#rewind - to meet earlier

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Hear Me Out, Keep Me Guessing

Steddie || wc: 2.5k || rating: T || tags: alternate first meeting, pre-S4, Eddie is a rollercoaster of emotions, Steve is over it, fluff and flirting || ao3

Inspired by my own post

☆☆☆

“Okay, Munson. What’s your fucking problem?”

Eddie hops on top of the wooden picnic bench to gain a slight height advantage over whoever’s decided to fuck up his day, when he spots none other than Steve Harrington headed towards him through the trees, fighting his way through brush and bramble.

“Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen. Crawling through the dirt just to visit his former court jester.” Eddie smirks, hears Harrington mutter something under his breath that sounds a lot like jesus christ before he finally makes his way over.

Harrington’s looking up at him, squinting into the sunlight, and Eddie’s slightly repelled by his sudden desire to run a hand through King Steve’s hair. It shines in the sunlight, matching the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

Eddie takes a step to the left, casting him back into shadow again where he’s just his normal, asshole self and not the angelic image Eddie conjured from his horny, queer little brain.

He can’t remember if it’s his turn to talk or Harrington’s, but it seems the King’s lost the plot as well. Completely zoned out, he’s just standing there staring up at Eddie, mouth dropped open and eyes wide in a way Eddie will certainly not be thinking about later tonight. Absolutely not.

Eddie coughs. Loud and obnoxious enough to break whatever trance they’ve found themselves in. Harrington awkwardly chuckles, running a hand through his hair. An image of Steve leaning against lockers, towering over a girl with heat in his eyes and a hand in his hair floods Eddie’s brain before he can shake it out like an Etch A Sketch. What the fuck is even happening to him?

“Yeah, Munson. Like, what the hell is your problem?” It lacks punch and drama the second time around, but it gets them back on track. Harrington props his hands on his hips, his lip juts out into a tiny pout, and Eddie wonders if he thinks standing like a disappointed mom is effective in getting what he wants, or if being adorable just comes naturally to the former King.

“You’ll have to be more specific, my liege.” He watches as Harrington brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and he makes a mental note to develop a better, more refined taste in men.

“The kids, man. Why aren’t you friends with the kids?”

“Kids? What the hell– what kids?” He hops down from the table. If this is going to be a legitimate conversation and not a shake down, he figures it’ll be easier on even footing. Harrington takes the seat opposite him, his shoe accidentally knocking Eddie’s ankle.

Steve doesn’t move his foot. Neither does Eddie.

“My kids, man. They said they tried talking to you all week and you wouldn’t even hear them out!”

Eddie watches his fingers tap absently on the table top. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, and it’s shocking that Eddie is just now realizing that Steve’s actually anxious. Normally Eddie considers himself better at reading people, when he’s not distracted with puffy, pink lips and a confusing line of conversation.

He looks down, rewinding the past week. He’d made it through his first week of his third senior year without anyone getting in his face. Maybe he’s old enough now that even asshole seniors like Jason Carver have decided to leave him alone. Thankfully it seems the offer also extends to Gareth, Kenny, and Jeff, who’ve only reported minor name calling and a light shove.

That’s where he spots them, stops the tape midway through lunch on Wednesday when a group of three freshmen approached the table. He’d spotted the curly-haired kid earlier in the week, bravely decked out in a Weird Al shirt and a hat from some science camp. The kid was enough of a freak to earn free admission to Hellfire, but the other two required a bit more thought.

Eddie clocked Little Wheeler through the station wagon window Monday morning when he’d cut Nancy off in the parking lot. The kid seemed alright, but with a priss like Nancy as a sister, it was a tough call. The other kid seemed a bit too sporty, and a little too interested in basketball tryouts.

When the three amigos started talking DnD, the guys invited them with open arms. It was a relatively peaceful lunch. Exciting even, at the prospect of adding new members to their campaign. They’d mentioned trying to convince a few of their friends to play. A girl named Max Mayfield, who turns out lives a few trailers down from Eddie.

But when the curly-haired kid mentioned Steve Harrington, the Hellfire boys clammed up tighter than nun’s ass. His named dripped from their mouths like it was covered in gold, the hero-worship rotting them from the inside and Eddie wouldn’t stand for it. No true freaks would stand to be friends with an asshole bully like King Steve.

Of course the freshies tried to argue, saying he’d changed. It didn’t matter to the Hellfire boys. Clearly the freshmen were corrupted, and they couldn’t be trusted. So he’d sent them on their way, and the three of them posted up in the corner of the lunchroom every day since. Far away from jocks and freaks alike.

Now, Eddie looks across the table and sees false bravado slathered over the anxiety etched into the former King’s face. He doesn’t know how three freshmen freaks found themselves under the wing of Steve Harrington, but it seems the feeling is mutual. Steve cares about these kids.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “I remember them. What’s it to you, Harrington? Aren’t they a little too old for a babysitter.” The joke falls flat when Steve sighs, heavy and exhausted, like somehow a rich boy from the Loch carries the entire world on his shoulders.

But he plays it off, trying to meet Eddie’s quip halfway. “Babysitters get paid, dude. I do it from the goodness of my heart or some shit.” Steve leans back, scrubs his hands over his face like he can erase whatever’s behind his eyes.

Eddie stares at him, hoping to catch a glimpse. The only consolation is Steve puts his other foot on the opposite side of Eddie’s, his ankle now fully cradled between Steve’s.

“They’re nerds, man.” Harrington states it like it’s a fact and not an insult he’s hurled at Eddie a hundred times over the years. “They’re freaks, you know– like you.”

Moment officially broken, Eddie scoffs, pushing away from the table wondering why he ever entertained talking with Harrington in the first place. As he grabs his lunchbox off the forest floor, he hears shuffling behind him.

“Wait,” Harrington shouts. “Just, fuck man, can you just let me finish?”

“Finish what, exactly?” Eddie snaps, whirling around to crowd into his space. He wears big and scary like how the King wears his crown and how assassins wield their blades. With enough power and confidence to scare off any enemy. “Finish listening to you shit on the little guy? Listen to you harp on the freaks of the world, or how you corrupted your little pions?”

“What?” Steve asks, lips pursed and eyebrows scrunched. Eddie’s not surprised his jock-rattled brain couldn’t find that word in its very limited dictionary, but what does surprise him is that Steve doesn’t back down. They’re practically nose to nose, so close Eddie can spot a small freckle on his lash-line, and Steve’s standing here like he doesn't have a care in the world while Eddie screams in his face.

It’s quiet again. He can hear the rustle of tall grass and birds overhead. He can feel Steve’s breath on his lips and Eddie can’t remember what they were talking about. Again.

Steve grabs his shoulders, and in his daze, Eddie lets himself be maneuvered back to sitting at the picnic table, while Steve stands in front of him.

“Are you always big and loud and obnoxious? Can you just cut the shit for like, five minutes so we can have a normal fucking conversation. Jesus christ, you’re practically perfect for them.” The last part is quieter, seems more like an unfiltered afterthought.

“Ok,” Eddie says. If Steve’s willing to take the crown off long enough to talk with Eddie, then maybe he can shed his own metaphorical battle vest. “Say what you have to say, then.”

Steve clears his throat, shuffles slightly as he gains his footing. He looks at Eddie with a determined set to his shoulders.

“Henderson, Sinclair, and even Wheeler– they’re my kids. I’ve spent the last nine months watching out for those little shits because all they’re good at is getting into the worst kinds of trouble.” Eddie tracks him as Steve paces the forest floor, rambling and raking a hand through his hair like it helps him think. “But I remembered you didn’t graduate, right? And you run that Dungeons and Dragons club–”

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie interrupts. Steve stops, turns to face him, and shoots him the bitchiest glare Eddie’s ever seen, but before he can say anything, Eddie pushes on. “You, Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, leader of meatheads and bimbos alike, know what Dungeons and Dragons is?”

Steve sighs, hands back on his hips as he rolls his eyes. “Ha ha, Munson. Don’t worry it’s all against my will, okay? I’m not coming to steal your freaks and weirdos so I can lead them too.” He smirks, and it pulls a laugh out of Eddie, shocked that Steve’s willing to joke around with Eddie at all, let alone when it’s at his own expense.

“Now, quit interrupting me, you’re as bad as Henderson.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips closed, only to open his mouth to swallow the imaginary key. Butterflies explode in his chest at the sound of Steve laughter, and Eddie wonders if bashing his head into a tree would be a decent excuse to explain the red flush erupting on his face.

“Anyways,” Steve chuckles. “They’re smart as shit but don’t know when to give something up just to get out of a fight. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten their asses handed to them already, and everyday I pick them up all I'm thinking about is which one of them I’m gonna have to stitch up. Sure, some of the guys in the grade below were alright, like Andy. But guys like Hargrove, like Carver.” Eddie can practically see the dark cloud form over Steve’s brow.

He remembers as well as anyone the fallout of Harrington v Hargrove, Fall 1985. There’d been endless rumors about what happened, each one more ridiculous than the last. Now he’s left wondering if it’s not really about Nancy, or drugs, or Billy fucking Steve’s mom, but about these kids. The timing checks out, nine months on babysitting duties lines up pretty well with when Steve showed up to school beaten and broken.

Maybe Steve isn’t all he seems to be.

“Guys like Carver won’t mess with you. They’re too scared you’re using DnD to worship the devil and get kids into sodomy and drugs and shit like that. I told them that you’d be cool. That you’re big and loud, that you play DnD like them. You're smart and you read the same nerdy books. I told them they’d be safe with you, man.” Steve rubs his face again, until his hands fall to the sides and he tilts his head up towards the sky. “I just need to know someone’s looking out for them. Please, Eddie, just–”

“Okay.”

Steve’s attention snaps back to him, relief written plain as day in the wide set of his smile. “You’re serious?”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Steve smile so unguarded, and never aimed his way. The sheer brightness of it fills him with warmth he wants to wrap himself up in.

All on top of the fact Eddie's never gotten this many compliments from anyone before, let alone from a guy as gorgeous as Steve Harrington. His ears are practically on fire.

“Yeah, Harrington. I’ll share custody of your little nuggets.” Before he knows what’s coming, Steve sweeps him up into a hug, lifts him fully off the ground and can feel the tinkling of his laughter on the shell of his ear.

“Thanks, Munson. Damn, you have no idea how freaked out I’ve–”

“What about the other stuff?” Eddie can’t stop himself from asking. He has to know, deep in his bones, that Steve is thinking this through. That Steve won’t change his mind in a few days or months and decide it’s time for Eddie Munson to eat dirt.

He lets Eddie go, but holds his shoulders at arms length to look him in the eye. Any lingering mirth has been replaced with intent curiosity. “What stuff, Munson?”

He can tell by Steve’s tone they’re both talking about the same thing. Rumors that’ve haunted Eddie since eighth grade after Davey Richardson beat him up under the bleachers. It didn’t matter that Davey kissed him first, all that mattered was he was popular and Eddie was weird.

He’d grown numb to the slurs over the years, but how could he forget hearing the reason why Byers beat the shit out of King Steve. The only surprise from that fight was it sounded like he never even tried to fight back.

“Harrington, if I don’t get to act loud and obnoxious, then you don’t get to play dumb.” The intensity of Steve’s stare reminds him of the few conversations he’d had with Chief Hopper before he’d died. The man could tear Eddie down to the bones with one glare, and he’s sure it’s the only reason the Chief brought him back to the trailer instead of a jail cell.

“Eddie,” Steve says, tone firm, “I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t care about the shit people say, especially self-righteous assholes like Carver. The only thing I give a shit about is you watching over the little gremlins and not selling them drugs, so I can breathe easier when I don't have eyes on them.”

Steve shakes him lightly, like it’ll sift this world-changing view into his brain, then pats his shoulder as he passes by him.

“Wait,” Eddie shouts, always a glutton for punishment. He spins around to catch Steve walking backwards away from him, hands in his pockets, effortlessly cool. The sun’s catching his hair again and there’s a smirk on his lips. “You really don’t care?”

Steve laughs, taking a step back. He chews on his bottom lip, and he smiles when he catches Eddie looking. Because he knows. Steve knows now, before Jeff or Wayne or anyone else.

“Eddie, whoever you decide to love or fuck– or not– is none of my business.” He turns to leave, and as Eddie relaxes he hears Steve call out, “unless you want it to be.”

Steve’s light laughter follows him out of the woods, and Eddie plops himself down in the same spot on the same wooden bench in the exact same forest as he always does every Friday after school. Except a twenty minute conversation with Steve Harrington leaves Eddie feeling like his world's been turned upside down.

Maybe ‘86 will be his year, after all.

[gisellecnz]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

💌 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Teen!Gojo Satoru x Teen!fem!reader

💌 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The most worst thing Gojo never wanted to happen became true. But after meeting the new transferee, all his problems went away.

💌 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Highschool 2009 jjk, Gojo being sad after the Geto incident, Reader is a transferee from Kyoto Jujutsu high, Reader is a 2nd year and Gojo is a 3rd year, fluff, slight angst

💌 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Might actually consider making this into a series... From Gojo meeting you for the first till you both are married and have children AACKKKK. Also, if you're wondering why it's not 2006, the year where gojo and Geto separated happened during 2009 and they were 3rd years

💌 𝐖𝐂: 1.4k

2009 — 2 days after Gojo and Geto separated.

.

.

.

That sickening feeling of regret gripped Satoru as he sat down on the rough, stoned surface of the stairs outside Jujutsu high. He tried to reminisce the moments he had shared with his one and only, best friend Suguru Geto. He hoped that it would relieve his feeling of remorse after the incident. But instead, it made him feel worse. So worse that it made him feel more empty–an emptiness that was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark. He's the strongest, but why couldn't he save his loved ones? He just wishes that he had the ability to rewind the time.

EVERYONE knew that the two bestfriends were inseperable. Yet, was what so important to Satoru had been taken away from him.

Not until......

"Yo, Satoru, are you okay?" Shoko asked as she was approaching the white-haired man, who seemed depressed. Who did nothing but just stared at the ground while sitting on the stairs. It was rare to see Satoru in this state—His usual joyful and playful attitude replaced by a quiet demeanor now, made Shoko feel bad for him.

"...Yeah, I'm fine, it's just that... " He paused, not knowing what to say afterwards. He couldn't think of any excuse.

"... Don't worry, I understand." Shoko replied as she pulls out another cigarette. Searching for the lighter in her pocket.

"..Oi, Ieri-san, what do you think, am I the strongest because I'm Satoru Gojo? Or am I Satoru Gojo because I am the strongest?" He has been pondering about the same questions over and over, and still couldn't find the answer to it. But just now Shoko was too busy with her cigarette, that she didn't perceive what was Gojo was saying.

"Sorry, we're you talking to me?" Shoko puffed the smoke out of her mouth, and puts the cigarette back in to her lips.

Gojo sighs, "Well, forget it. Let's just go, that old man might start exploding by now if we go back to his class late again. " He finally stood up from the staircase as he walks together with Shoko back to class whilst watching the bright blue sky through his sunglasses.

After a few walks on the way to class, Shoko spots an unfamiliar girl who was wearing the same uniform as her, she had a pretty face. But the girl seemed puzzled of where she is right now.

Shoko taps on Gojo's shoulder, "Hey, is that the new transferee from Kyoto? I heard she's the same year as Nanami."

Gojo looked down from the sky, "Eh? Ha? What transferee? Whe–oh... " The moment he laid his eyes on you, he felt a rush of emotions. He's confused of what he is feeling. Why is his heart beating so fast? Why does his face feel hot? What? What?? You're even prettier than the model that he has as his wallpaper on his phone, just who are you?

(hey!! Waka inoue is very VERY pretty, this is just based on Gojo's perspective in my fic) (Also, think of this as the bg music of this scenario the moment gojo lays his eyes on you)

The way he is feeling right now felt so soothing and comforting, as if that emptiness he felt earlier felt like it was no longer there anymore.

He felt weird—for him, he felt like there was a connection between the two of you. His six eyes tell him that he's just crushing over you, but his soul tells otherwise. You were absolutely WAY more than that.

.

.

"Oi! Satoru! Stop daydreaming, that girl seems confused right now. We should ask her." Shoko snaps her fingers in front of Satoru's face, bringing him back to reality. "O-okay...!" His whole body tensed, and Shoko cringed at his reply.

As they approach you, your gaze met Satoru's, he feels even more tense. By now his face turned as red as a tomato.

You quickly ran towards them, feeling relieved that you finally found people that you can ask help with finding your dorm. You may have been to Jujutsu high's sister school, but this school was way different than the one in Kyoto.

"Oh thank goodness. I'm a little lost right now, but you guys must be the 3rd years. I'm [last name, first name]. I'm a transferee from Kyoto Jujutsu high. Nanami-san has told me about what you guys looked like in case I ran into you. " You said shyly.

Shoko smiles at your introduction, she knew you the both would get along well. "I'm Ieri-san, I work with healing a ton of people. And this is–" The moment Shoko points at Satoru, he scratches the back of his head, trying to avoid looking at you. Fuck, he's never acted like this in front of new people before. What were you doing to him? The only thing he could do right now is just to shyly wave his hands at you. "–Gojo. He may look stupid but he's actually really strong, he's a special grader."

Shoko went to take a look at Satoru, thinking why he was so quiet. Usually when he goes to introduce, he'd go boasting. He could even take an hour to introduce himself. The way he looks right now was so awkward–Red face, sweating, the way his eyes were avoiding to look at you, and he ONLY waved at you. Now that she has given a thought to it, mischievous thoughts filled up in her mind. She now found a new way to tease Gojo.

Upon hearing their introduction, your face lit up. They sounded really cool! You were happy to have them as your seniors. At that moment you didn't notice Gojo's awkwardness; you were more concerned about finding your dorm. But you wouldn't mind a little talk with them.

"Oh, I've heard a lot about you and your insane powers! You're really famous. I knew you were in Tokyo Jujutsu high. So when I was gonna transfer, I was looking forward to meet you." You were referring to Gojo.

When you looked up at him, his sunglasses were resting on the bridge of his nose, revealing his ice-blue eyes. His long white lashes framed them perfectly. His eyes we're sparkling like a sunlight above the rim of his glasses. You were slightly taken aback by how breathtaking his eyes looked. And he also had a well sculpted face. Now you understood why you kept hearing girls squeal about this particular guy.

After Gojo heard your comment about him, he felt like he could seriously melt at this moment. He stuttered a short "...T-thanks..." in reply. How long will he stay here talking with you? He can't take it anymore!

And it seemed like the gods heard his prayers, Shoko gave Gojo a teasing look. She pat his shoulders and told you that he wasn't really feeling well today. "Sorry, this guy kinda got a fever today. He'd go bragging about himself if he wasn't. He's gonna have to go back to his dorm right now." Shoko looked at Gojo with raising her one eyebrow up, giving him a teasing smile. It pissed Gojo off that she knew he had an instant crush on you. But anyway, she still helped him. "Gosh darn it you Shoko. "—he mumbled.

You turned to look at Gojo to see he was turning away now, a little disappointed that you guys didn't really get to talk that much.

"...Oh, I see. Get well soon then!" You yelled, but not too loudly as Gojo was about to head back to his dorm. But after all the talking, you remembered why you were here in front of Shoko—"Oh yeah. I forgot to ask something, it says my dorm is **** but I don't know where it is. Please help me find it!"

And after that, she was able to help you find your dorm, but the thing is..

*what happened after*

Satoru: "Shoko, what the fuck do I do. It's like I'm being tested, her dorm is right next to mines!!!??" he panics.

Shoko: "Looks like somebody's whipped..." *she raises both her eyebrows up and down repeatedly*

Satoru: "Oh my gosh shut up, I feel like I could melt any minute. What the heck is that woman doing to me... "

Shoko: "You were all emo and stuff earlier, now you're all giddy? She really did a huge impact on you. Aaaanddd it's the first time you were acting timid."

Satoru: "I know! When I first saw her, it felt so weird. I dont know how to explain it! It's like....weird in a good way.... "

tags: @byakuya61085 @angelsleepinggurl

[hopeluna]

Mammon x reader

hope's notes: i don't know what this is, leave me alone D: (can u tell my writing is a little rusty? :')

Logically speaking, Mammon knew it wasn't possible. You can't have a heart attack just because you looked at someone, right?

Mammon also thinks that maybe he is a bit out of logic right now, from the moment you walked in. You were just...you? So, why did his chest feel so tight?

To rewind, earlier in the day Asmo had suggested going out together to party because "we hardly spent any time together anymore." Everybody, even work-ridden Lucifer, agreed reluctantly to quiet his whines. Mammon was on-board from the very first. It was settled that everyone was going to meet in the club at 8, have fun and hopefully in the rare case that nobody dies, everyone goes home peacefully.

Everything was alright at the beginning. Beel had mentioned that you were gonna arrive a little late due to some work holding you back. Mammon had to contain the pout that was forming on his face.

Maybe it was the flashing light, the hyper-energetic song thumping in his ears- but when Mammon caught a glimpse of you talking to Satan in one corner, he almost threw up.

You looked, so beautiful.

His heart clenches a little seeing you smiling and laughing at Satan. He's pretty sure Levi can feel the envy rolling off of him. He stutters in his step, making his way to get another drink. You look...divine. Your laughter seems to reach his ears over all the muffled music, you smile is blinding and the way your eyes light up everytime you talk, gesturing wildly with your hands, it makes him take a deep breath just to stabilise himself.

And yeah, sure he always thinks that about you but right now-right now felt completely different. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees Levi subtly judging him as he stumbled his steps. Maybe he did have a little too much to drink...

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part eleven.

Lando’s hotel room isn’t terribly bigger than yours. The bathroom is definitely a bit more spacious, and he’s got an actual seating area off to the side next to the bed rather than a single uncomfortably stiff chair, but the only difference you care about is that he’s got a balcony looking out over Manama and it provides a gorgeous view of the city’s nightscape.

The lights glimmer and gleam down below, a sea of liveliness that contrasts the peaceful quietness of the world from where you stand so high up above it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how beautiful some of the places we get to go to are,” Lando says, breaking the silence as he steps out onto the balcony with you. There are two glasses filled generously with the promised wine, and he hands one off to you before coming to rest against the railing beside you. “Six years now, and the view still takes my breath away.”

You hum in agreement, taking a sip from your glass. The taste of the wine is still sweet on your tongue when you answer back, “Getting to see the world like this always reminds me of how lucky I am to get to work in this sport.”

“Me too,” he murmurs softly. When you peek over at him, his gaze is cast out across the city, but there’s a look on his face that suggests the lights and streets below aren’t really what he’s focusing on.

You take a moment to observe. He’s no longer clad in the endearingly obnoxious papaya orange that makes up McLaren’s teamwear, and is instead dressed in a pair of baggy sweatpants that sit low on his hips and a T-shirt that’s been worn thin and hangs loose enough around his necklike that you can see the defined contours of his collarbones. His hair is freshly washed and the curls are still loose with the lingering dampness. From where you’re standing, you can make out the familiar tea tree scent of his shampoo.

It’s so domestic— and close to what things were like before Garrett Ward threw a wrench into it all—that it makes your heart clench painfully in your chest.

The dark circles are still there and you imagine they will be until he’s able to get some real rest, but there’s an easiness to him that wasn’t present earlier in the day. His shoulders aren’t as tense, and neither are they sagging under an invisible weight. He looks lost in thought, but not in the way you’ve seen in the past when his anxiety grabs hold and forces him into a worsening spiral of insecurity-fueled self-doubt.

Part of you wonders if it’s because of you— if your agreement to spend time with him and now your presence here beside him is partly responsible for this change in demeanor. The other part of you is desperately trying to bury those thoughts beneath the reminder of why you can’t think those things.

“I promised you stupid TV,” he says all of a sudden, turning his head and meeting your eyes.

You’d be embarrassed about being caught staring if it weren’t for the fact that his own eyes seem to trace every feature of your face before gesturing with a nod of his head towards the balcony’s door.

It’s easy to fall back into the swing of things from there.

The loveseat is quickly agreed to be too stiff and much too small to fit both of you and your shared tendency to stretch out and take up as much room as possible. Back at your flat, the two of you would’ve sat on either side of the couch with your legs tangled together in the middle and a blanket or two draped over your laps. Normally, Lando would poke the meat of your thigh with his cold toes, and in response you’d kick his shins until both of you were lost in fits of giggles and cackling so hard you’d have to rewind the TV to catch what was lost beneath the sound of your laughter.

There’s no cold toes pressing against your thighs or shin-kicking tonight, but you’re both bundled up under the covers of Lando’s bed and it feels right in a way that you haven’t had in a long time.

You’re watching pretty people clad in pretty bathing suits run around a pretty island complaining about their pretty people problems. A girl who looks like she could be a runway model falls into a sobbing mess after finishing a dramatic retelling of how the guy she fancies is tripping over himself for the other girls who all, also, look like they could be runway models.

Lando scoffs. “He looks like he’s a bad haircut away from being a troll. What does she even see in him?”

“The haircut combined with the abs are enough to make up for the rest of what he’s lacking in the visual department—” you drain the rest of your glass and bump him with your elbow to fill it back up again. “But if he got a haircut,” you continue when he’s taken your glass, “it’d be game over. At least the guy she was with before was nice and listened to her talk without interrupting every five seconds to say something about himself.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Lando exclaims, handing your newly filled glass back over to you.

The glasses you’ve already had sit warm inside you, like the relaxation the alcohol has brought about within has ignited a fire in your chest and is working to melt away the frost and the bone-deep chill of your loneliness.

Lando seems to be faring similarly, if the heated flush to his skin is anything to go by. His cheeks and, adorably enough, the tips of his ears are a rosy pink that remind you of what he looks like when he’s sunburnt. There’s an upward curl to his lips that looks more natural than some of the other smiles you’ve seen these past few days, and it gives him a lighthearted appearance that contrasts greatly to the frustration of earlier today. He’s giggly in the way he only gets when he’s tipsy, and the joyfulness is infectious.

You both started on opposite sides of the bed, leaving room in the middle like a physical reminder of the distance that still exists between the two of you until you can sort everything else out. But that distance has slowly disappeared as the night has progressed. You’ve each somehow migrated into the middle of the mattress and now his arm is pressed against yours and you can feel his body heat seeping in through the fabric of your hoodie.

You should probably be trying harder to regain and maintain the distance, for Lando’s sake if not your own. You don’t want to lead him into thinking that everything is fine and dandy again, especially when it isn’t. There are a number of conversations the two of you need to have still, and though you’re just as desperate to cling to the comfort of familiarity as Lando seems to be, you know that if you don’t hold yourselves accountable to confronting the misunderstandings then he certainly won’t.

Lando’s always been like that. He’s not afraid, persay, of confrontation, but he’s keen on avoiding it if possible. It’s one of many things that sets his anxiety off and you’re often very understanding at letting things go if only because they’re petty and small and not worth making him feel so bad over. But, despite how little joy you find now at the idea of forcing him to acknowledge his mistakes— the complete opposite feeling you imagined having weeks ago when you were still fueled by anger and frustration at his avoidance and seemingly lack of desire to take responsibility for the hurt he’s caused— you know it’s something you need to do.

Even still, having him close like this both physically and emotionally is so comfortable and familiar, and the wine has done it’s number on you and Lando both. The barrier you’ve kept around yourself the last few days— the barrier that serves as a reminder for why you need to be careful and stay away— has been chipped away by the sweet tartness of the alcohol and it feels liberating to be free of it, albeit temporarily as you keep telling yourself.

You think that if you tried to pull away now, to reinstate that distance and the subsequent reminder that it’s meant to be, it would be and feel like tearing off a limb and then expecting everything to be fine as you watch yourself bleed out.

So, instead, for the time being, you bask in his warmth and cherish what you have while you have it, until the alcohol fades from your system and your head clears and it’s time to be the bigger person again.

It’s significantly later into the night when Lando speaks up again. The clock on the nightstand says it’s nearing three in the morning, but the TV is still on and you and him are still curled beneath the sheets watching with rapt attention.

The bottle of wine is empty and on the floor, but the buzz of being a little more than tipsy still lingers in your blood, and in Lando’s too, considering his occasional fit of giggles.

“This is really nice,” he says quietly into the darkness of the room.

You raise an eyebrow at him, head murky with thoughts all swirling together in a whirlpool inside your mind. “I mean,” you shrug, “it’s a more interesting episode than the last, but I wouldn’t really call it nice. It’s still reality TV—”

He laughs and the sound is like bells ringing in your ears. It occurs to you briefly that you don’t recall having ever heard a more beautiful sound, but then you shove it down and brush it away with the reminder that it’s just the wine talking.

You try not to think about the fact that you weren’t drunk the last time you had that thought.

“No,” he shakes his head, “I mean, this. You and me, here, hanging out again.”

The silence hangs heavy between the two of you, broken only by the muffled sound of the voices on the TV and the occasional squeal of flirtatious laughter that’s louder than everything else. You let it linger for a few moments longer, tracing the profile of his face with your gaze and taking note of the downward twitch of his lips as his words sit unanswered.

Until finally, you whisper back, “I wasn’t the one who stopped, Lando.”

He swallows thickly, and suddenly the exhaustion is back on his face, painted across his features like a mask has suddenly been lifted. The soft flickering glow of the TV accentuates the bags beneath his eyes, making them appear deeper and darker, like bruises across his tanned skin.

“I know,” he whispers back. “I was afraid.”

“Of what?” You ask.

He shrugs, but the flinch he just barely suppresses tells you he knows perfectly well what he was afraid of. He turns to look at you, meets your eyes for a few fleeting seconds, then looks away once more and heaves a sigh that seems to carry with it all of his current troubles.

“That you wouldn’t need me anymore," he hesitantly reveals.

Lando’s anxiety is something you came to terms with relatively quickly into your friendship. It was hard, at first, to imagine someone who portrays themself with such confidence and friendliness to be so insecure and afraid, but the more you got to know him the more you realized that Lando has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders whether people asked him to or not. It was a burden he took onto himself as a way of proving— more so to himself, than anyone else— that he deserves everything he’s been given

He’s a perfectionist, you know this without a doubt. He’s too hard on himself, and doesn’t understand that failure is a part of growing.

He once tried to take up painting, but despite you mentioning multiple times that he didn’t need to know how to perfectly mimic a Rembrandt or a Caravaggio, the fact that he wasn’t immediately great at it was enough to have him spiraling into an anxiety attack that you coached him through in the family bathroom at a library in downtown London.

Afterwards, he’d reluctantly admitted that he was a perfectionist because nobody could argue he didn’t deserve to be where he was if he was the best.

But a person can’t be the best at being a friend. And you suspect that between changing schools as frequently as he did and karting taking up a majority of his freetime, Lando didn’t have many friends growing up. He never learned that some people genuinely enjoy him for who he is, rather than what he can do or offer.

“Lando,” you murmur sadly, reaching out from beneath the covers to take his hand. You shouldn’t, but seeing the way his eyes immediately focus in on the contact and the way his fingers squeeze back desperately at yours is enough to justify it. “You don’t ever have to worry about me not needing you. You’re my best friend. You’re the first person I’ve ever called my best friend. I will always need you.”

He sniffles. “I guess, I thought you wouldn’t want to, though. Still be my friend, I mean. If you had someone more important in your life to go to instead of me.”

“I’ve never wanted to be friends with someone more than you,” you answer back, squeezing his hand.

“But that’s the problem,” he says suddenly, voice upped an octave in a distressed whine. He turns to look at you and shakes his head, eyebrows pinched together like he’s in pain. His cheeks are still flushed from the alcohol, and the wine has stained his lips red. He looks so different from the Lando you know— from the Lando you’re usually allowed to see. “We’re just friends.”

“Lando…” you whisper.

He’s watching your lips.

When he kisses you, you can taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue. It’s frantic and desperate, and he holds you with both hands like he’s worried you’ll slip away if he doesn’t. There’s no butterflies in your chest or fireworks in your head like they always write about in novels, but there’s a buzzing at the tips of your fingers and toes━ pins and needles━ like your body’s been numb and is just now regaining sensation for the first time in forever.

You kiss back, despite a muffled voice in the back of your brain screaming at you not to. How can you listen to something that sounds so clearly like self-sabatogue when you finally have the opportunity to have what you’ve always wanted?

Lando pulls away first, only to catch his breath. His eyes dance across your face, like he’s trying to sear each and every feature into his memory. He caresses your cheek softer than you’ve ever been touched before, a brush of his thumb against your skin so gentle that you’d think you imagined it if not for the way his gaze follows the path of his stroke. He’s treating you like you’re precious━ not in a way that implies fragility, but like he’s too afraid to even take the risk of hurting you.

It’s a sentiment you can share, though you’ve never admitted it to anyone else and are reluctant to even acknowledge it yourself.

Lando is special━ all of the athletes you work with are special, but Lando is a different kind of special. Carlos, Daniel, Oscar, and Jack are all wonderful people that you’re incredibly thankful to have had in your life, but Lando’s the only one that you need in your life, that you’ll always need in your life.

He’s everything to you.

When he smiles, it’s like he’s taken a piece of the sun itself and found you worthy of being shone upon. When he laughs, it’s the most magical sound in the world, like music to your ears in a song composed for only you to hear. When he wraps you up in his arms, it’s like coming home and knowing that nothing can hurt you when you’re there. When he━

“Y/N,” he breathes. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, needy and whiney. He’s still panting, but he’s already leaning back down to take your lips again. You meet him half way in another heated kiss that rivals the desperate passion of the first, swiping your tongue against his lower lip and feeling a spark of heat jolt through you when he opens himself up to you easily.

Emboldened by his reaction, you brush against the hem of his shirt. You let your fingers dance teasingly across the sliver of warm skin that peeks out beneath, swallowing down the next desperate sound that threatens to slip past his lips.

“Lando,” you murmur against him. “We shouldn’t.” It’s a pathetic last ditch attempt to stop now while you’re ahead━ to do what you should’ve done from the beginning and pull away, go back to your hotel room a few floors down, and pretend this didn’t happen. To keep the distance.

He pauses, pulling away just far enough to give you a look. It takes you an embarrassingly long moment to stop staring at his kiss-swollen and spit-slick lips and actually meet his eyes. Between quick breaths he says, “Last I remember, you weren’t actually dating Garrett Ward.”

“But━”

“Do you want this?”

You nod.

“Then have it.”

And who are you to say no?

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: writing this last bit had me kicking my feet and giggling like a school girl i swear. but huzzah! it's here! i mentioned in the last author's note that i was ill, and i unfortunately still am. i've gotten over it enough to at least entertain the idea of doing more than sleep all day, but i'm still pretty much confined to my bed which makes it hard to get over to my desk where my computer is. most of this was written on my phone, so i do apologize if there are more errors than usual. similarly, this part is also a bit shorter than some of the past parts due to the same reason. anyways, talking about the actual story now, i have a love-hate relationship with this part because i like it but i also found it very frustrating and felt like i repeated myself an annoying amount of times with certain things. i hope it's enjoyable nonetheless, and that you're all happy they finally (after eleven parts, jesus christ) kissed.

[weebsinstash]

Ok so I kept procrastinating but I finally finished Masquerade earlier today and just. Oh my fucking god, kicking my feet, twirling my hair around a finger, giggling ,rewinding, smiling like a GOON, I have THOUGHTS

--Val's red coat is his WINGS and they're glorious. And not to mention he wears that like, slutty open chested black v neck underneath where he's lowkey showing off his nipples too, the slut. The gold heart belt buckle and the matching gold accented accessories too. Ugh. You can't say he doesn't dress up, and I really liked getting to see the full reveal of his body so to speak, the way his violet arms become black fingers, also is he, is he wearing like gold manicured claw cap things sometimes, why is he such a diva, he's so extra

--the Addict music video WASN'T just being artistic, Valentino's smoke CAN become physical actual chains and bondage and oh my gooddddddd I'm using this knowledge for EVIL purposes.

Boom! Sudden third eye opening moment, but remember that post I made about "Val who starts dragging you around on a leash because he's too much taller than you to keep leading you by the hand" ? His lower set of arms could totally hold onto you BUT I can totally see him using these chains all the time now, to drag you around and just restrain you and shit. Ugh. Just. Him having you completely immobilized and helpless and shaking like a chihuahua as he can run his fingers along you and whatever else he wants, listening to you gadp and squirm

-- ok I know the whole point of the poison music video was showing the horrible shit Angel is made to do and how he's dehumanized but like.... obviously, from.. a fetish perspective... you know what I think 😩❤️

Like you can't just show me a shot of Valentino having Angel in his arms and he's got all four arms wrapped around him in like almost an embrace, kissing, KISSING while they fuck. maybe I'm so shy but that's so... intimate, like, ok fuck my ass i guess, that's like sex, whatever, but kissing me on the MOUTH, let alone with tongue? you might as well be looking into my soul or something dofnofjfjg, not to mention Val biting his neck while they do it like you CAN'T me all of that and expect me to be normal!!!

--platonic yandere Husker with an alcoholic Reader though. He forces you into these weird little therapy sessions when yeah he still serves you drinks but he cuts you off when you're fucking plastered, like he enables you until you're having TOO much, amd by that point you're yammering with your loose lips and answering ALL His questions. Siiiiigh I can see him seeing how you're down on your luck and burying your worries and sorrows at the bottom of a bottle , getting so drunk you can barely sit up straight, and he starts getting protective of you, secretly following you to bars when you won't just get drunk at the hotel, making sure your drink doesn't get spiked, having to kick some ass to protect you and drag you home more than once

--i was such a fool. If Valentino is such a, quite frankly, perverted fucking idiot that he LICKS CHARLIE, fucking CHARLIE MORNINGSTAR upon first meeting her, he ABSOLUTELY does creepy shit to his darling day ONE. He CLEARLY has ZERO impulse control: he drinks, he smokes, he forces himself onto other people, he throws things when he loses his temper. He uses his power to be a bully and seeking unrestrained self gratification

--this is completely unrelated to everything else here but Zestial is hot in that like, antiquated charming eldritch evil kind of way. He seems like the sort of creature you could encounter deep within an enchanted woods, you're freshly dead and wind up in a bad part of Pentagram City and this TOWERING gentleman says some shit like "turn back child, there is no safety for you here". He's. He's sexy in that Neflix Castlevania Dracula way where there's an appeal in his age and his wisdom and his composure and just his full-on aesthetic and such. Like bro it's so easy to miss it but he's the oldest of the Overlords and he bowed in respect to Carmilla for what she did. He's chivalrous and loyal and just 👀 got my eye on him...

--bro watching Val manipulate Angel to get Charlie to leave fucking HURT and I've thought about Reader being in that exact scenario SO many times! Valentino is manipulating Angel to control you, and he's manipulating YOU to control Angel. Sure, he'll have Angel make you cry and chase you off so you don't get emotional and interfere with a shoot, or so that you don't sabotage whatever manipulated state he has Angel under at the time, but when you're off on your own drinking and crying and sobbing and feeling oh so horrible and pitiful, then Val is sibling up to you, cooing about, oh how MEAN Angel was to you, he didn't have to be so harsh to someone so sweet--

Could you imagine the fucking. Tiered angst and manipulation of Angel hurting Reader because Val pressured him to, and then Reader going off and getting drunk and being self destructive, and then at your emotional weakest Val is popping in to strike some kind of deal with you or fuck you or whatever, and then Angel blames himself, and here's Valentino, "that wouldn't have happened if you just did what you were told :3c" and Angel is even further under his control because now he's terrified he might "fuck up" and get you really hurt

--siiiiiiiigh imagine like drinking with Angel and you've been down there for like two months and you're idly chit chatting and, something something, you offhandedly mention something like "god fuck Val had me so fucking wasted I could barely sign my employee contract" CUE ANGEL IMMEDIATELY DROPPING WHATEVERS IN HIS HAND AND SHAKING YOU, "what do you MEAN you signed something??? You're just waiting tables, what did you SIGN???" And it turns out Val whipped out like ONE OF THE B I G "types" of contracts for you. God I really want some elaboration on how those contracts work and how Val or any Overlord strikes deals and even gains powers because it's very clear not everyone had the same level of abilities, and also lowkey the power scaling in Hazbin is kinda busted like not to be a dweeb but you've got people running around basically having Quirks

--ALSO THIS IS SO DUMB BUT I HAVE A COMPLAINT SIR. Valentino straight up says "no one watches porn for the dialogue" EXTREMELY INCORRECT BUZZER NOISE. When you've watched enough porn or at the very least you're hunting for a specific fetish, dialogue can be Duper important. You can see 20 different actors do the same scene BUT have a specific pair who, maybe used a specific line that stood out to you and made it unique and made it worth watching. You know for a long while there I was writing smut and feeling like I was doing the same descriptions over and over again and it kind of burnt me out and turned me off and that's when I tried to shift towards more emotional and environmental and thematic sorts of stuff

Listen all I'm saying is I have been ENAMORED like straight up with the idea of Reader becoming the fourth V because you become close to all the Vs and you have your own talents and they all like you and shit. You're able to pitch product ideas to Vox, even help him if you're a programmer or a coder or something, Valentino.... maybe you have magic hammer space pockets and can run him errands or you cook drugs or you're like a sexy bodyguard for him or, he just likes getting drunk and doing drugs with you, and Velvette is that #Bitch who you gossip with who likes to design new shit for you and bounce ideas off of you from time to time. Like the gradual slide of "oh we're all hanging out and they think I'm actually kind of cool," to "oh they keep inviting me to hang out. I feel special. I'm one of the cool kids. Maybe I even have fun powers and they encourage me to be mean and evil and its fun" to then "oh you're straight up shoving new clothes in my face and you keep using this one specific V nickname for me instead of my real name and I stg I don't have personal space anymore and I'm always being crowded by at least one of you literally 24/7"

God just. God. Just. GOD I AM SO WELL FED. I saw what Viv was selling and I got in line and I've finally gotten my food and it is FILLING, my craving for controlling obsessive possessive douchebags is sooooo sated right now 😩❤️

[in1-nutshell]

Human Buddy 'accidentally' adopted by Chromedome and Rewind

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Human Reader

MTMTE

They meet Buddy at Swerve’s. The pair had just heard about the new human joining the quest.

Buddy was the newest addition to the crew having been sent to look out for any unusual behavior with Megatron. Technically they were simply a glorified babysitter.

“Hey Megs!”—Buddy

“Yes?”—Megatron

“Are you having any evil thoughts?”—Buddy

“No?”—Megatron

“Okay, just making sure. Also, Rodimus is hiding in the supply closet in corridor 12.”—Buddy

“How did you know I was looking for him and rat him out?”

“You have that look in your optics… And he has been slipping in some of his work on my pile, it’s payback time. Happy hunting!”--Buddy

When Buddy sat down at the bar, Rewind was the first to approach Buddy. Chromdome had left earlier to go get their drinks and had gotten caught in Brainstorm’s rants.

He wanted to film a human for the longest time and now he the chance to do that.

“Hello there!”--Rewind

“Oh hello!”--Buddy

“I’m Rewind.”--Rewind

“That’s a nice name. I’m Buddy, but you already knew that didn’t you.”--Buddy

“Kind of hard not to hear the name when you’re the talk of the ship right now.”--Rewind

“I hope that doesn’t last too long.”--Buddy

“Oh don’t worry about that. Usually something bigger will come in and cancel that out.”--Rewind

“I don’t know if you’re joking about the bigger stuff.”--Buddy

“Trust me there have been so many things that have happened on this ship. For example, I’m not even from this universe, I’m from another one that got canceled out.”--Rewind

“What?!”--Buddy

“And the me from this reality was killed by Overlord!”--Rewind

“I thought that guy was dead!”--Buddy

Chromdome came in a few minutes after looking for Rewind. He saw his Conjux talking with the new human, who was showing them some videos from his camera.

He had been curious about the new human amongst the crew. He decided to go and joined in the conversation.

“Oh, Domey you made it!”--Rewind

“Domey?”--Buddy

“That’s his nickname for me. The names Chromedome.”--Chromedome

“Oh! Youre the guy that Prowl’s talked about!”--Buddy

“Prowl?”--Chromedome

“Prowl!?”--Rewind

“Yeah, something about you two being partners and all but it was kind of hard to hear some of the stuff when multiple tables are being flipped near you.”--Buddy

“Heh. He does have a thing for flipping them doesn’t he.”--Chromedome

“Yes! One time he flipped one and I was inside the drawer!”--Buddy

“What! Really?!”--Rewind

“Oh yeah! I was just looking for some of my data pads in there when the next thing I knew I was flying inside the thing and landed with my butt in the air!”--Buddy

“Now you have to tell us the rest of that story.”--Chromedome

“With pleasure!”--Buddy

Everything went on from there.

Buddy soon began meeting up with the couple weekly. The newly formed trio would talk anything under the metaphoric sun. It could have been about the latest reports to stories about the ship before Buddy came on board.

“So that’s where Ratchet’s hands came from?”--Buddy

“Yeah, Drift cut them clean off!”--Chromedome

“Wow!”--Buddy

“That’s nothing on what happened with the Sparkeater.”--Rewind

“What’s a Sparkeater?”—Buddy

The meetings soon became daily. The talks soon became more personal and longer, not that either party minded. It was the level of trust that was shown, and each was glad to have experienced.

Even though Rewind was the first to become acquainted with Buddy, it was Chromedome who first started having other thoughts about Buddy.

He felt very protective over Buddy but not in the way he felt protective of Rewind. Chromedome wanted to protect Buddy from any harm physically, mentally, and emotionally. He wanted to be there for Buddy. He loved them like if they were his own—

Oh

Oh…

He had a talk with Rewind about the sudden situation they were thrusted upon. Thank goodness too because Rewind was just coming up with the same feelings.

They both talked and agreed to talk to Buddy about the situation like civil adults.

Of course, on the Lost Light no plan goes according to plan.

The pair was waiting for Buddy in their usual spot when they spotted Buddy coming in.

They greeted each other as a larger bot came in front of Buddy.

They were clearly intoxicated as they began belittling Buddy.

“What’s a fleshy like you doing here anyways?”—Random Bot

“I beg your pardon?”--Buddy

“There's no way that this is the only-hic- reason you’re here. A puny organic like you. I -hic- I bet I could just flex my digits and you’ll be a smear on the floor. Human scum.”—Random bot

Rewind was ready to throw servos. How dare that bot talk to Buddy like that!?

Chromdome was already standing up not sure if to restrain Rewinds full wrath or to tackle the bot.

But as it turned out, they didn’t need to do that.

“You gonna say something Fleshy? Or is your tiny processor still thinking on what to say?”—Random bot

“…Oh, you’re finally done with the petty names and poor excuse of insults. Where those insults? I couldn’t tell if they were with that poor execution. Anyways since we are calling each other names, it’s my turn.”—Buddy

Buddy gave him the verbal beating of the century.

The bot ran away crying.

The bar was cheering.

“Way to give it to them Fleshy!”--Whirl

“Cyclonus can you please let go of my audials?”--Tailgate

“No.”--Cyclonus

“Drinks on me Buddy. You earned one.”--Swerve

“WOAH! THAT’S MY KID RIGHT THERE! THAT WAS AMAZING!”--Rewind

“Kid?”--Buddy

“I’m proud of you Kiddo. You stood you’re ground and made a grown mech eat his words!”--Chromedome

“Kid?”--Buddy

“…Oh…”—Chromedome and Rewind

“Keep your family drama away from my drinks. And congratulations on the kid you love birds.”--Whirl

“Whirl! Leave my dad’s alone!”—Buddy

“Dad?”—Chromedome

“Dad’s!?”—Rewind

“You’re welcome.”--Whirl

The three did end up talking about what happened in the bar a bit later. It was only to make sure everything was understood about the names.

Now the three carry their new titles with pride as one family unit.

[dalekofchaos]

Dark!Max Caulfield au

So after looking at a piece of fanart by tovanori

I was inspired to write this post on what a dark version of Max Caulfield would look like My dark Chloe au post

So saving William is the decision on what makes Alternate Max a member of the Vortex Club. What could make Max Caulfield dark? I've come up with multiple ideas

This Max in all three different timelines would wear red and black. Red and black three piece suits or Black hoodie and Red Coyote shirt to symbolize how different this Max would be.“The coyote is a complex dream symbol. … The appearance of a coyote in a dream may symbolize a lack of ambition or a weakness of some kind. It may also indicate that you are attacking those around you who are weaker and can't defend themselves as well. Coyotes represent “tricky” and unexpected elements in life.“ “A Navajo saying holds that if Coyote crosses your path, turn back and do not continue your journey. The coyote is an omen of an unfortunate event or thing in your path or in the near future.“

This is a Max Caulfield who never meets Chloe Price, without Chloe in her life, Max turns cold and more introverted. Only having a morbid sense of photography and her sense of style catches Jefferson's eye. He helps her perfect her craft and lets her in on the dark room. And after taking this apprenticeship, Max's ability to rewind awakens and she uses it to help Jefferson perfect their art. Max lures them under the guise of friendship and a smile, but that smile is bait. Max, Jefferson and Nathan work together to perfect their models, but what changes is Max and Nathan fall in love. Because of this, Nathan is not fixated on Rachel Amber. Max helped Nathan in becoming a more stable and dependent person and Max is the person who helps Nathan achieve the Prescott destiny with Max by his side.

Nathan kills Chloe before her eyes, Nathan kills himself and this leaves Max traumatized. This leaves Max vulnerable and malleable to be indoctrinated and groomed by Jefferson to becoming his new apprentice. Max becomes detached, cold and ruthless. She acts as the bait for the victims and doeses them and delivers the new models to Mark while he photographs them in the dark room and after Jefferson is done, Max disposes of them. It starts as just wanting a new partner, but soon blossoms into obsessive love. Mark loving Max and Max loving Mark and both willing to killing anyone that comes between them. Her powers never come and the storm never arrives. All that's left is Jefferson and Max working together to find the perfect muse for their sick obsessions and no one would ever expect them while they masquerade as the famous photographer and his prized pupil and as lovers, in reality they are wolves among the sheep.(I don't ship the cursed ship, I just felt it was the darker direction for this timeline)

This is a Max who has lived in Seattle all her life, Victoria Chase is her childhood best friend and she meets Mark Jefferson earlier than she would in canon. Jefferson offers to take Max on as his apprentice and Max is so enamored by the famous photographer and her parents couldn't be more thrilled. Jefferson helps Max to become a better photographer, helps her become more confident in her abilities, give Max a sense of style and flair and lets Max in on his true nature and to his surprise, she doesn't flinch, in fact she offers to help him with his victims and gets Victoria to join them. While Victoria flinched at first, she came around. As long as she's with Max and her favorite artist, it's all worthwhile to Victoria. Victoria would be who lures the models while Max and Victoria went to work. The Chases would help finance their "projects" because having a renowned photographer like Jefferson in their gallery is an opportunity they cannot pass up and thinks Victoria's idol will be the role model she desperately needed. Eventually they move shop to Arcadia Bay. Get in touch with the Prescotts and help set up the Dark Room. Eventually Nathan becomes a problem and Victoria tries to help him and Nathan lashes out, Max witnesses this and sees Nathan trying to kill her and that's when her powers manifest. Victoria goes to Max and they begin to plan Nathan's downfall. But as Nathan falls, Jefferson notices and feels Victoria has become a distraction to Max and tries to kill her. Max makes the hard choice. Her best friend and the girl she loves or Jefferson her mentor. Max lures Jefferson into a trap. When he thinks he has Victoria at her mercy, Max doses him and ties him up. Jefferson loses it, raging at her for betraying him after all she did for her and demands she unties him and kills Victoria. Max gets the gun and says "It's like you always taught me, Mark. Always take the shot" and just like that, Jefferson is dead. They go back to Arcadia Bay and see the storm raging. They make it to the lighthouse and see all the destruction. Victoria is distraught and asks Max what they should do. Max kisses Victoria and says "fuck it, let's blow this town and go back home." All that matters to this Max is Victoria and she'll be damned if Jefferson or a freak storm will take her from her.

[bradtomlovesya]

Choices. 1

One: It Has Always Been Her

Peter Parker x reader series

Summary: Everybody forgot who Peter Parker was. All his world tunerd grey until he met you and you started dating. It could have been perfect if it wasn't for the fact that MJ comes back and, surprise! She remembers EVERYTHING.

Warnings: Pure Angst!, some descriptions of sex (+18), swearing, mentions of death.

w/c: 4.2k +

a/n: First chapter of this series. I hope you enjoy it and by "enjoyt it" I mean, cry with me, lol. Likes, reblogs and comments are much appreciate it as always. If you want to be added to my permanent tags there's a link on my masterlist and if you just want to be added for this series tag list you can leave a comment. Gif not mine

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"Can I come in?" he asks with his hands in his pockets.

"I don't think that's a good idea" you deny. Your voice comes out in what is little more than a whisper.

"Y/n... please, I just want to talk" he pleads. His gaze is as pleading as a puppy's when he sees that you only have one bite left and you haven't given him any yet.

"I think I need time" you say without looking at him.

~How did I get to this place?~, you wonder. ~How did it all end up so fucked up?~

Maybe we should rewind it so we can understand.

—---------------|°|-------------------

- 8 months earlier -

Second semester of college. You're a nervous wreck, how will your classes be this semester, will you be able to understand everything you need to?

Anxiety invading your body like thousands of electric currents flowing through you. You can calm them, but you can't get rid of them. They are part of you, your anxiety is just trying to keep you safe after all.

You look at the small piece of paper in your hands, it's the only thing you had on hand at the time to write down the room number of your classes after asking the secretary. Of course it was more of a scribble than anything else. The lady was in a hurry, after all.

"Excuse me" you walk up to what appears to be your classroom and there is nothing but a boy sitting in the back. "Sorry, sorry to bother you" you bite your lip, the boy looks up somewhat sheepishly and watches you. "Is this Mr. Anderson's class?" you ask at last.

"You're in the right place" he nods with the warmest, friendliest smile you've ever seen.

Slowly the room begins to fill up, you try to make your way through but fail miserably. It's a buffalo onslaught and you're just a little bunny. The chairs fill up, there aren't many empty seats.

Your eyes meet his again, he's watching you. He tries to tell you something and that's when you see him point to his backpack on the chair next to him. He's saving you a seat.

Your heart slows down, all means you already have a place to sit.

You walk over to him and carefully sit down as he removes his backpack.

"I appreciate it very much, you saved my education" you try to break the ice the only way you know how, by making a little joke.

Luckily his sense of humor is just as strange and you manage to get a chuckle out of him.

"I'm glad I did..." he pauses, waiting for you to tell him your name.

"Y/n, I'm Y/n Y/l/n" you extend your hand in greeting and he takes it without hesitation.

"Peter Parker" The smile never leaves his mouth.

Deep down inside you know you should have met him.... You were never one to believe in coincidences, but you did believe in fate.

Even if this could be your place of peace and your downfall at the same time.

- 7 months earlier -

"You can't tell me you've never seen the star wars movies" Peter denies, a rebellious curl decides down his forehead and distracts you for a second.

That thing he told you about him not being popular at school was hard to believe. Peter was the most interesting, kind, simple, honest and tender person you've ever met. Not to mention that his little freckles, deep-set eyes, chocolate hair and Greek God body made it even more difficult to believe.

You knew he'd had a girlfriend. However, Peter always avoided the subject. He would say that he had broken up with her because they would go to different colleges but only that. You knew it wasn't a subject you should bring up, not if you didn't want Peter's mood to change at the drop of a hat. Not in a bad way, just like his energy would suddenly go out.

"Well you can show them to me now, can't you?" you bite the end of your pen. You were supposed to be 'studying'. To be honest, it was hard for you to concentrate when he was looking at you with that cute smile.

"I think so..." He nods slightly. "Surely you don't want to keep studying?"

"Pretty sure, that's not the only reason I invited you over" You avoid his gaze and a pink tint covers your cheeks. You're embarrassed and Peter knows it. He can hear your heartbeat racing. That would matter to him if it weren't for the fact that his is the same.

"Then let's watch the first movie" He nods. "I like spending time with you."

Your heart melted... Oh, if only you'd left it in the freezer.

- 6 months earlier -

You found out Peter was spiderman by accident, you didn't mean to and neither did he.

You were in his apartment because you had decided you had had enough of hiding your feelings. You liked Peter, a lot. You couldn't go on with the uncertainty anymore, you really hoped he would like you back.

You had the keys to his apartment, you lived in the dorms and your roommate wasn't very quiet, let alone calm, so Peter offered you his apartment to study in during exam season. However, you decided to use the small advantage to prepare something nice for him, something you could confess to.

You prepared a dinner for both of you and put on that skirt that Peter once said he liked because it brought out the color of your eyes.

Everything was ready and would have been perfect had it not been for Peter aka Spiderman. He decided to go out patrolling the neighborhood that night and found himself engaged in a battle that left him breathless. He came out victorious, but more tired than usual, his senses were not very sharp and he allowed himself to enter through the window of his room and remove his mask without realizing that you were already there. Sitting on his bed waiting for him.

"Peter?" you murmur petrified. You definitely weren't expecting this, let alone him.

"Y-Yn? W-What are you doing h-here?" he looks you up and down and stutters. You don't know how to explain it but you still try "I can explain" You look at the mask in his hand.

"You're spiderman" Your gaze is lost. You try to get back to the here and now.

"No!" He exclaims but denies right after. "I mean, yes but-" He's even more nervous than you are.

He didn't want you to know. Having the important people in his life know that he was spiderman brought him nothing but trouble.

More importantly, he didn't want to put you in danger. You, the only good thing he had achieved after all the bad things that had happened exactly 8 months ago.

"Oh wow..." You stand up and your eyes search his. "That explains why you were disappearing without saying where you were going" you sigh in relief "I thought you had a girlfriend I didn't know about or something... this is totally a relief."

"A relief?" now he's the one who's confused. "So bad it was that I had a girlfriend"

"Maybe... a little" you shrug. You came here to be honest and that's what you're trying. Even after the bombshell of information you just got, that doesn't change anything, the reason you came is the same.

"It's good that you're not scared but what are you doing here? As far as I know we didn't arrange to meet, did we?"

"Now the surprise was for both of us" You joke to lighten the mood.

"You're not wrong there" he laughs lightly. "What kind of surprise?" He looks at the pair of candles around you.

"One where I tell you I like you, Peter" you say bravely. You feel proud that you could do it even though your palms are shaking.

"And after this?" His eyes don't leave yours. His heart is beating a mile a minute, he couldn't believe you felt the same way he did even though he was worried about what might happen after you discovered his other side.

"You being Spiderman doesn't change my feelings for you, Peter. I like you and spiderman won't make it any different" You smile at how crazy that sounded. The guy you like is spiderman.

"I like you too" his smile widens and he takes a step towards you.

"Really?" you ask incredulously.

"Totally" he nods and you place your arms around his neck.

You don't know what to say so you choose to do. You move your face and kiss his lips. You really hope he reciprocates and, apparently, your pleas have been heard because he does reciprocate.

Your first kiss, the first of many punishments.

- 5 months earlier -

You know Peter is not someone who opens up easily, actually. You think you're his only friend (now more than friend) at this university.

When he's not with you, he's on patrol, attending his classes or doing homework in the library, which he usually does with you as well.

You are both excellent study partners. Peter, besides being your boyfriend, is your best friend and teacher. He is your person and you are sure that you are his.

However, you were surprised when you asked him why he never talked to you about his past friends or family.

"My parents died years ago. My aunt was my only family member and she died recently and my friends went to college in another state so we lost touch." Was the only thing he answered.

You were dying to know more. You were too curious. You weren't insensitive though and you didn't want to push him to tell you things you knew he wasn't ready to say.

Maybe you should have asked a little more. Maybe about why he ended his last relationship, because you knew he'd had one.

Or why he never talked about it. All of this was an unknown to you.

- 4 months earlier -

You had been dating for two months as an official couple when you both decided to move to the next level in your relationship.

Peter knew you were a virgin and had never done anything with anyone beyond a steamy make out session and you were surprised (and somewhat relieved) to learn that he hadn't either even though he had a girlfriend.

Peter commented that he and MJ had never gone any further, however, he was open to going as fast or as slow as you thought best.

And so it was, when in one of your hectic make out sessions in his small apartment, you ended up with your lips around his cock and the tip of it hitting the back of your throat.

Clearly you both agreed and that wasn't the only thing that happened that night. A few minutes after his cum ran down your throat, your boyfriend knelt on the bed and spread your legs and positioned himself between them.

More than returning the favor, Peter was going crazy over the soaking wetness of your hormones in the big wet patch that inhabited your panties. His arachnid senses were driving him to a point where he found himself drooling to taste you, to devour you as if he hadn't eaten in years.

And, with your consent. Peter wasn't going to stop until the last drop of your fluids was tasted by his tongue.

- 3 months earlier -

And then came your first fight. You were upset with Peter aka spiderman, because he hadn't answered your messages all day after going out on patrol the night before without telling you he had returned home safely.

His excuse was "my phone ran out of battery" but you knew it was a lie because every time you sent him a message, the word "received" appeared and two little popcorns reinforced it.

The messages did arrive. Peter just didn't want to answer them or was too busy to do so. Either way, he was lying to you and that's what bothered you the most.

You already knew he was Spiderman, what else could he be hiding from you? you asked yourself.

What you didn't know was that Peter made a trip to MIT every week to check on Ned and his ex-girlfriend MJ.

It was probably best that you didn't know. Parker wouldn't know how to explain it to you and he didn't want to have to.

You were his girlfriend now, you were practically all he had. But it wasn't easy for him to let go of what he had lost with such regret and he wondered how things would have been if everything hadn't gotten out of control.

And that was the reason why the brown-haired man didn't answer the phone. He couldn't answer it to the present, which was you. As he watched MJ, who was his past, study through the window of one of the libraries.

You were finally able to settle your argument. Peter apologized and said it wouldn't happen again. However, he never gave you a real explanation of what had happened and, since it was the first time, you preferred not to argue and let it go.

You didn't want to pressure him, although perhaps you were being too understanding.

- 2 Months before -

And you finally had your first time. The first time for both of you, together and as individuals.

It was a bit awkward due to your mutual inexperience but once you got the hang of it, you couldn't stop and it became a magical night that neither of you would ever forget.

"I'm glad you were my first time" you heard him murmur in your ear as he moved his index and ring fingers over your arm in a caressing manner.

"I'm glad you were mine" you smiled and left a kiss on his lips. All you wanted was to freeze this moment in time and treasure it forever.

You had had your first time with someone you loved and you knew he wouldn't leave you just because you had already had sex with him.

Peter was a kind and sweet man. He was everything you had always dreamed of in a perfect boyfriend and nothing could ruin the bubble of happiness you both had gotten into.

That night, the hazel-eyed boy couldn't sleep. His thoughts wandered as he watched you sleep and, for the first time since the incident. He allowed himself to be completely happy without feeling guilty about what he had left behind.

For the first time in a long time he allowed himself to feel complete and loved. In addition, he made the decision not to check back on the people of his past. He had to move forward just as they had done and because he had you.

You were now his world and all he wanted was to make you happy and protect you from all evil and danger.

That night. Peter understood that all the love and peace he had lost. Now he had regained them with only one person and that person was you.

It was time to make new friends, enjoy his present and look to the future.

- 1 month earlier -

One night, Peter was kissing your neck while you were sitting on his lap. You slid your hands under his shirt and heard him moan as your fingers brushed against something you didn't know was there.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" you asked in a sweet but concerned tone.

"It's okay, I'm fine" He tried to affirm you with one of his smiles but you knew it wasn't right.

"Can I?" You looked him straight in the eye as your hands traced the edge of his shirt. As soon as he nodded, you lifted it up and saw a cut that wasn't there yesterday. "Peter, what happened here?" your voice sounded sad. It was the first time you had seen a cut that size on his abdomen.

"I slipped and fell on a glass. I'm fine, it's not serious, darling" He ran his hand across your cheek and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear.

"It's serious to me" you sighed and looked him in the eyes "Can I help you clean it and bandage it?" You mumbled. The brown-haired man nodded with a slight smile and watched you walk into the bathroom.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the first of many times you helped Peter with his bumps and bruises. Plus, you became his accomplice and his chair girl at the same time.

Now Peter Parker understood that he was not alone, he had you.

- Two weeks before -

You and Peter were at the fair. You had gone through most of the rides, especially the ones that make you throw up, and thought it was time to get something to eat.

"Hot dogs?" you asked as you held his hands in front of you.

"I'm dying for a hot dog" he nodded with a smile and tried to go for them but you stopped him.

"Wait here" you laughed. "Can't a girlfriend treat her boyfriend to a hot dog?" You raised one of your eyebrows.

"Sure she can" the brown guy laughed, grabbed your waist and kissed your lips "don't be too long."

"I won't" you smiled and kissed his lips one last time before walking towards the stall that wasn't too far from there.

Peter smiled as he watched you walk away until a voice called out to him. A voice he hadn't heard in a while.

"Peter?" said MJ behind him. Peter turned and froze not knowing what to say. "Peter it's me, MJ" Michelle took a step towards him. "I remember everything."

Peter's mind began to spin and his heart began to race.

"How?" your boyfriend asked in just a whisper.

"Maybe you were erased from my memory but your stuff wasn't" MJ smiled slightly "the necklace, your pictures and among other things were still in my room at my parents' house" she sighed. "It took me longer than I expected but I told you. I figured it out once, I'll do it again" her eyes were watery.

"You were always so smart" Peter smiled and took another step forward. He knew he shouldn't. You'd be back any minute but the shock and excitement was too strong. "You remember..." peter took her face in his hands.

"I do" she nodded smiling and wiped a tear from Peter's cheek.

Before either of them realized it, their lips were already pressed against each other. MJ remembered. That was all Peter was thinking at that moment and it would have been perfect except you were a few steps away from them, two hot dogs in hand and a completely broken heart as you watched Peter, YOUR Peter, kissing someone else.

- Present day -

"Y/n... please, I just want to talk" he pleads. His gaze is as pleading as a puppy's when he sees that you only have one bite left and you haven't given him any yet.

"I think I need time" you say without looking at him.

"Time? Y/n, please. Let me explain," says the chestnut while holding the door so you don't close it.

"What are you going to explain to me? Why you had your tongue in someone else's mouth while I was watching you?" You stop trying to close the door and look him in the eye.

"It wasn't just anyone" he walks past you and enters your apartment without your permission. "It's MJ."

"Your ex-girlfriend? That's supposed to make me feel better?" your head hurt. You hadn't eaten or slept well for two weeks.

"No, y/n. It's not that" he denies. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, just let me explain." He tries to take your hands but you take a step back.

"You said you were over because she was in another university" you cross your arms.

"That's partly true" he sighs. "A year and a few months ago Mystery revealed my identity to everyone. MJ was my girlfriend at the time and my best friend's name was Ned-" he takes a breath and continues. "I went to doctor strange and asked him to cast a spell but it all went terribly wrong and I-"

"What does this have to do with you kissing your ex?" you frown.

"The point is. Villains from many multiverses showed up and to right my wrong Dr. Strange had to cast a spell making everyone forget who Peter Parker is" he continued.

"Including MJ?" you ask.

"Including MJ" He nods.

"So you broke up because she didn't remember you. Not because you wanted to break up with her" you deduce.

"Yeah and, the night of the fair. MJ showed up and said she remembered everything. I don't know how but I got carried away with my emotions and did something stupid without thinking about anything else-"

"Or anyone else" you interrupt him and dry your tears with the sleeves of your sweater.

"You don't know how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you. I love you more than anything, Y/n" his eyes crystallize.

"But you love her too" your voice cracks. "What do you plan to do now? What's your plan, Peter?"

"I... I don't know" he dries his nose with his arm.

"You love her. You didn't want to leave her." You sob. "Why don't you go back to her then? You can tell you're not over her" you were trying to stay strong but it was practically impossible.

You didn't even understand how you believed his crazy story, but this was Peter we were talking about. Spider-Man in a world where people disappeared for 5 years because a purple alien had snapped his fingers using the infinity gems. It wasn't too crazy to believe that everyone forgot who Peter Parker was.

"I am over her. I decided to stop watching her the first time we- we slept together" he whispers in a sigh.

"When?" you frown. "What?" you analyze word for word what he said "You decided to stop watching her? What the fuck does that mean?" Now more than hurt, you were confused and annoyed.

"I-. I used to go to her college and watch her and Ned just to see how they were doing and to make sure nothing bad happened to them." He tries to explain. "One of those times I forgot to text you and told you my phone was out of battery." He swallows.

"I knew you lied to me, Peter. You were never good at lying," you sob. "But I never believed you were watching your ex all this time" you sit back on the couch. You are weak, as weak as someone famished. "I thought we were both 100% in this relationship but you kept clinging to the past" your vision is blurry, you don't know if from tears or lack of sleep.

"I know I should have been honest. I shouldn't have lied to you. I should have trusted you with my thoughts and feelings... it's just not easy for me" he sits down next to you and his hand rests on your knee.

"So what are you doing here then, Parker?" you use his last name. You're being serious and he knows it. Although, if he's bothered by your name calling, he doesn't say so. "It's more than clear that you've been waiting for this moment for a long time. Why don't you go with her? I can't compete with that, I never could." Your eyes watch the tile and you just hope you don't faint. It all feels so overwhelming.

"It's not about competing. It's not a competition, love." The endearing nickname leaves his lips but doesn't give you butterflies this time.

"Of course it's about competing! What was me? Your consolation prize?" You look him in the eye. He can't hold your gaze, he knows he did too much damage. "You settled for me just because you couldn't have her? Well congratulations, your pleas have been heard. Now get the hell out of my apartment!" You raise your voice and get up from the couch. You are upset with him but with you more than anyone else for allowing yourself to love him without first asking more questions and pressing for an answer.

"Y/n please...don't say those things. You know I love you. I fell in love with you the moment I met you" his gaze is pleading. He doesn't want to leave, he doesn't want to leave you but he doesn't know how to stay either.

"I don't know if you love me, I don't know if it's true" you sniff. "What I do know is that I love you and you hurt me like I never thought you would. Don't get me wrong, besides your girlfriend, I was your best friend and as a friend I understand how happy you must be that your first love remembers who you are. But I also understand that that "first love" is not me. Pick her, Peter. Go to her. You were always more hers than mine. Even when we were together you were looking for her."

"---I don't want to be your second choice, it hurts too much." You squeeze your eyes shut to still your sobs. "Pick her, it was always her."

It has always been her.

-------------------------------------

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[steviewashere]

Your Body is Warm Next to Mine

Rating: General CW: None Apply! Tags: Post-Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Steve Harrington Likes Back Scratches, Eddie Munson Likes Giving Back Scratches, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Tired Steve Harrington, Sappy, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names

Based on This Tweet

(Two Times Eddie Scratches Steve's Back)

😴—————😴 1.

“Getting tired, baby?”

Steve hums. He wants to feign wakefulness. Pay attention to the rest of the movie that Eddie put on. Keep talking and cuddle in close and eat junk food. But he’s wiped. A long shift at Family Video earlier in the day with the addition of a few errands he had to run afterwards, tired doesn’t even cover what he’s feeling. Something more akin to mush. Just a heavy fog. Partially floating. Partially sinking into his spot on the couch. “Could say that,” he mutters.

The movie’s dialogue comes to an abrupt stop, most likely from Eddie pausing it. Then, the player whirs as it rewinds the tape. The TV crackling when it gets turned off. Hands wrap around Steve’s, warm and welcoming. They squeeze and tug lightly. “Alright, Stevie, let’s head up to bed,” Eddie murmurs.

He follows in a sludge. Through their apartment’s hallway, past the bathroom, and straight into the center of their bedroom. Steve shucks his pants off, replaces the polo he’d been wearing with a plain grey t-shirt, and unceremoniously collapses into bed. Behind him, Eddie chuckles, still carefully getting dressed into his pajamas. His hand gently taps at Steve’s left calf, ushering him to move up the bed and over to his spot. The left side meeting his skin like an early morning breeze.

Once Eddie lays on his side, Steve grabs for his right hand. Places it on his back. And then shimmies down into the mattress. One arm under his pillow, the other laying between them. He opens his eyes, raises his eyebrows slightly, and tries for his best pleading glance to where Eddie’s hand lays on his back.

He sighs into his position when Eddie lightly rolls his eyes, but immediately works his hand under Steve’s t-shirt. His eyes flutter close again, but he doesn’t fall asleep quite yet. Instead, he quietly requests, “Tell me about your day?”

With the tips of his fingers, Eddie begins by tracing the edges of Steve’s scars. Over the thick tissue, around the planes of sensitive and plush patches. He takes an easy breath and begins to whisper, “Well, I woke up while you were in the shower this morning. And I didn’t want to interrupt your little concert that you were having—“

“I don’t sing in the shower,” Steve feebly argues.

Eddie chuckles under his breath. “Hmm, must live next door to George Michael then,” he muses. His thumb presses into the top of Steve’s spine, running down in a single line. “But I didn’t want to interrupt, so I went out for a little walk around the complex. There weren’t any strong winds. Nobody was outside that early except for a couple smokers. The light breeze was on my face. Felt amazing,” he murmurs. His hand flattens against Steve’s back, swiping up and down and over his shoulder blades. Pressing more firmly where resistance meets his touch.

Continues, “But then, my little walk was interrupted. By the couple that lives in apartment 6A, y’know, on the second floor? Screaming and hollering at each other. They were arguing about—“

“Her dirtbag husband cheating, which was obvious from the start,” they say in unison. Steve snorts and nuzzles his head further into his pillow. His eyes droop more with exhaustion, but his breathing doesn’t completely slow. Still looking on at Eddie for more.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Told you about it when you got out. You then called Robin and told her all about it. I went to the kitchen while you guys talked. Smiled to myself as I poured coffee into our special mugs.” Steve’s mug is a yellow one that says ‘Keep a Smile on Your Face’ in red text. Eddie’s is a Seattle Pike Place Market mug—white with an array of colorful fruit on it. “Put creamer in mine, the vanilla one that you complain is way too sweet. Splash of whole milk in yours. Set it out on the dining table and made you toast; heavy coat of butter, thin layer of strawberry jam—not jelly.”

During Eddie’s recount, Steve has shuffled closer. Squishing his left arm between their bodies. Nearly nose to nose with each other. Eddie drags his blunt fingernails in counter-clockwise circles on Steve’s lower back, almost tickling him with how light the pressure is. He hums in delight.

“Grabbed oranges for us. Sat at the table and waited. Did the daily crossword in the newspaper before you had the chance, which made you slightly annoyed, but not furious.” Eddie leans into Steve’s space more, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose. Grins to himself when Steve closes his eyes and smiles back. “Gave you the sports page. Which you read while peeling our oranges. And then you passed me yours, I removed the pulp from it. We ate in silence. I sat and thought about how much I love you,” he whispers almost like a confession.

Steve doesn’t say anything, instead basking in the soft touch he’s been given. Soaking it all in, letting himself be drenched with it. His chest warms pleasantly and his stomach flips at Eddie’s words.

Eddie taps his index finger over several areas of Steve’s back. Counting with the lowest and gentlest voice he can muster. Takes the edge of his fingernail and traces lines between the spots. “What’re you doing, Eds?” Steve sleepily asks.

“Making constellations,” he mutters. Eyes watching where his hand moves. “See, here’s a star—“ His finger pats. “—And here’s another,” he states, drawing another line. “There. That’s one constellation. Here comes one more.” Steve lets him do this. It’s the first time this has happened, but he certainly doesn’t want it to be the last. There’s four more constellations that he makes before running his palm heavily against the whole of Steve’s back. “Anyway,” he sighs. “Then, you went to work. And so I cleaned a bit. Did the dishes, wiped the table, organized our movies. Watched a couple reruns of Family Ties. Took a nap and dreamed about you.”

“Dream?” Steve mumbles.

Eddie kisses his clothed shoulder. “Kissed you in it,” he answers. “But I woke up. Made us some dinner. Spaghetti, your favorite. Even grated the parmesan by hand. I know—I’m a very fancy guy, it comes with the name.” Steve makes a half-hearted snort, too muffled by his exhaustion to be a real sound. “You came home. Made my dream come true, kissed you by the door. We ate. Started watching Animal House, with my insistence, even though you tried to protest.”

“You don’t like it,” Steve sighs.

“I do,” Eddie insists softly. “I just like to tease you a little. But I didn’t tonight because I could tell you had a very long day. Dead on your feet, sweetheart. Then, before I knew it, you were half-asleep against my shoulder.” He kisses Steve’s forehead this time. On his cheek. The lobe of his ear. Another to his shoulder. However, he doesn’t go in for one on the mouth. Steve’s breaths have completely slowed, his lips puffing slightly with each exhale, and his eyes remain closed and relaxed. There’s already a line of drool creeping to run down his cheek.

Eddie drags his hand one more time down Steve’s spine. “Night, baby,” he whispers. But it’s washed out by Steve’s soft snores. He tucks the comforter around them, tighter than it was before. Lays himself half over Steve’s back. And kisses the back of his head. Ready for the next time he’ll do this all over again.

——— 2.

Eddie draws him in a little closer. Pressing them against each other’s sides. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist. Sets his head on his shoulder. And Eddie digs his chin into the top of his head.

They’re an hour into The Labyrinth when Steve gives a sleepy nudge to Eddie’s hand. Reaching behind himself to place Eddie’s palm on his back.

“Over the shirt or under?” Steve is asked.

“Over,” he answers through a sigh. Leans his full body weight into Eddie and watches the next several minutes of their movie knowing Eddie has him. Enjoys the way the dull scratches move his t-shirt, the soft rustle of his clothing being shifted. How his nails dig into him a little bit more on his softer parts, but how they traverse the scarred blades with caution. The circular motions of his fingers a gentle lull.

He hums at the sensation. Falling into it all a little more.

Eddie always enjoys giving Steve back scratches if only to see him fall asleep. Even if it’s on the couch, while they’re watching one of his favorite movies. He switches between etched lines and tracing the shape of Steve’s shoulders blades. Goes from circular scratches to whole palm sweeps. Just to make sure that Steve continues his late night nap. He can always tell when it’s been a long day by two things: when Steve takes a nap, and how he asks for his back to be scratched.

Sometimes, Steve will just ask the question. Usually when he’s more lucid or if he’s still slow to waking up. But, typically, it’s forcing Eddie’s hand on his back. Leaning into the touch. Nuzzling in close and all too warm.

It’s forty minutes later when Steve does wake back up. Rousing gently, slowly. Instead of startling awake like he does with a nightmare. His shoulders shift, shimmying nearly. Arms tighten around Eddie’s waist. Rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, lips smearing on his shirt, the drool wetting Eddie’s skin a bit. “Mm, sorry,” he mumbles, “fell asleep during the movie.”

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs right back. “Back scratch must’ve been good.”

“Should get a job as a professional back scratcher,” Steve says. But his words slur slightly, as if he’s already trying to go back to sleep. It probably doesn’t help that Eddie is still moving his nails over Steve’s shoulders, up to the base of his neck, down his spine.

Eddie snorts. “Getting sleepy, baby?”

“Yeah,” Steve admits with a sigh.

“Alright, Stevie, let’s get you to bed.”

And he starts their nightly routine all over again. Shutting off the movie. Hauling Steve up. Indulging when he wants a back scratch. Telling him about his day.

“It was a great day,” he begins, “because I was able to love you.”

😴—————😴

[agustdiv1ne]

ok so I got an idea - idol! yeonjun x idol! reader? like they meet at an award show and he's just totally entranced by the reader and then they start hanging out

bye this is cute :') ty nonnie! (i definitely got carried away bc i'm a jjun simp sorry in advance)

yeonjun tends to get tunnel vision when he's preparing to get on stage; the mama awards are no different. sharp and focused, he runs through the choreography for the dance break again and again, as if rewinding and replaying the same role of film over and over again. it's hard to distract him with anything else when he's like this.

a backstage crewmember calls his name, letting him know that he needs to be in position soon. five minutes. he has five minutes. he can do this.

he spends these five minutes taking deep breaths, adjusting the details of his outfit, double-checking that his mic box is in place, and...watching you?

truly, he doesn't mean to. he's just trying to keep the inevitable nerves from taking root in his chest, just keeping himself occupied, observing how you lead your fellow members from the dressing room, gathering them in a circle in a giving them a pep talk. it's admirable, really, how easily you're able to guide your group, how they seem to hang on to your every word. there's a burning passion backdropping your pupils all the while. a mix of determination, conviction, hunger. and fuck, he doesn't even know you, nor your name, but there's just something about you that draws him in, and there's this aura about you that screams self-assurance and maturity....

shit, he thinks. get it together.

"one minute," he hears through his in-ear, and he scrambles to his position, finding the mark on that platform that will rise up to the main stage. he sneaks one last glance at you. he finds you staring back, and right before the platform beings to rise, you send him an encouraging grin, you mouthing 'fighting!' accompanied with a small fist pump. your members watch on at the exchange.

he nearly forgets his own damn lyrics.

when txt's performance is over (as successful and jaw-dropping as ever), he's corralled back into their dressing room. sadly, there's no sight of you backstage anymore. disappointment buds in his chest, and soobin and beomgyu poke fun at his crestfallen expression, before soobin, ever observant of the events that unfolded earlier, tells him your name, how you're also the leader of your group, and that you're close friends with him.

thus, yeonjun begs, nearly grovels, for soobin to introduce him to you. begrudgingly, soobin lets him join a little hangout where he knows you'll be there. you and him hit it off really well! though he's so nervous that his hands shake, he's able to keep the conversation flowing, and he learns that on top of being the leader, you're also the oldest. it's something to bond over, and you find yourself giggling at his terrible jokes and overall goofy demeanor as the night rolls on. numbers are exchanged, as well as pleasantries about having a good time. both of you return to your respective dorms with giddy looks and butterflies in your stomachs.

you, much to his surprise, are the first to ask him to hang out one-on-one. slowly, he learns your little quirks as friends first, keeping his lovesick thoughts about you to himself (and sometimes shares with his members if they promise not to make fun of him; they do anyway).

he's sneaking into your dorm every now and then, as do you with his dorm, greeting and high-fiving soobin when he's there. he learns you're competitive (outrageously so), that you love ramen as much as he does, that you love studio ghibli and that you have a crush on howl pendragon. he grins at that.

"i wish i could be sophie," you sigh one late night on txt's dorm's couch, leaning your head against his chest as howl's moving castle flits across the tv.

"i could be your howl," he states without thinking, eyes still glued to the screen. and suddenly he's panicking, eyes moving down to your smug smirk. yeonjun looks away, but you refuse to let his gaze wander, head following so that you maintain eye contact.

"do you like me, choi yeonjun?" you question, eyebrow raised. he's rendered a stuttering, blushing mess and he's quick to deny it. absolutely not, no, we're just friends! or so he claims. you cackle, and his face twists in pure confusion, asking what exactly is so funny.

"you don't have to lie, jjunnie. soobin told me all about your little crush on me," you say as if you're talking about today's weather, too casual and too flippant and soobin told you what?

you're really laughing now, and yeonjun starts to wish that the floor would just swallow him whole. he tries to get up — he really wants to hide in his room forever now (and kill soobin later), but you grab his hand before he can flee, pulling him back down onto the couch so that he's facing you. gone is the shit-eating grin, your face now teeming with sincerity.

"i like you too, you dummy," you confess. his eyes open impossibly wide, and you bite your lip to suppress a grin. "thought i made it obvious when i asked you to hang out with me."

"oh my god," he groans, head falling onto your shoulder. "i'm so oblivious."

"a little," you agree, earning you a whiny "hey!" you continue. "you said it first!"

"my girlfriend should be nice to me, not act like them," he complains with a pout, nodding at the closed doors of the other members' rooms.

"oh, so i'm your girlfriend now?"

"yes, my extremely loveable, beautiful girlfriend. and i'm your extremely loveable, handsome boyfriend," he declares.

"i like the sound of that," you say, beaming, before you plant a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose.

the nearest door swings open to reveal a very drowsy taehyun, kai peeking over his shoulder from further inside the room. he takes one look at your legs strewn over yeonjun's lap, rolls his eyes, and says, "congrats on finally getting together, lovebirds, but could you please shut up?"

[wifetomegatron]

You said it was more convenient to post requests here, so here it is again:

I loved the "meeting the family" storyline very much. Can we get a First Contact fic of you trying to hide your relationship from your family (since theyre robo/phobic or youre embarrassed) but one day your family spots you getting out of a car they don't recognize and you have to explain that your bf wasn't in the car... he WAS the car.

Either with Rodimus, Chromedome (and Rewind), or... IDK, your choice really

sorry for the long wait, dear ! this made me think out of the box and experiment a little so I hope you enjoy it <3 thank you for being my first official request !

rodimus meets your uptight parents. first contact au. sfw (only few suggestive themes -ish).

" I commanded a ship. I went on a quest — well, that was before Earth. But, I mean, that's impressive, right? "

" Babe."

" I killed a sparkeater. I have Drift to testify, and Magnus, and two hundred others —"

" Roddy."

" I also carried the Matrix !"

" Rodimus, please !" You huffed, placing a hand flat against the dashboard: the metal underneath was stiff with tension. Your lover slowed down for the red light, rubber crunching against the pavement. Outside, the weather was clear — sunny without a cloud, and people poured out into the streets, crossing the zebra and laughing in the distance. It made you even more miserable. Sensing this, Rodimus took it upon himself to give the seatbelt across your body a small, reassuring squeeze.

He cleared his intake, static over the radio.

" I'm only nervous because you're nervous. And you're never this nervous."

" Sorry, “ You felt guilty already, “ I didn't mean to interrupt your little crisis but I’m sure you'll talk yourself to death before the anxiety can kill you ."

" Do you blame me for being nervous?"

A cold, heavy feeling dropped into the pit of your stomach. And the silence was back again, an unusual and uwelcomed guest in the home you and Rodimus have built. The reason that you were out today was that your parents had called — rousing you from what could have been the perfect start to a lazy Sunday, courtesy of Rodimus and his very, very talented mouth — to remind you about the brunch appointment you were supposed to attend an hour ago.

Panicked and already out of your boyfriend's arms, Rodimus couldn't quite understand how this was scary enough to make you spring out of his embrace and into a pair of pants — he emphasized how disappointed he was at how you were already dressed this early in the morning, on a weekend, no less.

Until you looked at him dead in the optics and whispered, “ They want to meet you too.”

That was enough to make him run for the garage.

You had warned him about your parents earlier in your relationship — at least, attempted.

" It's my parents," You had explained then, albeit the memory was fuzzy due to alcohol. All you remembered was that it was hard to stop Rodimus from doing anything when he was tipsy and flirty and running his servos all over your body.

“I’m sure they’ll like me,” He had smirked, pushing the topic aside and already sinking on his knees, “ Everyone likes me.”

That felt like ages ago. You’ve been delaying the subject, and today it has come back to finally bite you in the ass. Now, thanks to traffic and terrible skills at reading the GPS, you were two hours late to meet your parents and might as well be on death row.

“It won’t be so bad, right?”

You winced.

It took a while for you to explain to him that ‘picky’ was just an easy way of explaining to strangers that they were painfully traditional. Having been raised in a very small upper-crust bubble within an even smaller community, their obsession with keeping the family closed off was almost archaic: your father actually has a spreadsheet as a criteria board for what counts as a ‘compatible’ match. It was Eurystheus and Hercules all over again, except you wished the challenge was slaying a nine-headed hydra. It was something Rodimus could come out of alive.

Because no one has ever lived up to the insurmountable, one hundred and thirty-five-long list of requirements that would make someone worthy to be dating his only child. What was once a fun little fact you always used as an icebreaker at parties became an actual threat to the one person who's made you the happiest in a long time — and he's not even a person. He's an —

" — aliens, I’m guessing, never made it on his list, so I'm sure I'd be in the clear. Right?"

" Hold that thought, I think I see them," You peered over the driver’s seat and out the window as Rodimus pulled up to the sidewalk. It was adjacent to a terrace filled with tables, already crowded with people. Live jazz was playing behind the curtain of conversations, and you spot your father through the glass doors, checking his watch before crossing his arms. He didn’t seem too happy, leaning forward to whisper something inaudible to your mother’s ear.

Rodimus seemed to notice this.

" Uh, just go inside. I'll...catch up with my holoform."

From time to time again, you suggested that Rodimus get tinted windows. And if he had, for a second, thought about its practicality instead of calling you rude for assuming that you implied he could get them installed by the local car dealer, then maybe your father wouldn’t have spotted you.

“He’s coming this way,” You squeaked, combing your hair and quickly trying to make yourself look decent.

“Oh. Frag.”

A cluster of lights formed next to you, pixelating themselves to create a holographic image of what your boyfriend claims to be his persona if he were human. You weren't sure how to tell him that your father would immediately recognize Michael J Fox from Back to the Future. So you placed a firm hand across the dashboard to make him stop, shaking your head and confirming: this was it.

This was the moment you finally decided to fight for the person — not a person, he'd correct you — that made you feel alive. Feel loved. And you have to fight for that, even if it comes in the form of standing up to your up-tight, silver spoon, helicopter parents in the middle of the sidewalk and attracting the attention of over twenty people and a handful of Instagram influencers trying to peacefully take a picture of their bed of smoked salmon and caviar, then so be it.

" You better have a good explanation for this."

You sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep your chin up in defiance as you duel your father in a stare-down.

" It's time for me...to make my own decisions. And that includes who I decide to love. And be with. And date."

" Does he come with the tardiness?" He bit back.

" Oh, give them a chance to speak !" Coming at your defense was your mother, wringing her hands with worry and yet already peaking to admire the vehicle behind you, " Does he… come with the car, perhaps?"

You swallowed, the metal beneath your arm humming in distress,"You can say that."

Your father almost looked impressed. Almost. Suddenly you can't even hear the background music anymore, as if even the musicians had placed down their instruments, and are now rapt in attention at this showdown.

" What does he do?"

" He was a captain," The car roughly inched forward, “Is still, a captain. He’s just not on duty…at the moment.”

There was a murmur of appreciation from the nosy spectators.

"Where is he from ?"

" He's from... far away."

" Oh, lovey. I do love to travel," Your mother smiled, stiff and on the edge of exploding like a poorly timed confetti canon.

" Yes, but I don't think it's...that beautiful at this time of the year."

You lost your voice, suddenly compressed, as if you were a bottle of coke inside a sixty-second tikTok reel, ready to be crushed under the weight of an industrial metal press machine. You can tell Dad's already trying to work out what year Rodimus was manufactured in — vintage you'd joke, but it doesn't seem appropriate to condense lightyears into a punchline. Plus he wouldn't approve of the age gap.

" Let's see him. Tell the boy to step out of the car."

You steeled yourself as the sound of metal gears grinding and transforming flooded the area. The Earth lightly shook beneath you as Rodimus stood at full height, seemingly erasing any other noise from a five-mile radius like a black hole.

Someone dropped their teacup, the ceramic shattering in the distance.

“ Hi. Rodimus, here.”

It was safe to say that your mother only started to warm up to Rodimus in the waiting room of the hospital, when she had the chance to talk to the mech as you all waited for your father's discharge from Emergency — thankfully, Rodimus was quick enough to scoop him up as he fainted, so no traumatic head injury that had a one in five thousand chance of taking out the stick up his ass.

Surprisingly, your mother was already somewhat impressed: The former title of one-year Prime, his paint job, his humor.

Baby steps, you smiled to yourself and watched your mother drape an arm across Rodimus as she laughed at his joke. Baby steps.

[sapphicseasapphire]

Hii! Hello, I really love your Cryptid au!!!

Something I'm wondering about, if it makes any sense

So like, Time is A God, right? And over however many hundreds of years, he loses his connection to humanity?

So, in the far future, maybe like around Botw, he'd probably be more like the other deities and more well known, right?

Would characters like Flora or Impa, for example, if they knew who he was, be like super amazed about the fact that there is just straight up A God talking to them?

ahh if that makes sense, it's kinda hard to explain!

Hi! This is a great question, thanks for asking! Allow me to ramble and hope that I answer it in a roundabout way haha!

(Under the cut because long)

So, Time’s journey into Godhood is a very long one. His progression from mortal to deity goes quick, but he doesn’t truly embrace his power for centuries after his mortal lifespan is over. In his own era, with Malon and his children, he tries his best to just be a normal guy. He wants to be a dad, a husband. He wants to worry about the fate of the ranch, not the fate of the world. Mostly, he’s afraid. He never wanted to be a God. He never uses his powers.

(He’s like this for the majority of his travels with the Cryptid Chain)

Every Cryptid Link that comes after Time’s era has a different version of the God of Time, the earlier ones not really having an established God but being influenced heavily by his power, and the later ones knowing plenty of myths and legends about the God of Time, but his impacts on their lives are much less obvious. Easily written off.

Time’s most important era, other than his own, would be Twilight’s. This happens only like a hundred or two years after his own life should have ended, and Time is very committed to protecting his family. And so, as the Man of Many Faces, he personally sees to it that Twilight learns how to fight. As the Hero’s Shade, he trains the young Shapeshifter and rewinds time to save his life or give him another chance when things get rough.

He watches when Twilight finishes his adventure. He watches when Twilight leaves to go on the Cryptid Chain’s adventure. He watches until the journeys are over, the battles are won, and everything is quiet. He watches Twilight breathe his last.

After that, he decides that he can’t do that anymore. And while he still protects his boys in their future adventures, he doesn’t get nearly as involved. And it’s not just the Links that he stops interacting with- it’s all mortals. He still does his job diligently. He keeps the timelines in order, he protects his people. He receives prayers and answers what he can, but he does his work from the sidelines.

Because of this, as he truly ascends to Godhood, he is a mystery to mortals. Like I said- earlier Links have been more personally impacted by Time but didn’t know who he was (he was too fresh of a God to be established) and the later Links have been more indirectly impacted by Time but it could be interpreted as mere coincidences. Time would be more well known, but less detectable.

By the time he’d reach Wild’s era, he’d be very reclusive. Flora, the history major we all know and love, would absolutely know about the Hero of Time and all of his titles and names. Impa, Paya, the religious leaders, would also be very knowledgeable about Time’s legends and myths. Purah, our favorite Sheikah researcher, 100% knows all about him! It’s common knowledge, I think, in Wild’s era, but these ones are especially familiar with Time’s history.

Except… the God has not shown himself to the world in thousands of years. I actually do have a scene in mind for one of my storylines where Flora meets Time. She doesn’t know exactly who he is- Cryptid era Time doesn’t act very God-like, at least not like any that she’s come to know of- but there’s something about him. Power rolls off of him in waves, his mere presence is overwhelming. He seems to shine with subtle iridescence, his voice is quiet but it carries. She knows, on some level, that he has authority over her. Over All. (Time would deny this to the ends of the earth, but there’s no denying the truth: he is a God. There’s no escaping that).

I hope this makes sense??? Trying to talk about Time’s lore gets confusing since there’s so many time jumps and rewinds and skips. To summarize, Time stops interacting with mortals so he becomes somewhat of a mysterious God. So while Flora would know of him, she wouldn’t know what to look for. When she meets Time, his present is her past- her present is his future- and present Time is nothing like future Time, so Flora doesn’t recognize him.

This is all Pre-God Reveal, of course haha!

I hope this answers your question?

[triz-costa]

Young Royals Fic Recs II

Strings Attached by kuramasgirl17 (Chapters 18/18) (Canon Rewrite) (Part 1)

Duty versus love. Head versus heart. There have always been two parts to Prince Wilhelm: Wilhelm, the prince he was born as, and Wille, the normal boy he wants to be. Then he meets Simon, and suddenly, everything changes. Wille changes. So, he invites Simon to spend Parent’s Weekend with him at Hillerska, beginning a relationship that tests the boundaries of what it means to keep both parts of himself separate. But, when stakes become higher, and their feelings become stronger, can Wille reconcile the two parts of himself without losing Simon? - - - OR, a canon rewrite where Erik lives, beginning just before Parent’s Weekend, covering S1-2.

Tethered by kuramasgirl17 (Chapters 18/18) (Canon Rewrite) (Part 2)

Everyone has a choice. Or, that was at least what Simon believed before he met Wilhelm. Wilhelm should represent everything he detests – the monarchy, title, unearned wealth and privilege. But then Simon meets him, and he finds just how wrong his assumptions were. As he gets to know Wille, who’s just an awkward, endearing boy, Simon just. can’t. stay. away. So, when Wille invites Simon to spend the weekend with him, Simon learns there is one thing you can’t choose: who you love. But, as feelings grow in secret and promises can’t be made, is love truly enough to conquer all? - - - OR, Simon’s POV of the companion story, Strings Attached.

All the people are fake (young royals one-shots) by allofthestarz/@allthefakepeople (Chapters 13/?)

A selection of Young Royals one-shots based on tumblr ask prompts

Like the Open Highway by Ripki (Post S3)

“I’m keeping you,” Simon murmurs, grazing his teeth over Wille’s ear, “I’m keeping you forever.” In the immediate aftermath of the season finale, as they drive away from Hillerska, Simon is utterly, hopelessly in love.

Sorry about the blood in your mouth (I wish it was mine) by witchjeons

In the aftermath of the video, Simon falls apart. Wilhelm is there to put him back together.

The neon lights on your face and your body on mine by andycreations

What if the first episode ended a little differently and not so cliff-hanger-like? - There was a slightly glistening outline of his palm across half of Simon’s face as sweat collected around the digits of his fingers. Simon licked his lips in a sinful way, tasting the saltiness of the sweaty layer on his tongue, noticing how Wille’s gaze fell down on his lips. Goodness, so he noticed. -

Kiss me like you wanna be loved by Skamtrash (Erik lives)

Simon and Erik unexpectedly meet + Wille and Erik talk about Simon + the boys can't keep their hands off each other after dinner with Erik

We should escape for the night by Piebingo/@piebingo

By the end of the practice, he is confident that he will get into the choir, thus securing a place at Hillerska with Sara. The teacher dismisses them and motions for Simon to come and see her. As he makes his way to her, the girl who had been eyeing him earlier lets out a squeal. “Prince Wilhelm will transfer here next week!” She says, effectively creating chaos in the room. *** Simon and Sara transfer to Hillerska the same day Prince Wilhelm does. What happens when Wilhelm and Simon have their initiation at the same time?

Young Royals Watch the Show by emwrites19 (Chapters 4/8)

The morning following Wilhelm's whole... face butting a person on camera situation, his mother, father, and brother all are snatched up by a time-twisting, dimension-traveling girl who goes by the name Adahlia. She reveals to them that she's brought them all together to watch Wille's, and subsequently their own, future! AKA: A reaction fic where Erik is besties with Simon AS HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN, Kristina exists, and Erik doesn't die - or does he? - though he does feel extreme guilt for dying.

Rewinding Young Royals by At_the_Gates (Chapters 8/?)

Wilhelm had already been having a bad week. His black eye still stung from the fight at the club, and soon, he'd be attending Hillerska Boarding School for three fuckin' years. So, when he is seemingly kidnapped by crazy people who want him to watch 12 episodes about his future, it would make sense for his week to plunge from bad to awful. Except, there's something intriguing about the curly-haired boy that's supposed to watch the episodes with him.

[raainberry]

Rewind You

« To rewind is to make something go back to the beginning or to an earlier point. »

Sana x gn!reader

Angst

synopsis - your ex’s concert is the last place you should be at after breaking up, yet here you are

⚠️this (very) short story is told backwards, so from end to the start. i wrote it so you can read it normally and from the end. both ways will make sense, but the chronology in which it’s told will change.

wordcount - 581

T/W - Food (One mention)

A/N - two crazy discoveries led to this: new sana pics and melanie martinez’s unreleased song You Love I from which the concept is inspired. enjoy! or not bc i actually dont know if this is good its too late for me to worry about that🥰

Everything was better with her…

You’d ask yourself how you ended up here, but you knew the answer already.

You felt lost, overwhelmed as a pain you couldn’t seem to let go of persisted deep within your chest, looking around in search for a distraction.

How deluding…

The music was loud, but the tune was off. The lights were bright, but they lacked color. The people around you were happy, dancing and singing along to whatever song came out of those powerful speakers, but it wasn’t infectious.

Your eyes followed the spotlight as it highlighted the artist you hadn’t seen in months. All you could feel when you laid eyes on her was jealousy.

Something you loved and cherished, a place and a person, they’d been ripped away from you the moment you’d parted ways. Yet there she was, still enjoying it all as everyone’s focus and passionate admiration landed solely onto her for the next two minutes.

Minatozaki Sana.

You should have gone to a nightclub... It was the most popular, if not customary short-term remedy to a breakup. Why on Earth were you at a concert instead—her concert out of all?

Needless to say, your split was a fall from grace. Heartbreaking, as you’d expect from a relationship that lasted this long. You’d never broken up with anyone, but you’d seen it in the movies. You knew it would hurt no matter how long you’d seen it coming. You even bought the ice cream in advance, which you unsurprisingly downed in days while living in your memories.

Years. Months. Days. Hours. Every minute you spent together, you made sure to love each other, feeling your hearts swelling at every gesture. A kiss, a touch, or even a simple look was enough to send you to cloud nine. High enough to only see each other.

You’re not sure when everything and everyone else faded out, what mattered was her. You truly liked her. So did she. Perhaps from the moment you’d met. But it took a while to realise just how much you cared about the other.

A first date only came after her clumsy confession one drunken summer night on your balcony. You thought it had been a dream when you woke up the next day. It felt like it at least, when you laid eyes on her and saw her clinging to your shirt in her sleep. Even unconscious, she seemed to be aware of your presence. To want it.

Her conscience never let a second go by without a thought of you either. She made it her mission to satisfy this mindful desire of hers. Texting you at all hours, calling you just to hear the sound of your voice, asking if you could meet her in between two schedules like you would even think about saying no to her.

She was all you could think about. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh, down to her scent. It remained in a corner of your mind, recalling each of them in the late hours of the night as you struggled to fall asleep. The feeling was enchanting, to the point you wondered if she was real. If you’d really met her and she was not someone you’d made up in your dreams to make it all easier.

Life wasn’t that much of a party until you crossed paths with her. While she described her ‘before’ as chaotic, you liked to see yours as the opposite. Just plain boring.

Nothing seemed as colorful, vibrant, or lush without her.

Everything was better with her.

[electron-road-suspect]

For kiss asks: Jance 22 or 44 💕

This is kind of both! Set pre-Kinktober in my universe, but you don't really need to know that I guess.

22. …in a rush of adrenaline. 44. …out of lust.

Jan had really thought he'd gotten a handle on the whole Nace... thing. Sure, he had a poorly-hidden thing for hot bassists. Yeah, he blushed as red as a fire engine the first time he had met Nace in person. And okay, the two of them had been eyeing each other and flirting with a heavy sense of plausible deniability for weeks now. But, you know. It was fine.

Until that fucking gig in Šmartno pri Litiji.

They'd just been announced two days earlier as the selection for Eurovision 2023, and emotions were high as they prepared to take the stage. And then they'd gone out there and performed the hell out of their setlist.

Jan is still trying to catch his breath backstage after the final number when Nace approaches him. His eyes are wild, probably as wild as Jan's own are, and he wordlessly pulls Jan into a hug as they both vibrate with the aftergig adrenaline.

"You did great out there," Jan murmurs into Nace's ear, knowing how new this all is for the bassist, wanting to encourage him. But instead, Nace stiffens at the words and pulls back from Jan slightly.

Jan freezes. He doesn't know what he's said or done wrong, and he can't meet Nace's eyes as the other man stares at him. Jan turns to look around the room for backup, but the two of them are alone in the green room.

Then, Nace leans forward and nearly devours Jan's lips with his own.

It's a sloppy, hurried, adrenaline-fueled kiss, and Jan is absolutely powerless in the face of it. The weeks of repressing his feelings explode in him in a haze of lust, and he's kissing Nace back, his hands jumping to Nace's hair and pulling slightly. Nace moans slightly into Jan's mouth, and Jan nearly moans himself at the sound.

As suddenly as it started, Nace pulls back, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He clears his throat slightly. "Thank you," he says, and Jan has to rewind to remember what he said last to provoke that response.

Before he can think of a reply, Nace has let him go and is out of the room, leaving Jan horny and elated and immensely confused.

[hwaightme]

Family for Hire (Ch.2)

(family for hire ml) -> blurb and general tags in series ml

☀️ pairing: single dad!seonghwa x business woman!reader ☀️ genre: romance, family, domestic, fake marriage, slice of life ☀️ ch. summary: after a nerve-busting pep talk from your favourite menace, you bite the bullet and face your fears in the name of business, while Seonghwa is searching for a way to rewind time. ☀️ ch. wordcount: 6.8k ☀️ ch. warnings/tags: language, heavy roasting (maybe to the point that wooyoung would like it), yunho the life coach, hiding in cars, pining, misunderstandings, food/eating, a lot of coffee, talking about kids and family, pregnancy talk, discussions of potential trauma, corporate life, cars, seonghwa being a total dad, a LOT of dialogue ☀️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 ☀️ series taglist: @yunnierights @moniesmoon @jackinmyarea @hwalysm @sankatchu @hijeongguk @likexaxdaydream @treasure-hwa @paralumanniluna ☀️ a/n: Hello! Big hugs, much love, hope you enjoy, any reblogs, comments thoughts much appreciated~

Chapter 2 - Catching Up

You had a number of opportunities to respond throughout the day, but instead, your brain had deemed it reasonable to wait until your guilt-fuelled insomnia was the one to give the final push. Perhaps if it had been a stranger you were messaging, you would have been more comfortable, would have cracked a joke and gone straight to business. But this was Seonghwa, who as cursed luck would have it, had a world record level answer rate and, apparently, did not go 'night-night' at the same time as his daughter, as you had initially assumed.

As such, at precisely one fourteen in the morning, you had come to realise that speaking to parents was like speaking a foreign language, except there was no handy translation app available - maybe the closest being parents on Reddit but you were not about to spill all your secrets on there. When planning the meeting, while all you had to do was check your work calendar and make sure no one was demanding your attention over the weekend, Seonghwa had mentioned his daughter at least three times, some special weekend class he had to bring her to, and arrangements for who could take care of her while he would be catching up with you if a different time were to be chosen. You had been on the verge of saying that it would be okay if he brought the kid with him but caught yourself. Number one: who were you to give out childcare related orders? And number two: you would be the first one to regret agreeing to such a thing. Thus, it was to be only you and him, sat at a cutesy cafe, located in the middle of a quaint neighbourhood that Seonghwa now called his home; an area void of anything you could deem exciting, aside from the potential to get your career rolling thanks to one of its residents.

Nothing was convincing you to get out of your car, so instead you sat, glued to the driver's seat and choking the mechanical life out of the steering wheel, and kept your eyes peeled for the appearance of your long-lost friend and actor you desperately wanted to cast. The fact that it was a Saturday did not seem to change the lack of activity in this area. Only parents with strollers, elderly patrols with walking sticks and loved up couples high on love chemicals seemed to populate its streets, ambling to and fro as though they did not have a destination - simply floating. The lack of a rush threw you through a loop, as you were so used to walking, working, existing in double speed. Maybe you should not have had that cup of coffee earlier after all, since you were, inevitably, going to end up ordering another once you get out of your makeshift hideout.

There had been no trouble with parking, unlike in your own neighbourhood where it was near habitual to call another driver by a number, they would leave on the windshield to tell them to stop blocking the exit. There was so much space that you had been spoiled for choice, down to how scenic you wanted your views to be. Verdant green trees lined the meandering road, parting with the last of their blooms that now decorated the pavement in a gorgeous spotted carpet. The warmth of the hues that the little stores and houses possessed was whimsical, with an intensity that almost resembled a filter - did they ever have grey days?  You struggled to believe that this was the same city as the one you lived in: the concrete jungle, the same dark suits and ties knocking into each other, an ecosystem where the default was to forget and be forgotten.

Your world was the world of fight, grit, and no glamour. Even if the employment advertisements and brochures said so. If one wanted to remember who they were and what they stood for, they needed to battle against the currents, persevere and find ways to fool the enemy. Precisely because you belonged to that world and were motivated by it, you had enough audacity to hop in your ride and make your way across the city, a travelling salesman with a major problem. In circumstances such as yours, morals were somewhat contextual, and while you had been still surrounded by the dizzying, colossal cuboids made of glass, your decisionmaking and lack of explanation for your prospective co-star were perfectly rational. But now, in the sunlight and smiles of flora and fauna, idyllic landscapes and utter bliss of a welcoming and tranquil high street, you were on the verge of quitting. Or rescheduling to meet somewhere closer to your workplace so you would be fuelled by your higher goals. Either way, this place was a sleepy summer paradise.

This was what people meant when they said they wanted to 'settle down'. Find someone to do taxes with, raise something or someone, and live in an area like this. Technically, it was perfect for your full immersion into what could be the most important performance of your life. Except you were not even sure if you were able to breathe the air of this place - maybe you needed to go through acclimatisation first. In an attempt to subtly decompress and distract yourself, you had spam texted Yunho, who you knew to be forgetful when it came to turning his phone on silent. After approximately the tenth text, containing an absurd line of scrabbled letters, he blessed you with a call.

“Do you want me to choose violence?” he threatened, but his voice was too heavy with sleep to deter you from continue the aimless blabber.

“Yunho, help. Me. PLEASE.” you nearly screamed into the microphone, making your friend wince and groan, clearly having just woken up. You could almost see his puffy face and bed head as he rolled himself into a burrito - an action you inferred by the prolonged rustling.

“Early bird hunting season is open.”

“No… come on… I am losing my marbles here. Besides, it's not even that early-”

 "Maybe you can function on four hours of sleep, but this king cannot, so bye talk later~" his voice began to fade into the background, clearly him moving the device away from his head, so you proceeded to stoop to the lowest of the low, mentally apologising to your dignity:

"King Yunho, please bless me with your wisdom, oh the greatest in all the lands!" You shuddered at the atrocities coming out of your own mouth, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The shuffling immediately stopped, instead being replaced by one swoosh and a creak. The king of your nightmares rose to attention and off his dreamland throne.

"Oh? Sorry could you repeat that? I didn't quite hear, the connection-"

"Fuck off dude-" the mutter inadvertently escaped thanks to the heightened anxiety.

"Happily! Bye~"

"NO, NO, SHIT WAIT, FINE! King Yunho, give me-" you scrambled to restart, not wanting to let go of the safe haven he was providing just yet.

"Full title please!" In a sing-song voice the menace commanded, enjoying every bit of your desperation.

"Now you're pushing it, dude, I just need some homie clarity and what do I get? Attacked."

"Not my problem that you're shitting bricks over meeting your uni crush-"

"That rejected me, by the way! And no, I am NOT losing it over that, it's just that-" you interjected, though got lost in your own thoughts as you attempted to conjure a reason behind your present feelings.

"Uh-huh, and the budget cuts for marketing are totally reasonable." A silence fell over the call as quickly as the sharp comment shot through the ruminations.

There was no way of getting anything past him. It was true. The past hurt had indeed returned, and stood clear as day, right before your eyes. Seonghwa's withdrawn demeanour, cold expression and cryptic 'you will regret it', still ringing in your years after all this time. You never got the chance to figure out the reason behind his actions - he had not appeared on campus at all after that. Not that you would try, you had even been too embarrassed to stay in touch with mutual friends, the only saving grace that dragged you out of your extensive swim in self-pity being Yunho. But today that rollercoaster was about to be launched back into operation. Damn your ambition. Maybe those words were foreshadowing for this series of events? That you were going to regret ever getting back in touch with him and putting yourself through this test of pride? Perhaps. But your shoddy risk analysis in the form of evaluating the calm nature of the few messages you had received from Seonghwa sent you flying over the fence and into trying to shoot your shot. It was all play pretend anyways, the ball not remaining on any side of the court.

"It is going to be fine, right?" You asked, trying to keep your voice level.

"I dee kay bro you tell me." Your friend deadpanned back at you, preoccupied with searching through his drawers.

"Ugh. I don't know why I called you. Look, sorry for waking you, I guess I'll just-"

"Oh no no, sweetcheeks," you cringed at the nickname, hoping to the heavens above that Yunho did not use this with his women of choice, unless they had a very special taste, "you have King Yunho awake and ready to slap some confidence into you. As we discussed, a lot of what you are experiencing is due to your perception of the meeting, rather than what it actually is to be. You are placing a lot of importance on it, which yes, I get, but at the end of the day this is a bloody experiment! So treat it as such! Remember how we bullshitted a PESTEL analysis two hours before the deadline for that one class?"

"Uh, yeah? But how does that relate?"

"You can work well under pressure, so prove it here too. Digest your fucking butterflies and think of Seonghwa as a prospective business partner you need to butter up. M'kay?"

"That... sounds... reasonable? What?" You heard a laugh down the line.

"Damn I am actually turning into a life coach, HEY! When you make it big you better start paying me."

"Ask for a tax reduction for volunteering." You shot back, snorting.

"So cold, don't want to sponsor your friend..."

"Last time I did you bought a chair with the back of it being shaped like an ass." It was only fair that Yunho was to go through a drought in terms of borrowing money from you – besides, the only reason why he had to take it in the first place was because he had spent too much of his budget on limited edition skins in some game he played. Everyone had their own vices and confusions.

"It was funny! Okay?"

"Mhm, sure, that's why you cover it with your jackets now."

"Who is choosing violence now?"

"Not me, sis. I am a happy bub."

You were repeatedly moving your free hand from one position to another on the steering wheel, pretending you were going through one manoeuvre after another. It was a habit you had formed after spending enough time out of your life stuck in traffic, and in the backseat of one car after another. Getting your license had been one of the first ways in which you sought and achieved a piece of independence, while the money that you had secretly saved up from doing odd jobs and some remote work from as soon as you legally could all had gone into buying your own ride. Anything to get away and create your own path. The complete opposite to what you were doing now, wasn’t it?

"Well wouldn't you look at that, mission accomplished. I am a happy virus, aren't I?" Yunho broke the temporary lull in conversation with the pop culture reference, making you sigh. Though he was right, you were feeling a lot more reassured and supported. Though you two had odd ways of reflecting it, you were a duo would always be there for one another, through thick and thin.

"Say that once more and I'll put your Monday's comeback schedule under question."

"Damn, all these antis got me fucked up. Anyways, glad you are feeling better, Y/N." He ended the banter, switching to a still lighthearted, but genuinely caring tone.

"Seriously, Yunho, thank you so much. I needed this." You really did consider Yunho to be a blessing, even when he swore at you until his colourful language dictionary ran out.

"Anytime. Good luck. And I expect a full rundown after. Preferably in person so that we can talk shit with no limits."

"Aight bet, if I make it out alive." You flipped the sun visor absent-mindedly and opened the mirror to take a brief look at yourself.

"Remember, business meeting. But the gift is allowed in this case." He noted, as you pushed back a strand of hair that was threatening to poke you in the eye.

"Yep. Tha- OH SHIT he is HERE my GOODNESS HE IS-" as soon as you returned the visor back into position, your eyes landed on a figure approaching the café, and instinctively ducked pressing yourself into the seat, heart pounding. You knew there was no way in hell that Seonghwa would see you from such a distance, or even recognise you, but, why not take extra precautions when you could?

"Hot daddy tee em?"

"FUCK OFF DUDE." you hissed, trying to overpower your friend’s obnoxious laughter, but to no avail.

You ended the call, pressing the red button at least ten times as the screen froze up and took ages to register the command. Reaching over your seat into the back you dragged out the gift you had prepared after hours of researching what "children aged four were interested in" - you thanked the lucky stars that you never previously had to consider this user group in your market research, for when you had approached hour three of your investigation and exploration of the rabbit hole called safety regulations, your head was about to explode. Even your friends suddenly appeared low maintenance.

It was simple but effective – a puzzle set that apparently improved creative thinking and promoted pretend play, or at least that was what a professional-sounding blog had written, and that was good enough for you. Now the problem was gathering the courage to actually get out there and give the damn thing to the target recipient. You cautiously raised your head confirming that the man had disappeared from view, you attempted to recollect what you had caught a glimpse of.

He was definitely the Seonghwa on Instagram, rather than the one you had vivid in your memories. And along with that image came the transition to a lighter palette in his outfit – a white cotton t-shirt, beige trousers along with matching sneakers. You almost wanted to call it a stylish dad outfit, but still struggled to pair paternity and college menace together. For science, you needed to get out of this car and make it to the spot, to catch another glimpse of him. Just to check he was real and not the product of pulling too many all-nighters to finish the analytics reports your line manager had the habit of throwing your way. And for business, you had to actually make conversation. This was going to be harder than you had previously hypothesised.

The Mission Impossible soundtrack was looping in your head as you crept out of the car and attempted to appear as casual as you could, slowing yourself to an amble and keeping your head held high. Perhaps you should have chosen a different outfit – the blazer was making you look out of touch with the local customs, but you had not exactly expanded your wardrobe past necessities for work and related social events. You caught your own reflection in the window of the café and were about to stop to take a couple of levelling breaths, when through the glass you locked eyes with none other than the person who you were stalling on greeting. You tried to not let anxiety show on your face, but that was difficult when even with the glare of the sun on the surface, you could see Seonghwa break into a wide smile.

The young man shot up from his seat to meet you at the entrance, rushing to hold the door open. As soon as you were through, the gravity of the situation weighed down on you, and even though it was the politest thing to do, you used the infinite series of bows as an opportunity to not meet his gaze again. At least not instantly. Seonghwa seemed to have had the same idea, as he joined you in the ritual.

"Hi! I'm not late, am I?" you finally managed to break the unsettling quietude, after the two of you stopped acting like pecking pigeons and instead transformed into two awkward pillars. It was not the coolest opener you had ever used, but it was better than gawking. You could already imagine Yunho facepalming at your lack of professionalism – what kind of business meeting was this?

"Hi! No not at all, I just sat down. Wow. You look…” you looked like how he imagined himself looking after the same number of years. He had initially dreamed of living the corporate dream too. Wearing suits, talking smart, making it big. He had really thought he could do it. But destiny had other plans.

"I overdressed, didn't I? Looking ready for a court hearing… ha, ha…” pained laughter, a hand massaging the back of your neck as you pondered ways which could help cut the meeting short.

"No! You look good!” Seonghwa answered, surprisingly fast, though, but appeared reluctant to leave the compliment hanging, trailing off into empty hums and self-assurance of “Um, yeah…”

"You too…”

"Thanks", "Thank you" great, now you were speaking at the same time.

You had changed. Flourished. Ambition having manifested into real results. It was obvious, from how you dressed and carried yourself to an interesting lilt to your speech, common amongst businesspeople. You had decided on what your happiness was to be, and not once had you veered off the path. Seonghwa had figured as much from having asked around about you, and now from his own observations. It almost made him regret what he had done a tiny bit less. But the lack of communication between you, the heaviness, would rear its head right after such an idea came to mind, and he would relive his foolishness, the cryptic answer that had led to your falling out. As if it had happened yesterday. Alas, no such luck – words of explanation had lost themselves over the years. But, if all went well, he could use your shared time today to make things right. Once and for all.

As the two of you moved to take a seat at the table Seonghwa had picked, opposite one another, he could not stop himself from stealing glances at you. And even when you looked to the large chalkboard on the other side of the space to see the menu, he did not waver. It had been far too long. He spotted that, under the table, you were still clenching onto a white bag. Curiosity got the better of him as he pointed to it, and questioned:

"What's that?”

"Oh... OH Yeah! A gift, for, um, for Nari. Hope it is okay..." you turned back to him, lifting the bag and passing it, with another bow. Standing up slightly, Seonghwa accepted it, feeling his heart grow heavy.

"You shouldn't have, oh no!! I- I am so sorry I don’t have anything for you. I knew I should have bought that seasonal tea blend I saw the other day. You still more of a tea person, right?" he tried to hint at the fact that he regularly thought about you, and could remember little detailed related to you. But the latter turned out to be just his own wish.

"Coffee, actually." You had started drinking it because that was the beverage he hated the most. The judging monologues towards his own friends had stuck with you, and once you had stopped conversing, you wanted to wash them down with americano after americano. "You know, the 6 am wakeups do that to you." You elaborated. He did not need to know that your choices had stemmed out of spite.

"I get you. I've been thinking about trying it again myself. But scared the little one will get to it and go mad." It was only natural for him to fall back on thinking of his daughter. She was his world. His ally. The one who had been his life buoy in the sea of darkness that had flooded him after everything that had unfolded in the last year of university. She was born in that sea of darkness – a ray of sunshine through the storm clouds.

“Ah yeah… makes sense.”

“So, puzzles?” he asked, taking out the gift and inspecting it. “You have no idea how perfect this is. Nari loves building things and seeing what fits together. Lego Duplo is pretty much all over the house.” Not quite – it was neatly stored in colour coded boxes and labelled, but that would not provide a good visual.

“Oh whew, I am so glad. Thank you. I was kind of worried because according to Piaget’s theory of development, a four-year-old child is in the preoperational stage and is just starting to do things like pretend play, and when playing with others it is actually parallel play that is going on- wait why am I telling you this, so sorry I’m-”

“No. no. I really appreciate it. And actually, hearing about the thought that went into it makes it all the more special. So, Y/N, I have no doubt that Nari will like it.” He further inspected the instructions and safety labels that were depicted on the packaging, and approved of the toy with a sharp nod, and a shy smile in your direction.

Was he dreaming? There was no difference between the main character of his subconscious and the beautiful woman sitting before him, and since he was seeing the latter for the first time in so long, he was terrified that, at any moment, he would realise that this was all his doing, and he would awaken in his bed, drenched in cold sweat.

In university, you had always been the headstrong and brutal coursemate. You never took unfounded criticism as a response and never backed down until you knew exactly what you needed to know – this was towards both students and professors. You were an advocate for equal opportunity, open communication and were one of the longest serving academic representatives the department had seen. It helped that you seemed to always be on campus; not a single time had Seonghwa ever heard you as much as talk about going home for any holiday, even those traditionally celebrated with closest relatives. He had taken you to be a studious role model and power figure by nature. While he had been one by semi-forced nurture, and in order to survive had to drop his act and go into hiding.

Now, the contrast between you was clearer than ever. Here he was, some washed out good for nothing single father who was spending his days doing pointless arts and crafts, while you, you had remained strong and fought off the demons of the real world. You were thriving. So much better off. If only he could have achieved that while still having Nari, then he could have offered her a much more attractive and higher quality of life.

“So, uhm… I am guessing… you went into business, yes?” he inquired, calling a waitress over with the press of a button attached to the table.

“Yep, associate analyst at AGL. You know Au-”

“Aurora Global Limited, yeah. Damn, you are in one of the big three consultancies, congrats!” of course you were there, who else out of the graduating cohort would be, if not for you? He would not be surprised if you had made it in one the first try, too.

“Hah, thanks, though I must say, when our profs said that they’re intense, they were not kidding.”

As you made your orders, with him spitting a rap line of a beverage where the only thing you could catch was brown sugar and vanilla, while you went for a black hot americano. You were the type to ask if caffeine could be injected intravenously, and your drink of choice was a compromise between a remotely healthy lifestyle with stable water intake and chugging eight espressos in a morning. For ‘experiential completion’, as Seonghwa had put it, both of you had taken a slice of strawberry crepe cake. As soon as the server departed from the table, with Seonghwa thanking them profusely, he immediately switched his attention back to you. There was still almost a lifetime to catch up on.

“And what is it you are doing specifically?”

“I’m kind of more in market research at the moment, so working with corporate clients who are looking to expand into a different market sector or are considering reworking their portfolio of offerings.” You explained, turning your head and bowing it as you received your orders.

Silence had never been louder, and you attempted to fill it by asking the classic: “and how about yourself?”

“Nothing much really. Definitely not related to the degree.”

“So, what exactly?”

“Well… a fancy way to put it would probably be toy designer and small business owner. But in reality it is just me and my friend keeping our own Neverland alive.”

“Wow, and here I am, gifting a toy. I am so dang sorry oh my word…” you covered your face in embarrassment, thinking back to your now obviously unnecessary rambling and of the impression that you had probably made.

If only you could read expressions as well as you had always claimed you could. Then you would maybe, just maybe spot the reawakening of what Seonghwa had tried to bury. But you were not someone who was easy to forget, especially since, ever since that day, he had been blaming himself for unjustly hurting you. You were the kind of person who he hoped Nari would become, and as such, he felt the need to make things right, even if it was selfish.

“Please don’t say that when you are just incredibly thoughtful. You have… always been.” He tested the waters by referring back to the past and saw you automatically tense.

You were not liking where this was going. The shift in his tone was making alarm bells ring in your head and Yunho say ‘business meeting’ along with them. So you took to deflecting and being on the defensive, reigning supreme as oblivious queen.

“Oh uh, thanks yeah. Well, Nari is sure… cool,” could one use that word when complimenting a little gremlin? Well, you were about to be a trendsetter if not, “what was it you said she was doing this morning?”

“She has dance class. There is no particular genre that is taught, it is more for social and exercise, but she has a blast every time. We even bought a cute outfit for her to wear not long ago. Hold on, let me get a photo…”

Score. Ask a doting parent about their kid, and you were saved from suspicious interactions. You watched as Seonghwa eagerly took out his mobile phone and began to scroll through his camera roll to find one of many versions of the same image that he had taken, because ‘natural lighting changed all the time and his precious daughter was beautiful in every frame and needed to be captured at that same rate’. You were impressed. He had more photos of Nari than you had reaction memes in your gallery. He pushed his phone towards you, encouraging to take it into your own hands – so a man with nothing to hide, huh? Bold. Impressive. Sigma.

Nari looked… very toddler-like. You could not figure out the right words to use. You felt nothing. Maybe even less than nothing. Sure, the outfit in the photo was as aesthetically pleasing as a kid’s clothes could go, but other than that… rosy cheeks and snot for weeks. You nodded a couple of times to show that you were perceiving this so-called artwork, then imagined you were looking at a crisp paycheck and looked back up to grin and offer a:

“Cute!” but apparently, that was enough effort, since Seonghwa overtook you in less than a second.

“I know right!? She is just so unbelievably adorable, and if you were to see her bedhead in the morning… my heart melts every time, wait I think I have a picture of that too-”

And thus, you ended up spending the next quarter of an hour simply discussing Nari. You had to admit, the longer you were exposed to her, the more you grew to like the bundle of… whatever. You still had work to do when it came to talking about her though. But if you could continue sweet-talking Seonghwa, you might just be able to give yourself the time to practice. As you spiralled further and further into the conversation, losing track of your time and sanity, you found yourself looking for a reason to leave. You almost wanted the man in front of you to suddenly stop talking, say he did not connect with you, and make an exit. He knew how to do that better than you, as your far too pleased feelings and dopamine elevation suggested.

Seonghwa slowed down to a halt, noticing that you had started staring off into the void while he was ranting about this one meal off the menu at the kindergarten Nari had started attending not long ago. You were bored, weren’t you? You had probably just wanted to spend half an hour or so chatting about insignificant things and then would have gone on about your day, but here he was off-loading everything onto you, as if he had no other – oh. That was right. He barely did have any other friends from his year left. Even Hongjoong, his friend and co-founder for the toy design business was from a different time – a brother from another mother since middle school. You were the first one out of all his closest direct peers at university who had reached out. And subsequently responded back to him.

You observed one another, each hesitating to reveal their own truth and emotions. Worry, amplified by the four years of parting, hanged in the air like a thundercloud, looming. With your drinks and desserts all but finished, it was either speak now, or forever hold your silence. You spun the coffee cup on its plate by pushing the handle with a pointer finger, while Seonghwa eyed it without much else to focus on, except his own psyche yelling at him.

“So,” “So,”

“Oh, you go ahead-”

“No you go-”

“You go-”

“No, please, you-”

“Don’t ladies first me, mister, you know how I am. Now, spill.” You put an end to what could be an endless manners battle, lifting your head and training your gaze on him.

“I just… I just wanted to say, I’m sorry, Y/N.” he spoke with the clarity of a wise scholar.

“Huh?” now that was the last thing you had expected to hear during this meeting.

“The time. Right now. The time we are spending it… it feels so right and I- I can’t help but… go back to… go back to when I was… I was… I was an idiot. A total idiot.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you struggled to give even a peep in response, only nodding for him to continue.

“I… you remember that night? At the party?” Of course you did. Even though you were drunk, you somehow could even recall what time the clock hanging on the wall behind Seonghwa had been showing. You nodded again.

“My… I gave no explanation then. I was so lost and… distraught and scared and I made you feel even worse and just… disappeared and broke what we had…”

“We had nothing, Hwa.” The nickname slipped, and you pursed your lips in annoyance. This was a barrage of too many memories at once. He could not answer you, mouth open but no sound emanating. You swore he was getting misty-eyed.

“We… could have. But at the time… I did not want to subject you to how that ‘could’, would have been.” He forced out, remaining cryptic. You raised an eyebrow and squinted in suspicion.

It felt like he was saying everything, yet nothing at all. Beating around the bush. You had seen this happen often at investor and end of year report meetings. Everyone knew there was an elephant in the room, but no one dared to announce it. This was getting painful. You crossed your arms and leaned onto the table to peer at the man.

“What in the world do you mean? If I lay my perspective, you were pretty clear.”

“Clear in not wanting to subject you to motherhood when you had a career ahead of you.”

“What the fuck?” you could not care less for subduing your vulgarity any longer. His words were making your head hurt. What in the world did he mean about motherhood? What kind of fantasy fiction was this? You had not even kissed-

“It… it had been about a week… that I had found out I was going to be a father. My ex had told me the news by, uh, sending an ultrasound. She had waited until it was starting to show to tell me about the pregnancy.”

How could that fact have slipped your mind so easily? Stupefied, you recalled Seonghwa’s monologue about Nari. Four-year-old Nari. But of course. Kids weren’t dropped off at a doorstep with Prime delivery, aged up to the number you chose at checkout. The numbers did add up. So you sort of met Nari that night, unknowingly. Or at least, perceived her through the distress that her father had been experiencing.

“Oh… shit…” you whispered in total shock.

“It’s no biggie, really. I mean, I had always assumed, no, that does not sound right, wanted, yeah, wanted to have a family. Maybe not this soon, and not in a solo venture but hey, whatever life gives you right?” he gave you a weak sigh and let out a shaky breath that he did not know he had been holding. Seonghwa ran his hair through his tousled, black locks, trying to prevent himself from tearing up.

“Huh…”

“So, yeah… I know this is… four years too late… but, I just needed to clear the air. Sorry, this was incredibly selfish, and maybe this is all insignificant for you and-”

“Stop. Fatherhood made you a hell of a lot more talkative, you know that?” you joked, though it came out a lot more judgemental. For good measure, you reached out to cover the hand he had laying on the table with yours, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. His eyes kept on darting as he failed to comprehend your actions. Were you not going to leave?

This was the perfect moment, you decided. If this was to be a business meeting and not a confession session, you had to reel yourself back in, and keep Seonghwa on the hook. You pushed your gushing and schoolgirl-style squealing down to let the cold blood run through your veins. What was it that you needed? The promotion. How were you going to get it? By hiring out this happy, or maybe not so happy, but at least genuine, little family.

“I have a proposition for you, Hwa.” This time, the use of the nickname was intentional. It was the quickest way to the sentimental man’s heart, and one would be damned if they were to not pick this low hanging fruit, “while this, indeed, is a moment long in the past, we can emulate certain aspects, potentially for mutual gain.”

“What… do you mean?” you kept your hand on his, and gently traced a line with one finger, giving Seonghwa a soft, reassuring smile. Well, your corporate smile.

“What does an apology mean to you?”

“…learning? Trying again?”

“Then how about we try that.”

“WHAT?” he shouted, gasping and apologising to the staff that shot panicked glances at him with a few speedy bows.

“See, I need a family for this, thing. As you probably know, AGL is notoriously family focused. They are obsessed with the notion. Everything breathes family values and marriage this, marriage that, kids this, kids that… all that jazz, m’kay? You following me so far?”

“Yes.”

“Good. So, that means that my chances of getting promoted amount to a colossal zero.”

“So… you… want me… and Nari, to act like your family?”

“You catch on fast. You always were fantastic at logical thinking.”

“For what? How? Wha-”

“There will be an event, in… one and a half months? Thought it was sooner actually but wow lucky me. Well, this event is basically for staff to flex just how happy they are in their holy matrimony and whatnot, and often, it is at this event, that younger staff is scouted and scoped out for promotions. Thus, I must ask, Park Seonghwa, will you do me the honour of being my fake husband?”

You could hear your own heartbeat, a drum pounding in your ears as you struggled to remain calm. Seonghwa was pensive, and unable to process this overflow of information. He had thought about how his life would have been had he confessed back to you and you would have gotten together then, dreamed about being together and celebrating four anniversaries (and counting), but never did he ever think it to ever be uttered out loud. Especially not by you. Yes, the proposal was entirely fake. Yes, he would be signing up to have him and Nari be, in some ways, exploited. But how else could he prove that he actually had been serious about you, and still was? It could actually be for the better for his daughter too – finally she would have at least a tiny bit of female influence in her life, and would not have to struggle through the motions of her single father being given minimal benefits from the government simply due to his gender, and the pair being side-eyed on the street because ‘why was a man out with such a tiny girl this made no sense’.

“Yes.” He uttered confidently, flipping his hand, raising yours and intertwining your fingers. Now it was your turn to be perplexed. “Though under a couple of conditions subject to change. The main one being is you actually act like a responsible adult slash parent to Nari. Respect her, treat her right and support her. Even if just for a month and a half or whatever. She is a sweet girl. And just so you know, I will protect her with my own life.”

“No doubt about it… husband?”

“Wife.”

“Do you have a fee, by the way?” you were the first to pull away, the closeness nearly making you go into a cardiac arrest.

“Your time will be my fee. Besides, you paying me feels dehumanising. And on that note, I am paying for your coffee, by the way.” He stuck his tongue out and made a beeline for the cash register, taking his wallet out in a flash. You could only raise your eyebrows and fall back into your chair. So… this was how people got married in the modern times, huh?

And apparently, met their kids for the first time by picking them up from a dance academy. Seonghwa had panicked after checking the time and realising that he would have to make a forty-minute journey in twenty minutes, but you quickly piped in offering to drive him there and back – an offer which he had accepted immediately. Just like that, after getting a line of green lights, you and your pretend husband were standing side by side, leaning against your pricey car, when you came face to face with your biggest test. One that was impossible to study for, plan for, or predict anything about. Park Nari. The pouting princess with a Chewbacca plushie in one hand, and the other clenched in an angry fist.