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hitlikehammers · 4 months ago

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eddie doesn’t understand how steve can ♥️love♥️ him (eddie is frequently worryingly oblivious with a side of ✨self-worth issues✨)

“I’m dead weight.” Eddie’s voice is so fucking tiny, it almost undercuts his resolve. Almost. But it’s a fucking fact, so his useless resolve doesn’t actually matter either way, which is kind of a comfort. Until Eddie blinks, and between lashes fluttering Steve’s in his face. Leaning over him, caging him in not with his arms so much as the heat of him, the weight of his presence more than any part of them presently touching. And still those fucking eyes; stars could be born inside them. Eddie just wishes he deserved a future where maybe he’d get to watch a whole new one burst into life, where he’d deserve that kind of privilege— But he wasn’t exaggerating. He is dead fucking weig— “I know what it feels like when you’re the closest you’re ever gonna fucking get to dead weight,” Steve somehow bites it out so sharp while sounding so level, just stating facts like his eyes aren’t on fucking fire: “This is nothing like that.”

rating: t ♥️ tags: established relationship, post-s4, softness, fluff, tiniest bit of angst because of eddie’s headspace, eddie has self-worth issues, true love, fitting each other’s jagged edges♥️, romance, happy ending 💕

for @steddielovemonth day nineteen: “Love is putting up with someone's bad qualities because they somehow complete you.” ― Sarah Dessen, This Lullaby

Eddie’s staring at the popcorn ceiling, gnawing on the pick hanging from the chain around his neck: yellow—blindingly so, couldn’t miss it if you tried—in place of the old one.

Steve told him it wasn’t good for his hair to chew on it. Eddie doesn’t think he absolutely loves the way he’s replaced the habit, but. It’s symbolic: Steve in his sunshine-y wardrobe, the way he’s Eddie’s sunshine always, the way Eddie wants basically any and every part of Steve in his mouth at all times—

See? It makes sense; it shakes out perfectly logical.

But there’s good reason Eddie needs the sunshine, his sunshine, and a constant reminder snug against his chest: his head’s prone to going dark places, now, ever since—

Well. Ever since.

It’s basically the main reason he sometimes just…sighs and throws himself farther back into the still-stiff-but-slowly-braking-in cushions on the sofa, in this also-still-too-pristine-but-a-valiant-work-in-progress living room, and huffs, half-disbelieving, wholly-disgusted:

“How the fuck do you put up with it, man?”

“Hmm?” Steve hums distracted, distant, not even in the same room because he’s washing dishes, or else, rinsing them before the machine does the work which Eddie will never understand. Eddie hadcleared the table, so he hadn’t been totally useless, but…

But.

“How,” Eddie flicks the chain where it sits atop his shirt, pulled out now, watches the pick float for a second; “do you,” and he tries to make himself not pull the thin ball links into an angry new brand inside the divot-line of the scar already around his neck:

“Put up with it?”

Eddie doesn’t know if something about his words shifted, his tone, or if Steve’s just knows him, or if the dishes are just done now.

But Steve’s in the doorway with his hip jutted toward the frame of the opening, his sleeves rolled up but still damp at the edges, his hands not helping where they cross over his chest.

“With what?” Steve asks, lost; cloudless. Oblivious.

Which, to Eddie’s mind, is just…absurd. Because the answer is right there.

Right fucking there:

“Me.”

Eddie’s moods. His rambling. His stubbornness. His nightmares. His inability to even get so much as a sit-down for a job around here. His freakish interests. His woefully limited ability in the kitchen. His uselessness in cleaning up: too little, too cluttered. His wild sense of most things in the worst ways, at the worst times. His general billboard-sized advertisement of ‘Waste of Space: Steer Clear, You Can Do Miles Better’.

How the fuck do you put up with me?

So it is almost obnoxiously conspicuous, sticks out like a goddamn sore thumb, right?

“The hell did that come from?”

Or not.

Steve’s not standing in the doorway anymore.

“I just,” Eddie swallows, because Steve’s eyes on him are intense, low, laser-focused and Eddie’s suddenly not entirely sure how much of what just cycled through his head maybe came out through his mouth so he settles on a sanitized version, a middle-of-the-road sort of example that gets the point across but…anemically:

“I’m always lounging around while you’re doing actual things, y’know, contributing,” he throws his weight back into where he’s doing exactly that just now, gesturing to the suds on Steve’s arms near the creases of his elbows to illustrate the stark difference: “where I just stare into space and try to plot twisty-turny things that’ll trip the shitheads up next session,” and he shrugs, looks back up at the ceiling because Steve’s never something he wants to look away from, ever, which is why this hurts so much to wrestle with.

But right now, those eyes on him are…a lot.

“I’m dead weight.”

Eddie’s voice is so fucking tiny, it also undercuts his resolve. Almost.

But it’s a fucking fact, so his useless resolve doesn’t actually matter either way, which is kind of a comfort.

Until Eddie blinks, and between lashes fluttering Steve’s in his face. Leaning over him, caging him in not with his arms so much as the heat of him, the weight of his presence less than any part of them presently touching.

And still those fucking eyes; stars could be born inside them.

Eddie just wishes he deserved a future where maybe he’d get to watch a whole new one burst into life, where he’d deserve that kind of privilege—

But he wasn’t exaggerating. He is dead fucking weig—

“I know what it feels like when you’re the closest you’re ever gonna fucking get to dead weight,” Steve somehow bites it out so sharp while sounding so level, just stating facts like his eyes aren’t on fucking fire:

“This is nothing like that.”

Eddie’s throat tightens, his stomach drops.

“Steve,” Eddie chokes, a hand fraying to clamp around Steve’s wrist held rigid.

“You know what I mean,” and yeah he begs it a little. He didn’t mean that.

“I do,” Steve nods, never looking away, barely blinking. “But I meant what I said,” then he softens a little, turns his hand in Eddie’s grip and bringing them palm or palm, seeming to study their hands and Eddie doesn’t get it, doesn’t know what he’s looking for—just kinda knows his heart in his throat, and the way the world feels more right, maybe the only right it has in it at all, when Steve’s hand’s in his, in any way at all.

He’s holding on to that certainty, that feeling that always puts up a hell of a fight against all the dark in Eddie’s chest, just inside the warmth of that hand.

So he startles a little, when the words break through, so close:

“You have no fucking clue, do you?”

Eddie…Eddie only knows that he blinks. Only knows how to blink because: what?

Which he supposes answers the question; seems to clearly enough that Steve huffs, shakes his head, lifts up like he’s going away and Eddie’s blood runs frigid—no, no, the part of him the suspects this end result isn’t ready, he’s not strong enough yet—never will be, but maybe closer, maybe—to stand up and fight back to hold and keep—

But then Steve’s crossing his arms, leaning back on his heels as he looks Eddie up and down, reads him like a book as he’s somehow learned to do; somehow cared enough to learn to do—

Then he’s settling across Eddie’s lap, strong thighs bracketing Eddie’s hips on either side as he lifts broad hands to cups Eddie’s cheeks the same, hold him in place—but he doesn’t have to.

Those eyes are steel; more than enough.

But the lips that land on his forehead, so soft, are both wholly at odds but…perfect.

Eddie feels something unspoken inside him start to tremble; prepare to crumble.

“The stuff you like? All the goddamn noise choseyou pay for on cassettes?” Steve smirks as Eddie squawks a little in instinctual protest, not even something he consciously decides; but it earns Eddie those lips pressed now to the corner of his own—so: maybe not just instinctual, possibly Pavlovian before Steve leans in to whisper:

“It plays at a pitch I can barely hear anymore.”

Eddie pushes back into the couch to meet Steve’s eyes, chest tightening again because: he didn’t know that. He’s wondered, sometimes, just little quirks, but now his heart twists because his Stevie’s hurt, something is wrong with his Stevie, and what is it, what does it mean, will it get worse, will it be—

“Too many knocks to the head,” Steve taps that same head gently with a crooked grimace and all Eddie wants is to grab those hands and move then, it’s not a thing to take lightly, but Steve’s just shrugging as he pushes on:

“They actually don’t expect it to like, get worse,” Steve reads him, as ever; “but there are just certain…”

He makes an ear-piercing sound in the back of his throat that sounds nothing like Eddie’s music, and he’d take offense, if…he wasn’t still reeling with the revelation Steve’s just set before him.

“It kinda sounds like office music,” Steve says it like a confession, like he’d been holding on to that admission and is only letting it out now in a time of dire need; for Eddie.

“Almost…pleasant in the background,” his nose crinkles a little. “Soothing almost, because it’s familiar,” then his features go smooth and lax, and he grins small, fond before he breaks Eddie’s heart not least because he stretches it bursting too fucking fast:

“Because it’s you.”

And that’s…that is—

“I don’t really like exciting food,” Steve’s plowing onward, now, purposeful and on a mission, hands not yet leaving Eddie’s cheeks: keeping him right where he is.

Keeping him.

“I like predictable food. I really do believe fried chicken is a worthwhile meal as a treat,” he shakes his head in the way he has when he remembers a time that’s not so long ago but feels like a different life after everything; Eddie tucks it in his back pocket to ask about if the right time ever comes, just because every part of Steve is a thing Eddie aches to know.

“Your kitchen skills are perfect,” Steve pokes his chest with real force to it, and Eddie’s wondering how much of his internal running commentary was maybe accidentally voiced aloud—or if Eddie’s just known that well, in a way he’s never had before. “They’re always just what I want, and they taste special because I don’t always expect it, because I think you’re shy with it because you think it should be something grand or whatever,” and again, Steve soften, leans to pop a kiss to the top of Eddie’s nose:

“But it is something grand, dumbass,” Steve murmurs close; “because you make it for us.”

Something warm and kinda…kinda like, expansive? Like it’s alive and growing and spreading through him in time with still-shaky heartbeat that wants to believe the dark things that rise in his head are don’t hold sway, the warm-thing in his belly that’s spreading up and around the rest of him feels like it’s trying to convince him that yeah.

That’s all any of it is. But still—

“Did you know I used to get pissed as fuck every laundry day?”

Eddie whips back into the present; frowns up at Steve’s solemn expression.

“You love laundry day.”

Steve hums a little mournfully, but there’s a twitch to his lips that gives him away.

“I don’t own enough bona fide darks for a full load,” he laments mostly tongue-in-cheek, but most in the just-over-half sorta way, because almost-most of him is genuinely lamenting that state of affairs,

“I either had whole parts of my wardrobe waiting weeks to wash in a corner,” Steve literally shudders at recalling it, the dweeb—and fuck, but Eddie loves him; “or I ran like, quarter-loads at best.”

A cardinal sin. Absolutely unforgivable. His poor poor Stevie.

His Stevie, who’s pecking at his lips with a bit-back grin and glowing eyes as he comments pointedly:

“Don’t run into that problem anymore, do I?”

And the way the words land, like Eddie’s a good thing, something that adds to Steve’s world in a ways that may look small but that Steve feels mean something. It’s, it is…

“I love it here, you know. With you,” Steve says like the second half’s the only part that really matters, and the spreading warmth has made its way through Eddie to wholly swirl around his heavy-thumping heart; “but before you moved in?“ and that’s the first time Steve glances away, even if it’s only a second, and Eddie grips for his hand again, hard this time—the fear in him still breathing, even if it’s for a death rattle to it, for the sake of the man on top of him.

“You have no idea how much I used to dread the drive home,” from Eddie’s, from him and Wayne, where they still spend nearly half the week even if this is home base, and Eddie could never have imagine what it would mean, how it would feel to hear that said out loud; “the part of the day that’s supposed to be the best part, the relief after everything,” Steve shakes his head, glances around and grips Eddie’s hand back to match in strength:

“It was a tomb in here. It fucking echoed.”

And the warmth in Eddie’s chest seizes a little: heartbroken on principle, Steve’s hurting always more devastating than his own could ever be. Livid that this man could ever have been left alone that way. Enraged that he hadn’t noticed, stopped it.

“I used to play little games, with myself, like,” Steve licks his lips; “how long would it take for someone to notice if I died in here.”

The warmth in Eddie’s chest retreats in an instant, because just…just that idea in the world—Eddie’s heart remembers what almost losing Steve feels like.

And Steve’s not talking about reality, sure; but he’s also not talking about almost.

“It’s big enough that the stench would take forever, like, for the neighbors,” Steve reasons in the most rational voice saying anything but: “and—”

Eddie’s hand on Steve’s must be painful, or maybe it’s the way his nails might be digging in hard enough to draw blood because Steve stops, looks down at their hands and then softens, looks apologetic but only just, like he…like in all of this he knows he’s hitting painpoints, not the biggest ones but not the easiest ones either, and he means to.

He’s making a point of what he sees instead of dead weight.

But still—

Eddie’s breath catches when Steve brings his hand up to kiss his knuckles, and doesn’t ease the hold between them one bit for doing it.

“I know it’s probably legitimately psychotic to rinse the dishes when that’s why I buy the good detergent,” Steve exhales between Eddie’s fingers; “part of it’s habit, from,” his eyes dart, and Eddie knows the look: he’d deck Harrington Senior, and maybe just give Mommy Harrington the stink eye until she folded, he’s not sure—he just knows he hates them, for the toll they took on Steve.

“Beyond that, though,” and Steve’s features brighten in an instead, curl a little sly and flush a little pink on the apples of his cheeks: intoxicating:

“Mostly it’s just so I have a good angle to watch you, right here,” Steve knocks his shoulder against the back of the sofa. “Being you. Doing things that make you, you.”

And fucking hell, but the way he says all that like it’s almost a gift.

“Your nightmares break my heart,” Steve turns Eddie’s palm to kiss there, to speak deep into the lines; “but if I can make you feel even the slightest bit better? Safer?” He kisses one more time before he draws their joined hands in between them, rests them safe between both their laps.

“It makes me feel less like I’m just mooching off you for doing the same for me in return,” Steve shrugs, but he’s earnest, he means that, and that is so not how any of that even works—

“That’s not—” Eddie stats but Steve cuts him off with his lips, dirty fucking pool.

Goddamn effective, but such a fuckin’ cheat.

“Maybe we both have stuff we still gotta work through,” Steve sighs, shrugs again a little, like their stuff doesn’t include death and dying and monster and apocalypses—and maybe the fact that it doesn’t doesn’t matter, because it doesn’t change a goddamn thing.

“But then maybe I believe with every bone in my body that even if I have to spend the rest of my life working through it? Doing it with you, both of us doing it together,” and Steve smiles at him, a delicate thing because it holds almost too much love inside to stand:

“That sounds like kinda the best life. With you.”

And Eddie regrets only one thing in what he does just then, because it breaks that delicate smile by design.

Because he surges straight up and kisses those lips and breaks that delicacy wide fucking open so he can taste it; drink it in like manna, like ether, like something that can bring him back to life.

The way Steve kisses back and shakes Eddie’s pulse in wild ways for the force, the feeling: it’s no less than exactly that.

“Your rambling is how I know life’s okay, that the world’s spinning,” Steve pants between them when they shift position, before they dive back in; “it’s like how you know your own heartbeat like, like when I used to do swim, or how you get ready when shooting a basket, or plain…shooting,” he hugs and then Eddie’s too greedy to keep any distance, too needy to wait any longer to taste Steve on his tongue a little longer, a little more.

“I only paid attention when I needed to focus,” Steve barely breathes as they both have to concede to a breather, to literally steady their lungs, and he presses down at the center of Eddie’s chest to balance, maybe, but Eddie suspects it’s most to make his point:

“But you know when it’s fucking off, not quite right,” and then Steve stares at his hand on Eddie’s heaving chest, eyes a little glassy for a minute as he whispers, kinda broke :

“Or when it’s missing.”

Eddie slaps an uncoordinated hand on top of Steve’s and helps him feel closer, feel more, the vessels and the chambers and the valves or whatever; the only place Eddie trusts them—only places he ever could—is in these hands.

“You’re that,” Steve declares simply, lifting his lashes before his gaze.

“You just,” he swallows hard, a little; “I understand more now than at the start. I want to keep understanding more, but,” and Eddie gets it, what Steve’s inching toward—Eddie’s lived with his story close to the chest, held tight and safe but Steve’s closer, now, and it’d be hard to hide from him, even if it hasn’t always been easy letting it free, story by story, card by card.

But it’s Steve. And any hard thing is worth it, if Steve’s the endgame. At the very core, there’s nothing he wants to hide from Steve.

It’s just more been about the things he’s too afraid to let anyone see, because they’re too much, they be the final straw, and he—

“It’s more the you part, than the what. The fact that it’s you, whatever there is to know.”

And that’s where Eddie’s gonna work on it, because he wants the same in return. For the first time in his whole life, Eddie Munson is giving his all to this. To them.

Maybe they’ll stumble. They already do. But fuck if it hasn’t been a revelation to know he’ll always be picked back up in less than a heartbeat, and never once be proven wrong.

He doesn’t realize there’re tears involved on his end until Steve leaning down, kissing them away.

“I love you,” Steve breathes into his cheekbone on the right; “all the parts of me I thought I had to hide because they were weird or wrong or not shaped right,” and he pauses then, kisses a little line of fluttery things along the left line of Eddie’s face to match; “you fit where they live like you were made to,” then he kisses, draws a shiver through Eddie’s whole body, when those searing lips trace the line of the scar that’s mostly faded pink, now, but pulls down the lower length toward Eddie’s jaw.

“And all the jagged edges of me that I thought were gonna leave me alone forever,” Steve mouths there, kinda adoring, reverently; “they make where we fit snap into place that much stronger, that much more sure.”

And he looks down at their hands, and lifts them a little, let’s go only enough to clasp loose, like a businessman might to seal a deal.

“Not like this,” he says, definitive; “like this,” and he locks their grip then, finger braided across finger, tight and automatically feral against the force he puts on trying to pull it apart when he’s done, to show it; to prove it:

“Not going anywhere.”

And Steve’s eyes are still flame-bright, still intense to the point of stealing breath but it’s not stealing when it’s given free, when Eddie wants all of him to be Steve’s, for always. Not dead weight. The same weight in the same body. The same soul twined together; the same fucking beating heart.

“You get it?”

And Eddie nods, as best he can, before he catches their hands—unbeatable—between their chests this time to kiss Steve until the love in him is the only taste Eddie even knows.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @disrespectedgoatman @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #established relationship #post-s4 #tiniest bit of angst because of eddie’s headspace #romance #eddie has self-image issues #steve harrington’s patient and unwavering brand of love #true love #fitting each other’s jagged edges #happy ending #stranger things #steddielovemonth #prompt: love is putting up with someone's bad qualities because they somehow complete you #hitlikehammers writes #hitlikehammers v words

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misscinnamonroll16 · 1 year ago

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Brozone diner au: the day John Dory took off part one

this au does not belong to me, it belongs to @bzjohndory its gonna have to be multiple parts bc i write too much apparently

Business was slow, it was a hard winter and most trolls didn't leave their pods unless they had to. Bruce was the one to suggest it, knowing his brother hadn't had a day off in seven years. They all had special days that they got off like birthdays or anniversaries, except for John Dory. He didn't take days off, he worked open to close seven days a week. Bruce brought it up with others, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere without back up from their younger brothers. Bruce talked with Clay in between orders on the line. “I'm just saying, we haven't been that busy these past few weeks so I think he can just take a day off at least. We're all responsible enough to take care of the diner while he's gone.” Bruce said as he pulled some fries out of the fryer, portioning them on a plate and passing it to Clay. “Yeah but how do you plan on making him? We've tried making him before and he literally spent the entire day in the diner, working on other stuff ." Clay wondered as he finished plating a couple burgers, putting them in the window to be ran. At that moment, Floyd came into the back and leaned against the wall. “You good Flo?" Clay asked as he worked on the next order. Floyd nodded and held up a thumbs up but they noticed how his hand shook. Bruce threw some fries on a plate and slid a milk crate over to Floyd. “Sit down and have a snack. And while you're back here I wanna talk to you about something." Bruce said, handing the plate of fries to Floyd as he sat on the milk crate. Floyd nodded and started eating the fries while still leaning with his back against the wall. After a few moments of no orders coming in, Bruce crouched down next to Floyd. “Feel better?" Bruce asked while rubbing his back. “Yeah, I skipped breakfast this morning so I started to get the shakes." Floyd chuckled, placing the empty plate on the floor. Clay grabbed some dirty dishes they had on the line and grabbed the plate for the floor, taking them to the dish room. “So before you go back up there, I wanna talk to you about this thought I had. Clay thinks I won't be able to do it. I won't be able to do it by myself, I'll need all of your guys' help." Bruce said nonchalantly, watching for JD to be walking around. “What's up? I'm sure I can help somehow." Floyd said as he pulled his money out of the pocket on his apron. “I wanna get JD to take a day off. He hasn't taken a day off since he got ownership of the diner. If he had his way, we'd still be open on Christmas, and he would totally run this entire place by himself if he had to. He deserves it, he's kept this place afloat, put each of us through college and is here every goddamn day. This isn't gonna be like the last time, he's not gonna be allowed back in here until the next day.” Bruce said, looking Floyd in the eyes telling that he is completely serious about this. Clay came back in with clean dishes and began setting them up on the line. “I think he's crazy if he thinks he's going to get John to do it. He practically lives here, I don't think I've actually seen his place.” Clay said, placing plates in their proper spots. "Yeah but if we work together, I'm sure John will listen to us. You guys don't see him on the floor as much as I do. He's constantly moving, like if he stops, he'll pass out. Sometimes he shakes too. And Bruce is right, he's more than earned a day off, heck a week, we'll be lucky if we get one day.” Floyd said as he sorted his money, putting it back into his book. "I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it or need it. I'm saying that we might have to actually tie him down to get him out of here. He's not going to like the idea.” Clay said, cleaning up their prep area. "What are you guys talking about?” Branch said through the server window. Bruce stood up and motioned for Branch to come back there. Branch walked back onto the grill line, confused.

#trolls #trolls 3 #brozone #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls bruce #trolls john dory #branch trolls #fluff with angst #just like the tiniest bit of angst #idk how to write #idk how to tag this #jd being a softy

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louiseolivier · 8 months ago

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Saturday Snippet

I finally felt like writing again. This is the first chunk for Pride pt 4. Really hoping to keep the momentum up. famous last words.

Buck was on his back, head in Tommy’s lap with Tommy’s fingers carding through his hair. It had been a full week since they’d seen each other. Tommy filled in for a sick coworker on Thursday, and Buck switched shifts on Friday, so he could be off today. He didn’t know about absence making the heart grow fonder, but it did make him more desperate for all things Tommy. He leaned into Tommy’s touch and almost purred as Tommy scratched blunt nails in the short hair behind his ear.

Their day could be divided into three parts: sex, sandwiches, and cinema. Although, calling D.E.B.S cinema was probably a stretch. They were sprawled out on a blanket at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, waiting for the movie to start. Buck had packed a bunch of snacks, and Tommy dug out a pair of stadium chairs for them.

It was a nice evening. A persistent breeze kept the temperature bearable while the sun was out, but Buck was glad they remembered to grab their hoodies out of Tommy’s truck. They were going to need them later. Right then, though, Buck was perfectly comfortable leaching heat off of Tommy.

A text notification chimed. “Is that yours or mine?” Buck asked.

“Yours.”

Buck reached out and randomly patted the ground for his phone. Tommy snorted but took pity and placed it in Buck’s hand. “Thanks,” Buck said and smiled up at his boyfriend’s adoring face. He unlocked his phone, and his smile dipped.

Brooke sorry, i’m booked. i have a few openings next sat and one sun. let me know. it’s good to hear from you buck!

The tips of Tommy’s fingers made it under Buck’s t-shirt and gave his stomach a scratch. “What’s wrong?”

Buck abandoned his comfy position on Tommy’s lap and sat up. “So, I was going to let it be a surprise. Although, now that I think about it, there’s no real ‘surprise’ for you. Like, you're not getting anything out of this, but it’s meaningful for me, and I want you there, but now it looks like it’s not going to happen? Are you working both Saturday and Sunday next week?”

“Evan,” Tommy said in that way that denoted Buck needed to get it together and stop rambling.

Buck gave the text a second look before locking his phone. “Right. Do you remember Rose from the parade?” Tommy nodded, and Buck pushed forward. “So she has this really cool tattoo, and it kickstarted this urge for me to get a new one. Normally, my tattoos don’t mean anything, just something I thought was cool in the moment, but this year has been, like, transformative. I met you, I became aware of my bisexuality, our relationship - I want to commemorate that. And I was kinda hoping to do it when we were off next week, but she’s booked. She has openings next weekend, but I’m pretty sure you’re working.”

There was a wariness in Tommy’s expression, “And you want me there because…”

Buck’s head tilted in confusion. “Because I want you to be part of the experience. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.”

Buck smoothed his thumb over the furrow between Tommy’s eyebrows. “You seem weirded out”

“Not weird so much as, I guess, I'm just processing. You’re not going to get my name tramp stamped on you or anything like that, right?”

Buck’s eye bulged and he burst out with an ungainly cackle. “Oh my god, no!” Tommy watched him, cheeks flushed from embarrassment but also charmed by Buck’s reaction. Buck swooped in and kissed him because he looked so cute. He then pulled their hoodies from a bag and tossed Tommy his before pulling his over his head.

It was fully dark, and the screen in front of them burst to life. Buck gathered a couple boxes of candy and two beers from the cooler. Instead of sitting in the stadium chair next to Tommy, he settled between Tommy’s thighs and rested his back against Tommy.

Tommy wrapped an arm around Buck and lightly kneaded his ribs. “I’ll take Sunday off.”

“Really?! You don’t have to, you know, if it’s going to be a hassle,” Buck told him. He twisted off the cap of one of the beers and handed it to Tommy.

“You want me there, I want to be there. No hassle. I’m swimming in PTO time. If you actually want to do that Redwoods thing, we could spend a month there with the amount of PTO I’ve accrued.”

Buck craned his neck to get a look at Tommy’s face. “Probably not a month, but I do want to go.”

“Really?” Tommy said, surprised.

Buck’s forehead furrowed, surprised at Tommy’s surprise. “Yeah, really. I was actually thinking this fall.”

“Oh. That’s good. We should make plans.” Tommy kissed the top half of Buck’s birthmark, and Buck closed his eyes, knowing a second kiss to the lower half was next. Tommy tightened his hold around Buck as the Destination Films logo appeared on the screen.

Buck cradled his beer between his knees and pulled out his phone. He texted Brooke that Sunday was a go, and then settled back to focus on the movie in front of him, and the heat of the man behind him.

Pride

#tevan #bucktommy #kinley #buck x tommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan fanfic #bucktommy fanfic #tevan ficlet #bucktommy ficlet #fluff with the tiniest bit of angst #d.e.b.s. actually is cinema #buck doesn't know what he's talking about

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jamandjazz · 11 months ago

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Guys we got some fucking bonding in WSMS today it was GREAT go read it

#there was some angst but when is there not?#we got the tiniest little snip bit of an idea of what happened before dal left #teeny tiny #a throwaway sentence but it’s SOMETHING

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waytooinvested · 1 year ago

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Small Problem... Chapter 2

You can find the full story on AO3

..................................................

Lena was in the middle of grinding up a chunk of dried rhubarb for her latest spell to try and de-miniaturise Kara when Dreamer came hurtling into the room at full speed, almost running right into the far wall when she failed to slow down in time, and startling Lena so much that she dropped her pestle.

‘Nia! What is it? What’s happened?’

She would have been more worried by the sudden entrance, if not for the fact that Nia was now bouncing excitedly from foot to foot, and holding -something- behind her back like a child who had just raided the cookie jar.

‘Have you seen Kara anywhere? She’s not on the snack table’.

There was a tiny huff of air against Lena’s ear, and an indignant little voice muttered ‘I don’t spend that much time with the snacks!’

‘She doesn’t spend that much time with the snacks’.

Nia chuckled at the passed-on-message, tilting her head to peer past the fall of Lena’s hair to where Kara was sitting comfortably on her shoulder, legs dangling by her clavicle and one hand fisted in her shirt for balance.

‘I don’t know why I even asked – I should have known if you weren’t making the most of a fresh batch of crullers you’d be in here with Lena’.

‘There’s CRULLERS???’

Lena didn’t have to speak up for Kara this time, because that had come out at a volume loud enough to make her wince, and definitely loud enough to carry to Nia standing a few feet away.

‘Kara, remember what we said about shouting and proximity to people’s ears?’

‘Oops, sorry…’ Kara patted the lobe of Lena’s ear apologetically. ‘But crullers Lena! I haven’t had a giant cruller yet, and you know they’re my favourite!’

‘Well hang on, that’s not what I came here to tell you! I got you a surprise!’

Nia was bouncing again, and at last Kara was diverted from the promise of fresh doughnuts by her obvious excitement.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s- drum roll please-’

Nia stamped her feet in a rapid tattoo to simulate her own drum roll, then brought out the thing behind her back with a flourish, plonking it down in the middle of Lena’s grimoire so it would be right in Kara’s line of sight.

‘-YOU!’

The big (well, little) surprise was a miniature Supergirl action figure. Just under five inches high, complete with Supersuit, cape, boots and flowing waves of plastic hair. They all stared at it for a moment, and then Kara lifted gingerly off Lena’s shoulder and floated down to have a closer look.

It was not a perfect likeness by any means, but one of the better of its kind, and seeing the two of them side by side was… a little uncanny, honestly. Kara walked a slow circle around her doppelganger, taking in its fixed plastic grin and hands-on-hips pose with a perplexed frown on her face.

‘Thank… you?’

‘What’s she supposed to do with it?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

Kara and Lena looked at the doll, then at each other, then shrugged.

‘Not really?’

‘The clothes. You can take the supersuit off, I checked! Even the boots are proper leather. Well, pleather, but I think they’ll be comfy enough – they’re soft anyway, not stiff plastic, and they look about the right size’.

Kara perked up at that, keen to get back into something that would feel more like her usual self.

Once it had become clear that getting Kara back to her proper size wasn’t going to be a quick fix, they had done their best to get her properly outfitted. Alex and Kelly had taken Esme home to raid her doll box for anything that might come close to fitting Kara, and they had found a few things that worked, which Kara had been wearing on rotation. Her favourite so far had been a tiny pair of blue jean style stretchy pants, and a matching blue shirt with long sleeves layered under short that had once belonged to a Tiny Teen!TM doll. Her LEAST favourite was the ill fitting ‘sleepy bunnikins’ baby doll onesie she had been forced to wear for one humiliating afternoon while chocolate frosting was washed out of her other clothes after an incident of over-exuberance helping Esme decorate cupcakes for her upcoming birthday party. The rest fell somewhere between the two on the spectrum of acceptability, but none had made Kara feel entirely herself, and they had had no luck at all so far with shoes.

Until now.

‘YES! Thank you Nia!!! Lena, would you mind…?’

Kara gestured at the open grimoire and Lena obligingly stood it up on its end to hide her and the doll from their view, hoping that it wasn’t inadvertently insulting to her mother’s memory to use her revered magic book as a changing screen. She and Nia waited patiently for the reveal, sharing an amused glance at the mutters and grumbles that emerged from behind the book as Kara wrestled her plastic twin out of its clothes and pulled them on herself.

When at last she emerged the twee floral dress and pinafore she had borrowed from Esme’s littlest china doll was gone, and Kara was once more dressed in an approximation of her own clothes. She struck her familiar Supergirl pose, hands on hips, newly shod feet set wide apart, and looked hopefully up at them.

‘What do you think?’

Lena examined her tiny friend and nodded admiringly.

‘Much better. You look like yourself again’.

It was true, but not wholly true. The sizing was no worse than any of the other outfits she had been making do with lately to be fair – better if anything, since it was made of stretchy, forgiving material, but knowing how her suit was supposed to fit made it all the more obvious that the sleeves of this one were straining around Kara’s biceps, while the too-long pants wrinkled and the top hung loosely across her chest. Apparently the manufacturers had taken some liberties with Supergirl’s bra size…

Nia squealed and clapped her hands in delight. ‘I’m so glad I stayed up til 4am in an ebay bidding war for it, it was TOTALLY worth it!’

‘Nia, you didn’t!’

‘Yep – there’s loads of Supergirl dolls out there, but most of them are too big, or the clothes are just painted on. THIS one is a much sought after “Superhero In My Hand” model, and the clothes come off so that you can swap them out with other dolls in the series if you want to. I really wanted to get little Dreamer too, but that one still had another two hours on the auction and Brainy changed the wifi password to force me go to sleep, so my nemesis got her instead’.

Lena raised an eyebrow. ‘You have a nemesis?’

‘I do now. Ebay user Iheartdreamer98’.

Nia glared darkly at nothing in particular, then dropped to a crouch so that she was at eye level with Kara on the table, grinning again as if nothing had happened.

‘This is so cool. What do you think of the doll?’

‘I love the clothes, but the actual doll is a bit creepy, and they made me look kind of constipated. Now she’s out of the outfit I don’t think she really looks much like me at all’.

‘So you don’t want to keep her?’

‘Not especially’.

‘Can I have her then?’

Kara frowned. ‘What for?’

Glancing between Kara and Lena, Nia beckoned them both closer before whispering ‘hijinks’.

‘Go on…’ Kara whispered back conspiratorially (then had to repeat herself more loudly, because at her current size a whisper was inaudible unless she practically climbed into your ear canal).

‘Well -’. Nia reached over the grimoire to pull out the doll, which Lena noticed was now wearing Kara’s cast off frills (apparently despite thinking it didn’t look like her she had felt weird about leaving it entirely naked, even though it must have been a pain trying to dress a from-her-perspective-life-sized plastic dummy). ‘-Brainy knows I bought this because he was there when I was ordering it. But no one else does. Alex doesn’t. I thought there might be some good pranking potential in it. What do you think? Something to do while you’re stuck in here?’

Kara grinned back wickedly ‘oh yes’.

After the first couple of days spent getting used to her new size and taking part in a dozen different (failed) attempts at de-shrinking spells, Kara’s mood had shifted from distress to boredom. She couldn’t go to work. She couldn’t fly out to save the day from villains (though she had waged an hours long battle to oust a rat that had been attempting to set up home in the tower, then spent a further day amusing Esme with stories and re-enactments of her daring exploits). She couldn’t even go out without someone’s pocket to hide in, in case anyone saw her and decided to use her relative vulnerability to their advantage. In fact as Nia had alluded to, the main solace Kara had now was her continued delight in over-sized snacks, but even her appetite had its limits, and she was desperate for things to do. It seemed that Nia might just have found a neat solution to both her need for proper clothing and her need for entertainment (even if it was at the expense of her long-suffering sister).

‘You’re with us, right Lena?’

‘I’m theoretically with you. I won’t tell Alex what you’re up to or do anything to spoil your fun, but I don’t think I’ll have time to actively join in. I really need to keep working on this spell so you can get back to normal’.

Lena hadn’t been doing anything but working on spells since Kara’s accident, even though she had long since tried even the most tenuously promising charms in her mother’s book, and was more or less just making things up now. She was using rhubarb, because it was known for its speedy and extensive growth. Bamboo shoots for the same reason. A dose of her artificial yellow sunlight to boost Kara’s innate powers and lend the spell strength… she was about 48 hours away from suggesting that Kara drink up her milk and go to bed early in the hopes that it would help her grow up big and strong, or else poking about in rabbit holes to find the way down to Wonderland and the caterpillar’s magic size changing mushroom, but she couldn’t admit it.

Not when whatever had happened had to have been her fault. She and Kara had been standing over the workbench together at the time looking through her grimoire. Their hands had collided as they both reached to turn a page and Lena had felt the usual surge of butterflies that came with touching Kara unexpectedly. Then suddenly all hell had broken loose and everyone else had been thrown across the room while Kara shrank to dolls house proportions. It must have been some unforeseen magical accident linked to the surge of emotion, or the physical contact while touching the book, or… something. And if Lena’s magic had caused this, that meant it must also be able to fix it.

The trouble was that despite going over the interaction second by second in her mind every hour since it had happened, she still had no idea what she had done, or how. She hadn’t been trying to do a spell. Not just a shrinking spell, but any kind. The idea that magic could just burst out of her uncontrollably like that was terrifying, and another reason why she had been spending most of her time holed up in this room away from the others, where she couldn’t accidentally hurt anyone.

In fact the only person she hadn’t made excuses to stay away from for more than five minutes at a time lately was Kara.

Kara, who was the one Lena had most hurt with her accidental witchcraft, but also the only other person who was as trapped in the tower as Lena was until she learned to keep her magic under tighter control. It felt unfair to turn her away when she was already so lonely and overwhelmed by her new size. Besides, Lena harboured a secret, desperate hope that if they were together enough then whatever she had accidentally done might be undone the same way. They would brush knuckles in exactly the right place at exactly the right moment, or Kara would step onto some special part of the grimoire, and just as suddenly as she had shrunk, she would grow back to her usual size and this would all be over.

She didn’t say that to Kara of course – to her and to everyone else she remained optimistic, assuring them that they weren’t out of options yet, and the next spell might just be the one that would do the trick. Well then, the next. Or the one after that. She would find it eventually. She had to. So she couldn’t let herself get diverted into playing games with Nia and Kara, no matter how hopefully they were looking at her now. That would be like admitting she was giving up. And besides, somebody might get hurt.

Kara crossed the table to her and patted her knuckle gently, understanding something of her distress, even if not all of it.

‘I know you want to work this out Lena, but you’re allowed to take a break. It’s okay if it takes time. I’m okay’.

Lena smiled back at her gratefully, but shook her head.

‘I know, and I’ll take a break if I need to. I just want to do a little more work on this one first’.

‘Are you coming up for dinner at least? J’onn’s cooking something Martian-inspired’.

‘Sounds good, but I’m not really hungry. Save me some left overs?’

‘Sure…’

Kara still didn’t look happy, but she flew up from the table to perch on Nia’s shoulder, and Lena listened to the two of them talking about how best to prank the others with their look-alike Kara as they clattered off back down the hallway, leaving Lena alone with her spells.

Rhubarb.

Bamboo.

Artificial yellow sun.

There had to be a way.

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #Nia Nal #supergirl #my fic #supercorp fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #kara x lena #Small Problem...#It's official folks we have a second chapter of this utter nonsense #What can I say Tiny Kara is too much fun to write to leave it at one chapter #And yes being me I'm afraid I AM injecting just the tiniest hint of angst into the silliness #but just a teeny tiny bit I promise #miniature-Kara sized angst and she isn't even the one experiencing it #(Sorry Lena...)#There will be at least one more chapter to follow!#AO3 comments are always welcome and a good way to make yourself officially one of my favourite people #if that is something you have any interest in being

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vivid-vices · 2 months ago

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i woke up in the middle of the night last night and finished a fic that i'd only written the first 5-7ish paragraphs of and now i'm scared to open the doc because what if it's completely incoherent gibberish?

#it's just smut with the tiniest bit of plot because i need angst to live #but i do have standards #ellie.txt #ellie.fic

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namjinreads · 1 year ago

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READ ON AO3

#author: bishoujo #length: 1 to 5k words #rating: teen #a/b/o #light angst #like the tiniest bit and then fluff #fluff #namjin #namjin au

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misscinnamonroll16 · 1 year ago

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Brozone diner au: the day John Dory took off part seven

holy fuck seven?!? this is the last one tho

The two of them had a playfully stare off when they heard the front door open, they both looked up before going up front to see which brother had arrived. It was Floyd, waving good morning to them as he sipped his coffee. It wasn't long after before the other two arrived, John going in the back to retrieve the cake while his brothers drank their coffee and prepared for their shifts. John Dory hid the cake behind his back for as long as he could before revealing it to his brothers. Just like Bruce, they all were practically drooling, equally excited to get a piece. JD knew his words would fall on deaf ears until they had a piece of cake, he quickly cut it and served it to them. While they ate the fluffleberry cake, John started talking. “I made this fluffleberry cake as a thank you gift for you guys for forcing me to take a day off. I understand it's because you care and I work too hard. But I only do that because I care, I just have a bit of a hard time showing it. I figured this would get my point across.” " You're such a fuckin sap.” Clay teased before stuffing a large chunk of cake in his mouth. " God dang it Clay, he was trying to be nice, don't be a jerk. That was lovely John. Thank you for the cake, it tastes just how grandma used to make it.” Floyd said, smiling softly. Branch made a noise of agreement as he licked his plate (he really liked the cake), the brothers laughing at him a bit. " Geez Branch, no one's gonna take it from you.” Bruce joked before remembering the box of stuff. Bruce went into the back, to the office, and grabbed the box of stuff. Bruce brought the box back up front and placed it on the counter. “What's this?" Clay asked before peeking in the box. “Well, ask good ol’ sentimental John over here. He got it all.” Bruce said, nudging JD's shoulder. John blushed a little before speaking, scratching the back of his head nervously “It's just some stuff I found yesterday when I went back to Grandma's old pod. I thought you guys might like it.” The other three looked into the box, seeing the items John had picked. Clay pulled out the book, tearing up a little. Floyd cooed over the picture of him and Branch. Branch looked close to tears seeing his favorite old plushie, giving it a squeeze. It pulled at John's heart strings to see his brothers happy like this. “If this is what happens when you take a day off, I think you should take more days off." Bruce teased, nudging John Dory again. “Yeah right, then who'd be here to keep you guys in check." JD joked, the mood felt light and soft. Soon it was time for them to open the diner to the public, putting the cake away and their items with their stuff. The shift went by without a hitch, except for Poppy coming in to bother Branch especially when she saw his old plushie. The diner felt more alive and comfortable, maybe John Dory should take more days off.

@bzjohndory

#trolls #brozone #trolls floyd #trolls bruce #trolls john dory #trolls clay #branch trolls #fluff with angst #just like the tiniest bit of angst #jd being a softy #idk how to write #idk how to tag this

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headdaze · 1 year ago

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hi guys this is your daily reminder to comment on fics because it gives happiness both ways: to the author because you're commenting obviously BUT ALSO TO YOURSELF because when author replies you are recognized by them for a moment and that is just so glorious and beautiful

#mutual appreciation ❤️#“thank you for writing” “thank you for commenting”#idk about everyone else but personally it makes me so happy whenever an author responds bc it lets me know I could make them happy #and if I could make them even the tiniest bit happy like their fic made me I am overjoyed #((well sometimes it's an angst fic in which case I want the author to feel the emotions too LOL))#anywaysss #random thoughts #COMMENT ON FICS!!!

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cyber-streak-extra · 2 years ago

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Just something sweet :) The ITP: Happy Ending AU was made by @maraariana01

Title: Shall we?

Description: The two hang out quite a lot, not surprising——but after certain events, spend further time together, and relax.

Ralpho laid across the couch, waiting for Spring Bonnie to return. The orange rabbit was too tired to remember why the bunny had left in the first place.

Glancing at the clock in the darkened room, he knew it had to be somewhere around eleven PM—although the rabbit wasn’t the best at telling that sort of time.

Either way, he knew it had to be late—and that Jackie would return soon, if he was remembering what Oswald had told him once about her job.

A few hours prior, when he and Spring Bonnie had actively been watching a few new rom-com’s, he remembered Oswald heading back to his room with Ben and Gabrielle.

The kids seemed to have a break from school—although Ralpho didn’t know why, he hadn’t asked yet. Either way, they all seemed to like that.

From what he’d heard from Jackie over the phone prior to the two’s arrival, the whole sleepover thing would last until Tuesday—tomorrow would be Sunday.

He knew that they were all sleeping. Earlier, he’d passed by Oswald’s room when trying to retrieve something, and he had heard snoring. The rabbit had wondered if they still had their fort up.

The orange rabbit got to learn a lot whenever he decided to hang out with Spring Bonnie and them—which, he had been doing a little more recently.

After the encounter with the bear, he’d been brought back here—and Jackie had thankfully been able to help him out. Spring Bonnie had thanked her a lot, he remembered.

Ralpho hadn’t really left all that often recently—originally, it had been because he was still recovering and resting from the encounter with him.

Now though, it was more about Spring Bonnie—he could tell how worried the bunny had been ever since the encounter.

The bunny was concerned—Ralpho knew that—especially since Spring Bonnie had told him what he was worrying about. Funtime Freddy was still out there.

He knew Spring Bonnie was scared about what could happen—so, when he did want to leave, Ralpho simply allowed his Honey Bun to come with him.

Ears beginning to twitch, Ralpho heard something from down the hall. It sounded like it was rather close to where Oswald’s room happened to be.

Ralpho looked around for a moment, before deciding to go see what was going on—if anything really was, at least. Maybe something fell.

It was rather dark in the living room, though. So, as he got off of the couch, the orange rabbit tried to watch where he was going—not wanting to trip over anything.

As he watched where he went, slowly making his way out of the living room, he stared down at his feet and the floor. There wasn’t anything there.

For a moment, Ralpho considered turning the lights on so that it would be a little easier—although, the rabbit could never remember where that was.

The orange rabbit sighed. As he stared down, he could notice how he was moving—limping. Frankly, he’d forgotten that he was doing that, but, his Honey Bun...

Ever since the three of them returned, he knew that the bunny had been upset—and he still was, Ralpho knew.

He’d noticed how more protective Spring Bonnie had started becoming—in general, and of him and Oswald, especially. He knew the bunny wanting to accompany him was part of it.

He’d rested a lot after it had first happened—Ralpho knew that he had needed time to recover. And, even now, he still needed to do so a bit longer.

When the rabbit had started to walk around again, he’d only realized that he’d been limping when Oswald noticed it first, and mentioned it.

He could remember Spring Bonnie suggesting that he still rest, or for him to carry him—although Ralpho wasn’t exactly against that second option.

Walking down the hallway, Ralpho came to a stop when he noticed something. In the middle of it, Jinx was laying there.

The cat seemed to be awake, as the rabbit saw little eyes staring up at him. She meowed.

“Hey, Jinx.” The rabbit said. He reached down to scratch her chin, before continuing on his way to Oswald’s room.

Ralpho’s tail twitched. He knew how the rabbit animatronic felt—how they both did—partially, at least. The orange rabbit didn’t know everything.

He never thought that he was exactly good with situations like this. A part of the orange rabbit thought that he might be getting better at comforting—yet he wasn’t sure.

Ralpho’s ears twitched. They lowered, and he needed to move them—they were blocking what little he could see in the darkened house. He didn’t need to trip.

He wanted to help them both out—yet he just wasn’t sure how exactly. Does Oz think...

The rabbit’s thoughts came to a halt when he finally reached Oswald’s room, and he spotted a familiar yellow bunny in front of the door.

The door to the room was fully opened, although Spring Bonnie wasn’t entering—he remained where he was, simply watching.

From where Ralpho himself stood, he could see Gabrielle still in the little fort that had been made, chest rising and falling.

Oswald lay in his bed near where the three had made it the comfy little fort. Fetch slept peacefully beside the boy. Oswald shifted slightly.

He hadn’t realized it originally, but Ben was in the fort, too. He remained sprawled out, a blanket across both him and Gabrielle, as he snored.

Spring Bonnie relaxed—no longer as tense as he had been—as he saw those signs. Ralpho could see the bunny’s ears go back up as he started to close the door.

“Springy?”

Spring Bonnie turned away, still closing the door—trying to be quiet. In the darkness of the hallway, he could easily make out Ralpho standing there.

“Spring-“ Ralpho had started. Before he could finish, the bunny was quick to make his way over, and gently hug the orange rabbit.

Ralpho returned the hug. “Did it happen again, Spring?”

While he didn’t technically need to, it was still possible for the orange rabbit to sleep—it was nice. Though, he knew that it wasn’t possible for Spring Bonnie.

Some time ago, he remembered when he had first learned of what occasionally happened. He’d been in the living room with Oswald, half asleep, while trying to watch something with him.

Oswald himself was laid across the couch, watching the monster movie that played, when Spring Bonnie had approached the two in a panic. He’d been leaking.

From what the bunny had told him, it was like a flashback—but with what else he’d said, Ralpho figured that it was like both—sort of.

Spring Bonnie nodded.

Separating from the hug, Ralpho reached to take hold of the animatronics hands into his own. “C’mon, Springy. Why don’t we head back?”

____

Ralpho sat beside Oswald on the couch, as some sort of monster movie played on the TV. It was just the two of them, as Thomas and Jackie were at work, and Spring Bonnie was doing chores.

He wasn’t too sure about Jinx and Fetch, though. The last he’d seen either of them was when he first arrived—the dog greeting him, while Jinx was eating.

Although he had sat down to watch the movie with Oswald, Ralpho was partially distracted as he busied himself with writing something down on a piece of paper.

While Oswald couldn’t exactly see what was on the piece—Ralpho was keeping it to himself—the boy thought that he could see “Springy” written down on it for a moment.

“What are you doing?” The boy finally asked.

“Just trying to make a little special something, Oz.” The orange rabbit answered with a grin. Although, he was admittedly having trouble with what exactly he should do.

“For Springs?”

Ralpho nodded.

The two sat there for a little longer—Oswald simultaneously watching the film and watching Ralpho write—or at least attempt to. While Ralpho talked on and on.

After another minute or two, the orange rabbit finally stopped. Having nowhere else to put the paper, he took his hat off, and placed it in there.

“I should probably get going, Oz.” He stated, before reaching over to mess with Oswald’s hair, before getting off of the couch.

Oswald watched as Ralpho left the living room—he went down the hallway, so the boy assumed that he was wanting to say goodbye to Spring Bonnie.

He refocused back on the movie—only to realize that he had missed his favorite part of it. So, grabbing the remote beside him, Oswald pressed ‘rewind’.

After another minute, he heard footsteps getting closer—and Oswald turned just in time to see Ralpho approaching the front door. “See ya later, Oz!”

Oswald waved, even if Ralpho wouldn’t see because of the direction he was facing. He glanced back towards the TV as the door opened.

“Wait, Ralpho-“ The boy started, a thought having rather quickly crossed his mind.

“Whenever you leave, where do you even...” Oswald turned back, only to no longer see the orange rabbit there, and the door closed. “...Go?”

____

Ralpho stared at the words on the screen, one ear twitching. He’d never done anything like this before—which was why he needed to practice, anyway.

He stood up, moving back a little bit—but remained close enough to the screen so that he could actually see the words and images.

Just as the orange rabbit began to carefully move, partially wondering if he could get someone for this, a noise coming from the kitchen distracted him.

Stopping, and shutting the device off, he made his way over. Spring? The orange rabbit wondered.

However, when he got there, it wasn’t Spring Bonnie. Instead, it was Jackie. She was beside the counter, having gathered a few things.

Does she know how? He thought with a tilt of his head, ears twitching. Maybe she could help?

“Ralpho?”

He stared at her for a moment, before waving. “Hey, Jackie.” He smiled, and made his way over to her. “What are you doing?”

“Before I head off to work, I want to make the kids some pancakes.” Jackie answered, holding in a yawn.

“Maybe I could help?” The orange rabbit offered with a shrug.

She blinked at him.

“It won’t end up like the time with the cake, promise.” He... well, that was at least what he hoped for.

____

Spring Bonnie made his way out of the bedroom with his son and his friends, and towards the kitchen. Gabrielle was still half asleep, and a bit far behind.

“Oh- hey, Springy.” He heard Ralpho’s voice, followed by Ben snickering about something. He noticed Gabrielle and his son just staring.

He turned away from the kids, and towards Ralpho. The orange rabbit was standing there, covered in both pancake batter and syrup. There was a bit of a mess on the counter.

“Ralpho, what happened?”

“I tried to make breakfast,” Ralpho answered with a shrug, “I should’ve expected this.” He wasn’t sure if this was better or worse compared to the cake.

“Mom should’ve done this.”

“Yeah, probably.” Ralpho nodded in agreement.

Spring Bonnie finally moved. He made his way over to Ralpho, trying not to step on anything. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” The yellow bunny wrote.

____

Oswald, Fetch, Ralpho, and Gabrielle all sat around the board game. Spring Bonnie would’ve liked to play, too, but he was busy at the moment.

Oswald had suggested that he could play with them in the next round whenever he finished—whenever that would be—and he had seemed to like that idea.

Technically, both Gabrielle and Oswald had already finished. Oswald first, followed by his friend. Now, they were just watching and Ralpho.

When Oswald had discovered what all the animatronic dog could do—such as write—he made sure to keep a lot of paper around for Fetch.

With how everyone was seated, Gabrielle sat to the left, with Fetch halfway laying across her lap, with a pen and a few pieces of paper surrounding the two.

Oswald sat to the right, beside Ralpho, who was no longer wearing his hat. Earlier on, the orange rabbit had decided to place it atop Oswald’s head.

The boy didn’t mind all that much—although considering that it was rather big, he kept having to move it. He just hadn’t decided to take it off yet.

“Who do you think it’ll be?” Oswald had wondered earlier, leaning over a little closer to Fetch and Oswald. The animatronic dog had taken the chance to give him a lick.

“Ralpho, maybe?” The young girl had guessed with a shrug.

As Ralpho continued to play against Fetch, he could very clearly hear Oswald and Gabrielle talking to each other—mostly discussing things about the game.

There happened to be a few other games, and Oswald had been debating if he should go get those, too. He still was. Ralpho didn’t know the names, though.

“Why don’t we get a snack?” Oswald eventually spoke up again—before the boy had said anything, Ralpho had heard the sound of something growling.

“Sure,” Gabrielle nodded. Gently, she nudged Fetch off of her, before standing back up. She reached down for a moment to give the dog a quick pet.

She joined Oswald’s side a moment later, and the two started to make their way out of the bedroom, and towards the kitchen.

Just as the two made it through the door, the sound of a groan—and some excited barks—stopped the kids. Gabrielle was the first to turn back around.

Fetch seemed rather excited—if the speed of his tail meant anything. “What happened?” Oswald asked. He and Gabrielle reentered.

In Fetch’s mouth, he held one of the many pieces of paper. The writing on it consisted of “Yay!” And “:D”.

____

After Thomas had given his son some money, the kids, Ralpho, and Spring Bonnie had all settled for heading over to Jeff’s Pizza for some lunch.

Hopping out of the car, Spring Bonnie paused for a moment, and looked around. He didn’t see anybody except for the orange rabbit and the kids.

The last time, he’d learned that Funtime Freddy had ran off before he actually entered—he didn’t know where the bear could possibly be now.

The bunny’s ears lowered slightly. This was where they’d...

Spring Bonnie’s thoughts were interrupted when he felt a hand grab his own. When he focused, the bunny realized that it was Ralpho.

“You okay, Honey Bun?” The orange rabbit questioned.

Spring Bonnie nodded.

Moving closer, Ralpho gave the animatronic bunny a kiss on the cheek, before beginning to lead him into the pizzeria. “C’mon, Springy.”

Entering the pizzeria, it only seemed to be them, the kids—who were seated in a booth nearby with some pizza—and Jeff himself, who looked half asleep.

Moving closer to the booth, Spring Bonnie decided to sit next to Oswald and Ben, while Ralpho sat beside Gabrielle.

The only other time the orange rabbit had been around here, was when he and Oswald went there some time ago. Minus the animatronic bear situation, he enjoyed hanging out with the boy.

“Ralpho.” The rabbit’s ears twitched at the voice—which belonged to Ben. He turned to look at the boy, ears continuing to twitch.

Ben sat in his spot, holding out a slice of pepperoni pizza. Ralpho stared at it. “Why don’t you try it?” The boy offered.

Ralpho kept staring it for another second or two, debating on it. He’d tried some food before in the past, but he just hadn’t been able to taste it.

He’d declined the last time he’d been offered by Oswald—but it still looked good. Maybe he could try it this time.

He reached over, taking the pizza slice from Ben, who then went to eat his remaining slice, while talking to Oswald about something he’d thought of.

The orange rabbit held the slice in his hands, before moving it closer, and taking a few decently sized bites from the slice.

Just like he had figured, the orange rabbit still didn’t taste anything, just like the last time he’d chosen to eat.

Despite that, Ralpho decided to continue to eat it.

____

When Oswald and Gabrielle had decided to go to the park to hang out, Ralpho accompanied them alongside Spring Bonnie. Even Fetch had joined.

Fetch was rolling around in the grass and running around, while occasionally staring at a squirrel or two—but he never went after them.

There was a bench not too far from where the two where standing, which Oswald and Gabrielle were using to sit around and chat.

It had been getting pretty cold recently—which was why Ralpho guessed that the two had some jackets.

He’d never liked whenever it got cold like this—especially at night. The orange rabbit remembered getting pretty chilly during a lot of Bunny Calls.

The rabbit, ever so slightly, began to shiver. He never did well with it, either—but there had never been much that he could do for that.

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted Spring Bonnie beginning to write—and it didn’t take that long for the yellow bunny to finish.

“Cold?”

Ralpho nodded.

Spring Bonnie motioned for the smaller rabbit to come closer, and with another nod, Ralpho did just that, wondering what his Honey Bun wanted.

Once he was close enough, Spring Bonnie brought the orange rabbit into a hug, while wrapping his coat around him, placing his chin against Ralpho’s head.

Ralpho grinned—more than normally—as he was quick to return the hug, his tail beginning to wag. He moved a little bit, so that he could kiss Spring Bonnie’s cheek.

“Thanks, Springy.”

____

Spring Bonnie had been gone for a while—if Ralpho remembered correctly, then he had gone to go get groceries. The orange rabbit was excited.

While his Honey Bun was gone for a while—an hour or two at best, Ralpho continued to check things out for what he had been wanting to do for a while.

As the orange rabbit entered the living room, he spotted Spring Bonnie there, laying across the couch, just now starting up a rom-com.

“Spring!” The orange rabbit called out.

Ears twitching, the yellow bunny looked away from the TV, and towards Ralpho. He tilted his head to the side.

“C’mere!”

Nodding, Spring Bonnie got off of the couch, making sure to pause the rom-com—he didn’t want to let it keep going—he’d miss something.

As Spring Bonnie approached, the orange rabbit could feel his tail starting to wag.

“Sooo...” Ralpho started when the bunny stopped in front of him, tail continuing to wag. “Honey Bun, have you ever danced before?”

He never really had—he’d made some attempts here and there, but that was it. He’d never done it with anybody before, either. That was going to change, though.

Ralpho was certain that it would go well—he doubted that it would be all that bad or something.

Quickly, Spring Bonnie shook his head in response.

Just like Ralpho, Spring Bonnie had never done it with anyone—or in general—but he’d noticed others dancing together before—it always seemed nice.

Ralpho lightly hummed. “I haven’t either, Springy. But,” He reached over, taking the bunny’s hands into his own. “Why don’t we try?”

The taller bunny almost seemed nervous. “C’mon, Springy, it’ll be fine. Trust me!” The rabbit grinned.

Spring Bonnie took a second to think about it, before nodding.

“Okay!” The orange rabbit’s grin grew.

Ralpho still held onto one of Spring Bonnie’s hands, while the bunny freed his other, and placed it gently on the orange rabbit’s back.

Once they’d both adjusted, Ralpho took a few steps back, and Spring Bonnie took a few steps forward, trying to be careful.

Before he had finally asked Spring Bonnie, Ralpho could remember several dances that he’d found—and he wondered if they could try all of them.

Accidentally, as another step was taken, both the orange rabbit and the yellow bunny stumbled—and Ralpho felt himself falling back.

Although, Spring Bonnie had, fortunately, reacted quickly. He leaned forward, and wrapped both arms around Ralpho to keep him in place, instead of just falling.

At the same time, Ralpho hurriedly wrapped his arms around Spring Bonnie.

The orange rabbit stared up at Spring Bonnie with a small smile. As the bunny began to lift him back up, Ralpho placed a hand on his cheek.

He snickered a little bit. “This may take a while, Honey Bun.”

____

During some of their attempts, both still stumbled around here and there—mainly over each other—but sometimes because of a misstep that didn’t involve the other.

Music had come across Ralpho’s mind shortly after the two of them first began—so, using Thomas’s phone that the man had forgotten, he settled for playing music from there.

He didn’t know most of the music that was playing, but he recognized a few here and there—mainly because he’d heard the same ones on a few rom-com’s.

With his little research, he’d seen a lot of dances—and with the ones that provided videos, it had all seemed relatively easy—but it wasn’t.

Carefully, Spring Bonnie had chosen to spin Ralpho—much to the orange rabbit’s delight, before bringing Ralpho closer to him again.

Once he was back by Spring Bonnie, the grinning Ralpho inched closer, before pressing a kiss on the yellow bunny’s lips, wrapping his arms around him.

Ears shooting up, Spring Bonnie could feel himself starting to heat up, before returning the kiss, wrapping his own arms around Ralpho.

The bunny could spot Ralpho’s tail wagging, and he could feel his own doing it, too—although he wasn’t sure if it was all that noticeable, due to it being somewhat hidden with the coat.

Ralpho pulled away, and stared up at Spring Bonnie with a grin. “I love you a ton, Honey Bun.”

Spring Bonnie gently placed his hands on the sides of Ralpho’s face. I love you, too.

#Fic #Story #ITP: Happy Ending AU #Spring Bonnie #Ralpho #Bunny Call #Oswald #Jackie #Gabrielle #Ben #Fetch #All flashbacks take place before the second encounter #This is just all fluff #With the tiniest bit of angst #The limping doesn’t go away for a while #Anubis’s Chatter #Styx’s Chatter #Cyber’s Chatter #Into The Pit

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vexdont · 2 years ago

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i do not know if i can wait (a minimum of!!!) two more years… i am NOT that strong i was NOT built to tolerate angst where is the seventh episode

#not even the tiniest bit of comfort #this was angst/angst #please i dont even know if this qualifies as a joke #they mean so much to me #and its not only a cliffhanger it’s a whole fucking turning point for both of them and a major fucking heartbreak #im mentally unwell #seriously #good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #i will also take a 3rd season right now if available

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whysamwhy123 · 2 years ago

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Dear God, I'm actually doing it.

I'm putting Daniel in Situations that he cannot dance his way out of.

I mean, it wasn't much, to be honest. I haven't gotten to the Situation or the dancing yet. But it's a start. And considering how I hadn't written a single word in over a month, I'm pretty damn happy that I got 800 words down today. So I'm gonna take the microscopic W on this one.

#What is wrong with you Sam you should not be allowed to write #I...actually wrote something again??#I was starting to think that would straight up never happen but I'm glad I did a little something at least #Y'all better hope I don't finish and/or post this nightmare fic though...#It's...A Lot.#And could probably get me cancelled #Deservedly so #Still if this is me getting the tiniest bit out of this writing slump then I'm happy!#If I'm able to keep this train a rollin' - rest assured there will be dancing and there will be TERROR #And angst. Warranted angst.#I'm going to make that boy suffer 🙂🙂🙂

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supernovafics · 29 days ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4k words

summary: in which you get stuck in a bathroom with the one person you can’t stand

warnings: enemies to lovers, scoops ahoy era steve, explicit language, a few mentions of blood, the tiniest bit of angst

author’s note: was thinking about enemies to lovers with steve and then this happened 🫶🏾

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The second you closed the bathroom door behind you, you thought about how stupid this entire night was.

You examined your shirt; the red stain looked a lot worse than you expected, and the material was already sticking to your skin in the worst possible way. You silently cursed the random guy who bumped into you and didn’t even apologize for spilling his entire drink on you.

You pulled off your shirt and set it on the sink, leaving you in just your bra. As you went to pull a towel off the rack, someone pushed open the door. They rushed into the bathroom and closed the door behind them, and didn’t notice that you were already in there until they turned around.

And you didn’t register who it was until he was facing you too.

Steve Harrington, also known as the bane of your existence, and it had been that way since Sophomore year of high school; ever since you two were paired up on an English project and you ended up doing all of the work for it. That wasn’t enough to make you hate him, but when it happened again at the end of the year for History class, that changed. From then on out, he annoyed you to no end. He was always trying to charm his way through everything, but you saw through all of the “King Steve” bullshit. Everyone seemed to love him, but you felt the complete opposite.

You didn’t even know that he had also been at this party.

The words, “Steve, what the hell are you doing?” were on the tip of your tongue, but then you noticed the gash above his left eyebrow.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding,” You said, turning away from him immediately. You grabbed one of the grey hand towels off the rack and tossed it in his direction. “I can’t look at you right now.”

Steve laughed a bit. “So you’re scared of blood. Got it.”

He was completely right, and it was probably obvious how right he was, but it felt like second nature to deny anything and everything he said. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, okay, yeah,” He said, the sarcasm in his tone was almost too clear, and it made you want to drown yourself in the bathtub. “So you’re just actively avoiding eye contact with me for fun?”

“Not looking at you is actually one of my favorite hobbies because whenever I do look at you, it makes me nauseous.”

“Ha ha, good one,” He said dryly, and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“So, who beat you up?” You asked. There was the smallest hint of an amused smile on your face that you were certain would've made Steve roll his eyes again if you were facing him.

He scoffed. “Okay, saying ‘beat up’ is a fucking stretch.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Sorry for barging in. I didn’t know you were in here,” He said, changing the subject, and for the time being, you let him do so. “There was a line for the bathroom downstairs, so I came up here.”

You knew that he was telling the truth. The bathroom downstairs did have the longest line ever, so that was why you headed upstairs— bypassing the handwritten sign that said do not go upstairs— and went into the first bathroom you could find.

“I’ll leave,” You heard him say from behind you.

You nodded. “Good.”

Him leaving shouldn’t have taken longer than a second or two, but then there was a weird sound that you couldn’t fully decipher— it sounded like something hit the floor— and Steve let out a quiet, “Oh, fuck.”

“What happened?”

“Um, the doorknob fell off.”

“What?”

Finally, you turned around and saw the silver door knob on the floor, which Steve picked up and placed on the sink counter.

“Shit,” You said as you walked over to the door and started banging on it, hoping that someone would hear the noise and come help, and Steve joined you and started doing the same.

However, it quickly proved to be pointless when you realized just how loud the music was downstairs. You could hear the faint bass of whatever pop song was playing through the shut door.

You sighed after a minute of hopeless banging. “No one’s gonna hear us.”

You finally met Steve’s eyes, specifically the hand towel that he had pressed above his left one. You could see a little bit of blood on the towel, but it surprisingly didn’t bother you too much.

Steve’s eyes, however, were not on yours and were instead trailed a little downward.

In the midst of him rushing into the bathroom, you’d forgotten to grab the towel, and you especially forgot that you were just standing in front of him with only your bra and jeans on.

You crossed your arms over your chest to get him to stop staring at your boobs. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” He mumbled and turned his gaze in the other direction.

With a huff, you finally grabbed a towel to wrap around your shoulders, and then you sat down on the white tiled floor. You leaned back against the bathtub, and after a moment of hesitation, Steve sat down with you.

Things became quiet for a few moments, and then you looked at him and pointed at where the towel was pressed against his forehead. “Let me see it.”

He gave you an amused look. “You sure you’re not gonna pass out?”

“Good one. You’re so hilarious,” You deadpanned. “Just let me see. I wanna make sure you’re not gonna bleed out sitting next to me right now.”

Steve relented and pulled the towel away from his face. The wound wasn’t actively bleeding anymore, which made it easier to look at it, but seeing the dried blood around it still kinda did something to your stomach.

“Okay,” You took a breath and looked away. “You’re not bleeding anymore, which is good. And it doesn’t even look that bad. Just a cut.”

Steve let out a laugh. “You literally sound like you’re about to throw up.”

“Shut up,” You glared at him and then changed the subject before he made fun of you further. “So, do you finally wanna tell me who beat you up, or is the story too embarrassing?”

He sighed. “I saw that guy spill his drink on you, and I went over to him saying that he should find you and apologize— I might’ve yelled it at him. And he pushed me for yelling at him, and I pushed him back, and then he pushed me even harder into a stupid coat rack, which cut me.”

“Why would you do that?” You asked, eyes furrowing at his explanation. “We hate each other.”

“That doesn’t mean that I wanna watch a random guy be a dick to you,” Steve answered, and before you could process him actually being nice to you for the first time in a long time, he followed up with, “That’s my job.”

You promptly rolled your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

Steve only gave you a condescending smirk in response and put the hand towel back on his forehead.

You stood up. “There’s gotta be bandaids in here.”

You started looking in the medicine cabinet first, which didn’t have them, so you then went to the drawer under the sink. Every few moments, you had to readjust the towel around your shoulders because it kept slipping, which made looking through everything a lot more annoying.

“Here,” Steve said, interrupting your search. You turned and looked down at him as he pulled off the navy blue jacket he was wearing and handed it over to you.

“Thanks,” You mumbled, putting it on and zipping it all the way up.

You continued looking in the drawer and found a few stray bandaids, and one of them looked big enough to cover Steve’s cut. You grabbed the towel that had just been wrapped around your shoulders and turned on the sink, wetting a piece of it.

When you shut it off and turned to look down at Steve again, you thought about how you were going to do this. And then you realized that the easiest way to do it would have to be the most intimate.

“Put your legs out,” You told him, and he looked at you in confusion for a second, but then understood what was happening and did what you said.

“Don’t make this weird,” You said as you settled yourself in his lap, knees on either side of him and pushing into the tiled floor.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” He responded and pulled the towel away from his head.

You first cleaned the wound, wiping away the dried blood, and then you patted his skin with the dry part of the towel and put the bandaid on. You weren’t entirely sure why you were doing this for him, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

You shifted off his lap when you were done and put both towels in the tub, so you didn’t have to look at them.

Things became quiet, and you hated the silence, so you felt like you had to say something to break it.

“So, what are your plans for the summer?”

Steve scoffed immediately, and you looked at him.

“What? I can’t ask normal questions?”

“No, because I know coming from you, that’s not just a ‘normal question.’”

You stared at him, completely confused because you didn’t understand what he meant, and then it hit you.

“There’s no way you’re still sensitive about the whole summer school thing from two years ago.”

He gave you an annoyed look. “It was your fault that I had to go to summer school.”

It had been because of the History project. You told your teacher about Steve’s complete lack of help on it, which was a part of the final, and he failed the class and was sent to summer school because of it. After that summer, it was pretty obvious that he disliked you just as much as you disliked him.

“You deserved it,” You told him. “The project sucked because you did absolutely nothing to help me and I refused to get a bad grade because of you.”

This was the first time you two were actually talking about it, instead of just sharing withering looks and annoyed eye rolls like you two did when school started back in September.

“You know I’m right,” You mumbled instead of keeping things silent for the rest of the time you two were forced to be in here together, like you maybe should’ve.

“You are right.”

“Holy shit,” You finally looked at him again. “I wish I could go outside and check if pigs are flying because I never thought I’d see the day where Steve fucking Harrington admitted he was wrong.”

He scoffed at your words, which sounded more like a laugh, as he shook his head at you.

“You’re not some saint, though,” He said. “I saw the look on your face when we first got paired up for that English project. You thought I was an idiot.”

“No, I didn’t think you were an idiot. I just thought that you were like every other jock…” You trailed off as you thought about your words. “Okay, yeah, maybe I thought you were an idiot. But, you didn’t do anything to prove me wrong, though.”

“Why would I want to?”

You had an answer ready to go, but then you realized that he had a point. If the tables had been turned, you wouldn’t have wanted to prove anything to him either. Spitefully, you probably would’ve ended up doing the same thing he did to you.

“I’m sorry,” You said after a moment. “And I don’t think you’re an idiot, honestly.”

“You don’t have to lie. You and my parents share the same thoughts.”

“No, I’m serious. Being bad at school doesn’t make you an idiot, it just makes you…” You tried to think of the best way to finish your statement. “Bad at school.”

“Wow, very profound,” Steve joked.

You rolled your eyes at him, but also couldn’t help but smile a little.

“I’m sorry too,” He told you, and hearing him finally say that slightly surprised you. “I should’ve helped you on those projects.”

You sighed as you crossed your legs under you. “I finally get why you didn’t. I was an asshole for judging you.”

“Still,” Steve responded. “Making you do everything was a shitty thing to do.”

You shrugged as you said your next words. “Honestly, none of it even matters now. We graduated. All that shit’s in the past now.”

Steve hummed. “So, we’re finally agreeing on a truce after we graduated?”

“Yeah, seems like it,” You laughed a little. “Unless you wanna keep this stupid vendetta going through our twenties and until we’re both separately married with kids and we can pit them against each other too?”

“You paint a very vivid picture,” Steve gave you an amused smile. “But no, I agree with this truce.”

You nodded and smiled back. “Nice.”

Once again, things became quiet, and you looked away from him. You silently wondered how long you two had been stuck in here. Apparently, long enough for things to actually become civil between you two.

“I’m working at the new mall they opened for the summer,” Steve said, answering your question from earlier. “Ice cream shop.”

“Fun,” You said and actually meant it. “I won’t be doing anything until college starts in the fall.”

“Where are you going?”

“The community college for two years to save money, and then hopefully transfer to the University of Chicago.”

“That’s nice.”

From there, the conversation was normal. It became two people who kind of knew nothing about each other, finally learning things that friends knew about one another. Although calling Steve your friend felt like a stretch, and like you were getting way too ahead of yourself.

After tonight, whenever you and he were finally set free from this bathroom, you weren’t sure that you two would ever have another conversation. Just because you two agreed on a truce didn’t mean that you would now be friends. You had a feeling that you'd end up going your separate ways once you were out of here.

However, in this moment, you felt entirely too comfortable, and the conversation moved so easily that it felt like you were in some pretend world where you and Steve had been friends forever— the conversation ended up in a place where you two were playfully bantering and laughing and talking about nonsense.

Your eyes practically lit up when Steve told you the most random tidbit that intrigued you probably too much. “Show me.”

He shook his head with a laugh. “No. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“You can’t say that you have a scar on the side of your ribs that looks like a smurf and not show me,” You said and shifted closer to him. “I need proof.”

He laughed again, clearly amused by your current antics. He didn’t stop you from practically settling yourself in his lap to get close to him and grab at his shirt, but he did keep lightly shooing your hands away. “For someone who almost threw up seeing the cut on my forehead, you really wanna see this scar.”

“Scars and blood are two entirely different things,” You told him, and then once again reached out to grab the ends of his shirt. His hands found your wrists, and you gave him a look. “Are you lying about this little league scar?”

“I’m not. I just think you’re gonna see it and not agree with me.”

“Let me be the judge of that, Harrington.”

You weren’t sure why you cared so much to see it. You honestly didn’t even like The Smurfs all that much.

Steve let go of your wrists and finally lifted his shirt so that you could see the scar.

“Hmm,” You said, tilting your head and examining it for a second. You could make out the typical smurf hat and somewhat of the head. “Honestly, I do kinda see the resemblance.”

“Thank you,” He said as he pulled his shirt back down.

In the midst of all the playful arguing, you didn’t even realize that you had maneuvered yourself onto his lap. And in this moment, with everything calmed down and back to normal, you should’ve shifted off of him. There was absolutely no reason to stay in his lap— you weren’t putting another bandaid on him, and you were no longer looking at his scar. But you didn’t move.

Maybe you were waiting for Steve to say the words, to break this moment with a playful laugh or joke, and push things right back to how they just were.

But he didn’t say anything.

For the first time in the last hour— at least, you assumed it had been an hour— things between you two were comfortably quiet.

Inwardly, you could admit that you really liked being this close to him, and when one of his hands found your hip, keeping you planted exactly where you were, you knew he felt the same.

It was a silent conversation playing out in the look you two shared. Both of you simultaneously daring and practically begging the other to close the small bit of distance between you two.

And then it was as if your and his resolve broke at the exact same time because you both moved in quickly. Somehow, though, your lips met softly in the middle.

You had never thought about kissing Steve Harrington, but you suddenly felt so certain that any thoughts about it wouldn’t have lived up to the real thing.

The kiss was damn near perfect. It started soft and sweet, as if you both were just trying to test the waters, and then it quickly shifted into something that was the opposite of innocent. Your hands settled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and both of his grabbed at your hips, slipping beneath his jacket that you were wearing. He lightly squeezed your skin, which made you gasp into his mouth and gave him the perfect opportunity for his tongue to find yours.

Aside from thinking about how phenomenal this all felt, your mind was effectively blank. You didn’t think about what this would or wouldn’t mean, or why it all felt so weirdly right.

When you pulled back to catch your breath and your forehead fell against his, it was then that you noticed that the music had stopped. But neither of you got up to bang on the door again in hopes that someone would finally hear you two asking for help.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” Were the first words that fell from your mouth when your eyes met his.

You weren't even entirely sure why you were saying that, but it just felt like the right thing to say. What other explanation could've logically summed up how you two went from hating each other to surprisingly becoming civil to abruptly kissing in just the matter of an hour or two?

A confused look crossed his face. “Why?”

“Because…” You were going to end your answer with “we hate each other,” but that definitely wasn't true anymore.

Before you could further think about how to answer Steve’s question, you both heard a confused-sounding, “What the hell?” from the other side of the door.

You looked away from Steve and at the shut bathroom door. “Hey! We’re stuck in here.”

“Oh, shit, hold on a sec. This happens all the time,” You recognized the voice as Lisa Matthews; it was her party. “One of the reasons why there was literally a sign saying, Do not go upstairs.”

The door was finally opened moments later, and Lisa proceeded to kick you and Steve out of her house after telling you both that the party had been shut down.

“Do you need a ride?” Steve asked when you two were standing on the sidewalk.

“I drove,” You answered, voice suddenly soft for some awkward reason.

Steve nodded at that. “Okay.”

“Okay,” You nodded back. “Um, see ya around.”

It was obvious that there was a lot more to say, but you both silently decided to leave your conversation from back in the bathroom unfinished.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

On your drive to the mall, you reminded yourself that you were simply going there to give Steve back his jacket— the jacket that you hadn’t realized you were still wearing until you were parked in your driveway after leaving Lisa’s house.

There was a chance that Steve wouldn’t even be at the mall right now; you didn’t know his work schedule or what his shifts were like. But when you woke up, you decided that there was no harm in taking that chance.

A chance of simply returning his jacket to him. Nothing else.

You saw him before he saw you. It was kind of hard not to spot him. He was standing behind the counter at the ice cream shop wearing a blue and white sailor’s uniform, complete with a hat that said “Ahoy!” across it.

You had to bite your lip to hold back the shocked laugh you wanted to let out.

When Steve spotted you walking over to the counter, he immediately pulled off the white hat he was wearing and pushed a hand through his hair.

“You being dressed like this is truly the greatest thing I have ever seen,” You said, smiling at him.

“I should’ve never told you that I work here,” Was Steve’s immediate response, and that time you couldn’t hold back your laugh.

“And I’m so very glad you did. God, I wish I had a camera right now,” You told him. “You look very cute.”

Surprisingly enough, you were actually telling the truth with your last statement.

Steve rolled his eyes at your words, though, because he couldn’t tell you were being honest. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to give this back to you,” You answered and held up his navy blue jacket.

“Oh, okay,” He said and grabbed it when you handed it over. “Thanks.”

“Also, I realized that I never answered your question last night,” You said before you could think better of it.

“My question?”

His slight confusion let you know that you could’ve taken back your blurted-out words. You could’ve disregarded the entire thing and just ended the conversation right there, but you realized that you didn’t want to.

“When I said that we shouldn’t have kissed, and you asked why. I never answered you.”

“Oh, that question,” Steve responded, a look that you couldn’t decipher crossing his face. “You have an answer now?”

“Yeah,” You said with a nod. “Yeah, I think so, yeah.”

Three “yeahs” and yet you actually didn’t feel sure about anything, especially what you were doing in this moment. However, you abruptly decided that you wanted to lean headfirst into honesty.

You didn't fully understand how things with Steve had been able to shift so easily, or why joking around with him and kissing him last night felt so surprisingly right, but you really wanted to find out.

“I said that the kiss shouldn’t have happened, but I was wrong,” You told him, and then continued speaking before you could potentially talk yourself out of admitting the rest. “I want it to happen again.”

You didn’t know what you expected Steve to say in response. You knew what you were hoping for— in a perfect world, he would tell you that he was thinking the same thing as you— but you had no idea where his mind was since last night.

“Yeah?” He asked and gave you a small smile that managed to warm your insides.

“Yeah,” You answered and matched his smile, growing a bit more confident. “Obviously, not here because there are children present, but if you wanna get stuck in another bathroom somewhere, that could be fun.”

“That could be really fun,” Steve responded, playing along. “Or we could skip the bathroom because it was kinda small. Maybe watch a movie on my couch instead.”

“You’re right,” You agreed, keeping your voice cool and normal, even though on the inside you were feeling the opposite. “That would be a lot better.”

Days ago, you couldn’t have imagined feeling this giddy about Steve Harrington. But things were so different now— changed with one long-overdue conversation and one really good kiss.

“Tonight?” He asked. “7, if you’re free?”

You nodded. “It’s a date.”

Steve’s smile grew as he repeated the three words back to you. “It’s a date.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fic

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kissandtellus · 1 month ago

Note

when mc and li broke up, but mc forgot to change him as her emergency contact. so mc basically gets sent to the hospital. the hospital calls li to pick her up. can be any of the boys, but pretty please Zayne, with a big fat cherry on top🥰

One Call Away

🩹 Synopsis: How would the LADS men react to getting a call as your Emergency Contact?

🩹 Warnings: Brief mention of past relationships, happy ending, mention of injuries, the tiniest smudge of angst!

☤ Zayne

Zayne arrived at the Emergency Unit of Akso Hospital a couple minutes after being notified of your admission, his demeanor already tense and on edge, his white lab coat swaying in his every strides as he hurried past through the hallway to get to your location.

He finally reached his destination and found you lying on bed, your leg was in a cast, propped up on a pillow. You sheepishly acknowledge your boyfriend (who you were currently spending some “time away” from) “H-Hi Honey…”

Zayne frowned at the sight of your condition, gently touching your uninjured cheek, his eyes roaming over your figure, taking in all the injuries that you sustained from the accident. His heart was heavy.

“Hey, hey, take it easy…” he said softly, his voice laced with concern. He took a seat on a nearby chair and held your hand, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles in an effort to soothe you.

“How are you feeling? Any pain?” *he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You winced and look down at your broken shin. “They pumped me full of some strong meds. I just feel…stupid. That Wanderer shouldn’t have give me as much trouble as it did…”

Zayne's expression darkened at the mention of the Wanderer, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

“You shouldn’t be focusing on the Wanderer right now.” he admonished softly, his tone firm but gentle. “You have a broken leg—” he then paused as he let out a deep sigh, his gaze on your injury.

“I know you’re skilled and powerful enough to handle a Wanderer alone, but it’s still reckless to fight one by yourself..”

You frown but give a small nod. “I’ll be more careful.” You look around the room as if trying to spot someone eavesdropping. “Think you can slip me in some sweets? No offense but the hospital food here is awful.”

Zayne chuckled softly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “You’re lucky you’re not allowed to leave this room right now or I would’ve smacked you for that comment.”

He reached into his pocket, taking out a couple of colorful macaroons wrapped in plastic. “Don’t get too used to this though, it’s a one time thing.”

Zayne gently placed the wrapped sweets into your hand, his touch lingering a bit longer as he held your hand.

“I’m just glad you’re safe. I’ll be taking care of you.”

“That’s definitely a HIPPA violation.”

“Tell that to someone who isn’t this Hospital’s top surgeon.”

☤ Rafayel

Rafayel was a man on a mission. He stomped right to the front desk and demanded to see you, ignoring the looks and even some of the public pulling out their phones to record him.

"Calm down sir, your going to need to calm down, alright? Can you do that for me?" The nurse said in a calm, and soothing tone. Rafayel just nodded quickly before taking a couple of deep breathes to try and calm himself down. The nurse could tell he was still worried.

"Just breathe. Your Y/n’s partner, correct?" She asked as she still typed on the computer.

"Yes- yes I am..Please- just please tell me if she’s okay or not.." Rafayel could feel like the world was crumbling infront of him right now. He was extremely worried. He was biting in his knuckle slightly as his leg shook with impatience and worry.

The nurse found your room and led the disheveled man to your room. But when she pushed it open, you weren’t tied to tubes keeping you alive.

You were sitting up in bed with a twisted ankle, flipping away at a magazine. “Raf! Oh my gosh, I told them not to call you! I know you get so worried….”

Rafayel just stared at you completely dumbfounded. He couldn't believe the state you were in...A twisted ankle?!

"Are you kidding me...A twisted ankle? That’s why I was called?!”

He sat down on the bed next to you and looked down at your ankle. It looked like it hurt..But at least it was just an twisted ankle and nothing major. He sighed again before looking back up at you, his face full of a dramatic and pouting facial expression.

"You scared me and made me think that you were on the verge of death of something….” He sits on the small chair next to the bed, laying his head in your lap as he gawks up at you.

“I’m taking this out of your paycheck, Miss Bodyguard.”

“You don’t pay me.”

“I wonder why.”

☤ Xavier

Xavier heard from “The Unicorn” comms that your group had been in a car accident due to a spawning Wanderer. He didn’t even wait for the Hospital to call him.

The two of you had gotten in a fight for a similar reason, you were constantly overworking yourself. You had ‘broken things off’ (not), and had yet to see your blonde haired ex-boyfriend and neighbor since.

He pulls back the white curtain to see your arm in a sling, an ice pack held to your swollen cheek. He looks like something in him breaks at seeing you in such a state.

“I’m sorry they woke you up-“

“Stop talking.” He says firmly, sitting on the edge of the bed to hold the ice pack for you. “I told you, we’re partners. If you go on a mission you should take me with you.”

You want to argue with the blonde man, but exhaustion and pain overrides your sassiness for once. “I’m sorry you have to see me this way….”

Xavier gives a small smile, pulling back the ice pack to peck you on the cold skin. “I’m just glad you are okay.”

He bumps his hip up against yours. “Now scoot over. You ruined my nap, so now I have to take it here.”

“Are you se-“

Xavier is already snoring away, arm laid over his eyes to block out the bright lights.

☤ Caleb

When Caleb got the call, he was mid training flight. He nearly mowed over a soldier or two making an emergency landing.

He was still in his flight jumpsuit when he arrived to the hospital. He’d always been your emergency contact for everything. After his ‘death’ you didn’t have anyone else to change it to.

Luckily he rose from the dead just in time to find you in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV , after passing out from exhaustion.

Caleb frowned at the dark circles under your eyes and the way you could barely lift your head. “Oh Pipsqueak….”

He sits on the edge of your bed and brushes some of your hair from your face. You couldn’t bare to look at the pained expression on his face, not until his thumb and forefinger pinched your chin to direct your attention.

You had foolishly gotten upset about his secrecy towards you. He was also hush-hush about projects, reading to let you in on secrets that could put your life at risk.

“You are taking a couple of days off from work, you can come home to Skyhaven with me. I lost you once…I won’t make the same mistake again.”

While in the hospital, Caleb might as well have been your nurse. He administered your medication, fluffed your pillows and kissed your forehead goodnight.

Not like the nurses could do THAT.

☤ Sylus

Sylus leaned against the wall outside of your hospital room. As soon as he had gotten the call on one of his burner phones that you had been in an accident, he broke every speeding law on his motorcycle.

His helmet was still tucked under his arm when the doctor stoped out of your room. It had been a gunshot wound, nothing too crazy, but enough to leave you in the hospital overnight for observation.

Sylus blamed himself for your current conditions. He had refused to join you on a recon mission for intel. He had stupidly thought you would just give up and not go if he refused to be your accomplice.

He should’ve know better.

When Sylus ducked into the room, he didn’t give a snarky comment. He looked…worried, his eyebrows knitted in frustration and concern.

“I could’ve taken care of you….” His voice trails off as he gently takes your wrist, rolling your arm to get a better look at the patch job. “Are you in any pain now?”

“I’m just peachy.” You teased with a sharp inhale. “I’m sorry they called you. I honestly thought that old number was long gone.”

Sylus sits down in the chair next to your bed before raising your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles.

“I keep that number just for occasions like this. Can’t have my Kitten all laid up in bed when she could be laid up with me.”

“Sy?”

“Yes sweetness?”

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, Darling.”

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jks1uv · 4 months ago

Text

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝐸𝑥𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ; mark grayson / invincible

summary: in every universe, mark grayson turns into his father and seals his destiny as a true viltrumite. what if things are different this time?

pairing: fem!reader x mark grayson.

trope: childhood best friends to lovers + fated lovers.

genre: fluff + angst + slow-burn romance + hurt / comfort + some comedy.

warnings‼️: crude language + spoilers for s3 (mark’s variants) + amber & eve never get w mark but r goated wingwomen & friends for reader + william, rick & rex r goated wingmen for mark + 2 jealous!mark moments + the tiniest moment of tension + multiverse talk + a mention of the chicago incident feat. scott / powerplex + REX LIVES 🗣️‼️🔥🔥 + a short & sweet kiss scene.

word count: 9,968.

random disclaimerrr: when eve said “you don’t deserve this” 😞 like he always just out here suffering 💔 kate, immortal, cecil & scott pmo so bad like bruh can y’all just pls stfu pls 🙏🏽 I CANNOT BELIEVE MY GOAT REX IS DEAD LIKE BRUH HOW 😭😞💔 but the 2 ppl majority of the fandom hates get their happy ending… mkay… edit: here’s the sequel! happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2025 @jks1uv

Mark Grayson has always liked you.

It was the first day of school, 2nd grade homeroom. The first day of school was always nerve wracking but this time was different.

His desk was next to you per the seating chart and you were the last kid to come in.

You were wearing a black t-shirt with some white bows on it and sky blue jeans with pink flowers embroidered on the pockets. White twinkle toes with pink and purple rhinestones. Your hair was styled in 2 ponytails with cute bows on the bands.

Your eyes bright and a shy smile on your lips.

“Hi.” You bashfully said to him.

“Hi.” He said back in a daze.

His seven year old heart was fluttering and he was as red as a tomato when he realized it was you! You were the girl whose empty desk he was seated next to!

You always shared homeroom, if not, recess with him in elementary school.

Then came middle school, where you had at least 2 classes with him.

High school was a bit easier as you saw him 3-4 times a day, and that’s not including clubs or other extracurricular activities.

He spent 11 years like that. Seeing you in class, in the hallways, at lunch or after school.

Your relationship with him never wavered. Your character was still the same even after new chapters and opportunities for development.

He’s endured some insane shit, but he’s so happy the one constant in his life remained consistent.

“You still have a crush on her?!”

“Shut up, William. Or do you want the whole world to know.” Mark chides.

William snorts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world (it is). “The whole world already knows, it’s just your dumbass that’s somehow oblivious.”

“Give the lover boy a break.” Amber lightly teases.

Mark sighs and rubs his face with his hands, trying to hide the redness creeping up on him without his consent.

“Is that her?” Rick points towards Mark’s dream girl.

But what he forgot to mention was the living explosion (literally) walking alongside you.

“What’s he doing here?” Eve’s surprised Rex decided to step foot on college campus willingly.

William subtly side-eyes Mark and makes a desperate attempt to hold in his laughter by squeezing Rick’s hand.

Mark slowly stands, a confused look on his face. “I’ll… go find out.” He says it like a question, like he’s unsure if that’s what he should do.

Amber and Eve share a knowing look.

“You’re funny.” You say as you catch your breath.

Rex shrugs nonchalantly and smirks. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

You’re shaking your head and are about to say something when you see Mark in front of you.

“Mark.” Your eyes crinkle as you smile. You go in for your usual hug and Mark accepts it.

Unbeknownst to you that he’s making wide eyes among other facial expressions in a desperate attempt to make contact with the other male.

The hug lasts for a second longer and you ignore the butterflies that swarm your belly, deducing that he probably just wanted to hug you a bit longer.

No big deal you think as you’re screaming inside the longer you feel Mark’s arms around your waist.

When you meet Mark’s face, he allows himself to give you a tight-lipped smile.

“Mark, this is—”

“Rex! Heyy, how’s it going?” He chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his neck.

Your eyebrows furrow and you tilt your head a bit. “Yeah… wait, you guys know each other?”

Rex is enthusiast with his reply. “Fuck yeah! This is my best bro.”

He slaps Mark’s back with a confident grin and his “bro” laughs awkwardly.

You know, one of those ‘ha ha ha’ type laughs.

“Okay. So, um, Mark?”

“Yeah?” Aaand his voice cracks.

You politely ignore it but Mark wants to die inside.

“I was wondering if you were still down to go to the mall?”

Mark knows you’re attentive and take your friendships seriously. That isn’t old news. But he can’t help feeling special that’s you remembered a thought from a couple days prior.

“Only if you buy me boba.”

Mark never lets you buy him anything if he can help it, and that’s how it’s always been.

You insist, he denies; but that doesn’t mean his sentiment isn’t nice.

You blink and softly smile at his bargain. “Deal.”

Rex hums thoughtfully, a hand at his chin and his gaze on the sky. “Can I join? I don’t have anything going onnn~” He suggests in a sing-song manner.

“No, you can’t!” Mark suddenly yells.

You look at Mark with furrowed brows. “Mark, don’t be rude.”

“Yeah, Mark, don’t be rude.” Rex repeats with a sly expression.

Mark deeply exhales through his nose and puts on a fake smile. “Rex, can I talk to you? Alone.”

“Sure!”

He follows Mark about 15 steps away from you.

You decide to sit down on a bench nearby and watch some TikTok to pass the time.

“Hey, so, um- quick question: what the hell are you doing here?”

Rex scoffs. “What, I can’t come visit my bro?”

Mark quirks an eyebrow and crosses his arms, unimpressed.

Rex puts his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be honest. I was here to talk to you about Cecil,” He looks over at you and sighs dramatically.

“But?” Mark presses when he sees Rex eyeing you.

“I see a hot girl and I can’t help myself, you know?” He smirks knowing he’ll rile Mark up and get the exact reaction he wants.

Mark immediately gets in his line of sight, making Rex back up a bit from the fast and unforgiving wind.

“Woah, man! A little warning next time before you almost blow me away?”

Mark ignores him. “Don’t call her that.”

The truth is, Rex came to campus with a purpose.

Mark never talks about you, but Eve may have let your name slip into conversation a few times.

Rex may be aloof and jerk-ish but he’ll be serious when it’s time.

He’s seen the way Mark’s face changed every time Eve mentioned you; his head would tilt slightly, he’d have a small, unnoticeable smile on his lips.

Rex suspected a crush and he was right! Of course he was, look at the way he’s being defensive of you.

There was just one problem, he didn’t know how you looked. He asked Eve and she was suspicious, but when he revealed his own suspicions, she indulged him.

So, the two of them made a plan with Amber, William and Rick; Operation: Get Mark To Man Up and Admit His Feelings Before You Slip Away.

- FLASHBACK -

“She’s wearing a PINK t-shirt with ripped blue jeans. Oh, and a black backpack.” William directs.

“Pink shirt, black backpack, ripped blue jeans. Got it.”

“PINK as in the brand, not the color.” Amber reminds.

“Wait, what? So what color is the shirt?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s dark green..? And the logo is an even darker shade. ” Eve remembers.

Rex is so unimpressed.

“So, let me get this straight; she’s wearing a shirt from the brand PINK, but it’s just dark green?”

“I’d say you’re on the right track.” Rick chimes.

“This shit is ridiculous. I mean, seriously. Why can’t you girls just wear stuff that warrant normal descriptions?”

“Shut up, Rex.” Amber and Eve say simultaneously.

- FLASH FORWARD -

“Alright, her unwanted, meddling knight in shining armor.”

Mark is about to defend himself against that true baseless allegation when William and Rick find him.

“What’re we gossiping about?” There’s a glint in William’s eyes, the kind you don’t miss if you’re paying attention to the very specific lilt in his tone.

“Oh, I was just telling Marky boy here,”

Mark side-eyes Rex at the ridiculous nickname.

“How he’s Y/n’s unwanted, meddling knight in shining armor.”

William claps his hands together. “That’s actually an accurate assessment.”

Mark’s offended. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Rick clears his throat as a guise to hide the very subtle laugh itching his throat.

“Sassy.” William says impressed in his best friends comeback skills.

Rex gets a phone call and excuses himself, giving William a crisp high-five and Rick a chest bump.

“Go get your Juliet, Romeo!” He cheers.

William shakes his head as he guffaws at the man.

“Dude, he's hilarious. How come you've never introduced him to us before?”

“Do I really have to answer that?”

William rolls his eyes at him. “Anyways. When are you gonna tell Y/n you love her, again?”

“William!” Mark whines.

Rick smiles and expands his thinking. “He meant to say, you should tell her soon. Before she's with someone else and leaves you to collect the pieces of your broken heart.”

“Not gonna lie, that's exactly what he needs to hear right now.”

Mark can't lie either. “Yeah. You kinda ate with that.”

William cringes and Rick winces with embarrassment.

“Hey! So, uhh, never say that again. Hope this helps.” William makes a finger heart.

“Wha- but I used the phrase correctly! Oh, come on guys, seriously?”

- MEANWHILE, WITH AMBER & EVE -

Amber and Eve thought it’d be a good idea to have a quick chat with you while you were waiting on Mark.

They casually brought up relationships and basically implied that ‘men ain’t shit’, but you disagree with that attitude.

“I dunno... Mark’s a good guy.”

“Oh yeah, for sure! Mark’s one of the good ones.”

Eve nods along to Amber’s statement.

She reminisced on her fair share with toxic relationships. She deliberately left out how it was with Rex but that’s okay, you don’t need to know that…

“Are you and Mark..?”

You feel your cheeks warm at the thought but you’d be lying if you deny your feelings for him.

“No.” You state with your head down and hands in your lap, playing with a ripped thread on your jeans.

“Huh. That’s a shame.” Eve comments.

That gets your attention.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that you and Mark seem…”

“Ideal.” Amber completes smoothly.

Your wide eyes and mouth agape give you away.

“You've never thought about him like that?”

You have, but how do you admit this to Mark’s coworker and friend without it getting back to him?

You think Amber and Eve are cool, they’re nice to you; but they're more Mark’s friends.

To you, they're friends of a friend.

Amber senses your hesitation and sat down next to you.

“We won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Eve locks her lips with an imaginary key and throws it away.

That elicits a small laugh out of you, making you feel a bit more confident to share your secret.

You look over and see Mark and Rex still talking, now joined by William and Rick.

You contemplate for a moment before admitting it.

“Yeah.” You breathe out.

Eve hums in thought. “Let me guess, you don’t want to say anything in case it’ll fuck up the friendship?”

You gasp lightly at her spot-on description. “How’d you know?!”

She just shrugs nonchalantly and Amber bites her tongue to point out how obvious the entire situation is.

“I do like him, a lot... but what if he doesn’t feel the same? I would've ruined something special for something selfish and it would stay with me forever.”

You rant to the 2 girls you’re closest with and somehow, it feels right. You dismiss the thought of them turning out like the average mean girls in a teenage rom-com.

“But what if he does like you back?” Eve proposes.

“Then he’ll have to make the first move.” You shrug obviously.

“I know that’s right.”

You feel giddy from Amber’s approval.

She’s always been the type to keep it short and sweet but once you get her talking? She’ll always keep it real.

“We gotta go but we’ll see you later?”

Eve's already planning on the next hangout because she likes you enough to wanna help. She doesn’t like a lot of people so consider yourself special!

“Oh! Uh- yeah! Sure, that works with me.”

“It’s settled then.”

“See ya, Y/n.”

Coincidentally, you see the boys leave, leaving Mark to come to you.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

“Just let me try it.” Mark whines.

You shook your head and stood your ground. “It'll be gone in under ten seconds.”

He gasps dramatically, a hand to the heart like a lady of the opera. “You don't have faith in me?! I am a superhero-”

“I'm sure that's what they say.”

Your sarcasm isn’t foreign but he grows quiet at the remark.

It just slipped out so easily, without care or regard. You immediately try to make it right.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

“No, no. It’s okay. You didn’t mean it like that.”

Ever the sweetheart but you refuse.

“No, it isn’t.” You stop walking. “I was careless with what I said and it’s not right.”

He looks at you with appreciation and gives you a smile. “Thank you, Y/n. It feels nice to be seen as I am.”

That both warms and saddens your heart.

You know how much he’s been through and even though you’ll never truly understand, you know he can still count on you. You’ll be there for him and that’s gotta mean something.

“Of course.”

You and Mark spend the next hour chatting and idly checking out things in the stores.

You wander into the dress and gown section and are completely in awe of the collection. Every color you can think of in every style: silky, thigh cut, halter top, strapless.

Your hands run through the material and you’re reminded of the spring formal coming up soon.

Not everyone gets the chance of going but you have a friend who extended the courtesy of inviting you and a plus one.

You recall the last time you went to a dance: your senior year of high school's prom. It was memorable. You were a part of a small group that went together; consisting of your friends.

You took photos with Mark and danced with him for a bit but not like anything you wished. There's nothing romantic about screaming club anthem lyrics while getting twerked on but since it was Mark's ass, you didn’t complain.

That was the first and last time he accepted drinks from William, by the way.

You chuckle quietly to yourself in memory of that glorious night when Mark comes up behind you.

"You ready to go or do you wanna try some of them on?"

You take another look at the gorgeous dresses and think.

Mark's hoping you say yes.

He won't admit it anytime soon and despite him already thinking you're the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, prom night solidified that for him.

You had him starstruck.

His hear stuttered, adrenaline rushed through his veins and conjured up a swarm of butterflies in his stomach.

SImply put, every feeling and action that describes a man in awe of a pretty lady was an accurate depiction of him.

“Nah, maybe some other time.” You decide.

Mark nods, looking forward to the future dress tryouts. “Okay.”

Later, you have dinner with Mark, Oliver and Debbie.

Mark flew out and brought home some authentic pasta and garlic bread from Italy.

You rolled your eyes playfully and claimed he was being “extra” but reevaluated your statement when you thought about it.

If you could move that fast, you'd go to another country to have their finest food as well.

“It's so good to have you, honey.”

Debbie was always so nice to you, it made you feel happy and proud of yourself knowing someone's mom wholeheartedly accepts your presence in their kids life.

“It's good to be here.”

“Are you gonna stay the night?!” The purple little boy asked full of hope.

You didn't want to let him down but you had no choice.

“I'm sorry, Oliver, but not tonight.” You ruffle his hair and give him an apologetic smile.

You know he's bummed out when he doesn't sound that infectious laugh and tell you you're messing up his hair.

“Oh.”

You feel Mark's gaze on you and when you look up, he offers a sympathetic smile.

“I can stay until it's time for you to sleep.”

You know you've got him, it's an offer he can't refuse.

He's all smiles now and hugs you by the waist, his head laying on your chest.

You smile and hug him back, your head laying on his.

Mark cleans the table and Oliver takes out the trash while you help Debbie with the dishes.

“It doesn't matter how many times I say “no”, does it?”

You hum and shake your head. “Nope.”

You make small talk while you dry after she scrubs and rinses. About college, your plans after college, Mark.

“What about him?” You wonder.

“I mean, how has be been since...”

You see a look of helplessness on her face.

Debbie may be his mother but even she is not immune to the conflict of secrecy in her son's life.

You instantly feel bad.

Mark always tells you everything but to have his own mom ask you things about her son makes the situation complex.

You turn your head over your shoulder and see Mark playing a video game with his baby brother.

When Mark told you about Nolan, what happened to them on Thraxa and the events that unfolded afterwards, you didn't know how to respond.

As if hearing Nolan reveal his plans for Earth and call Debbie a “pet” wasn't heartbreaking enough, you were there with Debbie when Mark was brutally assaulted by his own father.

Then you hear of Nolan's second family he while the first one was still trying to keep it together and deal with the devastating aftermath of the biggest betrayal.

You almost cried when Mark broke down about Angstrom Levy hurting Debbie and Oliver.

You were out of the country on a field trip with your classmates when that happened. Devastated was an understatement for how you felt to hear both Mark and Debbie in the hospital from William.

Mark shamefully admitted to killing Angstrom, thinking that would sever the bond between you two. He expected you to be afraid of him, no matter how awful he’d feel about doing that to you.

It was the total opposite, you embraced him and let him cry on your shoulder. You let him feel everything but you also let him feel your hand in his.

You looked him in the eyes and told him that he did what he had to do and if killing Angstrom was the solution, then so be it.

“Mark told me everything. From seeing Mr. Grayson—”

You see a flash of hurt in Debbie's eyes at the mention of his name and almost forget that before he was known as Omni-Man, he was Mr. Grayson. He was Mark's dad.

“—again and about Oliver. Up until Angstrom and how the last thing he did was hurt you and Oliver.”

Debbie drys her hands and looks out of the window above the sink.

You can tell she’s disassociating. Her eyes seem so far away and crestfallen.

You don’t know if she’s getting much sleep but you also can’t imagine getting any if you were her.

You put a hand on her shoulder and she’s visibly shaken out of her thoughts.

“He’s gonna be okay, and so are you.”

She looks at you like you’ve lit up a candle at the end of a very dark tunnel.

Debbie leans in for a hug, eliciting a small sigh when you strengthen the embrace a little.

You figured she should feel taken care of for once.

“Thank you.”

You hear her sincerity and make a mental note to talk about this with Mark later on.

Oliver is tired out from having a “good playdate” with you and his older brother.

You tuck him in for the night per his request and can't help but feel the warmth from taking care of him touch your heart.

He's a growing boy but despite the many changes one goes through due to that constant stage of life, his feelings for you don't change.

Mark loves how much Oliver loves you. He loves seeing 2 of the most important people in his life get along so well, secretly admiring the way you've grown a soft spot in his mother's heart, too.

“They grow up so fast.” Mark attempts to humor.

You hum and try your best not to cry dwell on the bittersweetness of that phrase.

“Yeah.”

You're sitting on Mark's bed, looking fondly at the one of many drawings the kid made for you.

You softly exhale and bring up the conversation you had earlier with Debbie.

“Mark, I have something I want to talk to you about.”

He looks at you knowingly. “I know.”

Your eyes widen a bit at that revelation. “You do?”

He nods, a pursed smile on his face. “I have super hearing, remember?”

How did you forget that?

You close your eyes and exhale sharply, feeling silly for forgetting that power of his. “Right, duh.”

You don’t want to push the conversation if he’s not feeling it but you want to know if you did the right thing.

“I... didn’t overstep… right?”

“Oh, no. No, you didn’t.”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I… haven’t had the best time talking to her about the things I say to you.”

You nod in understanding.

“I felt bad when she asked you how I’m doing. She should be able to ask me that.”

He’s guilt-stricken and it makes you feel dejected.

“Mark.” You put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s hard talking to your mom about your inner turmoil but you’re all she has.”

Who does Debbie go to when she wants to discuss the matters of her heart? Who’ll listen when she wants someone to talk to?

“You give her the strength to carry on so let her give you some peace of mind, hm?”

Mark’s eyes shine with a strong fondness for you, his mind wiped clean of all things difficult and heart ten times lighter.

You’ve always understood him, whether he explains himself or not. You could always just know.

Your heart and emotional intelligence are perhaps his favorite things about you.

“You okay?” You ask, worried you’ve overstepped again.

“Never been better.” He promises.

A soft smile graces his lips as he leans in to hug you.

You accept it with an equal gentle expression and when you feel his arms wrap around your middle, you feel good.

Mark is invulnerable but not when it comes to the war between his mind and heart, that’s when you step in. And when you do, there’s always a resolution found in great clarity.

You feel his heartbeat above yours and unconsciously, they sync. His breathing evens out with yours.

It feels intimate, this hug.

You’ve hugged him a million times before but none of them have felt quite like this.

A heavy weight on his shoulders has evaporated and you can feel his gratitude.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” He murmurs.

You tilt your head back a bit so he can see you. “Then don’t.” You shrug, like it’s the most obvious answer.

He chuckles lightly and blinks at you, a tight-lipped smile on his face.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of his arms loosening around you and replacing the warmth with his hands on your hips.

You subconsciously gulp and watch his eyes flicker towards your eyes, lips then back to your eyes.

You don’t know if it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear he moves his head a little closer to you; just enough to barely touch noses.

Your stomach is in a frenzy and your hands feel clammy.

Is this really happening?

But then, like a switch being flipped off; he gingerly clears his throat and backs away.

You blink, catching yourself in a daze and he gets up to put on a movie.

He acts like he wasn’t just about to kiss you, as if that chemistry was just a figment of your imagination.

You don’t have the guts to say anything, to ask the obvious. So, you also pretend that you two weren’t just about to fulfill your biggest ‘what if?’ scenario.

“Oh, wow… that’s crazy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

It was nice to hear sympathies from the only people who you could afford to talk about this with. They’re also the only people who wouldn’t go and spread the telltale truth of the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“I can’t believe he fumbled this badly.” Amber facepalms herself in disbelief.

She sighs in exasperation and plops down on your bed with an arm covering her eyes.

Eve doesn’t move from her position; leaning on your wall with her arms crossed and her face in thought.

“What if he doesn’t like me like that?” You wonder aloud.

Amber peeks an eye out from under her elbow and Eve shakes her head.

“No, no, no. Trust me, that’s not it.”

“Don’t seem so sure.” You grumble as you pick at your nails to distract yourself from the heartache.

Eve sits down beside you and thinks about her words carefully. “Mark… well, I won’t defend him; he is kinda stupid.”

“Kinda?” Amber argues.

That makes you grin a bit.

“But he’s also your best friend, and you’re his. Maybe he doesn’t know how he feels but he does know that you’re not worth the risk of something he’s unsure will ever happen.”

Somehow, she put things into a perspective you’ve never thought about before.

“I never thought about it like that.”

You feel Amber sit up.

“That’s because it’s a confusing situation. Seeing both sides of the story might help you make some sense, give you consolation.”

You nod, already having potential answers to your unanswered questions. If not real answers, you’ll settle for theories. It’s still something.

“Thank you, guys.”

Amber winks at you. “Anytime.”

“Of course. We're rooting for you both.”

You shyly smile when Eve nudges your shoulder.

“So,” She claps her hands together. “What should we do to commence our very first sleepover? Omegle?”

Amber is concerned for the first time at Eve’s expense.

“Umm...” You pout your lips to the side.

“I don't find the idea of accidentally getting flashed the most... thrilling.” Ambers grimaces.

“Yeah.” You nod.

Eve has a sly look on her face, one that says her proposition comes with an entertaining twist.

“Trust me, I have an idea.”

“Okay, that was pretty fun.” Amber concedes.

You laugh softly to yourself, remembering the events from the previous night.

The 3 of you decide to go out for lunch, finding the night an excellent moment for bonding.

“What was fun?”

Mark pulls a seat up at the table you're occupying.

“Mark? How'd you know we were here?” You query.

Mark looks just as confused as you but before he could answer, Eve does it for him.

“I invited him.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You don't have a problem, it's just that you thought this was gonna be “girl time” as you like to call these moments.

It would've been nice to know, at least.

Amber attempts to start up a conversation but little did you know; this conversation was a part of Eve's “idea” she mentioned the night prior.

“We went on Omegle last night.”

Mark's eyebrows raise in surprise. “Did anything happen?”

You understand the underlying message to be, “Were you victims to any unsolicited sexual advance?” and find it kind of sweet that Mark cares enough to have that be his first train of thought.

“Yeah, actually.” Eve notes as she takes a bite of her burger.

“Y/n's got herself a loverboy.”

You choke on your drink. Exploding into a fit of coughs, you hope it kills you.

Mark is quick to pat your back and try to aid in helping.

When you catch your breath, you look over at him awkwardly and thank him.

“Don't mention it.” He humbly said.

You make it a personal mission to never bring it up. Ever.

Amber continues to fuel the fire.

“Yeahhh.” She sighs. “He's Russian and was all, like, ‘Your eyes are like the ocean and I am a merman.’.” She puts on her best Russian accent and giggles when she nails it.

“Mm!” Eve makes a noise of enthusiasm, adding on to the punchline. “And then he said, ‘They are so deep, I can drown in them.’.”

“The fuck?” Mark grunts under his breath. “But mermen can swim.”

Honestly, he thought it was fucking stupid. Even if this guy was a “merman”, he'd be able to swim. Drowning is totally out of the question.

“Yeah, but it was the thought that counts.” Amber spoke before eating a fry.

“It was pretty corny.” Eve seemingly agrees with Mark.

“See?! I knew I wasn't the only one.” Mark nods to himself.

“But...”

His smile drops.

“I gotta admit, it was kind of romantic.”

Mark can't believe this.

Is romance really dead? Aren't punchlines supposed to make sense?

He knows it's only romantic because the guy's Russian. Okay, so he has an accent. So what? That should pardon his inadequacy of flirting?

“You guys only ate it up because he has an accent.”

Mark narrows his eyes as he takes a curly fry from your plate.

Amber and Eve side eye each other with mischief as they see you enter the ring.

“I thought it was kind of sweet, you know? At least he tried.” You counter.

Mark tilts his head, clearly bewildered. “You mean to say that you actually liked that?”

You don’t like his accusatory tone. “It wasn’t that bad, Mark.”

He rolls his eyes and begs to differ. “Wasn’t that bad- it made no sense! He definitely pulled that shit out of Google’s top thirty best flirty lines.” He puts air quotes around best.

“Oh, would you look at that? I actually have to go do that... thing.” Eve slowly rises from her seat.

“Yeah, me too.” Amber flashes a sweet smile.

They’re gone before you can impose.

“They really just left.” You say to no one.

Mark is still somehow going. “I just… I dunno.” He says, defeated.

“Mark, it wasn’t that deep. He liked my eyes and said some line that made me feel nice. That’s all.”

He nods like he understands but he really doesn’t.

“He’s no Mr. Darcy.” You settle as you take a sip of your milkshake.

Mark smiles at that and you’re confused.

“Why’re you smiling?”

“I knew it! I knew you couldn’t possible swoon over that ridiculous, nonsensical one-liner.”

You laugh incredulously. “Seriously, what’s your problem?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just knew he couldn’t be your type after that. Sure, you like them romantic but with genuine thought.”

He says that so confidently, with such attention, it makes you feel nicer than the Russian’s compliment. He makes you feel seen with that keen observation.

You nod to yourself, lowkey impressed.

“Mkay.” You simply say.

His gaze flickers towards you at the seemingly confusing, neutral response.

“What.”

“What, what?”

“You said that like you’re not convinced.”

You deeply exhale, not wanting to argue anymore. “Mkay.”

His eyes widen a bit and he snaps at you like he’s just discovered the phrase: ‘eureka!’.

“That, right there. That’s what I mean.”

You rub at your head as if you’ve got a headache but you doubt you won’t get one soon.

“Elaborate.”

You’re sticking with as little words as possible if it means to get to the point.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks with worry coating his tone.

You shake your head, unsure of what’s happening. “I just don’t know what’s gotten into you today. You’re in this strange mood to argue.”

He blinks.

You’re right.

Arguments are a rare occurrence in this relationship.

“We never argue.” He realizes regretfully.

Your eyes trail up his form and you see the uncomfortableness etched onto his outline.

“I’m sorry-”

“Sorry-”

There’s a pause, one that melts the lingering awkwardness into friendliness.

You see the hints of a smile creep up on him and instinctually, there’s one in yours.

“You first.”

Ever the gentleman.

“Sorry for making it awkward.” Your fingers interlock with each other and you give him an apologetic look.

Mark immediately shakes his head. “No, you didn’t make anything awkward… It was me. I got-”

He doesn’t speak for a few seconds, trying to find another way out of this as two thirds of his sentence has already been put out.

“You got..?”

He puts on a tight-lipped smile but it looks pained. “I just wanna say that I’m sorry for getting defensive for no reason.”

He thinks that was a good excuse for his detour but you’re smart.

“Jealous.” You say firmly.

“Huh?” He squeaks and immediately clears his throat.

“You got jealous.” You shrug your shoulders and move the whip cream in your milkshake around with the straw.

He scoffs with the intention of obscurity. “That- I- What? Pfft, jealous. Who, me?! Yeah, right.”

His stuttering erupts a snort from you, an “I told you so” fresh on the tip of your tongue.

He wanted to spout declarations of how incorrect you are but he couldn’t. The cat had his tongue.

“Whatever.” He bites with little heat.

He crosses his arms over his chest and appears to look unaffected by your ability to see through him.

“Mkay.” You hum to tease him.

Your best friend groans and you giggle at him slouching down in his seat, his hands covering his face and in turn; a sheepish grin.

You’re in your home when your TV bears awful news.

“Breaking news: intruders that look like multiple Invincibles are wreaking havoc across the globe.”

As soon as you hear that, a loud boom is heard from across the city and sends shockwaves to where you are.

“We urge you to stay in your homes and hide. Do not make contact, I repeat; don’t engage with them.”

You’re scared.

How the hell are you supposed to stay hidden in your home when there’s the start of destruction visible outside?

How can they tell you to stay inside when there’s a chance you can die in there?

It’s not like the variants aren’t gonna come inside. Who’d stop them from hurling your place of residence like a football?

Despite all of those thoughts, you stay inside.

You hide in your living room. You sigh to yourself as you hide inside a spare closet, leaving a sliver of space open to breathe.

You turn your phone’s ringer off but feel the vibrations in your pocket. You look to see who it could be and feel so much relief flood your stomach when it’s Mark.

“Mark?” You say shakily.

“Y/n? Oh, thank god. Where are you?”

Your eyes water but you keep them at bay. No point in crying over spilled milk.

“I’m in the spare closet of the living room, what’s going on?”

He starts to explain when the call abruptly cuts.

So fucking cliche you think as you the see the dead battery sign.

The sound of a window opening makes you heave out a sigh of relief.

You get out and are about to hug him but the first thing you notice when you open the door is his face. Er, the lack thereof.

“Is… this a new costume?” You ask wearily.

You didn’t know Mark had a black mask installed. It covered his whole head and the lens was turquoise blue instead of white.

He just stares at you, unflinching and scarily still.

You gulp as the realization sets in your stomach.

This isn’t the Mark of your world. This isn’t the Invincible you recognize.

The masked stranger can sense your irregular heartbeat and hear the small panicked breaths that well up in your chest.

He slowly stalks towards you; like a predator to their prey, except there’s nothing dangerous about his stance. He doesn’t radiate harm or anger and he puts his hands up, as if to show you he won’t harm you.

For your own sake, you don’t believe that. You can’t believe that’s what he wants.

You’re frozen, wide eyes filled to the brim with fear and shock.

You grip your phone tight in your hands, ready to turn it into a weapon if you must.

He’s interrupted when another one shows up.

This one has a black and yellow suit with a yellow cape.

Your eyes dart to his figure and you’re sure this one’s gonna do the honors.

“You’re alive.” He says to himself.

His eyes are covered with white lenses but you know he’s looking at you.

His hands ball up into fists and he walks to you with an urgency in his stride.

You instinctually back up and hit a wall when the masked variant gets in between you both.

“She’s scared.”

The tone in his voice almost makes you think he cares. Almost.

“Get out of my way.” The bright-caped intruder basically spat his face.

“And let youuu have all the fun? I don’t think so!”

What the fuck?

You see what looks like Mark… in a mohawk.

His lips spread into a smirk, a cocky tone in his words.

Your nails press into your arm to prevent you from sputtering out a giggle.

How are you supposed to take him seriously when he’s willingly sporting a mohawk? Right.

If you knew there was going to come a time where your home is used as some sort of Invincible convention, you would’ve moved out a long time ago.

“You’re here.”

This one scares you a little.

His demeanor may be softer but his eyes, they’re wild with a fire furling around his pupils.

What makes the fear prick at your heart is the fact that he’s wearing the Viltrumite uniform.

Wherever he came from, he became his father.

That fact chills your bones and you think, how could that happen? Why did that happen?

His wild eyes are wide with surprise and there’s the ghost of a relieved smile on his face.

Very quickly have you gone from 0 to 100.

There are 2 seemingly decent Invincibles and 2 Invincibles that give off evil vibes.

What’s better news is that they all have some sort of fascination with you.

Awesome! Fantastic, even!

Your adrenaline has taken a back seat but you’re still unnerved by the destruction just outside your neighborhood.

You’ve never wished for a quicker death as this cat and mouse game is becoming all too much. The anticipation will kill you if they don’t.

“Alright,” Mohawk Mark yawns. “Enough dickin’ around.”

The 4 variants surround you, encasing you in an otherwise unbreakable square.

“You’re coming with us.” Decides the caped crusader.

He puts his hand out to grab you but is thrown through a wall by an unstoppable force.

It feels a bit blurry after that.

You feel yourself being lifted and moving at an alarming speed, your body lurching forward and side to side by the breeze taking you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He murmurs.

He hugs you close to his chest, a hand cradling the back of your head and the other clutching your back protectively.

“M-Mark?”

You find your voice amongst the dizziness clouding your head.

He holds your head and tilts it towards him, kissing the crown and meeting your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay, you’ll be fine. Just stay here.”

You hold his wrists and blink, looking around you to find yourself with Debbie and her boyfriend, Paul.

“Please.”

Mark’s desperation appeals to you. His voice cracks with an urgency for your life. One that is begging you to listen, and you do.

“Okay.” You agree.

He nods and kisses you once again, a sweet promise pressed against your forehead.

You may have had the wind knocked out of you but that doesn’t mean you’re unaware.

Oh yeah, that kiss sobers you up real quick.

Your eyes are wide and cheeks are warm; you’re flushed and hope he doesn’t detect the jump in your heart rate because of his tenderness for you.

“Be careful.” You blurt out.

Mark looks back at you with a smirk on his face.

“I will.”

He kept his promise for the most part.

“Ow.”

“Maybe don’t move around a lot?”

“…Sorry.”

He winces as you treat his facial wounds.

Mark got pretty banged up; his left eye was swollen and purple from Conquests fists. He has similar shades of bruising on his face and a nasty cut on the bridge of his nose, another on the corner of his lip.

His arms and leg are almost fully healed.

It’s been a grueling 2 weeks.

Oliver helps out as much as he can.

Eve and the rest of the heroes are helping piece the cities back together but no matter how much they help rebuild, the atrocities committed won’t be forgotten.

Conquest was here on a personal mission and almost leveled the state because of it and roughed up Oliver pretty badly.

“I don’t know what to do.”

You hear him, you hear the things he wants to say and the things he doesn’t say out loud.

You feel so bad, so awful for him. He’s still a kid trying his hardest, doing his best.

Why can’t that be enough?

“It isn’t fair.” You respond.

His gaze turns to you.

“You do your best and when you think it’s over, the worst is still yet to come.”

Your fingers lightly touch the one of many bruises on his cheek, his eyes close at the contact.

“I can’t imagine how many times you’ve had pieces of you broken for us but it’s a sacrifice that unfortunately comes with the job.”

It hurt your heart, saying the second part.

Hard truths are a pill you’ll always find difficult to give.

He sharply inhales and the tears he tried so hard holding, come pouring down. Soft sobs and wails plague his throat.

His head falls atop your chest and his hands wrap around your middle, clinging to your shirt.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you do your best to ground him, to be his anchor.

His mental state is unimaginable, the thought of him slipping away has been a reoccurring nightmare for you but you push through. You have to.

“So many people died.”

The death toll worldwide was into the hundreds of thousands. That was the doing of the variants but Mark was inadvertently responsible, too.

It breaks your heart at how unfair this all is.

A Viltrumite’s personal vendetta against Mark resulted in such catastrophe.

Scott -also known as Powerplex- fried his only family left and somehow thinks that is also Mark’s fault.

As if the Chicago Incident wasn’t enough, there was almost a Chicago Incident Part 2 had it not been for Eve.

“You can’t blame yourself for Angstrom’s doing.” You try to reason.

Mark shakes his head and gets up.

“I thought I killed him, but I should’ve been sure. I should’ve finished the job.”

Mark palms at his wet eyes, sniffling lightly as he calms down.

You don’t know what to do, you don’t know what to say.

You don’t want him to wallow in this pain by himself but you also don’t want to say something wrong.

“You should leave.” His cold tone and neutral face really sells it.

You’re confused. “What?”

You’ve never seen him like this and are worried the wretched day you’ve been imagining is finally here.

“I’m sorry, w-was it something I said? Or did?”

“No. I just want you to go.”

You watch his fists bunch up the material of his joggers on his knees and the veins protruding from his hands.

“I…”

You want to say something, you want to stay for him but you can’t. You know it’d only make things worse.

So you just nod and whisper a meek, “Okay.”.

Mark still isn’t looking at you when you make your way to the door. His face still expressionless, calculated, distant.

Your fingers reach for the handle when you hear him.

“Y/n?”

It’s embarrassing how quick hope flashes in your eyes at the sound of him saying your name.

You try to suppress the obvious reaction as much as possible.

“Yeah?”

It still seeps through your voice but you’re human.

Your emotions are a part of you, even if they end up being a helping hand to your disappointment.

You don’t see the pool of guilt swirl around in his almost annoyed eyes but maybe it’s for the better.

He stares at you and feels bad but after everything that’s happened, is it worth keeping you in his life?

He wants to tell you so badly what’s making him push you away.

Sure, William is his best friend but you’re so much more. You’re a part of him, you’re his soulmate.

Mark wants nothing more than to see you happy but he ultimately decides that it’s nothing compared to seeing you alive.

“Can you close my door all the way?” He begrudgingly says.

The average person would blame him for pushing you away, him getting your hopes up only to crush them so inadvertently cruelly.

But you only chastise yourself.

You want him to know that despite people like Scott or Angstrom; who put the blame on wrong people for their circumstantial demise, there's people like you and Debbie.

He has a support system ready to recharge him but maybe you were overcharging him?

You go to sleep in tears, crying silently to yourself over how fucked life is.

Mark doesn't sleep the whole night, knowing he can hear your heart break.

It's been a slow week.

You don't talk to anyone or do things you used to; only getting up to go to class and eat, do some occasional grocery shopping.

You make an excuse for Amber and Eve when they text you to meet up and watch their caller ID's flash across your phone before it rings all the way through.

Mark hasn't spoken to you at all. No call, no text.

Despite him quitting school, you used to see him all the time on campus. Whether it be for you or William or Rick.

Now, you don't meet with anyone.

“She doesn't wanna talk to me or Amber anymore.” Eve voiced one day.

"Nor us." Rick pointed towards him and William.

“Something’s wrong. I'm worried about her.” Amber adds as she comes across the last message you sent in the group chat with her and Eve.

hey guys, just dealing with the flu rn. i’m fine tho! no worries :)

But of course they worried. They're your friends and that's what friends do.

Which is exactly what they said when they arrived at your doorstep, so you can't afford another excuse.

Your duo sits on your bed, trying to come up with a solution to best help you out.

“He’s closed off and maybe that was expected, but it's been a week.” Amber says.

“Yeah, you'd think he'd open up by now.”

You sigh pitifully and look out your window and down the street.

You’re a 10 minute drive and he’s a 1 minute flight away, yet nobody is willing to close that distance.

“It should be him, though.” Eve says.

“Hm?” You hum absentmindedly.

“Mark should be the one to come talk to you, not the other way around.”

Eve gauges for a reaction from you, one that will oppose her idea.

“Maybe you should go.” She switches up.

You look at Eve hesitantly, like it's a flop idea.

“You tried, Y/n. You did your part and he let you know but this isn’t the way things between you should end. Should he want it to end.”

It's like Amber knew what you were thinking and tried to dismiss the thought for you.

You weren't gonna lie and say that you haven't thought about blowing up his phone, driving to his house and banging on his door to open up to you.

But would he even want to? Would he even listen?

“It's not about what he wants, it's about what he needs.”

“And what he needs right now, is you.”

- MEANWHILE, WITH WILLIAM, RICK & REX -

“Come on, man. Don't be like this.” William tries.

Rick can see how much Mark is beating himself up over everything that’s happened.

With the fight against Liu’s dragon and Powerplex. And now recently, Conquest.

Mark never complained, it was the job. But you made getting back out on the field a bit easier.

“It's not worth losing her.” Rick gently reminds.

Mark's trio of lending hands have come to his service but it's unwanted, and Mark lets them know.

“Look, I don't need this. Especially not right now.”

This makes Rex mad.

“Oh you don’t need this? Well, excuseee me! We don’t need you to be so goddamn stupid, especially not right now.”

Mark narrows his eyes, visibly agitated. “Stupid? I’m being stupid?”

Rex widens his eyes, his pitch growing higher. “Yeah! That’s what I said.”

“Okay, I think we’re elevating the situation so let’s all just calm down.” William suggests nervously.

Mark has other thoughts as he rises from the bed. “And how exactly am I being stupid?”

Rex knows he shouldn’t be egging him on, he shouldn’t be encouraging his anger; but if this was the way to make his friend see his foolishness then so be it.

“By distancing yourself from the one woman who’s nice enough to let you, instead of manning up and telling her how you really feel.”

That stung.

“You don’t get to tell me how to handle my love life.”

Rex smirks lazily, a hardball on the tip of his tongue. “You don’t even have the balls to have one.”

“Rex.” William warns.

The cheeky bastard ignores him and continues on, a bit excited to see where this would all lead.

“I think she’d want a man who sees her, who doesn’t hurt her by ignoring her entire existence.”

Rick facepalms himself and wonders where the line between bravery and stupid was drawn.

Mark’s knuckles are white from how hard his fingers are curling in on themselves, his fists ready to pound into the explosive asshole.

Rex steps closer, now toe-to-toe with Mark and ignorantly unafraid. “I wouldn’t make her wait.”

Mark punches him right in the mouth, hard.

“Mark!” The yell of his friends fall on deaf ears.

Rex grunts as he stumbles back a bit, expecting this outcome.

“You don’t know her. You don’t know what’s good for her.” Mark spits bitterly.

Rex spits some blood out, sighing heavily. “You do.”

That makes Mark soften up.

He blinks like he’s snapped out of a trance. His fist wavers and is set down beside his thigh, a deep sigh exiting his nose. He looks at his friend and witnesses the ugly truth; his jealousy won.

“What am I doing?” He whispers.

Rex coughs lightly, the cut on his lip stinging.

“Talk to her, Mark. Don’t let her live with the regret of not knowing.”

Rick puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, hoping this will finally tip him over the edge.

Rex comes off the wall, slapping Mark’s back with a warm pat.

“I’m sorry, Rex. I shouldn’t have-”

He dismisses him with a wave. “Nah, I was being an asshole. An asshole on purpose, but still an asshole.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’re gathering the courage to mull over the most impactful relationship in your life.

Is there even a correct way to do that?

You don’t know, but what you do know is that you have to try.

You look at yourself in the mirror and feel the weight of your younger self.

She’d be devastated. you think. If she were here in the flesh to see this, you don’t think she could withstand it.

A sharp knock to your door pulls you out of your head.

You’re not expecting anyone, and you’re unsure about the one person you did want to hear from.

Regardless, you walk over and open the door and your heart drops out of your ass. Not in fear, but in surprise.

“Mark.” You breathe.

Here he is; in the flesh and without the scowl you picture. In fact, he looks guilty.

His once glee-filled eyes are now empty of it, making you reminisce the time before last week.

“Can I come in?” His voice resounding of forlorn hope.

He expects you to deny him, to make him walk away with his hands held in a helpless prayer.

Instead, you show him mercy and welcome him inside your place of refuge.

Tentatively, he makes his way inside and awkwardly stands beside your desk.

You’re quiet, still trying to process his presence after an entire week of radio silence.

You don’t know how to feel. Should you be happy? Ecstatic? If anything, frustrated and hurt are also a great couple of options.

“Y/n?”

You look up at him and see his concerned face. “Hm?”

“I asked if we can talk.”

“Now you want to talk?” It came out before you could even think about it.

Your annoyance seeps through and he shuffles the weight on his feet a bit uncomfortably.

“I know-”

“No, you don’t.”

He looks at you like you just told him to kill himself.

“Y/n, please. Just hear me out.”

Your arms are crossed over your chest in a defensive position, he clocks that. He also notices the way you make eye contact with him throughout your sentences.

You were really hurt, he gathers.

He takes your silence as a sign to continue talking.

“After I left you at Paul’s, I went back out there and fought off the rest of those… variants. While I was fighting them, they told me about you.”

Your interest is absolutely peaked now.

“What do you mean?”

“They... they said that you existed in their world but-” He cuts himself off with a vexed sigh.

“But what, Mark.”

You want, need to know what was worth hurting you for days on end.

Mark looks at you and it's the most disheartened he's looked since that night he told you to leave.

“You died, Y/n.”

It all makes sense now. You grapple with the stomach-churning epiphany of the century.

The different Invincibles that wanted to take you was simply because you ceased to exist in their worlds.

“I... I died in every single universe.”

He takes some steps in your direction, not wanting to overwhelm you.

“You either died on accident by being murdered among civilians or you killed yourself.”

“Why would I commit suicide?”

He deeply inhales. “Because you'd rather die than join the other me.”

That sounds on brand.

“I couldn't live with myself knowing I'd lose you in this world, too.” He admits raspily.

That touches your heart.

You want to hug him, to comfort him but you're still kind of confused. You needed more answers.

“I was so scared, I had never felt fear like I did when I saw them with you.” He whispers.

“Why'd you tell me to leave?” You ask gently.

“Because I love you.”

His confession is so light, said with such helplessness, that you tear up.

Mark maintains eye contact with you, tired of hiding his true self. He wants you to see him.

“So many people have died because of me, it may not be directly my fault, but it still had to do with me.”

He comes a little closer, just a couple of steps away from touching you.

“What if I was too late that day? What if they managed to take you away?” He mutters in a hushed tone.

Mark shakes his head as if to get rid of those thoughts.

“If anything happens to you, it will be because of me.”

“So, you thought it was best to create such a large gap between us, that there'd be a sinking hole inside of me. Is that it?”

Your eyes well up against your will but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when he can finally see just how much you've been suffering.

“You think I wanted to do that?” He asks defensively.

You scoff indignantly. “I think you could've told me from the jump. That's what I think.”

You know it's a little unfair given how vulnerable he's being right now but he was unfair when you were vulnerable, too.

He shakes his head, eyes closing in on themselves as his tears threaten to fall. “I can't risk your life, Y/n! Why don't you understand that?”

You messily wipe your tears, your lashes wet and nose tinged with the lightest of reds.

“All this time, you didn't have a problem with how close we were. Now that you saw how close I was to something dangerous, it got too real for you?!”

He's in your space now, his chin set down and eyes on yours.

Contrary to how mad he looks, he relays his message in an low tone. “Yeah. It did.”

Your eyes widen a bit at the length he's cut between your bodies and you're back in time. You go back to the moment he almost kissed you.

“Don't push me away, Mark.”

You beg him and you don't care if you look pathetic. You love him and don't want to lose him like this.

Mark just presses his forehead against yours and shuts his eyes, he concentrates on you. Your smell, your hushed breaths, your heartbeat.

You feel his hands slide up and down your arms, grounding you.

Even when he's opening up to you, Mark still chooses to comfort you. He still wants to calm you down, to make you feel better. He still chooses to have your best interests at heart.

“I came here to tell you the truth, that you deserve better.”

You wordlessly deny his idea, shaking your head once.

He grabs ahold of your head, making you look at him.

You see it all, you see all of his pain, grief, anger.

“I love you but you're not safe with me.”

“You don't get to make my decision for me.” You stubbornly point out.

He’s stubborn too. “Y/n—”

“I love you.” A shaky whisper snuck into the air between your lips.

His wide eyes stare back at yours in surprise.

“I've loved you for a long time and I don't wanna be in love with another.” You wrap your hands around his, feeling the warmth bloom onto your cold ones.

“Please, please don't ask me to stay away from you.” You cry.

He kisses your head and brings you close, his palm guiding your cheek to his shoulder. He curls his other arm around your waist and rests his chin atop your hair.

“Okay, alright.” He fondly agrees. Stop crying, you crybaby.”

“Fuck you.” You lightly jab.

He airily laughs and brings your face close to his, pressing an equally feathery kiss to your lips.

You timidly kiss him, shying away a little to breathe but Mark wants you to take his breath if you must. He pulls you in, hands gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him, wanting to shape a new mold from your figures.

Your fingers nervously brush his hair and he groans at the contact.

You chuckle at the sound and he pulls away leaving a soft peck.

He's in a daze and has hearts in his eyes but he ultimately decides; he wouldn't want it any other way.

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