#it's still sad yet it holds understanding that his friend is trying to make him feel better

[lokimobius]

"Listen. That wasn’t tactical. I lost it." LOKI S02E02 “Breaking Brad”

[amirasainz]

Can you do reader is Landos sister and she’s his whole world but she’s away at school and she surprises lando at a race?

Of course!!! I hope you like this.

Send me some requests and enjoy reading

-XoXo

Little Norris

It was no secret within the paddock that Lando Norris’ favorite person in the entire world was his younger sister, YN. No matter the context—be it interviews, casual conversations, or even playful banter with other drivers—Lando always found a way to bring her up.

The paddock had grown accustomed to hearing him wistfully complain about how much he missed her, and how unfair it was that she was stuck at school, unable to attend the races.

Sadly, this wasn’t just an exaggerated tale; YN was enrolled in St. Paul’s Girls’ School, a prestigious all-girls school in London, where students could only visit their families during weekends and holidays.

However, YN’s academic commitments were so demanding that even those weekends were usually spent buried in books, only leaving the school for holiday visits. Lando’s ever-busy Formula 1 schedule certainly didn’t make things any easier.

So, it came as no surprise to Oscar when Lando began lamenting once again about how much he missed his baby sister.

“I just don’t get why she still has to go to school. It’s miles away, and she can’t even come home on the weekends,” Lando groaned, his expression a mix of frustration and longing. “The last time I saw her was in February, Oscar. FEBRUARY. Can you believe that?”

Oscar, who had heard variations of this complaint countless times before, only raised an eyebrow and responded with a calm, “Really?” knowing full well that Lando wasn’t done yet.

“And to top it off,” Lando continued, his voice rising in exasperation, “I tried calling her yesterday. And instead of picking up, she sent me to voicemail. Voicemail, Oscar! Why would she do that? Do you think she’s mad at me? Oh no, what if Mum finally told her I was the one who ate the last cupcake at Christmas? She’ll never forgive me!”

Oscar couldn’t help but chuckle at Lando’s melodramatic worry, but the constant whining had begun to wear on him. Finally, he placed both hands on Lando’s shoulders, spinning him around to face him directly.

“Lando, relax. I’m pretty sure your mum didn’t tell her about the cupcake incident,” Oscar said, trying to suppress a smile. “She’s probably just busy studying. You know how much school means to her.”

Before Lando could cut him off with another complaint, Oscar pressed on. “Look, we all know how much you adore YN, and you’d probably move mountains to keep her by your side. But you’ve got to understand—she enjoys school. She loves hanging out with her friends, and she’s passionate about her classes. She’s smart, Lando, and she adores you just as much as you adore her. So don’t go saying silly things like this. You know it would make her feel bad.”

Lando let out a deep sigh, the usual playful glint in his eyes dulled by a hint of sadness. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, his pout still intact as he was called away by one of the McLaren mechanics.

He gave Oscar a grateful, albeit slightly sheepish, smile before walking off towards the garage.

Oscar watched his teammate disappear into the distance, and once Lando was far enough away, he exhaled deeply, the weight of the secret he’d been holding onto starting to lift. No one had ever told him that lying—even for a good cause—could be so exhausting.

Because, of course, Oscar hadn’t been entirely honest. He was well aware of just how much Lando missed his sister. In fact, he’d spent weeks meticulously planning a surprise that would, if all went smoothly, bring YN right to Lando’s side.

After countless emails, flight arrangements, and some help from McLaren’s logistics team, Oscar had managed to fly 17-year-old YN out to Azerbaijan for the next Grand Prix.

The plan was to keep her arrival under wraps until after qualifying, ensuring Lando could focus on the race without the overwhelming distraction of knowing his favorite person was already there. The last thing anyone wanted was for him to lose focus during such a crucial part of the weekend.

While Lando busied himself with free practice sessions, YN was out exploring the local markets with some of the McLaren team’s family members. She was set to return to the paddock just as Q1 began, hidden away in the garage until the perfect moment.

Oscar had envisioned Lando’s face lighting up with pure joy, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the surprise.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

But things didn’t go quite as planned.

Qualifying that day turned out to be a disaster for Lando. From the very first lap, nothing seemed to go right. He struggled with the car’s balance, fought the understeer in nearly every corner, and couldn’t extract the pace he needed. Sector after sector, frustration built. The radio was filled with agitated comments, and by the end of Q1, he had been knocked out of qualifying altogether, missing the cutoff for Q2 by mere fractions of a second.

When he climbed out of the car, his body language said it all. Lando was livid—frustrated with the car, with himself, and with the result.

His helmet visor remained down longer than usual, as if he wanted to hide his disappointment from the world.

His walk back to the garage was slow, shoulders slumped, as mechanics and engineers exchanged worried glances but kept their distance. No one dared say a word.

Once inside the team’s motorhome, Lando stormed off to his driver’s room, eager for a moment alone. The air in the narrow hallway was thick with tension, and Oscar watched him go as his teammate finally ripped of his helmet, his heart sinking.

He knew Lando was hard on himself, but he also knew what awaited him on the other side of that door.

Lando opened the door to his driver’s room with a frustrated push, expecting to collapse onto the couch and stew in his disappointment. But as soon as he stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat. Standing in the middle of the room, a small, warm smile on her face, was YN.

“Surprise,” she said softly, her eyes twinkling as she took in her brother’s shocked expression.

For a split second, Lando didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at her, as if his brain needed a moment to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. Then, suddenly, it all hit him at once—the weeks of missing her, the frustration of the race weekend, the love he felt for his little sister—and his eyes immediately filled with tears.

“YN...” His voice cracked as he whispered her name.

Without another word, Lando rushed forward and pulled YN into a tight hug, burying his face into her shoulder as if he were afraid she might vanish if he let go.

His arms wrapped around her protectively, squeezing her like a lifeline. YN, used to Lando’s emotional side, simply hugged him back, gently running a hand through his hair.

“I missed you so much,” Lando mumbled into her shoulder, his voice muffled but thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I missed you too, Lan,” YN whispered, a soft laugh escaping her. “Oscar helped organize it. He said you’ve been whining about me non-stop.”

Lando laughed, a watery chuckle escaping him as he finally pulled back to look at her, his hands still resting on her shoulders. His eyes were red and glassy, but his smile was the brightest it had been in weeks.

“You have no idea how much better this makes everything,” he said, his voice still shaky with emotion. “I had the worst qualifying. But... you're here now.”

YN smiled at him, brushing a tear from his cheek. “I’m sorry I missed qualifying, but I’m here for the race tomorrow. We’ll celebrate then, okay?”

Lando nodded, pulling her back into another tight hug, resting his chin on top of her head. “I don’t care about the race right now,” he muttered, his voice soft. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

For the next few minutes, they simply stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten.

Lando’s earlier frustrations seemed to evaporate, replaced by a warmth that only YN could bring him. He felt calmer, more grounded, like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door, and Oscar poked his head in with a cheeky grin. “You okay in here? Thought I’d check in before I’m accused of kidnapping your sister.”

Lando turned around, still holding YN close, and flashed Oscar a grateful smile. “Mate, I don’t even know what to say. You’ve made my year.”

Oscar laughed, stepping into the room. “I figured you could use a pick-me-up. I was getting tired of the constant whining.”

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Suddenly, Lando’s mood shifted entirely, the disappointment from qualifying now a distant memory.

His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Right, we need to introduce you to everyone!” He glanced down at YN, who chuckled in response.

“I’ve already met some of them,” she teased, “but I’m sure they’ll appreciate your grand tour.”

“Trust me, it’s different when I introduce you,” Lando said proudly, his arm slung around her shoulders. He led her out of the room, a new energy in his step as if the earlier qualifying session had never even

With his little sister by his side, the world already looked a lot brighter than it did that morning.

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ the times they cried because of you

☆ includes ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, bokuto

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he never cries. you met this guy when the two of you were young freshman in high-school, and you quickly became a good friend of his. that being said, you never saw him cry. even when the two of you began dating in your senior year, you still never did. years passed, and it was the same as the previous years. sure, he occasionally got upset, but even then, he still put on a stoic display, never really letting you in on that side of him. even at your wedding, he sure showed some emotion but he didn't cry. then came the birth of your first child.

"she's so cute, isn't she 'toshi..?" you said weakly, forehead still damp with sweat, bodu trembling with the aftershocks of your hard, long labor. your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the sight of your dear wakatoshi holding your newborn baby.

your heart fluttered at the soft image of your husband holding the tiny baby closely again his chest, his forehead mere inches away from the baby's forehead. it was barely there, barely noticeable. if it weren't for the reflection of light, then you wouldn't have been able to see the way his eyes were glazed over, corners red, tears brimming at the borderlines of his eyes.

he was so memorized, so in love with this product of you, this product of his and your love. god, you just make him the happiest guy on earth.

with a grunt, he sniffled lightly, trying to mask his emotions. "yeah.."

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..

"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"

there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.

he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.

his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."

with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.

MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.

"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.

but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"

his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.

"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.

he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.

he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"

KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.

kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.

"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.

"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.

"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.

"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.

"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."

you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..

BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.

"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.

"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?

"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.

you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.

"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.

him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..

he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..

[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2.

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

Charles:

"Wanna nap?" You asked the man as soon as he stepped into his hotel room, tired and eyes red. You knew Ferrari wasn't some winter wonderland but you didn't know why Charles put up with it.

You had been close friends with the man, since before he'd started f3 too, you knew he bled Ferrari red but this wasn't bleeding this was suicide.

Nonetheless, you were there for him, every weekend, only today there wasn't much to do, he had just come back from some meetings. He looked at you and hummed, taking off team-issued merch and throwing himself on the bed beside you.

You turned on some sad Adele song and faded into sleep, holding the boy close to you, his head resting on the curve of your neck.

Carlos:

"Wanna nap?" You asked Carlos as you both walked into his drivers' room, it was early in the morning at the Las Vegas GP and just as the year before they had messed up the timings and the drivers had to wait till four-thirty in the morning to get on with the programme.

Knowing the both of you, you were sure if you hadn't extended the offer the both of you would have ended up doom-scrolling through Netflix looking for some show to watch fighting off sleep.

"What?" He asked, shocked at the offer for a second before raising his browns and winking at you, "You finally feel my charm didn't you?" he laughed as he climbed onto the small and rickety bed next to you. "Smooth operator strikes again," he praised himself, pulling you close to him, enveloping you in his arms as the big spoon.

You groaned and kicked his shin, making him complain, "Dude you're so fucking lame!" You made fun of the older man who only replied with terrorism (tickling you,) "S-top, stop, I'm sorry," you laughed, trying to escape the death grip he had on you, eventually getting him to stop.

He let you catch your breath as he set an alarm, before trapping you in his warm arms again, both drifting into a comfortable sleep.

Lando:

It was way past midnight but you couldn't sleep, unable to get yourself out of the party high, too drunk to rest your brain. Thankfully you weren't the only one.

There was a barrage of knocks on your hotel room, a slurred voice with a British accent begging to be let in. "Y/n/nnnnn, I can't sleep," he cried once in the room, stumbling over nothing as you both made your way to your bed.

You giggled as he fell, brushing his hands over the cold blanket. You joined him, crawling onto the bed slowly as the room around you spun. You laid on your back, clinging onto the bed for dear life.

Lando noticed and piled on top of you, making you raise a question brow. "So you don't fall off," he muttered, his face buried in your chest.

"Ohhhh, that makes sense," you said, understanding his thought process as the spinning slowed down. "We should nap," you said out loud, eyes shutting due to the comforting warm weight on top of you.

Lando hummed in return, wrapping his hands around your waist, as you pulled one hand up to his and another grabbing his curls for extra support.

Oscar:

There were two things everyone knew about Oscar, he hated waking up early and he loved sleeping. So when his trainer woke him up on a perfectly cosy yet cool Monday morning to exercise, he nearly wanted to kill the man, only stopping because that would take much more effort than simply going through with the workout.

Your apartment was closer to the gym than his, so he happily invited himself in to bitch and moan about his trainer and how that man must have hated him.

Rolling at your friend's antics, you pushed away your laptop, walking from the dining table to where he was sitting on your sofa.

"Wanna nap?" You had barely finished your question when you were pulled onto the Australian.

"I thought you'd never ask," he whispered, as he shuffled on the narrow sofa to get comfortable, you still on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and your face buried in his neck.

"Are you using me as a teddy bear?" You asked incredulously, trying to get up to no avail as the man's grip on you was far too strong.

"Yes, now let me sleep," he murmured, already half gone.

George:

George had a habit of pushing himself too far, ever since he was a child. When you guys had just newly become friends, the boy had spent hours trying to find out what exactly you liked and didn't, stalking your Instagram and your family's Facebook.

You had found it endearing but also concerning how he always wanted to be perfect. So when you walked into his house at midnight (you got a key made- there's a reason the both of you got along so well,) and found him staring unblinkingly at his laptop and a large mess of papers spread across the wooden coffee table.

"Dude, what is wrong with you," You whisper-yelled at the man making him jump, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Me? What is wrong with you?" He yelled, panting as you jumped over the back of the couch, sitting right next to him, ruffling through the papers much to his chagrin.

"Shut it, Georgie boy," you smirked at him using the nick name he hated. “What are you even doing, it’s so late?” You asked looking at the taller man who started off in a rant about the car and everything he was doing wrong, making you slide down on the sofa till you head was resting on the backrest. You lifted your feet up to rest them on the coffee table, making George rush to move a stack of papers so they wouldn’t be under your feet.

Perfect. You grabbed the man’s shoulders and made his head rest on your lap.

“What on earth are you doing!” He yelled more than asked, trying to get up but you doubled down.

“George you need to sleep,” you deadpanned as he tried to make you let him go, knowing his pleas fell on deaf ears he gave up.

You raised your brow, “wanna nap?” You asked teasing the boy.

“Only for a few minutes,” he pressed, making himself comfortable, while you tangled your fingers in his hair, “maybe more then,” he sighed and let his eyes shut, slightly watering and finally fell asleep.

Lewis

Lewis had never been a friend to you, he was more like an annoying yet caring older brother or like a fun uncle of sorts. The man was fiercely protective of his friends, even those whom he saw in animosity.

But you were different, Lewis would steal your coffee, eat your food, and push you around but he'd also sneak you Red Bull (much to his disgust,) into his driver's room during late races, walk you to your hotel room after parties and get you souvenirs from races you couldn't be at. Similarly, you loved to annoy the man, stealing his expensive jackets, which looked hilarious due to the size difference, stealing his headphones and running away with them and most importantly coming to him with your problems day or night.

So no, Lewis wasn't surprised when you showed up to his driver's room in the middle of the day, even though Toto had revoked your pass for the day (for bullying George, but it was worth it,). He was ready to tease you but then he saw your eyes, red and tears flowing down your face.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He immediately came up to you, giving you a once-over to see if you were injured. "Did someone say something, are you hurt?" He asked panicking at your silence. You simply wrapped your arms around the older man, hiding your face in his chest, quietly sobbing and sniffling.

He walked you both to the sofa in his room, seating you down, trying to wipe your tears, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked as you finally calmed down, using his arm as support to sit up.

You cleared your throat, "No, I just wanna nap," you hiccuped slightly.

"Okay," he leaned back so you could rest your head on his shoulder, giving you one of his airpods to relax, which you gladly accepted.

Lance & Fernando (they aren't always gonna be together but the situations... THE SITUATIONS WRITE THEMSELVES)

"Oh honey that’s not," Lance said pointing to your coloured hair (matching with Alex) and thats how the conversation had started and had ended in a cat fight.

“At least I’m not a nepo baby,” you yelled as you threw a basket of oranges at him, which he dodged, darn those f1 reflexes. The basket itself smacked him square in the face, leaving a red indent across his nose. He glared for a second before jumping over the table you were fighting across and pulled your hair. “Owww, you bitch”

You bit his hands in defence, to which he kicked your shin, screaming you launched yourself at him, crashing the both of you to the ground, “oh my god, okay, truce, truce,” he panted, pushing you off him.

“Just so you can catch your breath,” you retorted making him mock you. In reality, you were definitely much more tired than he was. You were struggling to catch your breath, your head killing you where he grabbed a large chunk of your hair.

You turned to look at him, resting your head on his stretched arm, he was massaging his nose, the bruise turning purple now, “well that was fun,” he turned to face you.

“Sooooo fun,” you rolled your eyes, “wanna nap? My heads killing me,” you are far him in accusation but he glared right back pointing to his swollen nose.

“Sure,” he shrugged, shifting closer to you and closing his eyes. You opened your mouth to make a joke but were interrupted, “there are like a million oranges on the floor right now, I’ll throw one at you,” you accepted defeat and fell into a comfortable sleep.

That’s how Fernando found the both of you, slightly scowling but fast asleep, he took a picture for blackmail’s sake and placed a blanket over the two of you.

PT-2 w/ Max, Logan, Alex, Daniel, Yuki, Pierre, Esteban, Zhou.

[the-faceless-bride]

Some Of my current ideas and obsession Blurbs (if you find any of them interesting, I'm open to hearing ideas 👀👀)

Part 2 ->

Imagine being a demon...

Imagine Part of your power has to do with death, corruption, and seeing who someone was when they were alive... as a demon, the death of Rengoku Kyojuro broke you. He was such a beautiful, loving, caring man. Giving such an unfair and unfortunate death... you just couldn't accept this...

Imagine You bring him back as he springs up after your ritual. His hair was a mess, covered in dirt, his clothes ripped. He gasps for air as if it was the first he's had in centuries... "Poor unfortunate soul, so sad, in need... come allow me to give you a second chance."

Imagine His horror. Him. Now a Demon. Tethered to you. Unable to die again unless you give him permission to do so... he tired. Sat in the sun. But while he felt weak and itchy, he didn't die. He hated it. Hated himself. He hated you. You who, while yes, didn't have malicious intent. Who gave him a second chance at 'life' as you called this... you who brought him back and unlike when he was alive in his final moments felt no pain, no hunger, he hated you.

Imagine slowly helping him come to terms with his eternal life. From Enemies (one sided) to Lovers letting him stay with you in your small hidden village of other demon families that have also been brought back and tethered to you. Still fulfilling his dreams, taking down the demons who "lost their humanity and deserved their eternity to end."

Imagine the conflict you face, when His once friends and found family find him... a demon... still classic Kyojuro but yet so different... what do you do? An angry group of Hashira Pillars cursing you for what you did to their friend. Kyojuro broken and ashamed of what he is once more at the heart break of his friends being scared of him, some of them hating him all together...

Imagine him calling out to you, help him. Make them listen. Please. His Angel... his little firefly... please make them understand. He can't bare the way they look at him... help him... he needs you.

Rengoku Kyojuro × demon Reader Trope: Enemies to lovers

Now also Imagine being a demon...

Imagine being a demon who was so desperately, hopelessly, in love with Gyomei Himejima. Hopelessly devoted to a man who didn't even know you existed. You watched him at night, singing your sweet song and lulling him to a deeper sleep each night. Wishing nothing more than to one day be able to caress and memorize every inch of his mind, body, and soul. Wishing to kiss his soft looking lips...

Imagine desperately trying to deny what you know is true... you've heard it from your fellow demon 'friend' over and over again. And tonight, you were desperately trying to hold on to your dreams... "[name] just face it... he's a Demon slayer. A hashira. And to him, you're a monster... that something no amount of love is going to change. You'd be better off not thinking about him anymore. If you really love him, you'd let him go... besides a pretty human girl will probably catch his attention sooner or later..." You hang your head as tears fill your eyes, it's not true... it's not. He could love you. He could...

Imagine one day, you run into him in the Forest. The Forrest trees are so thick that the completely block out the sun, it's only a small section of the Forest. You liked to come here to lay in the flowers, and apparently Gyomei had thought the same...

Imagine He needed a quiet place, today had been a very hectic day. No peace and quiet today at all. He'd simply sat under a particularly large tree, focusing on his breath. You'd sat so unbelievably still. Not wanting to move and risk ruining this perfect moment. You were so close. You'd never been this close to him before and it made every part of your cold body ache.

Imagine accidently rustling the flowers catching his attention instantly, and he jumps to stand in a defensive position. You quickly kneel head pressing to the ground as you apologize for disturbing him, and not wanting any trouble. But oddly he doesn't attack you and instead he apologizes for startling you. At first you were confused. But then it clicked, you Had not attacked him like a demon would. He's blind. He doesn't yet realize you're a demon... this was it. Your chance. To speak to him. To hear him address you... to hear him say your name...

Imagine Pretending to be human, making it seem like you were a measly human girl who came here to sit in the flowers to relax... and this was how it went for some time... days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months. You'd been keeping this secret of yours for 3 months, your love for Gyomei stronger and flame of obsession brighter. And he'd become so open to you. Telling you almost eveeything... sure you'd felt guilty lying to him... but you just couldn't let him. Go...

Imagine one evening, the sun setting, the fireflies and the colorful flowers surrounding you... you gain the courage to confess... stilling your heart of how much you admire him, you know that he way not feel the same way... but even if he'll never belong to you... that's OK, you are happy to just dream and be his dear friend... but to your shock and joy he accepts your confession. He's gained feelings for you. You could almost cry... but then... in an instant the happiness... your happily ever after was ripped away from you in an unfortunate series of events "Dearest... your hands are so cold..." - "GYOMEI!" A his friend Mitsuri calls out her foot steps quickly approaching, more footsteps following behind. "AWAY DISGUSTING MONSTER!" she cries her sword just barley missing you as your arm is severed clean off. And instantly Gyomei's face goes through so many emotions... worry, Confusion, shock and finally realization... and he let's you go. You dash away vanishing... "Gyomei! Are you ok?! That awful creature tricked you! She must've planned to devower you then and there if I hadn't noticed your absence! Are you OK my friend!?" The sounds of other Confused voices all speaking over each other planning to find you... Gyomei thinks of her question... is he OK?... honestly... he doesn't know...

Gyomei Himejima × Demon Reader Trope: unrequited love/Forbidden love

[mindbreak]

tw: noncon, threats baby trapping, yandere gojo x reader, manipulation, satosugu mention, mentions of forced marriage, stalking, light mindbreak mention.

tags: satoru gojo x special grader sorcerer reader

I do not condone any of the acts mentioned in this drabble in real life. Minors Do Not Interact. No Age in Bio Will be Blocked.

I can't stop thinking about a needy and clingy Yandere Gojo. In the jujutsu world where everyone sees him as a weapon, you being one of the only people who sees him for who he truly is.

Of course, it wouldn't start that way, in the beginning, the two of you would just be really good friends.

You'd be a special-grade sorcerer just like him, joining their little trio during your younger years. You'd understand him when he'd talk about his clan and all the heavy pressure they placed on him and how all of it stripped him of an actual childhood. The both of you laughing together at Geto's bangs while he calls the two of you childish but also butting heads with him from time to time when he took a joke too far.

You'd be the only one to witness him in at his most vulnerable. Watching him with such sad eyes as he sobs to you about Geto leaving him behind. About how he's never felt more alone. You'd try to comfort him by telling him he still had you. It would only be meant as a way to comfort him; for him to see that he wasn't the strongest by himself, that there was still someone who cared for him. And in that moment, he'd probably calm down, and you'd ignore the desperate yet dark look he got in his eyes as he made you promise to never leave him.

Never would you imagine just how much your dynamic would change after that. From him following you around the school grounds, to him randomly popping up on missions with souvenirs. It would seem cute and harmless at first but suffocating as his visits only get to be more frequent and his demands more and more intense.

He'd isolate you from the others, not wanting you to get close to anyone else. He'd also manipulate the hire-ups into keeping you away from the others like Nanami or Haibara. Why would you need to go on missions with them? They were strong enough, and he needed you more. Afterall, special grade sorcerers had to fight the most dangerous of curses! You should be at his side!

His touching would become incessant. He'd be insatiable, greedy. In the beginning it would just be hugs, him needing you to hold onto him but it would gradually get more and more intense, from hungry kisses full of tongue and teeth to him dropping his infinity just to feel the soft skin beneath your shirt.

You'd let it slide for the most part, trying to be empathetic, taking pity on him in such a sorrowful state. But, after years passing his heavy make-outs and one-nightstands would go from stealing your breath away to just suffocating you entirely.

You would tell him you need space and he'd only get worse. Afterall why would you need space from him? Were you planning on leaving?? You couldn't leave!! He'd rather die than live without you!!

He'd get rougher with you then, holding onto you so tight that you could feel bruises forming on your skin beneath his iron clad grip. You didn't need space, if anything, he needed to be around more so that you'd see how much he needed you!

It would get so emotionally draining, until finally you'd up and leave Jujutsu entirely. Or you would try to at least...

"Gojo how did you get my address?" you'd ask him one day as he randomly popped up at your home one day at 3 in the morning with puffy eyes.

And he wouldn't answer, only forcing his way inside, and wrapping himself around you, shaking violently as he keeps you held close in his embrace. He'd be angry at you for leaving, because you promised to stay. You couldn't leave him. He wouldn't allow it. Even if that meant keeping you there by force.

And maybe you'd scream and try to get away for a while as he pushed your body into the floor, but that was okay because once you were carrying his child you'd have no choice but to stay...right? Your clan would be more than happy to marry you off to the strongest modern sorcerer, and your kids would look so cute!

He'd whisper such delusions into your ear while forcing himself inside, covering your mouth with his hands when you tried to protest all while telling you that you'd accept him soon enough and - "Oh you feel so good baby, even better than I imagined."

If you tried to push him off, it would be of no use, he'd just fuck you harder every time you tried to squirm away. Deeper when you try pushing him away. Faster when you beg him to stop.

"I love you...geto.." he'd cry into your ear, clearly in a deluded state while pounding deep into your sex.

He'd kiss you desperately, sucking out all your air as he cums inside you over and over and over again, until finally, your body is too weak to continue on resisting.

And even then, he wouldn't stop. You'd sooner pass out with exhaustion, only to wake up with his arms around you, his face buried in your tummy, as he cries and begs you not to leave him.

It'd be even more twisted when you tell him you don't love him, and the tears come to a sudden halt, and you're uncertain as to whether he's taking a mask off or putting one on in that moment, as he tells you it doesn't matter what you want, because he'll come back anyway. He'll tell you it doesn't matter where you go, or how far you try to run to get away from him, you're his and he'll keep raping you until it's drilled into your mind that you're his.

++ Added bonus if you actually do try to run, and he does in fact keep his promise. Finding you every single time and fucking you on every surface he can reach, until your brain becomes fog and you forget why you ever wanted to run from such a good feeling to begin with.

++ Additional bonus if both your clans actually find out and forces you to marry him for status and power, forcing you to be stuck with him whether you like it or not.

[triflesandparsnips]

So I understand that there are Good Omens show fans who have never read Good Omens the book, and that makes me deeply sad because--

Like, there's so much depth to the story being told about humans and humanity and the choice between good and evil -- and how that's actually a false dichotomy whoooops -- WHILE ALSO not really being about Aziraphale and Crowley at all (who are, imo, basically there as embodiments of "Impressive Failures" for the purposes of Theme and also Plot).

BUT IF you want to know why I've shipped them since the book-- here's the moment it happened for wee teenage me:

Wednesday (before the end of the world)

So it's Warlock's birthday party. And there are all these children and security guards and also an angel doing magic tricks while a demon is disguised as a caterer. This bit is basically the same as the show, so hooray.

But as wee me understood the characters up to this point, they were still basically enemies who had been in the field together for way too long and knew each other's moves well enough for the same tempting/thwarting of one another to become kind of boring and repetitive and generally pointless-- particularly once they realized that they could, for instance, just live their (separate!) lives watching humans being weird (Crowley) and seeking various sensory stuff (Aziraphale) while doing the least work necessary to keep their respective bosses off their backs.

The Arrangement was borne not out of hiding a friendship or anything, but instead the realization that sometimes covering for one another would just... cut down on their total overall workload. They were, at best, employees of two different, competitive companies-- though in same kind of department, doing the same kind of work-- who discovered they liked to have lunch at the same deli and that their jobs were sometimes distressingly more similar than either was comfortable with.

SO ANYWAY. BACK TO THAT WEDNESDAY. They're not covering for one another with this whole Antichrist thing-- they're now actively collaborating, and they've acknowledged (mostly) that it's not to cut down on their individual workloads, but rather to preserve their identical-- but not shared (not yet)-- goals of Getting To Continue The Lives On Earth They've Grown To Enjoy.

But like-- still not friends. Not really.

Until Aziraphale fucks up a bit, Warlock accidentally gets hold of a security guard's weapon and starts waving it around, and:

Then someone threw some jelly at Warlock. The boy squeaked, and pulled the trigger of the gun. It was a Magnum .32, CIA issue, gray, mean, heavy, capable of blowing a man away at thirty paces, and leaving nothing more than a red mist, a ghastly mess, and a certain amount of paperwork. Aziraphale blinked. A thin stream of water squirted from the nozzle and soaked Crowley, who had been looking out the window, trying to see if there was a huge black dog in the garden. Aziraphale looked embarrassed. Then a cream cake hit him in the face.

My teenage brain exploded at this moment.

BECAUSE: there is no reason for Aziraphale to do that.

Work-wise: If he got shot, Crowley would get discorporated, but not die-- and anyway, it would happen in such a way that both of them could explain it away easily to their respective sides (and possibly even be commended for it!).

Collaboration-wise: If Crowley had been watching Aziraphale, and if he'd seen Aziraphale have the chance to change the gun but not do it-- then yeah, probably that would've been annoying enough to have warranted some chilly conversations once he came back topside, and therefore, Aziraphale choosing to save Crowley could've been a reasonable, logical choice to keep their working relationship on an even keel until they'd sorted out this Doomsday thing.

But Crowley was looking the other way.

Work-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and secret-collaboration-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and so it is, overall, really weird that Aziraphale saved him.

But his automatic reaction-- in a blink-- is to stop Crowley from getting shot. And he knows it's weird-- he feels embarrassed that his sudden, unthinking reaction is to save his "enemy".

And the final bit is just a couple paragraphs later:

With a gesture, Aziraphale turned the rest of the guns into water pistols as well, and walked out.

SO LOOK: He changed only the pistol about to shoot Crowley. His automatic reaction had nothing to do with saving a party full of humans, many of them children-- nothing to do with Heaven or Hell-- nothing to do with preserving the coworker he needs to stop Armageddon--

It was all to do with saving Crowley. Who may be the enemy, but he's Aziraphale's enemy. And another part of his life on Earth that he's doing all of this just to preserve.

Which may also be, for the first time, the moment he lets himself realize how important Crowley in particular is to him.

...and so anyway, that's how I started shipping these two immortal idiots, and one of many reasons why everyone should read the book.

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

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[serejae]

SO STUPID IN LOVE | M.JH

a lonely jaehyun meets you, ask you to marry him because hes just so stupid (in love)

-

“im gonna smack that pout off your face” sungho scoffed as jaehyun slumped against the sticky diner booth. “are you seriously bullying a sad man?” he replied

“no im bullying a loser, its been a year. you really need to get over her, she dumped you and wasnt good for you. i just dont get why youre so stuck on her”

jaehyun huffed again and rested his head in his hands “she was just different, i imagined my life with her…i was ready to marry her sungho, i dont know what i did”

his friend leaned back in his seat taking in the sight and sighed “lets find you someone, youre never gonna find someone if you keep moping around like this”

“but who-“

“are you guys ready to order?”

the two men looked up at you and jaehyuns mouth opened a bit before he closed it and sat up fixing his posture, sungho looked over at jaehyun and raised his eyebrow before ordering leaving jaehyun to order next

“i…uhm, can i get more time?”

you smiled and nodded before walking away to get their waters

“would you call me crazy if i asked them to marry me?” he whispered leaning close to sungho

sungho spitted out his drink all over jaehyuns face making him shriek

“dude what the fuck” jaehyun screamed while standing up

the diner went silent making him look around

“sorry…”

you ran over to the table and saw the water all over the table as well as a wet jaehyun

“oh my gosh are you both okay? do you need anything?” you said looking around clearly panicked

“marry me, will you marry me?” jaehyun asked while staring at you making the diner gasp

“excuse me?” you tilted your head slightly smiling at the situation, a man covered in water was asking you to marry him

“i know its random but do you have a partner?” he asked grinning at you

you shook your head no before looking down at your watch

“i get off now…if you wanna get married”

jaehyuns smile grew bigger as he took your hand and walked out the diner with you as sungho yelled for jaehyun as he expected him to pay the bill

you both walked as you talked about your hopes and dreams, and as you spoke jaehyun turned to look at you as you continued to walk. dont get him wrong, he was listening, just very slowly. your words seem to come out slower, something about you made his heart rate slow down yet quicken. without a thought he reached to hold your hand, he still looked at you

you looked down at his hand with furrowed brows making jaehyun let go in fear you were uncomfortable

“no, no!” you laughed understanding why he let go

“your hands are just pretty sweaty”

he looked at his hands and saw how sweaty they were, he chuckled softly with a hint of blush on his face from embarrassment

“can i ask you something though?” you said quietly in the empty city, jaehyun thought this was so romantic, just you two in a beautiful city

“yes” he started

“yes, i want to kiss you” he smiled at you

“oh. i was just asking where are we…?”

jaehyun shook his head quickly bringing himself back onto earth. he looked around and saw the unfamiliar sight. you two have been walking for so long unbothered by your surroundings that you now dont know where or what your surrounded by

realizing how much he fucked up he groaned and let out quick apologies as he pulls out his phone to try and find a solution. hes met with your laughter that makes him turn to you

“we can just use google maps and walk, you can drop me off at my house”

he nodded immediately still feeling guilty

noticing his expression, you held his still sweaty hand and smiled at him. “i had a great day today with you. it was unexpected but i really enjoyed talking and getting to know you” he blushed again as his smile grew bigger. “you mean it?” you nodded as he let out a little giggle

-

you both continued to walk to your house but slowly

drip

drip

drip

shit it was raining.

like instinct, jaehyun took off the jacket he had as he put it over you two holding it with one hand, and not letting your hand go in the other. you both ran back to your place with a collection of laughter and banter

so when it ended and you both got to your door, jaehyun stared at you and you stared at him not wanting the night to end

you opened your mouth to speak but he opened his at the same time. you both closed your mouths to let the other speak but were not in a awkward situation

“i really wanna see you again”

“i really want to kiss you”

he immediately covered his mouth as his sentence was not as romantic as yours, but you were quicker. you moved his hand and held his face before leaning in to kiss him

and as quick as he covered his mouth, he kissed you back as he held your hand

maybe he wasn’t the only one stupid in love

“do you still wanna get married?”

[mochidoie]

the summer of us ☼

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.6k genre - slow burn, fluff, slightly angsty, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining warnings - kiss scene a/n - italicized sections are written as flashbacks, while regular texts correspond with the present

You and Doyoung reunite at your high school reunion. Him, just as he has always been. You, bolder but just as beautiful. Upon meeting again, the memories of the one summer you two shared during your college years resurface, along with the same romantic feelings that never had a proper ending. Will that summer love find its way back to your present?

The only people who show up to high school reunions are those who used to be popular and lonely individuals. It’s the people who reminisce about their glory days in the tight hallways and how everyone knew their name. It’s for the people who currently have no one back in their hometown and are looking to rekindle old flames or friendships. Doyoung was neither one of these, and yet, here he is standing in the middle of his old high school gymnasium amongst his past peers and barely making out familiar faces in this mood lighting.

There were predictable appearances: Johnny was King of the Field, wore his letterman jacket nearly every day of senior year until the leather wore out and crusted off. Mina was captain of the cheerleading squad, admired by many but envied by most. Jaehyun was the campus sweetheart, confession letters and gifts would flood out of his locker on Valentine’s day. 

They are all holding onto that piece of glory, making remarks on how they wish they could go back in time to experience it all over again. Nothing in their current lives gives them that same thrill. It’s sad and for a brief moment, Doyoung genuinely pitied them. 

Some unexpected faces took him by surprise: Taeyong was his lab partner for most of his projects, his mind was always on a creative tangent at such a young age. Yuta was the underrated soccer star, he was humble in his skill, but extremely competitive in everything he did. Haechan was that underclassman that never hung out with his own grade, but he could crunch numbers faster than anyone in the school.

And you. You, who walked in with a dress that fit perfectly and painted lips that curved into a sweet smile, a smile that Doyoung found himself wanting a glimpse of throughout the night. You were quiet and so much more timid back then, always trying to blend into the background of things.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had shared the same sentiments except an unlikely friendship with Mark really gave him a leg up in high school with the popular crowd. But, Doyoung always saw you and formed a silent camaraderie between the two of you without your knowledge. 

Why would you come? He didn’t understand. If it wasn’t for Mark’s insanely theatrical pleas to attend, Doyoung would happily be on his couch watching his reality dating shows. It seemed out of character and some could say the same for him. However, Doyoung didn’t actually know you well enough to understand your reasoning. 

Mark nudges Doyoung, “hey… who is that?” Gesturing toward your figure by the makeshift bar, Doyoung tries to think how to formulate your identity to Mark. Did Mark even know of your existence prior? Doyoung thought. 

“I think it’s… y/n?” He doesn’t sound confident, in fact, there is a slight quiver when he says your name. Mark confusingly stares at Doyoung and he can read his mind before Mark even asks.

“Who?” 

Rolling his eyes, he patiently explains. “Junior year chemistry. I’m pretty sure you two sat next to each other in class.” Doyoung brings his glass to his lips. 

Mark tilts his head, an expression of great pondering on his face. Unconsciously, Doyoung’s eyes follow you at every step. He is still trying to process seeing how much you’ve changed. 

“How did you remember something like that?” Mark laughs, biting the cookie he has been rolling between his fingers. 

Doyoung shrugs nonchalantly, “I had to stare at your big head the whole period and all the posers who tried to be your best friend during class.” It isn’t a complete lie, Doyoung did pay attention to his good friend during class, but only because he had to sit a few rows behind him.

He isn’t going to reveal the silent alliance he created between the two of you. The two quiet ones, navigating the world of high school in their own way and trying to graduate without a trace of who they were during those years. That’s what Doyoung wanted for himself.

“We should catch up, what do you say?” Mark suggests to Doyoung. You’ve made your way toward the center of the draped tables, trapped between Johnny and Jaehyun. Those two idiots probably have no recollection of who you are. “You can reintroduce me.” 

Doyoung scoffs, “you don’t need an introduction. You’re literally valedictorian Mark Lee.” The two of them make their way toward you. With every step closer, Doyoung’s throat dries up. If there is any need for liquid courage, it would be now. 

The truth is that Doyoung has exchanged several small conversations with you during your adolescence, so you two are acquaintances at best. However, there was one summer between the first and second year of college where the two of you ran into each other quite frequently. It was enough to where the two of you were actually friends, one could even argue more than that.

Doyoung always hated the heat that came with summers at home. It was partially the reason why he decided to go away for college in a city without changing seasons. Beads of sweat run down the sides of his forehead as he seeks air conditioning in a crowded gelato shop.

He had just finished an intense soccer match with Yuta. It probably was one of the worst decisions to do during the highest temperatures of the year. The copious amount of sunscreen has most likely melted off of his body with the amount of sweat he was producing and all his water dried up from sitting in the sun. 

He digs in his pockets for spare change for the sweet treat, not thinking how much he would be suffering from the hot weather. 

“I can help the next person.” A voice calls and Doyoung is frantically rummaging through his pockets for more bills. When he looks up, a familiar face shares a slightly shocked expression over the fridge counters. You call his name and instantly, Doyoung feels flushed at your great memory. 

Your name tag hangs crookedly on your apron and Doyoung recognizes it immediately. “Hey! It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have expected to bump into you.” Your giddiness warms Doyoung’s chest. He had forgotten how inviting you were the moment you would speak. Your features were slightly the same, but definitely a bit older. You weren’t wearing your glasses and your hair was neatly pulled into a ponytail. 

“I just came back for the summer.” Doyoung pulls out some loose change, damp from his sweaty hands. “When did you work here?”

“I started the summer after we graduated. I come back during the breaks to help out.” Before Doyoung could respond, a voice cuts the feverish reunion and reminds him he is holding up the line for gelato. 

You chuckle timidly to yourself, “anyways, what can I get you?” 

Doyoung, now pressured by the line of impatient customers, chooses his favorite mango sorbet before he could glance at any other options. When you ring him up, he counts his change in his palm and groans. 

“Ah, I’m short two dollars. It’s okay, I won’t get it. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Doyoung pouts, ready to hide under a rock for being a complete embarrassment the first time you are seeing each other again.

You grasp his wrist quickly, “Wait, it’s on me.” Placing the cone in his hand, you fiddle with something on the register and smile sweetly at him. 

Doyoung feels the world stop and can’t find the words to express his gratitude. “Thanks.” He whispers, deer eyes wide and mouth open. 

“No problem. It was good seeing you again, Doyoung.” You’re already trying to move on to help the next available customer, while Doyoung mindlessly blinks at the cone in his hand. It was really nice seeing you and he wonders to himself if there could be another chance. 

It’s a relief when Mark saves you from the conversation with Johnny and Jaehyun. He does so happily and cluelessly at the tactics of their flirting and lack of your identity. It actually almost comes to a shock to you that Mark remembered you, not that the two of you shared any conversation between one another during class. It isn’t until your eyes fall upon the other individual behind him. 

All tall and lean, Doyoung stands before you after all this time. The memories of that one summer together flash by in a millisecond and all the feelings come rushing back like adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Then, a mixture of disappointment and sadness fill your heart, gazing upon Doyoung’s stare, it’s apologetic. With Mark’s chirpiness in the way, you try your best to pretend that you and Doyoung had no prior affairs. 

“Wow, can you believe how long it’s been? My mom still talks about your valedictorian speech, Mark.” Doyoung can see right through you. The fakeness is full in your tone, like you’re trying so hard to convince everyone that you’re fine and after all this time, alright with seeing Doyoung. 

“Yeah, that speech. I swear I blacked out because I can’t even remember it.” Mark laughs, rubbing the back of his neck in a shy manner. “But how have you been, y/n?” 

“I’ve been good. Busy with work and enjoying life at the same time.” Keeping your answer vague, you direct your attention to Doyoung. “How have you been?” 

He is taken aback by the sudden shift, despite very clearly being part of this three way conversation without any contribution other than his presence. Clearing his throat, he begins with, “good. I’ve been busy with work too.”

Mark continues, poking at Doyoung’s arm to slightly tease him. “This guy became a workaholic after we graduated college. He is the first person I knew that got a job right away and has been slaving away since.” 

Doyoung feels embarrassed as his friend describes the lamest life that he has been living. He almost speaks up to defend himself or mention how all those years of hard work has earned him a golden plaque for his loyalty with the company. 

“That’s really impressive, Doyoung.” Your breathy compliment causes his heart to skip a beat. He looks at you, noting the sadness in your eyes. “I’ve been jumping around jobs for awhile. It’s been hard figuring out what I want to do with my career, sometimes I think back on how easy life was when I was scooping gelato.”

Gelato takes Doyoung back to that summer again. All the warm nights he waited for you to close up the shop, how your clothes would smell like sweet waffle batter, and you’d always come out with a scoop of mango sorbet just for him. All the nights he wished he was brave enough to kiss you. 

“Doyoung, you don’t have to wait for me!” Your smile doesn’t leave your face upon seeing him outside the shop, hands in his pockets and head up high watching the stars. At this point, it’s routine that the boy would show up five minutes before closing time and patiently wander outside until you were ready to leave.

You thought it was a coincidence to bump into him after one of your shifts, but he kept showing up. After a few times, you began to realize that he was intentionally waiting for you. Never questioning why, Doyoung walked you home every night as you two reminisced about the moments in high school or new memories you both had made in college.

Slowly, you two got to know each other very well. Doyoung told you about his dreams and you told him about your family. He knew your closest friends and your favorite memories about them. You knew facts about his brother and their upbringing, family traditions during holidays and vacations spent at the ski lodge despite not knowing how to ski. 

Occasionally, the two of you would stop by boardwalk and walk down to the beach. Doyoung would pat off the sand to the bench for you to sit beside him. You’d keep a respectable distance, with your hands in your lap and hair blowing in the warm wind. Doyoung’s eyes would sparkle along with the street lamps and you’d both be secretly enchanted by one another. 

These were the summer nights that you wished upon the moon and stars that Doyoung would kiss you. 

“You worked at the gelato shop by the boardwalk?” Mark asked, excited and completely oblivious to the can of worms he is about to open leading with that question. 

Chuckling, you glance sly at Doyoung. “Yes, it was my summer job. My sister knew the manager that worked there, so I’d help out during the summer when I came home.”

Mark lightly slaps Doyoung on the chest and he coughs at the sudden impact, jolting and nearly spilling the drink in his hand. “Doyoung used to rave about the mango sorbet at that place, didn’t you?”

Doyoung nodded. It comes as a confirmation to you that Mark doesn’t know anything that happened between you and Doyoung that summer. You’re all laughing awkwardly, Doyoung a bit more nervously than you and Mark.

“Yeah and he’d always say how it was his favorite of all time, that nothing could compare–”

“--Okay, Mark. I think we can drop the mango sorbet debate.” Doyoung firmly pats Mark on the shoulder to get him to please shut the fuck up. He couldn’t take any more of his friend’s clueless babbling, especially not to you about all the subliminal messages.

“It’s good. They make it in house, peeled over a hundred mangoes in the back every morning.” Speaking very matter of factly, your face is full of angst. 

Mark and Doyoung blink at you in disbelief. He feels bad about all the nights you’d get him a scoop, not knowing you practically worked away your life for it. “Wait, seriously?”

“No.” You laugh and your face lightens up, “that would be actual hell if I did. We had frozen mangoes with a premade syrup.” Doyoung forgot about your humor and how much he enjoyed it. He found himself laughing along, thinking about how melodic your sounds of happiness are.  

In the midst of your chuckles, someone calls for Mark from across the auditorium. He excuses himself and hurries joyfully over to another old classmate. The air instantly becomes suffocating between you and Doyoung. Without a third party there to ignore the elephant in the room, the two of you avert eye contact and stand stiffly. 

“So..” Doyoung clears his throat, unsure how to work around the awkwardness. “Why did you decide to come? I never thought I’d see you at something as lame as this.” 

“Are you implying I’m too cool to show up here?” He got you to relax a bit, earning a small chuckle at how he phrased his question. Your shoulders drop the tension that caused it to stick by your chin. 

“Of course.” You weren’t necessarily popular back in high school, so you had no reason to come back and gloat about the past. He isn’t sure about your current social life, but surely it isn’t lonely enough to want to come back and rekindle old ones, especially with these amateurs. 

“Well, I appreciate that thought. I had a feeling you’d be here.” Your eyes wander the floor, calculating your next words very carefully. While you had no idea how Doyoung feels about you right now, you wanted to test the waters. If it comes to be bad, then you can avoid him for the rest of your life. If it turns out well, who knows? There wouldn’t be another missed chance.

“Oh god, I’m so uncool that you’d expect me to show up?” Doyoung pretends to be offended, or maybe he actually is. You aren’t sure, but he holds his hand to his chest as if he is. “I’ll have to rebrand myself going forward.”

“No, no. It’s not you. I saw Mark tag you in the comments of the announcement post.” Peering up, Doyoung lets out an exasperated sigh at the fact that Mark was the culprit. He should’ve known that Mark basically announced their attendance via social media. “So, I figured you might show up.” 

“It is a hundred percent Mark. He dressed me himself and dragged me out the door to come to this.” He rolls his eyes and finishes his drink in one big gulp. 

Doyoung scans the room one last time at all the people that came to the reunion. To his surprise, there was a decent amount of attendees and everyone looked like themselves more or less. Everyone remained recognizable to a degree, but no one made an entrance like you did. 

Then, the conversation clicks in his head. Like someone turned the lights on in his head, he understands the intent behind your responses. You didn’t come to see him, perhaps? 

It is as if you could see the gears in his mind turn in real time. You smile and close the distance between the two of you. “I came to this lame reunion because I wanted to see you again.” 

And like that, Doyoung is brought back to the world stopping feeling he felt several years ago in that gelato shop, your hand on his wrist and a cone of mango sorbet in his hand. His eyes resembled a baby deer in headlights and his mouth agape. His heart is loud in his ears and pressure in his throat. 

He isn’t sure how he should proceed. Doyoung fumbled his chances with you long ago, at least that’s what he had thought. Barely processing your confession, he stammers over his words. 

“Want to head out?” 

A wide grin spreads across your lips, lifting your cheeks high on your face. “What about Mark?”

“He’ll manage.” Doyoung doesn’t even look for his good friend in the crowd, knowing that Mark was going to leave him for a random old acquaintance sooner or later into the night. This, however, was an opportunity Doyoung didn’t know he’d ever come across again. “I’ve waited long enough to have a chance like this again.” 

Your eyes light up at his statement, like a spark to a new flame erupting inside of you. Doyoung extends his hand for you to take and softly, you accept his grip and let him guide you outside of that dreary gymnasium. 

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“Did you know that Bethany had the biggest crush on you?” Kicking your feet in the air, you’re giggling at the silly high school secrets you had always kept to yourself. Doyoung shoots up from the blanket on the sand and turns to face you, utterly horrified by the new piece of old information. 

You had an early shift today and managed to catch the sunset with Doyoung. He had brought his picnic blanket for you two to enjoy the views right on the beach. The pink and orange hues paint the sky above you, faint sounds of seagulls in the distance and of waves crashing against the shore set the mood. 

You two could talk for hours, without a care in the universe and any concept of time. Doyoung is mesmerized by your perspective and way with words. You’re astonished by the wisdom and empathy Doyoung holds. From one quiet kid to another, you two sure felt comfort in each other. 

“Blonde Beth?!” Doyoung exclaims.

You sit up with him, matching the higher level of energy. “Yes. She was so into you!”

He blinks in disbelief, never thinking someone like Bethany would have a crush on him in high school. Not that he is any better now, but he isn’t sure how well he was perceived in his adolescents. “How did you know?”

“You’re always such a skeptic.” Your eyes watch the horizon. The round, golden sun barely hits the glimmering water. “I sat at the same table as her and her friends in math class. She talked about you quite often.”

Doyoung follows your gaze toward the sunset. He contemplates long and hard. “What a strange crush.”

Scoffing, you briefly glance over at him. There, Doyoung sits with his knees hugged to his chest and a look of deep thought. The sun kisses his skin so lovingly, highlighting his sharp facial features. The light breeze blows his tousled bangs over his forehead. Doyoung looks like he was chiseled by the gods, just absolutely unreal. 

It strikes you like a chord. In the midst of this summer sunset, you were falling for Doyoung. 

When he peers over and meets your eyes, something drops in the pit of your stomach. A sudden shyness accompanies your chest and it compels you to look away, but you remain locked in and lost in his starry pupils. You find yourself breathless, mouth open to speak but words caught in your throat.

Nonetheless, you catch yourself before it becomes suspicious. “W-Why would it be strange?” Gulping, your mind is running circles at your realization. 

“Because I swear she hated me. I would always beat her by one point in our exams and there was always a rivalry between us.” Doyoung ponders, barely able to make out the memories of the girl from his classes. He never acknowledged her enough to remember. 

He hears your chuckle, snapping his attention at you. “You’re so dense. She probably had an enemies to lovers type thing going on for you.” 

“A what?” Doyoung snarls.

“Enemies to lovers… like you hated each other so much that you ended up liking them.” Your voice grows small at the ridiculous explanation. You may have revealed too much of your personal interests and hobbies to a boy who only reads textbooks and self help books.

It was Doyoung’s turn to laugh, but right in your face at the silly description. “Is that something you like reading in your literature?” 

“Perhaps. I’ve already said too much.” You fume, laying back down on the blanket. Your back hits the firm sand with a thud and you close your eyes out of embarrassment.

“I’ll confirm with you right now that I’m more of a friends to lovers type guy. I can never hate someone so much that I end up liking them. My disdain for them would linger.” The blanket shifts a bit underneath you. When you open your eyes, he is hovering over you with a kind grin.

A veiny arm is situated by either side of your head. You nearly gasp at the sudden perspective of Doyoung above you, keeping your own arms close to your chest. Your heart races quickly, anticipating his next move. 

“You’re not trying to fall asleep on the beach, right?” He laughs, his chain slipping out of his shirt and dangling from his neck. “If you’re tired, let me walk you back.”

A rush of flustered emotions cascade over your weak body. Dizziness quickly accompanies your head, like the sight of Doyoung looking dreamily above you is enough to cause you to faint. You pat your hot cheeks, giving small slaps to wake you from this embarrassing feeling you’re experiencing over a friend.

Doyoung laughs at your gesture, oblivious to why you’re just hitting yourself. “Enough, don’t want you to hurt your pretty face.” 

Like a straw to a camel’s back, that is the last thing you’ll let yourself get ruffled over. Sitting up, you’re inches from Doyoung’s lips. He blinks at your sudden proximity and immediately widens his eyes.

Gulping, your breath dances softly on his cherry red pout. “Let’s go.”

He follows your lead, grabbing his blanket in a swift motion and dusting off the sand from the fabric. Nonetheless, you don’t wait around or help him. Instead, you’re already up on the curb and recollecting everything that just happened, all the feelings that had surfaced. Confused, but excited to feel your heart bursting with the rays of the summer sun.

 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“So, this is where you live. I remember requesting a tour for one of the units when it was in its developmental phase. I’m happy to see that it lives up to the pictures and that someone I know lives here.” You walk around Doyoung’s living room aimlessly, pinching at the cover of the couch, dusting your finger on the window shades, inspecting the ceiling fixtures. 

“You’re restless. Take a seat before you spot something that will cause me to hyperfixate.” He chuckles, patting the seat next to him on the sofa and placing a glass of water for you on a cute coaster. 

For a brief moment, you hesitate sitting so close to him. It wasn’t like all the ill feelings you held simply disappeared upon seeing him. There is still a part of you that didn’t forgive him, didn’t wish to be so friendly again.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had always been attentive and observant. He catches on immediately, scooting over to another chair that had a big stuffed penguin plush. Clearing his throat, he gestures to the spot once more now that he created a comfortable distance. “Why did you decide on another place?”

“It was closer to my ex at the time.” Your casualness catches Doyoung off guard, as he watches you finally take a seat. “He kept complaining about our commute to each other and I was in need of a new apartment fast, so it just settled that way.” 

Doyoung nods, like he understands despite not fully. He can’t imagine moving closer for anyone beside himself or going without a compromise from both parties. “Then, does your ex still live near you?”

“No, I told him to move far away so that I would never have to see him again. I’m all about setting boundaries.” The person Doyoung knew you to be would never have been that bold, would not have known how to set boundaries firmly. Like an ember catching a light, a spark appears in his eyes as he takes in your physicalities again. 

Now under proper lighting, Doyoung can really see all of you. The dress did more for you than he had noticed before, bringing out your confidence and kissing your skin tone. The satin on your lips is seductive, but saccharine paired with your smile. Voluminous curls frame your face perfectly and when he finally takes a long look at your features – he is astonished all over again at how beautiful you are. 

He clears his throat, “boundaries are important.” It’s all he can say while still enamored by your newfound confidence and looks.

“What about you? Have you been in any relationships since we last saw each other?” 

Doyoung tries to piece together his response delicately, mostly because he didn’t want to sound like a complete loner and corporate loser. Truthfully, after the summer together, Doyoung could not stop thinking about you. It was an endless cycle of wanting to reach out again, but he never found it in himself to do so. When you nearly fell off the face of the digital world, he tried to put his efforts into other people. 

Failing horribly, he couldn’t find anything remotely close to what you and he had shared in a few months. A connection so powerful and genuine, a fresh breath of air that filled his lungs every time he thoughtfully inhaled. A feeling that warmed not only his skin, but his heart that he no longer despised the hot weather. Doyoung found himself looking for you in everyone he met, only to be faced with utter disappointment when they were nowhere close.

With all his withered attempts at romance, he gave up. He settled on being alone for this portion of his life and didn’t desire that fleeting feeling of romance he had once felt. Because at the end of all his days, he’d come home to this empty apartment and pretend to be content with himself when he had lost the opportunity to be with you. 

So when he begins with his calculated reply, he mentally prepares himself for your reaction. “I haven’t. I’m married to my work.” His eyes flicker at your expression, trying to make out the sympathy in your pupils and dip in your frown.

“You haven’t changed at all.” When you examine Doyoung, he is just as you remembered him that summer. With his sharp features, quick wit, quiet demeanor and all of his dedication, Kim Doyoung remains exactly like how he had left you that temperate night.

He is all the man that you had fallen for and longed for in your present. It’s a bit sad all the times you would wallow in it — the crush that became undying on a man who only smiled brighten when you were around. A man who is intelligent, trivial, and hungry for success that he is willingly to dedicate his entire life to it. Yet, he is a man who is also kind, soft, and attentive to others around him that caring for others comes second nature to him. 

With the time that has passed since you two last spoke, you had wondered if he had changed to be more cynical, withholding his heart and laughter to those who tried to grow close to him or if he had opened up and shared his kindness to someone who is worthy of it. To your countless of painted possibilities, Doyoung had done neither and a part of you finds immense comfort in him all over again. 

Doyoung isn’t sure how to interpret your statement. Greatly puzzled, he tilts his head and asks, “is that a bad thing?” Swallowing the lump of spit gathered in his throat, he anxiously overthinks your implications.

Instantly, you note his change from relaxed to tense. His jaw is clenched as he crosses his legs, neatly folding his hands together and resting them on his lap. You’ve made him uneasy, but it only makes you chuckle at how unnerved he is. 

So when you answer him, he is vastly surprised and speechless. “No, I’ve always liked you the way you are.”

He ponders and lets the adrenaline take its course of action. Without another thought or hesitation, he matches your boldness. “You’ve changed.” 

The proclamation feels sudden, so much that it genuinely catches you off guard. There is a slight whiplash you experience with how quick Doyoung’s words hit you. Although there is no accusatory tone that lingers, there is some sense of self consciousness. 

“Is that bad?” You take his same words to use against him. Instead of feeling tense and perceived, you somehow feel defensive. All the years that you two haven’t encountered one another, you’ve worked hard to be the person you love now. 

You acknowledge how quiet and hidden you were in the past. The person that never wanted to be noticed, often wanting to hide behind their hair or clothes. You used to speak just barely above a whisper, scared that any louder would draw the unwanted attention of others around. Only spoke when spoken to, only looked up when tapped, that was just the way you were. 

High school was never a comfortable time for you, but wasn’t it like that for everyone? Seemingly awkward and unrevealing to who someone truly is. It had been a feeling that troubled you greatly, that you felt fearful to be too bold, too audacious. You couldn’t wait to graduate silently and move on from that version of yourself.

“No, no. It’s not bad at all.” Doyoung puts his hands up, waving them in a worrisome manner. He settles back into his seat, sitting back against the bouncy cushion and leaning his chin on his fist.

There is a brief stiffness in the air, like Doyoung had more to say. Watching his eyelashes flutter over at you, he eats you up under his long gaze. You shift oddly in your place, heart pounding in your throat and feeling slightly flushed under his spotlight. 

He speaks with a low voice, but it is gentle and firm. “I think I see you more clearly now.” His eyes trail down to your toes and back up to the curls that frame your face. An audible gasp escapes your lips, a lack of words fallen upon you.

With every second spent with Doyoung, it has slowly eroded away at the resentment and sadness you felt prior. You wish for nothing more than to be closer to him, to feel his fingertips dance across your hot skin. This is not a foreign feeling, but one that you knew too well. 

“Funny that you only see me now when I had been right in front of you for an entire summer.” Fumbling with your purse, you peer away from his sultry stare. The air in the room suffocates you, like a sticky humid day.

“You misinterpret my statement.” He is quick to answer. “I have always seen you. The person who tried so hard to fade in the background in high school, the person who was still trying to figure themselves in college, and now, the person you fully find yourself to be.” 

There is a heaviness that fills your chest, like guilt that you had held such a tremendous grudge after so long. Wallowing in your angst, you try to process his words thoughtfully. When you don’t say anything, Doyoung’s voice continues on and his heart fills his words.

“You know, I go back to that summer every year, just recalling and regretting.” Doyoung sighs, emptying his lungs into one breath. He finally feels ready to address the elephant in the room, the words he never said. With you as beautifully before him once again, Doyoung never dared to imagine this chance because he knew he didn’t deserve it. 

“What would you have done differently?” You seldomly ask. 

And when you glimpse up at him with glossy eyes, Doyoung’s confession pours from his lips effortlessly. “I’d tell you how you made me feel – seen and whole. Because I knew you saw me too and accepted me with all my flaws. It’s like you saw my soul and understood me for the person I was. Then, I’d kiss you, I’d kiss you like the world was ending.”

“Desperately and holding onto the last glimpse of hope?” Chuckling, your heart literally feels like it could burst any second looking at him. 

Doyoung stands up, taking small steps forward and closing the distance between you two. Making room for him to sit next to you, his knee radiates heat against your own. He smiles sweetly, “desperately, yes, but as if nothing else mattered than being there with you in that moment.”

Finally face to face, it feels impossible to resist each other’s aura. “I would like that.” Your eyes flicker from his lips to his pupils. His eyebrows raise slightly and like clockwork, the gears in his head are spinning at full force until everything clicks.

Without another thought or a second to lose, Doyoung pulls you toward him by your wrist and your lips land hastily on top of his. Staining him with the color of your lipstick, you’re gliding effortlessly. Immediately, all the romantic feelings from that summer flood both of your chests’.

Doyoung kicks the sand that loosely piles the boardwalk. His hands shoved into his shorts as his attention turned to the sound of your voice. This night between the both of you feels weirdly melancholy. It was a third of the way into summer and you were the only person Doyoung wanted to be around. 

Beyond the nostalgia, the family traditions, the dreams, there was one part of each other that you two never shared. All until he hears the drip of sadness in your voice, “you want to know something?”

“Of course.” When it came to you, he wasn’t sure if he had the power to say no.

The stars hang low and the moon twinkles at the highest point of the night. The chatter from the normally busy boardwalk has been replaced by sounds of waves crashing in the distance and all the shops have gone dark. The smell of sweet waffle batter lingers from your clothes and the chilly summer breeze blows at the strands of your hair. 

“I’ve still never had my first kiss.” It had been a long kept secret, feeling embarrassed that someone at your age hadn’t experienced a simple kiss. You had thought that the moment you entered college, everything was going to change and you were going to experience it all. 

However, the romantic in you wouldn’t allow it. In all the books you read, you only hoped for a magical kiss that swept you off your feet. One that deemed itself memorable, that would have you replaying over and over in your head. A kiss so full of passion that it would destroy you to pull away from.

“It’s nothing amazing.” Doyoung dully answers, noting the pout on your face the moment he says it. He immediately feels bad for damping the mood even further. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean.” 

“How was your first kiss?” You lay that million dollar question on him so innocently. 

He genuinely couldn’t even remember how his first kiss was. All he could make out was how sweaty his palms were and how he threw up right afterwards. “It was mediocre. I think it was with someone random at a freshman welcoming party. I had too much to drink and barfed on the curb right after it happened.”

The sound of your melodic laugh causes him to follow. “Hey!” He points, the reoccuring grin appearing on his face, “don’t you dare laugh. I shared that in secrecy. It was a very vulnerable moment for me.”

You hold your stomach from the intense chuckles, tears rimming your eyes. “I appreciate the vulnerability. It made me feel a lot better.” 

Amidst the robust laughter, Doyoung found himself wanting to be the reason behind your happiness. A burning sensation spread across his chest, intense enough to where he thought he might’ve had a bad sunburn. He peers over at your giggling figure again. 

Your mouth opened in a toothy smile, your cheekbones high up on your face. Under the dimly lit boardwalk, Doyoung’s heart races at how stunning you look hunched over and just doing something as simple as laughing. Joy matches you so well and he can’t seem to look away.

It’s like the wind knocked the air out of his lungs, but he falls breathless at the realization. Underneath the stars of this summer night, Doyoung was falling for you. 

When your laughter comes to a gradual stop, Doyoung snaps out of his internal confusion of these new blossoming feelings for you. He bids you a small smile, “what I meant to say was that first kisses don’t have to be the special one. All it takes is the right person at the right time. A kiss like that would trump any first kiss.” 

“You sure say that with a lot of vindication. Do you think you’ve experienced that yet?” Curious eyes fall upon him, you watch him like a spectacle and he grows nervous under your gaze.

“Definitely not. All I’ve experienced are wrong persons and wrong times.” It is a mindless thought he let escape and he doesn’t hope you read too much between the lines. He surely did not include you in that statement whatsoever. You had to be the right person, deep down somewhere he knew that. “Those are once in a lifetime moments, that's why I think they're so special.”

“I like that perspective.” You nod knowingly. “I hope to experience something like that one day too.” Your head drops to your hands, fiddling your thumbs at the thought of something so remarkable. 

Doyoung could kiss you right here. He’d pick up your chin and dive right into you. He’d give you your first kiss and something even more special. Nonetheless, his body remains stuck on his side of the bench. It’s as if he physically cannot get himself to do it, as if rushing into it wouldn’t be a good idea. 

He doesn’t know or understand why his body stayed frozen in place. As much as the desire to kiss you stirred within the pit of his stomach, there seems to be a barrier halting him from acting on it. Almost like his mind is telling him that this isn’t the right time, not yet.

Hands in your curls, Doyoung presses his face deeper into you. Both of your hearts pulse rapidly at the long awaited kiss. Your trembling fingertips brush his cheek and his knees grow weak at every inch you touch. Your lips dance together like they’ve known the steps this whole time.

Doyoung kisses you like the world really is ending, like the only two people who exist are you and him. It’s beyond romantic– it’s feverish, transcendent, and special. Kissing him has your feelings bursting into a chaotic, wild flame that only he can put out from this moment forward.

You kiss him like you’ve known him all his life and everything has led up to now, like the right person at the right time. This has been the kiss he has been patiently waiting for, growing for, all of this time has amounted to this one beautiful moment with you. You grip his arm, holding onto him tightly and afraid that he’d let go, that if your lips parted, it would completely destroy you.

Until you’re both gasping for air and joints in pain from the awkward position you’ve made your way in, the kiss comes to an end. Doyoung blinks with round, innocent eyes and puffy stained lips, truly stuck in a daze. His hair resembles a bird's nest, sticking out at random directions and clearly disheveled. 

You pull down the part of your dress that managed to ride up on your thighs, tidying the strands of flyaways around your face. When your eyes meet and shyly part, you’re both bursting into laughter and the steamy tension in the tiny apartment dissipates instantly. This is how it should’ve been. 

Your thumb smears the remaining lipstick that painted Doyoung’s lips, doing your best to wipe away the mess. He catches your wrist in the midst of it, “I’m sorry for ever hurting you in the past.” 

With your mouth agape, you’re unsure how to respond. With a long awaited kiss, came a long awaited apology, that is something that Doyoung knew well. You deserve every ounce of his sincerity and explanation. He gulps, anticipating whatever you may throw in his direction. Despite being full fledged adults, Doyoung feels as if he is back in his early adult years and still foolish when it comes to his feelings for you.

“I just never understood why you ran away, why you had so many excuses.” Reliving that memory has been painful, but less as time passed. It had been a tremendous part of your growth, even if it wasn’t something you wanted to experience.

The end of summer finally dawned on the two of you. Doyoung had been distant the last few days, but played it off as needing to pack for his trip back to college. You respected his space, but it would be a lie if you didn’t hope to see him waiting for you after your final shifts at the gelato shop.

All the bright days and breezy nights spent together were going to stay with you for a long time moving forward. Never did you think that you and Kim Doyoung would reunite and grow so close. Along with that, you never thought that you’d grow to like him so much. 

You’ve tossed and turned long enough. Now that Doyoung is leaving, you’d feel regretful if you didn’t let your good friend know at the very least how you felt. So, on the night before he makes his way back to school, he agrees to meet you on the pier for a goodbye.   

Doyoung is already leaning over the ledge, peering out into the dark waves in deep thought. He had been so conflicted the past few weeks, coming to the realization of his romantic feelings for you. He knew that meeting you again and growing close had that possibility, but he was unable to think that far ahead. He just wished to enjoy every waking moment with you. 

This summer with you had been a dream, one that he didn’t want to wake from. Now that he had to go, he didn’t know how to proceed. He had considered a confession, but what then? In the sheer chance that you reciprocate, he couldn’t give you the relationship you wanted. He couldn’t be there waiting for you after your shifts like he did here. He was going to be miles apart and so zoned into his studies. 

The internal conflict ate him alive, avoiding to see you on the last few days of summer you two had left. It was selfish on his part, but couldn’t let his feelings grow more to the point of recklessness. Doyoung could not afford to be reckless.

You come running toward him with a gigantic smile on your face, the one that makes Doyoung naturally grin back. He loves seeing you this way and his chest burns with an aching pain at the reality that awaits him. 

“Hey! How’s packing been?” You greet him, exasperated from the light jog. 

“I managed to finish a bit ago. I realized that I should pack more of the sweaters I left behind. It’s not as warm out there as it is here.” Doyoung shoves his hands into his jean pockets, the wind picking up the ends of his shirt and blowing lightly. 

“That’s good.” It’s all you could say before mustering up the courage to speak the real reason why you’re here tonight. Your eyes drift to the waves crashing along the shore and the footprints left from earlier in the day getting washed away. Your throat nearly closes, but you knew it had to be said. 

“Doyoung, I actually came out to tell you something important.” 

He chokes up, afraid to know and unprepared for what you were going to say. Nodding, he looks at you with a blank expression. 

“I had such a fun summer with you that I found myself growing to have romantic feelings for you. Do you feel the same?” Your confession evokes a sense of excitement and joy, Doyoung could do cartwheels. Nonetheless, they soon become squashed by the impending truths of reality. As much as Doyoung wanted to confess and tell you how he felt the same, he chose not to. 

Instead, he chooses to find a way to reject you. Dragging it out would be more painful than ending things between the two of you now. He thought this had to be the best option for your happiness. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m going away tomorrow.” He can’t answer your question because then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from revealing all the ways you make his heart race and palms sweaty. He can’t hold onto a hope for the two of you to exist, knowing that the distance and his dedication to his studies came first. He wasn’t ready. 

Your smile drops immediately, being replaced with a frown. “I know, but we can work things out. You’re not too far–”

“I can’t do the distance. I can’t sacrifice the time from my studies.” Doyoung can see your heart shatter with every word and he doesn’t know how to help. His own heart crushed in his chest and nothing, but sharp pain reveals itself. 

“You can’t or you won’t?” You’re biting back tears. You didn’t expect the confession to go like this. Not that you expected him to reciprocate, but you didn’t think he’d chew and spit out your feelings like this. All this time, all his gestures, all his smiles, were they really not meant for you?

He says the same excuses again, which only frustrates you further. It didn’t feel like he was being honest with you, but he refused to give another reason. “I thought that this summer was special to us.”

Doyoung doesn’t wish to upset you more, so he says his last words to you before running off. “Summer is not enough.” You’re whiplashed by his cruel response, left speechless as you watch his figure dash off and down the pier. 

You’re left alone and staring at his fading shadow. A hole in your chest from your heart being ripped out and trampled on the ground. As a tear runs down your cheek, you think to yourself how Kim Doyoung is a coward, but how you are a fool to think that this summer meant anything more than it was.  

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Doyoung sighs, that memory haunting him like a nightmare. “I was stupid. Not only was I a coward, but I was thoughtless. I thought that if I ended things there, you wouldn’t be hurt in the long run.”

“Did you always plan to hurt me?” 

Doyoung snaps his head over at you, a ghastly expression on his face at your question. “Absolutely not. I-” He searched for the right answer, “I knew that I wasn’t going to be a good boyfriend to you if things continued. I was so imperfect that at the point of my life I was in, I was not ready to be the person you deserved. I wanted to give you the moon and the stars, believe me, but I was a boy who couldn’t even afford a scoop of mango sorbet.” 

“Doyoung, the boy I loved was imperfect, but he managed to make sunflowers bloom in my chest and feel as if I wasas loved by the sun. I wanted nothing more than to be yours that summer.” Your hand lightly clasps onto his. 

He tightens the grip, “again, I’m so sorry I so selfishly and idiotically ruined things between us, for making you sad. I only wanted to be the reason behind your gorgeous smile. I wanted to reach out all this time, but I couldn’t get over the guilt that built up after all this time. Why would you want someone who hurt you to come back into your life?”

You lifted Doyoung’s chin, bringing his focus back on your face. The connection is electrifying, like an instant buzz that fills your system with a simple look. The way that Doyoung looks at you is like a mesmerized, starstruck fool.

“You hurt me and it took a long time for me to build that bridge and get over it. However, after all these years, you’re all I could think about. That summer is all that floods my mind when I’m alone, that summer of us.” Your gentle words remind him of a softness he had forged a long time ago. A tenderness in your touch, in your gaze, in your tone is enough to break down his walls.

“I’ve wondered about you everyday.” He feels himself so easily drawn to you, so willing to open his pages for you to read. “And everyday, I wished I could get another chance. Would you allow me that? Another chance to be with you?”

It’s like the person you were from that summer awakens inside of you, longing and yearning to be Kim Doyoung’s. This entire night had been full of pockets of nostalgia seeing him again. Remembering, feeling, forgiving. But that question really solidifies that that young kid still lives inside of you, still wanting to love their summer crush as much as they did.

“Yes, I’d give you that chance in a heartbeat.” 

Doyoung kisses you again. And again. And again. For every moment under the summer stars that he wished to do so. Your summer love has found its way to your present. 

[luffysinterlude]

★ LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS. . .

summary: in which zoro convinces you to see yourself from his point of view.

warnings: named fem!reader/oc, reader has suicidal thoughts (not too explicit, yet not very subtle), cursing, zoro may be ooc, angst/comfort

word count: 2K+ // slightly edited

an (1): this fic started when i got drunk and wanted to read angst. i revised it so many times and i’m still somewhat unsatisfied (hence the rushed ending) but i really love this oc i created and hope i get to write about her more :3 been feeling a lil sad bc i turned 21 and i’m still somewhat stuck in my life and uuuugh. just need zoro so bad..anyway…I’ll probably do an oc introduction next :p

ZORO thinks you’re the prettiest person in existence. He wishes he could give you his eyes so you could see yourself from his point of view. He watches you as you sit next to Robin: a blanket wrapped around your body, your head leaning on her shoulder as you listen to the conversation she’s having with Franky.

Tonight, something’s different. You don’t have the usual gleam in your eye nor does your laugh echo throughout the Sunny. Instead, your eyes are red and swollen, and you’re quieter than usual — only speaking when you’re spoken to. Your eyes meet Zoro’s for a split second, and understanding flashes in his gaze as he realizes why you’ve been so distant.

You ignore the swordsman’s curious eye, trying to be more interested in the conversation Robin and Franky are having; something about poneglyphs, but you wouldn’t be too sure because your thoughts are louder than their voices, making it hard to focus.

Tonight, everything hits you at once: your past, the present, and the what-ifs. The future remains a distant concept, with its many possible outcomes holding you back.

You think these thoughts that cloud your brain are nothing but selfish. A burning desire of yours is to quietly slip away and let your soul be free from this body and place.

You love the Straw Hats, your captain, and your crewmates. You love the sea and exploring new islands. With every stop, you hope to learn something new to distract yourself from the small part of you that wishes you weren't alive.

But every now and then, it hits you. And you feel like you’re nothing but a waste of space.

Before you realize it, Zoro’s standing next to you, offering his hand. You know the blend of sympathy, disappointment, and sadness on his face. With a deep breath and a small smile to the rest of the crew, you accept it, allowing him to pull your body up and lead you down the corridor.

+x+

Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter turned pirate, was someone you held close to your heart. He was your closest friend, your anchor in times of darkness, and your lover.

He took care of you, even in your absence; he told you that you look out for everyone else that you tend to forget to take care of yourself.

When the crew split up and you had decided to go to Whole Cake Island, Zoro made sure Franky had sent you off with two transponder snails so he could check in on you. He’s still unsure of what happened on the island of sweets, but after your reunion with the rest of the crew he’s noticed the light in your eye had become darker.

He leads you to his room, opening the door for you and placing his swords by the entrance. You take a seat on his bed, a change from your usual behavior of lying down. Your thoughts crowd your mind again as the atmosphere around you grows quieter.

You’re not doing enough. Luffy doesn’t need you, nor do the others; you believe you’re just extra weight they carry because you’re his sister.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You feel the mattress dip as Zoro occupies the space next to you, his body radiating warmth your way. He’s laying down, arms rested behind his head, eyes closed. You stare at the man next to you, taking in his form; despite the number of times he’s smiled in the face of death, scars and stitches scattering his body, you still think he’s the most handsome man on this earth.

“Just been…thinking,” you start. “About everything that’s happened up until now.”

Zoro hums to let you know that he’s listening, a cue for you to continue.

“Nobody on the crew knows this, not even Luffy, but I was there at Marineford.”

This makes Zoro’s eye shoot open, a look of surprise painting his face. As bad as it sounds, he isn’t too interested in learning about where the crew spent the last two years, he’s just glad they all made it back together alive. He knows that you spent time mastering your Haki with your childhood teacher, but that’s all you’ve let the crew know about.

“Grandpa snuck me in disguised as a marine — I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone if I was able to leave quietly. I wanted to see Ace one last time, and he granted me that because he owed me one for keeping an eye on Luffy when we were younger.

I was able to visit his holding cell, and the sight of him…it felt as if I was being punished. Ace was the one person who understood me and how I tend to feel, the one person I shared so much in common with. He was able to find bits and pieces of himself again thanks to the light that shines through Luffy, and when he left us I promised that I’d try and keep him safe despite the distance between us, and hopefully find myself through our crybaby brother as well.”

You’re smiling fondly at the distant memories of you and your brothers, ones that you wished were photographed so you could have physical proof of those events taking place; so even when you’re old and senile you’ll be able to remember them happening.

“Tell me more,” Zoro says. He eyes the spot next to him, and you position yourself to lay there. He allows you to remove his left arm from behind his head to use as a pillow. “Were you safe, at least?”

Of course not. You were infiltrating the World Government, and if you made a tiny mistake, you would’ve been right next to Ace on the execution platform.

“I was — you know I wouldn’t do anything impulsively, unlike some people.” You giggle, remembering the moment Luffy fell from the sky, in the middle of the battlefield. “I ended up being able to sneak away because of him. I found Trafalgar’s submarine and hopped on board and waited…and I can’t help but think that was my biggest mistake, leaving Luffy alone. It’s a heavy guilt that I’ve been carrying.”

Zoro ponders for a moment; it isn’t your weight to carry, he wants to say. Luffy went to Marineford on his own accord, and not every ending is a happy one. He’s also curious about how you were able to find the surgeon and his crew, but that’s something he’ll ask about another time.

“And when I felt Shanks’ presence nearby, I asked Law to take me to his ship — which he declined, of course — so I got off and swam there instead. The waters were surprisingly calm, so don’t panic, I’m sure Jinbe wouldn’t have let me get eaten up,” you confess to him, reassuring him that you were safe every step of the way.

You stare at the left side of his face, your arms wrapped around his body as if he was a teddy bear. The blanket you had previously wrapped around your body now covered parts of his, his arm cuddling you close as if you’d ever slip away.

“How’d it go with the redhead?” Zoro asks. His eyes are still closed but you know he’s interested in knowing; asking questions is somewhat his way of begging to know more. He isn’t as stoic as he thinks he is, at least not towards you.

“It was good seeing Shanks again. He was heading to Marineford to end the war, and allowed me to stay and hide with him until Luffy made the decision to reunite in two years. He’s actually the one who took me to my childhood teacher; it took about three weeks after burying Ace and Whitebeard to get there.”

Zoro’s curious about how you handled Ace’s burial, but again, that’s something he’ll ask about another time.

“They asked about us. It was different being the one to share experiences about life on the sea; but it was refreshing and fun…I told them all about the crazy stuff we went through, and they let me know about the reputation we’ve built for ourselves. It’s actually kind of cool how many people know of us, but also scary at the same time. It really opened my eyes though; it was probably the first time in a long time that I…” you trail off, repositioning your head to be more comfortable, the hand that lay on Zoro’s chest now tracing lines as you daze off. Sensing that he’s lost you, he opens his eye and nudges you lightly.

“I felt like I had a life purpose again. Gaining the knowledge that a lot of people had their eyes set on us as a team, it made me realize the responsibility I hold. The promises I made to both Ace and Sabo, the ones I made to you and the rest of us, and the promise I made to myself as a child — my ultimate dream: to live a long, fulfilled life.”

“Even though I felt great and motivated after that and even now, the thoughts still linger around. The what-ifs: what if I stayed and attempted to save Ace alongside Luffy? What if I got caught by the Marines? What if the five of you never found me in Loguetown?

It’s a never-ending battle, and I’m getting more tired of myself with every passing day. It’s the reason why even now I exhaust myself mentally and physically, just to escape my thoughts. I guess there must be something happening with the planets for me to experience these feelings right now,” your tone is light, almost playful, yet your words place a heavy weight on him.

You let out a sharp sigh, suddenly turning on your back and staring at the wooden ceiling. You release your Haki to see what the rest of the crew is up to, noticing that some of them have already gone to bed. The only other people awake at the moment are Luffy, Sanji, and Jinbe — sharing a late night snack and a hushed conversation.

“You’re stronger and more resilient than you think,” Zoro states. “As a matter of fact, you’re probably the strongest person I know, both physically and mentally.

You’ve faced nothing but obstacles your entire life, and it makes me wish I had known you when we were younger. You and Kuina would’ve been great friends.” The mention of your lover’s childhood friend makes you smile. He’s only ever confided in you about his upbringing, and you pray to the heavens, hoping that Kuina herself hears you ask for his protection. “I admire you so much.”

And it’s true: Zoro envies how strong you are. He wishes he had unlocked Haki at a young age. He wishes he was as smart as you. There are so many things Zoro admires about you, and he wishes he knew the words to voice it.

“I’m not great with words.” You giggle at his self-awareness but let the laughter die down as he rolls his eye playfully. “But you deserve to be here — alive — regardless of where you came from, what powers and knowledge you possess, and what happened when you were a child. I’ve watched you grow into the person you are today, and it’s been a privilege.

Sometimes, it feels as if I was a saint in my past life to experience this: the open ocean, the different people and places, and you. However you see yourself isn’t how anyone else views you. Chopper looks up to you as a guardian — and despite the small age difference, I’m sure our knucklehead captain does too. Nami, Robin, Usopp, and Franky see you as their sister. I’m sure I heard Jinbe speaking of you like a daughter, and as for the annoying waiter we call a cook, he practically worships the ground you walk on. The skeleton praised you constantly, so I’m not sure how you don’t see the admiration everyone has for you.

You’ve become one of my biggest inspirations. I’ll probably never be in the mood to admit this again, so make sure you’re listening.” He suddenly sits up and rests against the headboard, your movements copying his as he interlocks your hands with his.

He meets your gaze, and you feel like you fall in love with him all over again. He’s looking at you with pure adoration, as if he’s trying to engrave your face into his memory.

Even with tear stains running down your cheeks and puffy eyes, you’re still the prettiest person to exist. Everything about you is perfect, and a demon like me doesn’t even deserve to be in your presence, Zoro thinks.

“The time we spent apart, I took some time to think about our adventures as a crew. I’m not sure if I subconsciously did it because it was a strange feeling being away from you all, or if it was because Perona kept asking too many questions.

After explaining how the ten of us all became a crew, she pointed out that I mentioned you a lot. I didn’t think so at the time, but I guess it’s just something that feels natural to me. What I’m trying to say is…

“I love you. You know this already, but I know sometimes it feels nice to have a verbal reminder. I’m in love with you, and I know I’ll always be. And I’ll help you fight your battles, even when you ask me to give you space. I’ll do anything you want me to, just promise me you’ll let me be there for you. You — in such a short amount of time — have become my greatest weakness.

It hurts when you push yourself away from everyone else, especially me. I know you don’t want to feel like a burden, but you’ll never be one; to me, or the others. Especially to Luffy. Whether you decide to tell him you were there to see Ace, is up to you. I’m positive he won’t react the way you think he would. You’ve always taken on way more than what we ask of you, and applying more pressure to yourself isn’t going to make us look at you any differently. You’re appreciated for all that you do, and will always be.

The only thing I’m asking of you is to take the time and make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Physical battles already take a toll on all of us, and we can always help each other out, but the mental ones we face can only be taken on by ourselves. Even I find it hard to deal with it. But then I’m grounded by remembering the fact that I was put here on this Earth for a reason — everyone was.”

Your jaw is hung open at Zoro’s words; yes, he saves sweet talk for you and you only, but this was an entirely different and unexpected side of him.

You want to cry. You want to kiss him. You want to take all of his pain away and give it to the officials in the World Government. You want to cradle his face in your chest and kiss his cheeks and tell him sweet nothings; yet as you process his words, you sit there in silence.

I’m grounded by remembering the fact that I was put here on this Earth for a reason — everyone was.

Similar to the last words spoken to you by your beloved brother Ace, you feel tears slip out of your eyes and suddenly you’re trapping Zoro in your arms.

“Thank you, Zo.”

The whisper reaches him, and he relaxes comfortably in your embrace. He buries his head in the crook of your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your torso. Even though it took a lot of guts to be that vulnerable, his chest feels lighter. With a soft kiss pressed to the top of his head, you return the words back to him.

“I love you so much. Thank you for always being there for me. You’re truly one of my anchors in this life.”

+x+

You wake up the next morning alone in bed. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, except this time a note sits on Zoro’s nightstand.

Woke up to Nami banging on the door. Kind of surprised it didn’t wake you up either. Anyway, we’re docked now and Luffy dragged me out with him to explore. The stupid cook and Robin are still here on the ship, so I asked them to ring me when you wake up. If you decide to leave the ship, come find me. If not, then rest and I’ll come back to you later. Love you, Zoro.

You smile at the sloppy handwriting, your mind quickly flashing to last night’s conversation between the two of you. You sit and think about it and come to the conclusion that you no longer doubt yourself. You feel as light as a feather, hopping out of bed and changing into a new outfit for the day. You’re assuming your lover had taken it upon himself to change you, not remembering when you had put your sleeping clothes on.

You waltz into the kitchen, greeted with heart eyes and the smell of coffee.

“Good morning to you, Athena. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, Sanji’s desperately wanting to go pick some things up. Are you feeling better now? Zoro said you were feeling under the weather this morning.” Robin’s gentle voice distracts you from worrying about the amount of blood spilling from Sanji’s nose, a soft smile on her face as you greet her back.

“Good morning! I feel much better now, like I can do anything.” You smile. Sanji’s serving you a plate of breakfast as you sit across from the archaeologist. You start to eat, trying to peek at the newspaper she’s holding in her hand. The headline makes you choke on your food.

“WHAT THE HELL? LUFFY’S AN EMPEROR NOW?!”

Your voice is loud enough that Sanji and Robin are sure the entire island could hear it. Before Sanji’s able to fill you in on what was discussed after you and Zoro went to bed, your shrieks were heard throughout the Sunny.

“WHAAAAAAT?! MY BOUNTY’S AT TEN DIGITS NOW?!”

“Well, you and Zoro missed a lot last night. We’re happy to know that you’re feeling better now though!” Robin says, a closed-eye smile sent your way.

You’re in a state of shock: reading the article that was released less than twenty four hours ago, and you hear Sanji’s tongue click.

“Maybe we should take Athena-swan to Chopper for medicine,” Eyes wide and jaw hung, you nod your head. “And probably look for the embarrassment you call your boyfriend.”

With that, you shove Sanji away from you, standing up quickly and taking hold of Robin’s hand. You grab your bag and walk off the ship with the two of them next to you, feeling thousands times better than last night.

Zoro, you say in your mind. Please don’t be lost. Eh — it’s been hours since they left. He’s definitely lost.

With a new sense of confidence and optimism, you hold your head high and continue your journey in making this a life worth living.

+x+

an (2): ahhhh yes!! athena (reader) is luffy’s sister…i have her while character outline already written. i kinda hate the ending but i also didn’t want to stay stuck on this lil story for too long…but i do want to write more abt our lovely athena and the life she’s willing to live <3

please do leave feedback! it helps me improve :) especially since i’m still learning & getting back into it!!

[endearng]

Solace

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Summary: A particular case with the BAU makes you relive old, painful memories. Spencer holds your hand as you share them with him. W.C: 1.8k Warnings: This is sort of platonic fluff with a dash of hurt/comfort; maybe they're in love but don't truly know it yet; mentions of loneliness during childhood, canon cm type of violence (domestíc violence and mísogyny). A/N: Took me very long and I don't know if I like it enough, but I hope you guys do. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. Enjoy! Masterlist

"Hey," Spencer approached you carefully, smiling softly. It didn't quite reach his eyes, though. You knew the reason why.

You were best friends with Spencer Reid. It was easy, being around him. You felt connected as you got to know each other because you could relate to him so much and so did he to you, so you always relied on him during tough times. This time would almost feel different, because you felt scared of exposing yourself to him. Not because of his reaction, of course, he wasn't one to judge you even if his life depended on it, but because it made you feel vulnerable for him to see the pieces of you that you didn't appreciate all that much. The insecure, bad, ugly and mistrusting sides of you.

"Hey yourself."

You had just finished a case that involved children and domestic abuse. A group of men founded some sort of cult that preached hatred towards women — a motivation that had to do with fractured childhood and trauma related to their parents' broken marriages, of course. What a bond. Situations with kids were always more sensitive than anything else, and this one in particular brought back some bittersweet memories. You had had several nightmares during the investigation, but Spencer had been the one to wake you up from one of them because you were sharing a room. You were glad he did.

You were standing in a familiar street, but the darkness of the twilight made you feel uneasy. As you walked, a trail of both sadness and worry lingered behind you — feeling on edge, as if something was about to happen. Little did you know, fate had already made up its mind. And you couldn't change it.

It was hard to breathe. Your lungs felt like they were full of smoke, so much was the sensation of your chest being squeezed and with no room for air. You sat down on a sidewalk, dizzy, afraid to fall if you stayed on your feet. As you did, you noticed a big house across the road, pristine white walls and soft yellowish lights cleared one of the rooms in the first store, where you saw a couple holding and smiling at each other. Despite the feeling inside you, you smiled, too. Like their love made the air around them change, such intense feelings made others feel loved, welcomed and safe. In the greenest grass you've ever seen, even if the absence of light stopped you from seeing everything clearly, was a blonde girl playing all by herself. As you tried to calm your breathing, you noticed another girl joining her to play in a pink and purple princess castle outside the house. For a moment, you felt calm just watching the two girls sharing the most ordinary moment of any girl's childhood. An ordinary — or so you thought it should be — childhood surrounded by love, company and, most importantly, trust. Still, a sense of dread tugged at your heartstrings.

Then, everything happened so quickly. The blonde girl's dad, who just seconds ago was with his wife, now had a hard expression on his face. Anger seeped out of him. He approached them and told his daughter that playtime was over, which made her expression, which was so full of life, change abruptly. She entered the house, now looking down at her feet. Not daring to look, let alone say anything to her father, even though she was smiling so hard with her friend moments prior. The other girl didn't even have the time to bid her friend goodbye. You were too caught up trying to understand the suddenness you just saw to pay attention to the other girl, who was now in front of you, ready to confide something with a frown on her face, "He’s always mad."

And right as he finished her dark sentence, whose intonation and weight of the words chosen sounded like an adult, you heard the shots inside the house. Unable to run. Unable to breathe. Unable to react. Unable to undo fate's ugly decision.

Then, Spencer woke you up. You were tossing and turning on the bed and he noticed it because you were sharing the bedroom. Gently, he said you were having a bad dream and that you kept murmuring a female name. You thanked him for interrupting your nightmare, but didn't really talk about what was plaguing you. He felt like his hands were tied when days passed and you kept going as if nothing had happened — you didn't let him in, which was unusual for the both of you. Nonetheless, he knew you were avoiding falling asleep.

"Is everything okay?" Spencer asked, his tone caring.

"I don't know how I feel." You answered, looking out the jet's window, even if it was pitch dark. "I know I should feel good now that those kids are not under threat anymore, but, how many other creeps are out there? Will it ever end?" You asked, more to yourself, or the world, than to Spencer.

"I wish I could have that answer."

You glanced at him. His furrowed brows and sympathetic eyes met your defeated face. His caring nature around you made something in you snap. Maybe the need for reassurance, for safety. You finally thought you didn't have anything to lose, so you poured out your heart.

"Back when I was a kid, I had this friend. She was new in the city, so I met her when she joined our class in the middle of the school year. She was pretty reserved but I was pretty annoying and I wanted to get to know her." You sighed. Spencer let out a soft chuckle at the thought of you as a kid. Sweet, persistent and lovely. Just as you are now. "We would have lunch together when she was there, because she used to miss school a lot. I remember asking why, but I can't remember the answer."

You weren't looking at him. Guilt and embarrassment were trying to take over your emotions, your watering eyes intensifying feeling sensitive, like a being that was stripped off its skin. Walking around bare, shieldless. Come to think about it, it was always like that around him. No walls were needed to protect you from him.

A deep breath. It was just Spencer. He would listen. He would understand. "I remember that it took a lot longer for her to come back this one time. I asked the teacher what had happened and she only told me that she had left. I didn't know where to and I didn't know until years later. I was heartbroken because I had lost a friend. I know it seems dumb, but I really enjoyed spending time with her. We talked a lot, I learned the name of her friends and family, we played pretend, tag, hide and seek... We'd take our dolls to play with and talked about the cartoons that we both watched. It was nice to finally have a friend."

"Some time later, I found out by eavesdropping a conversation between my grandmother and a friend of hers that my friend's father had killed his wife, her mom, and then himself. He told her to wait outside the house so he and his wife could talk." You sniffled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "What kind of person does that?" You asked, tone exasperated, voice cracking, barely a whisper. Spencer looked at you longingly, patiently waiting for you to finish. He wouldn't dare to speak unless he was sure you were done. "So, I guess this case really triggered that memory. I remember grieving because I'd thought she was dead. I had nightmares for years, but never told anybody about it. In my dreams, I always watched her dad calling her back inside the house."

"What was her name?"

"Jane."

A beat of silence. He looked down at his lap. "That was the name you kept calling when you were... you know."

"Yeah. I know, Spencer." You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. "I know..."

Spencer looked utterly lost and heartbroken for you, but he was willing to try to be good for you so that you kept trusting yourself to him. "I'm sorry you had to go through that by yourself," was what he said. You smiled, albeit sadly.

"I'm sorry too, but at the same time, thankful that now I have you to share it with."

"You don't have to thank me."

"I want to. It feels like it was such a brief moment, but I guess it still haunts me to this day. I just felt, maybe feel, powerless over it, you know? I know I couldn't have done anything, heh, I was a dumb little kid. But still. Guilt is a bitch." You voice, your eyes that were unable to stay focused on a spot for too long and your fidgeting hands revealed your anxiety.

He put his hands on top of yours. You froze, finally looking at him again. "Pablo Neruda said that love is so short, but forgetting is so long. I guess that applies to you. You were just a kid trying to make a friend, and in a way, your company made her feel safe." You brows furrowed, tears rolling down your cheeks. His hands on yours stopped you from wiping them. You didn't want him to let you. "You were a curious and annoying elementary schooler who made sure your friend had company, even though it wasn't your main concern at that time, or you didn't notice it was. Maybe it could have been. Maybe she skipped school because of the problems at home, we know now that, sadly, it does happen. And, when she did go to school, she had your company to play and forget about all of that — she had a friend. You were her solace."

Just like you are mine, his mind screamed.

You were full on crying, silently. Your grateful glance never strayed away from his; you took it that he knew everything you wanted to say but couldn't.

Thank you for saying this.

Thank you for offering me a new, better perspective.

Thank you for being my friend.

I love you.

I wouldn't know which path to take if I didn't have you.

Actually, I do. I'd take the one with you in it.

Instead, "I wish we knew each other when we were kids. Either way, I know we were destined to be in each other's life."

He laughed softly, saying your name, “That’s a nice thought.”

The love you shared changed the atmosphere around you, too. But you didn’t feel overwhelmed with a feeling something would go wrong. If anyone asked if there was something right in your life, you’d say, in a heartbeat, that it is Spencer Reid.

[cherrymoon4]

Hmm fratboy!Geto i want him

You’ve been best friends since you were in diapers, you literally watched him grow up into this fine ass man.

Obviously he is kind if a slut, he loves all the attention he receives; so seeing him let a stupid bimbo flirt with him shamelessly at this stupid party your friends dragged you to shouldn’t bother you one bit. Especially cause you were best friends, and besides seeing him surrounded by people (girls especially) was nothing new.

So why did you feel your heart crack a lil as he flirted back? You knew his routine by now: be the nice flirty gentleman with any random girl he deemed attractive enough, take her to some bedroom (not his, never his, you were the only girl allowed on his bed), fuck her brains out and probably give her the best orgasms of her life, and disappear the morning after; he especially liked acting like he doesn’t even know who they are, when those girls come up to him later on to try and get a date.

So you were familiar with his routine, and yet every time you saw him take another girl away for some “privacy”, you couldn’t help the bile that rose up your throat.

You knew it was wrong, feeling this way about your best friend, but there was not much you could do about it.

Just the thought of him with that girl you saw him with, touching her and letting her touch him, was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

You left your soda somewhere and quickly walked to the nearest exit, trying to not trip over the sweaty and very much drunk bodies dancing around.

As soon as you opened the door to the balcony, you took in a deep breath; but no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, tears started flowing down your cheeks, messing up your mascara and probably making you look like a fool.

And you felt like one too. You felt so so stupid for letting your feelings blossom, knowing that this was gonna happen; he would never be yours, he probably doesn’t even find you attractive, so why why why did you have to fall for him like this.

Your self-induced misery is interrupted by the sound of a closing door, and a deep familiar voice calling your name in that stupid soft tone only he uses for you.

You froze as soon as you heard him, back still turned to him even when you managed to ask a little “y-yes?”, trying your hardest to sound normal and not like you had been crying like a child.

He doesn’t talk, only walks closer to you till the point of his shoes almost touch the end of yours. “What’s wrong?” he asks, and you feel dumb for thinking he wouldn’t immediately understand that you were in fact not okay.

Without turning around, too scared of how close he would be, you try to come up with something;

“N-nothing..nothing’s wrong. It was just getting a bit overwhelming i-inside, that’s all” you lie, or try to at least.

Obviously he doesn’t buy it. “Turn around then” he says in that voice of his, and you can’t help but follow his words like a little puppet. You turn around but keep your eyes straight ahead on his chest, not brave enough to look into his eyes.

“Look at me sweetheart” he says softly, his deep voice comforting as he takes notice of the smudged mascara under your eyes. You look up hesitantly and meet his eyes, finding him looking at you with that frown of his, concern written all over his features.

“What’s wrong baby, hm?” he asks, bringing a warm hand on your cheek and gently drying the remaining tears with his thumb. The pet name makes your heart flutter, and you internally slap yourself because he did not mean in that way you idiot!

“Told you..” you murmur, but he insists, and asks the question again. “..It’s dumb” you try to avoid answering, but he doesn’t let up; “It’s not dumb if it got you feeling all sad” he says softly, bringing you to his chest and holding you close, one hand on your back and the other petting your hair.

You relax into his warm chest, and as the tears come down again you don’t try to stop them; you only grip his shirt tighter, as if afraid he would go. In return, he holds you tighter and presses his cheek to your head, occasionally placing small kisses onto your hair.

“What happened pretty girl? Do I need to beat someone up?” he jokes lightly, but is voice has a bit (a lot) of seriousness in it, and you know that if you tell him a name he wouldn’t think twice before fighting someone for you.

“You” you mumble into his chest, pressing yourself as close as possible to him.

“Oh..what did I do baby? ‘m sorry” he apologizes sincerely, even though he doesn’t know what he really did; just the thought of hurting you in any way makes him wanna jump off that balcony right in that moment.

“Why are you here sugu’? You should already be fucking that blonde girl by now” you can’t help the bitterness in your voice even when you still clung to him like a koala.

“..Is that why you’re sad? Because of that girl?” he asks with a tilt of his head, taking your face in his hands gently and pulling your face up and away from his chest to look you in the eyes.

“N-no..yes. I d-dunno!” you sigh “It’s just— I’m tired sugu. I hate feeling like this whenever I see you talking to some random girl, even if I know that you don’t r-really care about her. I hate it s’ much and everytime I picture you touching someone else I just f-feel like throwing up so hard I vomit my heart; and I don’t want y-you to tell me that you feel the same way j- not the same way that you want to throw up your heart but the way that you like me; I-I’m not saying that you like m-me! I’m saying that I like you and I have for so long it’s honestly annoying at this point and what I mean is that I d-don’t want you to say you like me just c-cause I like you—“ your rambling is interrupted by soft lips on yours. Your mind takes a while to register what is happening, and as soon as it does you let out a gasp, one that suguru greedily swallows in your kiss.

When he pulls away you’re left feeling so warm all over, but also really confused. “Done yet?” he asks with a grin, hands still holding your face and now caressing your red cheeks.

“Y-you..why, I-I don’t understand sugu” you stutter out, and he looks at you fondly before leaning in close and placing a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Let’s go baby, we’ll talk over some mcflurry yeah?”

Then they kith again and make love and have babies and geto never chooses the wrong path and never gets depressed and never dies and everyone is happy ! (i am gege and i am rewriting everything right now).

[toto-the-cactus]

I started to write this very innocently and planned to make it NSFW but I did the mistake of watching the episode 7 of Dandadan and now instead of horny I want yall to be sad. Ovulation manifest in a very fucked up way for me and I will not suffer alone. Teehee.

Credits where they are due. This ask from @moodymisty is the reason that inspired this... I dunno, AU?? But kudos for them. This idea was really good so I just decided to expand it.

If this get that much attention I'll may think in doing a part 2 where you go and take Angron's ass back without the nails this time, ajua!

Summary: As a perpetual, you have been by the Emperor's side for most of your immortality. There's no name for what strange dynamic you both share, but you do trust him and your loyalty eventually pays off over millennia once he fulfills an old promise he made during your first ever encounter.

Pairing: Emperor of Mankind x Perpetual!Reader (Female)

CW: Slight NSFW

The Mother

“I know you’re still angry”

You hated how He phrased that. He knew very well that you were furious at him more than anything and yet the Emperor voiced it as if you weren’t mourning the loss of the children that you were supposed to call yours.

Erda had warned you plenty of times, looking between a mix of sadness and resignation as she knew very well how much of a tangled mess were yours and the Emperor’s relationship over millennia. Even as a perpetual, you never could come close to understand why He acted the way he did, but his reassurances and sweet-nothings made you easily into crumbling sand between His fingers. So much that when he finally answered your plea for a family, the joy of it had overrode your common sense.

Your genetic composition, while still powerful, never seemed to take and each attempt for a baby to grow inside the gestation capsules ended in failure and that eventually made you grow distant and despondent towards the Emperor, who, for once, seemed to understand your gloomy emotions and gave you some space until a solution could be found.

And it did… in the form of your best friend Erda. She had been ready to reject the proposal of giving her genetic stock, but her own loyalty to the Emperor and her love for you was enough to convince her with still some reluctance along the way.

You hadn’t even cared if these children carried your own blood or not. This was the one thing you had found yourself craving for so long and it was becoming reality.

The Emperor had made it very clear that these creations had been made too to serve as aids for the Crusade, not simply to satisfy the promise he had made to you all those centuries ago.

At first you didn’t heed his warning, too enthralled at the overwhelming emotions of seeing these tiny babies take form.

Your children.

A part of you had been too arrogant, too naive to believe that you could convince the Emperor of Mankind to drop this plan of his to raise kids as pawns of warfare. You had wanted to thrust that a part of Him still would hold the same tenderness that he had always reserved for you like the very first time. So you kept talking to the gestating children, whispering words of love and adoration. You sang them lullabies of long forgotten times and teared up when some would instantly react at the soft tones of your voice.

You have even dreamed with the little one that had shown immense psyker power.

So it broke you beyond repair when Erda came back to you in distraught, explaining what she had done with the developing Primarchs once the Emperor had been still adamant and unmoving to his plans.

The fate of your sons had been decided and your friend had been desperate to try and stop it.

Now you lost everything, all your happiness had been taken away and as much as you wished to blame Erda too, you only held her shoulders in a tight bruising grip (she looked at you surprised, unaware that you possessed such strength) and stared at her dead in the eyes with a voice that commanded nothing but attention.

“I’m willing to forgive you, Erda… I am… but you must earn it” you said with a clear tremble in your voice, a painful knot stuck in your throat at the impotence of the whole situation. “Please, please… go find them! Find them so I can retrieve them and hold them at least for the first time!”

So she did, in the silence of the night and away from any prying eyes.

Once alone in the privacy of your room, you cried until the pain bled into painful sobs of despair.

It was in the aftermath of your spilling emotions when the Emperor came to you in a mockery of comfort, his huge hand encased in his golden armor caressing with immense care your body. It was a shame that he had some truth to his words, for your anger simply made you feel like his attempt of compassion was cold and mechanical in nature.

A detailed script where the husband consoles the wife that He must follow. But as fast as the burning anger came, it easily simmered down by the constant sorrow. You felt hollow and as much as you wished to keep ignoring him… you needed the little love he still professed for you in rare moments.

“No, my love… I just feel empty now” your voice conveyed it, for it lacked anything beyond the trembling of a sob.

“Then let me help you” the Emperor expressed with an unchanging expression, but the way he whispered those words felt like the sweetest caress.

You breathed deeply, a few stubborn tears still escaping because how dare he speak to you like you were the only thing that he cared for. You had grown accustomed to this weird and shifting dynamic you both had and yet he did things like this that disrupted the routine and reminded you why you fell for him a long time ago.

You had seen him as a man, nothing more… and he had thanked you for that.

This time you had to choke a sob down before speaking.

“How?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he got up and took his golden armor piece by piece.

It took a while but you were a patient woman with little to no motivation to move at the current moment. This was your room, the single place where no one was allowed to bother you two and so could take any sweet time.

Once finished, his warm hand held your head carefully and left your neck exposed to be kissed and licked at his whim. You were ready to try and tell him to hold on (you would never dream of being strong enough to push him off of you), but the bite on your shoulder forced a breathy moan out of your lips, wilting your weak attempt at stopping.

You still felt the sting of pain at the loss of the children and these actions only fuelled the new emotion of guilt brewing inside you.

Why was he doing this to you? How would this help your broken heart?

“Let me make it up to you… by giving you a child in the only way we haven’t tried” his voice reverberated within your ribcage with the undertone of a growl that accompanied his words, catching you immensely by surprise with such insane proposal that you didn’t even realize when he took your undergarments out until a soft grace to your clit grounded you back to reality.

“Ah~!” you moaned this time louder, completely caught off guard by a sensitivity that you don’t remember ever having.

The onslaught of sensations dazed you, the tears flowing steadily now that you weren’t sure of what to feel in that moment.

This was a distraction, a way to appease you and sooth the sorrow… and you hated that it was working little by little. His words truly echoing inside your mind with the strange mix of guilt and excitement clashing within your body without mercy.

Yes, you wished for a child to hold. To love and care.

His enormous finger breached your entrance, the wetness having been built easily enough as his thumb hadn't stopped on his ministrations to your swollen button. His lips rarely leaving your skin without a kiss or a bite to lick, descending and going down, down.

Then… you saw it. Behind the shiny droplets of tears through your eyelids, a vision of a future that greeted you with a promise.

The children… they were alive.

You sensed the very longing of your heart, the feeling of rough scars being caressed by your gentle touch as an apology for not finding them fast enough.

You saw yourself holding a heavy blanket, a peaceful infant between your arms and a whisper of a name that seared in your memory.

‘Horus’

In this thesis I present today, I'll explain how all the goddamn heresy could have been prevented had the Emperor not sucked ass at speaking with the tactfulness of sandpaper over an open wound.

Anyway, hope yall liked it <333

[kkayyerr]

Jealous, jealous, jealous.

Summary: Little!reader spending the whole Midsummers playing with JJ and Rafe is feeling neglected.

Warnings: Age regression, slight angst, fluff in the end:)

Rafe took you with him to Midsummers, hoping that both of you would have a great time together, but unfortunately things didn’t go as planned. He was staying aside with his friends, watching you play with JJ for the whole night. Of course Rafe could’ve prevented that by paying you a little bit more attention, but he couldn’t because of how much that event meant for his family and especially for his father. So now he was just standing there and hoping that you would notice him or at least come up to ask for something, but it seemed that you didn’t need him while JJ was there. Rafe didn’t want to be that much of an asshole and pull you away from him since you seemed like you were having a lot of fun. He decided that he would speak about it with you later, in private. 

When the party finally ended, Rafe had grabbed your hand, not even letting you say goodbye to JJ.

„Bye, little one!”

JJ shouted, waving his hand, causing Rafe to send him a warning glare. He’s going to have a little chat with your „friend” later. But for now he headed straight to his room, not even bothering to look at you. You could feel that he was disappointed with you or even angry, but you didn’t know what exactly you did wrong since you had been on your best behavior the whole evening. When he had closed the door, you were ready for him to tell the reason for his behavior, but instead he just silently turned around, probably not knowing what to say. 

 

„Daddy, what happen’?”

 

It was something new—the side that you had never seemed before. What could you possibly have done for him to be this upset with you? You approached him, not touching him yet, just staring, waiting for him to turn around and say at least something. And he did. 

 

„Did you have fun playing with JJ?”

 

His words weren’t harsh; he didn’t seem angry or furious, just... sad? It sounded like an actual question, so your little brain told you to come up with a sincere answer. 

 

„Yeah! He gave me sweets and played with me!“

 

Rafe nodded before you saw something that you thought you would never see him doing. His eyes became watery before he finally teared up. In that moment you knew that you would do whatever it takes to never see that again; it was hurting you worse than any of his punishments or harsh words that he had said to you before. 

 

„Baby, I know that I am not the best at taking care of you, so if you want to leave me, I would understand that and...”

 

He didn’t have a chance to finish. You immediately pulled him into your arms, giving him the biggest hug that you possibly could. You were trying to stay strong and not to start crying yourself, but you failed, letting out a few sniffles.

 

„I love you, Daddy, I don't want another Daddy, I pwomise.”

 

You said, and he finally hugged you back, pulling you closer in his embrace. Those words meant so much to him, especially after all the overthinking that he had going on in his head that night. 

While he was holding you in his arms, he felt you poking his side and let out a small laugh, quickly catching your hand. He titled your head up, gently grabbing your chin with his fingers. Your face still had a string of tears, just like his. 

Oh, you were both such a crybabies.

 

„No, bunny. That’s my method, and you don’t get to use it on me.”

 

He said, before quickly poking your tummy just to make you smile. Rafe then leaned down and kissed your cheeks, not able to hold himself back. He was so happy that you were still his. His sweet little girl. 

 

„Let’s get that fancy dress off of you, and then we’ll go to bed. It’s almost your bedtime.”

 

You nodded, feeling a little tired and overwhelmed from all those new people you had to meet at the Midsummers. Usually it was hard for Rafe to put you in bed, but today you were too sleepy to argue.

 

„Oh, and also...”

 

His gaze met yours, and the small, sly smile appeared on his face for a second before he would say something that he knew you wouldn’t like. 

 

„No sweets for a week.”

 

It wasn’t an actual punishment; he just wanted to have a little revenge on you. Your little pout was adorable to him, especially after everything you put him through tonight. But you didn’t argue with his decision. 

After all, you deserved that, right? 

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @aew-regression-cove @rafecameronsloverrrrr

[tea-and-vodka]

DP x DC AU, Bruce/Danny (if someone knows the ship name *please tell me-*)

Side note: I'm using asterisks (*) to signify italics, because for some reason Tumblr is being annoying about those.

- - -

He never really told anyone about it. No one really remembered but him, Alfred, and the photos they had kept.

Bruce had a friend when he was younger, one who had lived on the streets before moving into the manor.

The two had been practically inseparable.

Yet, as they grew older, they knew that his friend needed to stay away from the cameras and stares that had started following Bruce like mosquitoes.

So, his friend left when they were in their late teenage years. They kept in contact of course, and the two visited. But when the youngest (at the time) Wayne began to get involved with less than legal activities in their twenties, he hid it from his friend.

The rate of their visits slowed down, until it came to a halt. They sent letters, of course, but seeing him in person meant danger. Potentially putting *him* in danger. And Bruce could not let that happen.

- - -

The Batkids all stare in varying levels of confusion, concern, and awe as Bruce becomes visibly flustered.

"Bruce, Darling, it is so nice to see you again!" The man, Danny, says, before kissing Bruce on the corners of his mouth. He holds the billionaire's face in his hands as he tilts his own head to the side, a soft and affectionate look on his face. "I have missed you and Alfred so much! How have you two been?"

Bruce stammers for a moment, not taking his eyes off of the taller man in front of him. "I've, um, been well, thank you. Uh-" He flicks his eyes over to his kids before returning them to Danny as he gestures to the gathered crowd in his entryway. "These are my children! Wo-would you like to meet them?" He blurts out quickly, a smile that he seemed to be desperately fighting on his face.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I want to meet them?" Danny says jovially, turning to the others.

As the man calmly walks over, Cass makes a few observations. His lithe, relatively short body not tense in the slightest, every step seeming purposeful yet not at all thought about, and his eyes flick over everyone in front of him like he's analyzing them. Seeing them like she sees people.

Still smiling, he opens his mouth to speak to all of them, when he freezes. The group tenses, watching as he doesn't take his eyes off of the second eldest brother as his smile falls.

With pain in his eyes, the older man simply breathes out an, "Oh."

Jason stared into Danny's eyes, something akin to grief beginning to show on his face.

"Oh, *Sweetheart.*" Danny said softly, stepping closer to the younger man. He carefully takes his face into one hand, holding him like he may break. "*I'm so sorry.*"

At that, Jason's face metaphorically crumples, tears spilling down his face as Danny feels his [*hurts tired scared angry tired hurts scared h e l p -*]. Danny's thumb rubs his cheek in an effort to soothe the young man, an understanding sadness on his face. In response, Jason lets out a small whimper as he tries to bury his face into the other's hand.

Gently, delicately, despite the sheer size of him, he pulls Jason close, practically curling around him like he's trying to shield him from the outside world. One hand rubs his back, the other curling into his hair as the Bat's face buries itself into his neck, muffling the sounds of sobbing. [*Safe together protect safe comfort soothe safe*]

As the Batfamily watched this happen, most were too caught off-guard and utterly dumbstruck to notice some unusual details.

Cass's eyes squint slightly in suspicion as Danny's toxic green ones close. Weren't those a nearly unnatural blue when she first saw him?

- - -

I'm sorry if this got repetitive; I don't usually beta anything I post!

Essentially, Danny senses Jason's ghostly-ness, and is like, "Who the heck hurt this baby?!" Immediately reaching out with the whole ghost-EM field-thing, Jason's whole world is flipped because he'd been subconsciously trying to reach out that way ever since he got back to Gotham, and had been getting increasingly distressed because no one was understanding what he was communicating.

A few years after he was brought into the manor, Danny had explained to Bruce and Alfred what he is, what happened in Amity Park, how he got deaged, etc., and they accepted him wholeheartedly. *Except*, he left out any and all mention of vigilantism / the bigger enemies that he fought, and went on to working on being the ghost king when he moved out. He doesn't know about the Batfam being the Bats and Birds, and they don't know about him being royalty, nor his vigilante past.

He and Bruce are both very intelligent dumbasses, and do not realize that they have romantic feelings for one another. Alfred is well aware. Is Bruce also dating someone else in this AU? Potentially! It is currently up to interpretation, since I have not thought about who would go well for this scenario. (Although, I do feel like Danny would have beef with Clark because of the whole Connor debacle. Maybe, behind the scenes, Danny adopted Connor, and now Danielle has a brother!)

Also, I'm tired of people being like, "Danny is short! He's only 5'7!" (/lh) It makes me feel short. In this, he is 5'4, and he does not care if this whole ass man is over six foot, he *will* do his best to curl around him and help him feel safe for the first time since he was a teen.