat, long nails digging into the thin flesh of your neck. Your fingers clawed at him to let you go. San bared his teeth at you, peaks of fangs flashing between his lips that had previously been kissing you. A mental image of San’s raw glance before he bit you rushed through your mind and you whimpered.

San let you go just as fast as he started choking you. “You have ruined my life.”

You choked and coughed and gasped for air and choked again. “And I'd do it again. I'd do anything for my freedom.”

San started pacing again. “What is freedom when you have a home? You live in the Fae Realm, your life extended. All your days are warm and you do what you love. What is it that you're running away from?”

That's when it hit you. You weren't connected to Hyunjin anymore. You didn't have to feel anything of his mind or emotions again. You were finally free. You smiled in glee.

“It's not what I'm running away from, it's what I'm running towards,” You rasped.

San sent you a look that could have cut diamonds. “Do not wax poetic to me, human. I will only fall for it once.”

You raised your chin. “You will escort me to the nearest mushroom circle. I will leave this place.”

San shook his head, grinning and shaking his head. “You are truly not right in the head! What if you crumble into a pile of dust once you leave?”

“Then I will die disconnected from a man who broke my heart and that will make me happy,” You said firmly.

San carded his hand through his hair in frustration. “I can feel how determined you are!” He didn't say anything about the broken heart.

“And I'll have died after having some of the best sex I've ever had in my entire life.” San didn't need to know your only comparison was a village boy named Jake, Hyunjin and now he.

San frowned hard at you. “You still smell like it.”

“There's a lake back there--”

San stepped in your way. “No, you won't bathe there.”

You fetched your pack and changed into the set of clothes in there. “Make up your mind, San.”

You examined the bite on your breast mid-change, tutting at the mark that was now going to be there for the rest of your life. You patted your shoulder for the mark you had on your shoulder but without a mirror, you were unsure if it had healed or it would remain as well, even though it was nothing more than a scar rather than a tool to use against you.

“Do you have anything for the bite?” He asked.

“I have only food, water and clothing. I wanted to pack lightly for the journey,” You admitted.

San sighed. “I…I have a power. They don’t let me use it--I don’t want to use it! But… I’ve seen what happens to Fae when the one they’re imprinted with dies, so I will help you.”

You eyed him cautiously. “Pardon me if I don’t jump at the offer.”

“I’m not! Trying to trick you!” San insisted. His face was open and honest.

But still, your trust was not easily won. You shook your head. “No. You’ve done enough damage.”

“Fine!” San huffed and immediately turned back into his hound form.

You swallowed hard, memories of that same hound hot on your heels, chasing you through the woods--you couldn't help it when a whimper escaped your throat.

San’s head cocked in curiosity and he padded over to you closely. You held still as he sniffed your head. You couldn't help but ease a bit when he licked your cheek. And then he licked your wound that you left uncovered in hopes it would heal in the open air. But when the bite started to tingle, you yelped backwards from him.

“What did you do?!” You demanded.

San whined and dug a foot into the soft ground. It seemed somewhat of an apology.

But when you looked down next, you watched as the bite healed. Oh, the scar was there, but it was as if it was days, even weeks healed. Did San’s tongue have healing abilities? Perhaps it was a result of his mixed heritage.

You shook your finger at him. “Just because you're in dog form, that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you!”

San’s head lowered and then he began to sniff the ground. He slowly followed its meander trail until he was almost in between your legs. You slapped his snout and he yelped. “I get it, I smell like sex, that does not excuse your nose from going to where it shouldn’t.”

San sneezed and you rolled your eyes. “Can you lead us to the nearest faerie ring or not?”

You followed San in hound form in a quick jog, the pace that the hound of the hunt set grueling for someone who spent the majority of their time sitting and writing. San would only wait for a few minutes as you gasped for breath and then he would bark sharply at you and you two would start running again.

“San! San, I can’t.” Eventually you called it quits, collapsing at a copse.

San transformed into his human form and sent you a disappointed look. “We would be twice as far if you weren’t a human.”

“Sorry I can’t change into a dog,” You spat.

“No but you sure are a bitch,” San spat back.

“Takes one to know one,” You retorted.

The two of you snapped and snarled at each other for the entire journey it took to get to the nearest faerie ring. This one was located deep in one of the dark forests, surrounding a tree that had a gap in the front of it; almost as if it was a door to the Mortal Realms.

“I can’t believe it.” It was almost too good to be true, that your plan had truly worked out and you were finally escaping the Fae--and leaving your past mistakes behind you. You knew the chances were slim that your sister was still alive, but if you had the chance to apologize to her, to tell her she had been right…

San stood a ways off, looking very closed off. “It’s not that different,” you conceded to him.

“I’ve never been there,” San admitted, face still very shut down.

“If a fragile human can live in your world,” You sent a knowing look his way.

You watched as San visibly straightened and shook his head. “You’re right.”

“Imagine that,” You muttered under your breath.

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, and for a moment, you were both equals. You were unsure, San was unsure, and neither of you wanted to be the first. So when you brushed San’s hand against his, and after a moment of hesitation he took it, you both stepped through the faerie ring and back into the Mortal Realms

📗📗📗🐕🐕🐕

It was a rough month when you crossed over. You were very lucky that only a day had passed in the Mortal Realms instead of centuries. You found your sister and she was in tears that you had left but you had a lot of explaining to do--especially when you came back with a different man that you had left with.

Eventually, with help from your sister, you and San were able to settle into a cottage that was in the next village over from where your sister still lived. For better or for worse, you and San had imprinted and that basically meant you two were married, so the illusion had to be maintained. You wrote and found a publisher in the closest big city, earning some coin in that regard, but San became a hunter for the surrounding villagers and that was truly how you were able to survive.

Regardless of how much San informed you on the daily that you had ruined his life and it was your fault he had to work for his keep, you saw a change in the Fae. The village was more than happy to receive the kills he took from the forest, unaware he actually took down the prey in his other form. San was very easily received in the village and that seemed to be the turning point for him. Other hunters and men of the village joked with him and you saw him lose the sharp edges he had acquired growing up in the Fae Realm.

One morning, when San had risen from your shared bed with the sun, to hunt, you lurched from the bed yourself and barely found your basin before you threw up into it.

San wrinkled his nose at you, one leg lifting to be put into his boot. “If you’re sick--” He paused, sniffing the air and then his eyes widened. You felt fear and hope surge through your bond with him.

You waved him off. “I’m sure it’s nothing you can catch.”

San blushed and that threw you off. He quickly put both his boots on and found a cloth for you to wipe your face with. You stared at him with intense scrutiny. Although the two of you lived like husband and wife, San didn’t go out of his way to be kind to you. You were the reason he was reduced to a mortal’s boring life, after all.

“Ash…” San offered his hand to you, and you took it, but you were confused.

“What’s going on?” You demanded.

San looked a bit bashful, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “You are going to have to endure a change in me. It is a part of a Fae male to become extremely territorial when their partner is pregnant--”

“Excuse you!?” You screeched.

San flinched at your volume. “You’re pregnant, Ash.”

You blinked at him several times, still unable to comprehend. “But we haven’t…”

San’s eyes shot upwards to the ceiling. “It only takes one time.”

You felt your knees weaken and San quickly escorted you to your bed to sit. “It can’t be.”

“I can smell the change in your smell. You have morning sickness. Have you bled since we’ve been back?” San inquired gently.

You shook your head. “I just thought my body was adjusting from one realm to the other, I didn’t--”

A child only bound the two of you tighter. Your heart sank. San was only going to hate you more for this. “I promise, I didn’t plan this!” You protested.

“Human,” San started and you felt anger surge through you.

“Don’t you dare make our baby hate me, you will not refer to me as such in their presence!”

San, the bugger, had the audacity to smile shyly. “I would never think of it.”

You frowned. “Why are you being so weird? Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

San shrugged. “I told you. Things are going to change.”

And change they did. Your sister was ecstatic. Not completely won over by San personally, she still admitted he was a good provider and in the very least, she was excited for a new niece or nephew. You worried about her approval but it seemed like she had no care for the fact that it was part Fae.

The biggest change was San. His shrewd eyes were always on you. You never seemed to have enough pillows or blankets to cover you or keep you comfortable. He was constantly asking if you needed more food. He worried about the baby non stop. But the minute he pushed his head against your stomach, to use his hound hearing to listen to the baby’s heart, a soft smile would pull at his lips and your own heart would feel as if it was about to burst.

Your mood swings affected you the most, after your morning sickness, and San took those in strides. There were times when you threw anything within arms length at him and then there were others where you sobbed into his arms, and he rocked you in sympathy. You didn’t know how you felt, carrying a child into this world that had been born from trickery. You felt slimy, truth be told, and you didn’t want the baby to carry that into this world.

Until one night, when you were reading in bed, San crawled into your shared bed and scooted over until you had to sit up to let his arm curl around you. “Ash,” He called out your fake name to grab your attention.

You hummed in acknowledgement and closed your book. “What is it, San?”

“I think I should tell you this, before our baby is born,” San said solemnly, hand slipping over your protruding belly.

This was it. San was going to inform you that once the baby was born, things would go back to how they were before. He would despise every breath you breathed and it would grate your nerves to live with a man who hated you. You braced yourself; you had been somewhat preparing for this.

“Although it was not your intention, you bringing me into the Mortal Realm has let me realize that I was not living a life before this. In the Fae Realms, I was considered not of them. They begrudgingly even acknowledged I existed. But here… with your sister and the village… they are happy I'm here. They enjoy my presence. I have never known such a feeling of belonging.” San paused swallowing and you felt nervousness through your bond. “And you. You have had to endure living with me, who cut you any time my mouth opened. You are with child from a man… no, a mongrel, a monster, who despised you. Yet, don't think I haven't seen you retrieving the few paintings Hyunjin had gifted you of the place he had grown up in. You hung up paintings done by the Fae you despised, just so that I could have pieces of my home here. I know how much it means to have a reminder of him.”

You pressed your lips together. San had never mentioned the paintings. You didn't think he even noticed them. “Well--!”

“Let me finish,” San said, cutting you off firmly but gently. “I have every reason to thank you but my stubborn self could not. But you need to know that you are my mate, and I do not regret imprinting on you, because in that moment, you had truly made me feel like I was important and I will love a child that was born from that union.”

Your throat tightened and tears threatened to escape. “That's lovely, San.”

San lifted his hand from your belly and used it to tilt your head to meet his gaze. “I will love the child… just as I love you.”

You could feel it. There was no lying with the bond that existed between you two. San truly loved you. It wasn't the grand romance you had once felt for Hyunjin but that wasn't a bad thing. Your love for Hyunjin burned brightly but went out just as quickly. The love San had for you was fragile but it was hopeful. And if you nurtured it…

“San, I--” Your heart was beating wildly but you found that it was not as bruised as it once was from Hyunjin’s false words. You leaned to San’s cheek and whispered into his ear your true, real name.

San reeled back, surprise and shock all over his face. “You honor me, wife of mine.” By bestowing your name upon him, you acknowledged that you trusted him with something he could use to have complete control over you. It was better than saying I love you.

You smacked his chest at the ‘wife’ comment, however, and San let out a high pitch giggle that you weren't aware he was even capable of. You stared at San like he was a completely different person.

San’s eyes grew hooded and he drew you in close. You protested, sensing the taste of lust from the bond, but he didn’t let you go against your half-hearted struggle.

“The midwife suggested that mounting my wife would aid her in feeling like she wasn't a lump on the log and would ease her moods,” San purred.

“So you're saying you're doing this just because the midwife suggested it?” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“No, I wish to make my wife happy,” San said, leaning in, his lips whisper-close.

“I am happy, San,” You said softly.

San grinned. “Then let's make you elated.”

La Fin

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