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moonchild1 · 2 months

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park jimin fic rec list (Ⅲ)

woah it really has been a long time since i posted but i am so glad to be back and to get back into reading i saw so many of my favourite authors have updated and i am beyond excited to start this journey again but in the mean time here's jimin rec list as promised it was so exciting finishing this list cause i got so nostalgic making it and reading all the old fics i had on my reading list ughhh i just loved it so much and it got me back into the swing of things and i cant wait to make more lists, i do have another jjk list ready and i will post it the day after tomorrow so i hope you enjoy this one and don't forget to show all the love and support in the world to these amazing authors they work so hard to create these fics for us and they deserve endless praise and love for the commitment and generosity they have so please do leave them a comment, heart or reblog a small comment can go a long way here and can make someone smile even bigger so dont don't shy away from making someone happy... as usual you guys know this fics i recommend contain smut so minors don't interact you will be blocked... i really do love hearing from you guys so if you do have a little fic you are super into right now and you just want to rant about how amazing it is feel free to send me an ask 😊🖤

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

plot twist by @xpeachesncream f s a

↳ jimin isn’t interested in fake dating, but he’s definitely interested in getting to know someone the right way. after all, he feels like he’s ready to put himself out there and give it all he’s got. so, he takes a risk in trying something completely out of his comfort zone and hops on the new, popular dating app - only to come across and get to know someone he didn’t expect to meet.

a remedy for mondays by @dovechim s

↳ all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

it’s okay, that’s love by @/dovechim f s a deals with deep subjects

↳ People are constantly making some kind of connection with each other- be it friendship or romance. But human bonds always lead to messy complications; commitment, sharing, driving people to the airport, letting them get up close and personal with the darkest parts of ourselves. And sure- it’s scary as hell to watch them cross those boundaries you’ve so meticulously drawn, but it’s okay, because that’s love.

so it goes by @/dovechim f s

↳ Park Jimin knows a lot about humans. of course he does, he studies them for a living. he knows that they say hello by holding hands, and when they say goodbye, they put their arms around each other. but this particular human, he notes, is unlike the rest- stuck in a slump, going about your day praying for the Universe to stage an intervention in the form of an alien abduction. when he decides to finally fulfil your wishes, he finds that you have a little something to teach him about what it means to live life on Earth the way you do: ugly crying, underwear and all. in return, he shows you the possibilities that abound if you simply adopted their mantra: everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

love again by @taestefully-in-luv f s a

↳ A friend of yours is eager to introduce you to her new man but what happens when Park Jimin, the man who broke your heart 5 years ago walks in through the door?

the other woman: the seduction and the illusion by @namjooningelsewhere f s a

↳ No one told you being the other woman would never be easy, No one told you that his love would be two sides to a same coin. No one told you he came to you because you were his escape to his demons. No one told you he would always call you his, but he would never be yours. And most importantly no one told you, He never loved you because you dont destroy the people you love.

FUTURE HEARTS by @jungblue f s a ft. jjk

↳ It was everything, from his tattoos, to his touches, to the way sweat rolled down his neck as he strummed into his guitar on stage; everything about him completely enthralled you. So why are you now, two and a half years later, on a train to Seoul, telling a complete stranger the recollection of how you became fated to forever have scars on all of your future hearts due to the happiness, but most of all the pain, that came along with falling in love with Jeon Jungkook.

after the applause by @foxymoxynoona

↳ Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

saved by @to-star-lake s a

rockstar au deep subjects read warnings

midnight memories by @hobipaint f s a

↳ there's drunk habits, and then there's drunk mistakes. What do you call meeting your friend - no, ‘former friend’ - at a bar, getting drunk with him and sleeping- 'accidentally' - with him? especially when everyone already knows that you stay away from him as much as the day does from night?

Easy. You forget about it.

heartbreak chronicles by @sugaxjpg s

↳ Park Jimin had it all — good grades, a place as the soccer team’s captain and, more than that, the broken hearts of at least half the campus’ population. Though, one thing he did not have was someone willing to break his heart and, after you were dragged inside a miraculous plan to play that part, the last thing counted on was the preposterous idea that, perhaps, you could fall for him as well.

drifting by@hongcherry f a

↳ After being assigned different partners for your midterm routine, your and Jimin’s relationship starts to deteriorate when you both begin spending more time away from each other and with your assigned partners instead.

growing pains by @taleasnewastime f s a

↳ Growing up the daughter of the boss of a gang is never easy, but normally the problems are around being given too many responsibilities, or the risk of being connected to a gang leader, or wanting to escape but not being able to. But you’ve got a different problem, you want more responsibility, want to be like your brother who’s been named heir, want a role in the family gang. Your whole life you’ve been denied what you want, being born a female seemingly your main issue; perceived as weak, naïve, trying to step above your station. But as unsupportive and dismissive as your family is, there is always the bright light that is Jimin; the boy you love but can never have.

tuqburni by @solastia f s a ft.myg

↳ You’ve spent two years building a life with Yoongi who you loved more than anything in the world. Now, his ex-boyfriend Jimin is back in the picture, and Yoongi begs you not to make him choose between the two of you, offering the choice of a polyamorous relationship. Though your heart is shattered, you agree.

stardust by @venusjeon f a

↳ struck by your beauty, Jimin begs to paint you naked behind the world's back so as not to stain your influential family—his patrons—with scandal.

drift by @snackhobi f s

↳ You used to think that there was nothing better than the sensation of coming first place. However, your rival- the talented, gorgeous, dangerous Park Jimin- is more than happy to prove you wrong.

the deli diaries by @jimlingss f

↳ Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

best of me by @xotoosweet f a

↳ when he tells the story of how he met you in a few years, he'll claim that it was meant to be. you'll laugh and call it a coincidence. it was a coincidence that on the first day of summer semester, he decided to go on a run (though he claimed he always ran in the mornings). it was a coincidence that he chose a less traveled path in the university arboretum that morning. and it was definitely a coincidence that you were there, sitting on the rail of the river bridge.

the ten days of ex-mas by @kpopfanfictrash f s a

↳ Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

strip by @yoonia f s a

↳ Summary | Everything you have done has always been about surviving life and raising your child on your own. Having someone else caring about you was the last thing you had expected. Especially when that someone is the same man you have watched performing every night on stage and secretly admired. But will he run the moment he finds out about your little secret waiting at home?

falling by @/yoonia s a

↳ For Park Jimin, you are everything he will ever need—his assistant, his housekeeper, his task runner, his fairy godmother. For you, he is more than everything. You have dedicated your life for him and, before you even realised it, your heart belongs to him alone. The only problem is that he is never yours, and you are living in a world that your love for him is nothing more than a fairytale ending. As you are suddenly given a chance to wake up and face the real world, will you be ready to embrace it? Will he be ready to deal with the world without you in it?

wrapped around by @jjkfire ft. kth f s a

↳ Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

baby, baby by @hobiwonder f s a

↳ When you’ve run out of savings to continue on to the last semester of your Bachelors - you take an unorthodox route. Helping a desperate couple have a child and getting paid for it? Heck yeah. But what do you know - it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

love at first touch by bagelswrites (ao3)

↳ The first time you meet your soulmate, it leaves a bruise on both of you at the point of contact. From then on, your body begins rejecting any sustenance other than the touch of your soulmate. The trick is, the bruises take a few hours to appear, so you have to figure out who you've touched and find them before you starve to death. But once you do, all you ever need is them. So what happens if you're an idol and you meet your soulmate at a fan event?

our little family by @nightbts f a

↳ you were living a simple life filled with simple dreams; combining your two most loved things in life, children and teaching, you were starting out your career as a teacher at the local pre-school. but little did you know, how one child and her very special father, would change your simple life into something extraordinary

one-shot 35

brand new eyes by @missgeniality s

↳ Jimin’s eyes had potential to ruin you, and tonight you test the damage.

waves by @shina913 s

↳ It's Valentine's Day and your boyfriend decides to spice things up with a little surprise for you.

failure to communicate by @gukslut s

↳ Enemies to Lovers/ College AU

physical by @ppersonna f s

↳ you cant seem to escape the sexy fitness instructor that seemingly is everywhere you turn. it’s enough to make you irrational.

good for you by @candlewaxandp0lar0ids s

↳ Jimin can’t help the way he drowns himself in you. Why should he anyway?

ho-ho-home by @jjungkookislife s a

↳ Golden neighbor extraordinaire, Park Jimin, is (unintentionally) stealing your spotlight this holiday season. Despite your one sided rivalry with him, all Jimin wants is for you to remember him, to remember your past and hopefully create a future with you.

100km/hour by @chateautae s

↳ what exactly happens when you and your friends have to pile into one car for the ride home after an insane halloween party, and you find yourself sitting in park jimin’s lap? especially when he’s dressed as an angel, and you’re in the sluttiest devil costume ever?

what it's like by @jimilter s

↳ You’ve always heard great tales about how good the infamous fuckboy on campus, Park Jimin, is in bed, and wondered if there could be any truth behind these claims when the guy looks like an angel with his cheruby cheeks and precious smiles. So when a new gossip starts to circulate about how ‘hard he hits’, you have had enough of the suspense and decide to finally sample him yourself.

feel your touch by @/jimilter f s a

↳ You have always known yourself to be a sexual switch in bed, flipping between exercising and submitting control according to different situations and partners. And this camboy you are addicted to, one that seems to kinda reciprocate your interest, submits so beautifully that you just want to command him. But when things progress to levels you never anticipated, you end up discovering pleasant surprises that might just change your life.

the prince’s cinderella syndrome by @/jimilter f s a ft jjk

↳ He shows up at Halloween, every year, dressed the same, and leaves at midnight like some Cinderella. You would think he was a prankster if his eyes didn't look like they contained all the sadness in the world. You don't know him - no one on campus does. You don't know why he appears only once a year. You don't know why he never smiles. But you can't help falling in love with him. Even if he breaks your heart when he abandons you at midnight, again.

scream your panties by @opaljm s a

↳ As your midterms have ended and Halloween has arrived, you are looking forward to a pleasant time relaxing and enjoying the festivities at your sorority and Jimin’s frat houses. Luck is not in your favor, though, because things keep going wrong like a trail of dominoes falling – the only upside to your slowly deteriorating day being that you get to end it with your boyfriend’s delicious self between your legs.

first snow, last kiss by @taeshobipop f s a

↳ He broke your heart four years ago; the old loving memories of your time together now tainted by pure betrayal. Yet in the haze of new snow, after returning home for the first time, the moments you had once convinced yourself were nothing but a lie, reveal themselves to be otherwise.

antifreeze by @winetae s

↳ Jimin participates in the school’s adaption of The Nutcracker for extra credit but doesn’t expect his new dance partner to a) be this bad at dancing and b) be this fucking cute

what she likes by @untaemedqueen f s

idol au husband au marriage au

only you by @personasintro f s a

↳ you’ve been always there for your best friend, even when he became a single dad

sucker by @/personasintro s a

↳ You wish you'd pay more attention to Jimin. Like, how his eyes kept changing color. How cold his skin was, too unrealistically to be natural. Or one second, he flashed you with his sharp canines and the next one he didn't have any. How much he craved for you, but not the way you thought he was.

please, lie to me by @ressjeon s a

↳ "centuries of loyalty vs. only months of fucking, how could you miscalculate?"

summer synchrony by @seokkgenie f s a

↳ childhood friends to lovers

neon seoul @readyplayerhobi f s a

↳ It the city of New Seoul, another homicide isn’t newsworthy but instead just a statistic. But when the son of the mayor is murdered in an alley in a shady part of the city? Then it’s important. You and your partner, Detective Park Jimin, are given the honour of investigating the crime. Will you find out who killed him? Or will you fail?

serendipity by @btsracket s a ao3

↳ It's serendipitous. Jimin braces for darkness but finds his light instead.

the boyfriend concept by @/kpopfanfictrash s

↳ Win a Date with a Porn Star! You saw the sign when you walked in, of course, but you had no idea your friend dropped your name into the raffle. Fast-forward to later that day, when you actually win. You are horrified, of course, with no intention of accepting and setting yourself up for embarrassment. But then you meet Jimin, and decide this might be worth a shot.

Lovely Demons by @/kpopfanfictrash s a

↳ As penance for a crime committed long, long ago, the Witch Council banished you to the feared Tholoss forest. Your sentence was one hundred thousand days of solitude – or death, whichever came first. Your only hope of salvation comes from the demon names routinely sent your way; creatures who escape the inner circles of Hell and pose a threat to the mortal realms. For each demon you kill, days are removed from your sentence. For years you’ve existed, biding your time, until one morning you receive a name which throws your entire world into chaos: the name of Park Jimin, High Prince of Hell himself.

blue blood by @joonbird s a

↳ “Prince Jimin was born with blue blood. His coronation is rapidly approaching, but there are two requirements he must fulfil before becoming a king. He must have the skills to fight in battle, and he must have a Queen with blood as blue as his. You, a member of the royal guard, are assigned to teach Jimin the ins and outs of combat. You are not scared of death, of blood, or of battle. What you are scared of however, is falling in love with Jimin, the one man your blood decrees you can never have.”

i want to be with you by @oddinary4bts f s a

↳ moving to Seoul has always seemed like a good idea, until the bubble bursts when you realize your new neighbor is Park Jimin, and he's not the sweet angel you've always imagined him to be. Will the reality of Park Jimin forever be a nightmare, or will he turn into a sweet dream?

locked in love by @parkmuse f s a

↳ Getting locked in the mall on Christmas eve isn’t ideal, but getting locked in the mall with your brothers best friend that you haven’t seen in a while? Well, it might have been alright if you didn’t have feelings for him.

peaches and cream by @snackhobi s

↳ you wouldn’t mind your cute neighbour being such a shameless fuckboy if a) the walls weren’t so thin and b) he didn’t seem intent on adding you as another notch in his bedpost.

reset by @/dovechim s

↳ We are made of the pieces of what we remember, and we hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there are memories to call our own, there can be no true loss. But Park Jimin has no such privilege.

the dark side of the moon by @/dovechim s

↳ falling in love at first sight is cliche, not until it happens to you on a dark night in a lonely alley. but you’re only human, while Park Jimin is Alpha of his pack; it could never work out. so you resort to pining for him like a wolf howling at the moon, but when Jimin goes feral, that’s when everything changes.

Unconditionally by @kstopping s a

↳ Jimin constantly torments you. But you love it.

Instinct by @evangelene f a

↳ A lost child appears into your life only to bring you closer Jimin–a man that you’d thought you’d hated once upon a time. Now all you want is to be there for the child, and maybe his father–but only if his mother gets the hell out of the way.

eternal sunlight by @kidguk f s a

↳ “college and soulmate au where the first words your soulmate will say to you are tattooed on your wrist. jimin thinks he met his soulmate exactly four months after he met and fell in love with you. you can’t explain your attraction or your feelings toward him, even though technically you’re meant to be with other people. taehyung and jungkook helpfully suggest that the universe might be glitching.”

foul play by @kimvtae f s a

↳ Everyone loves a good rivalry, and the students at your university are no exception. Unluckily for you, the rivalry of the decade is between yourself and a furiously irritating Park Jimin. A top gymnast and a basketball star shouldn’t cross paths, but Jimin makes his way into your heart before you can put a stop to it.

lost and found by @/kimvtae s a

↳ The only thing bigger than Park Jimin’s ass is his ego. After one too many scandals, after one too many mornings stumbling back to the dorms drunk or ruining the reputations of other idols, Jimin is given an ultimatum: complete a rehabilitation program in America or leave Bangtan.

if we were a movie by @/kimvtae f s a

↳ Friends with benefits never worked in the movies, but you and Jimin had been friends for so long, it was bound to work for you. Until, of course, Jimin gets a girlfriend, and you fear you may lose your friendship with him for good.

the pull of the tides by @goldenscript f s

↳ The expanse of the deep blue sea has always drawn you in. Each ebb and flow of the tides never ceasing to take your breath away. And now, a boy with hair as light as the morning sun and a smile just as bright does too.

hard to say by @floralseokjin f s a

↳you've had feelings for your best friend Jimin for as long as you can remember, but you always thought they were unreciprocated. What if it turned out they weren’t...?

↬looking for pjm library or the other members check out my library

731 notes · View notes

sheisjoeschateau · 1 month

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part IX (FULL)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER IX WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - language, innuendo / sexual undertones, mention of dr*gs and abuse and childhood trauma, Max in a coma, talks about death, difficult confrontations. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the 9th chapter, written in full. Not action packed, but vital to the plot. Lots of beautiful moments in here that I really took my time with writing because at this point, I am just so in love with this concept. We learn more about Bauman's past. Steve and Jonathan finally have that talk. Murray is a proud uncle. The kids are adorable. Steve's dream isn't only his. And everyone prepares for doomsday.

Bonus: If you love the song "This Little Life," well then you are in for a treat. It heavily inspired this chapter, and it will be back...

PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington was no stranger to nightmares.

He’d learned how to endure them. Over the years, he made friends with his demons. So much so, it got to a point where he got too used to having them around. He just nodded at them as they lurked in the darkest corners of his sunshine mind, letting them exist as lonely, miserable wallflowers who were never noticed in the daylight when he was awake…waiting for their fleeting moment of popularity after dark, when his eyes were shut. He didn’t address them when he was awake. Because if he addressed them, that would mean they were real. But if he let them have their way at night, forgetting them the next day and acting like they did not exist, that meant they had no power over him. They didn’t mean anything. They were nothing.

They meant nothing.

At least, that’s what Steve told himself.

Every night before shutting his eyes, he steels himself for whatever hell he was going to face. From the ripe age of four, he learned to simply expect the unexpected when it came to sleeping. Sleep was never going to be his friend — whether he was sleeping alone, or with a friend, or holding naked girl in his arms. Steve was made to suffer in his sleep. His subconscious was a world that was built upon a foundation ruled by the reality of absent parents, being an only child, high school flings that left him longing and the endless search for love. It consisted of repeated dialogues — sometimes the incessant arguing between his parents, or the jabbering of Tommy H. and Carol, or hearing Nancy chanting bullshit, along with all the other voices of people who filtered in and out of his life. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Sometimes, Steve was running away from his own voice in his head. There were nights when, within his own nightmares, he himself was the nightmare. That really came into effect during his last year of high school and the summer after he lost Nancy. Adding the entire element of the upside down into his life only fed his nightmares. They were bad before, they were bad then, and they were worse now.

Trauma after trauma, loss after loss, fight after fight, bloodshed upon bloodshed.

Every punch to his eye. Every word slapped across his face. Every other worldly creature he was made to battle. Every moment he was paralyzed with fear of losing one of his kids.

Nightmares loved Steve. And they knew exactly where to find him, every single night.

But right now, sleeping next to you, it wasn’t nighttime. It was still day. Daylight shown through the windows of your assigned guest room in the Harrington house — curtains drawn, and the gloomy afternoon sky filtering the space around you both.

And here he was, fast asleep with his cheek resting on top of your chest, as your heartbeat thumped against his ear. One of his toned arms was looped around your waist, having closed his eyes and letting the steady rise and fall of your chest lull him to sleep. Steve had been fighting sleep for the last two nights. Especially the night after you died in his arms. He had just barely brought you back to life, and he knew that as bad as his nightmares had been before…all of them amounted to nothing compared to the nightmares that would undoubtedly follow him after that. Steve wanted nothing to do with sleep. He was damned for all eternity when it came to sleep, and it was sure to bring him a life of insomnia after the real life nightmare that he was made to face when wide awake.

That’s the beauty of being asleep: you have to wake up.

Steve told himself that every night before he went to bed. He told himself that no matter how bad it got, he would still wake up. And once he woke up, it would be over.

He learned to do that after he went to the county fair one year with his friends, back in middle school. He’d gotten on a ride, peer pressured by Tommy H. and not wanting to look like a chicken.

Every second of the ride, Steve was petrified.

He wanted off, he wanted off, goddammit let me off he shouted.

Then he remembered having been told by the county fair worker that the ride lasted four minutes. Steve took a deep breath, realizing he’d likely been on it for already half that time. So he counted to himself. Counting down the last half of the ride, he told himself over and over: eventually, this ride has an end.

Sure enough, when it did finally come to an end — and when everyone was let off the hellish escapade — Steve realized that he had found the glitch in the matrix. The warp in time. The secret superpower to conquering fear. Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid anymore. Which is why now, whatever nightmare he was made to face, he would endure it — knowing that the sweet relief of waking up was just right around the corner.

And after all: stranger things had been proven real in Steve’s real life, far more than in his wildest dreams.

Loving you had turned out to be the strangest thing of all.

Even more so, the lack of nightmares that came with that was also strange…

Because right now, as Steve finally succumbed to sleep instead of fighting it, lying next to you…he was not trapped in a nightmare. His subconscious did not have him roaming the unpredictable pathways that led to the darkest corners of his mind. His demons had ceased their dance. Vecna, and all his other worldly monsters, were not the stars of this particular show. Steve was not trapped in the midst of jabbering chants coming from the voices of all the people that he loved, all the people who had betrayed him, or even the voice belonging to himself.

For the first time in years, Steve Harrington was dreaming.

It wasn’t anything drastic. Nothing that could exhaust him, to where any hours of sleep hadn’t felt like any sort of sleep at all. In fact, his subconscious state was…serene. Quiet, peaceful. It was almost unsettling in a way.

Little bursts of yellow — pastel and sunshine and lemon — colored the dark walls inside his mind. A light breeze gently wooshed in the distance, coming seemingly from nowhere but still fanning his face and the flop of his perfect hair. Somewhere, someone was humming. Almost like a bird, or the sound of a foghorn super far off in the distance. Maybe even the distant drums of a far away land. The rhythm came and went, but it kept him company. As if it were some little song made up in his head as he went along, saying, “Hey, I’m right here. We are in this together.”

On the other side of Steve’s closed eyelids, you laid beneath him in his yellow crewneck. The air you breathed softly, in and out of your nose, fanned across his forehead and his perfect hair. And while your heartbeat was not even, it was there — beneath his ear, drumming in a makeshift pattern, inventing its own rhythm as it went.

In the real world, your uneven heartbeat reminded you both that you yourself were not in the clear. Not yet.

But currently, in this new world that Steve’s subconscious had just discovered, it reminded him that he was no longer alone. Not with you.

In the real world, Hawkins is in trouble. Cursed.

And while none of you had figured out how to break that curse just yet, along with Vecna’s…one curse had been broken.

You’d broken the curse to Steve’s endless nightmares.

But would this world even allow for you both to explore a future together, in which you had broken this dark spell cast over Steve Harrington’s life…?

***

Seeing Nancy shuffling out of Argyle’s room is the last thing Jonathan ever could have expected. And he’d seen a lot of shit that prepared him for the unexpected.

The perplexed look in her eyes. The determination in her step to get the hell out of there, despite clearly having been given some sort of useful information after sharing God-knows-what conversation with his Cali best friend.

The two lovers at war made eye contact. It was quick, fleeting. But tense.

Eddie and Robin watched as Jonathan turned to stare at Nancy over his shoulder, and how she froze for a moment to stare back at him through her glassy, wide blue eyes. Her gaze, fixed on him, went from longing to hardened. Nancy walked away, and Jonathan letting her without a word only motivated her to keep walking.

And now, Jonathan had been in Argyle’s room for a good long while. Eddie and Robin had left behind their own little comforting conference of sorts to join the adults downstairs, while the kids had set off in other directions of the Harrington house.

But before that, during all the upstairs drama, Joyce and Murray had been having some drama of their own in the basement.

“You did what?!”

By now, Murray had recounted every single part of his story and how he’d played a huge role — along with you — in how her son had ended up with Nancy Wheeler. Murray’s once upon a time had rendered her speechless.

Even Hopper — who’d heard them go downstairs and immediately followed when he heard Joyce start rocking the boat as she pressed Murray for information — now stood there beside Joyce, having just listened to everything – stunned.

Because when in the world did you all have time to fall in love, fall out of love then fall back in love / new love like this? How the fuck were you all managing that on top of the upside down mayhem?

“May I remind you both how you two lovebirds have spent the last few years developing your own slowburn of a story arc?”

Murray’s question was dripping in condescension. But it was valid. It also came from the heart. He loved these two humans to death. And they loved him back.

While Joyce felt an enormous amount of joy that her son had ended up with the girl he loved…her heart ached for Steve. She’d grown to love him like her own over the years, especially these last several months as she lived under his roof. She had no idea just how broken up he’d been about Nancy. Joyce couldn’t help but feel…almost guilty.

But Hopper was shaking his head with a sort of proud grin, noting how as much as Murray had been the one to rock the boat — you had been its captain at the wheel. He pointed out how you had steered that wheel without even trying.

“Were they even friends in high school?” Hopper asked curiously. “Harrington and Bauman — I can’t see your niece even having time for him back then when he was a punk.”

Murray went on to proudly confirm that assessment, along with explaining how you’d simply participated in your Uncle Murray’s meddling because you happened to be there that night and it’s just a sort of family tradition that you both had formed over the years. And when Joyce asked him how someone like you had not been swept up already by some guy, Murray had scoffed. He looked bitter — in the way that a protective parent is on behalf of their own kid.

“My niece deserves the world. Not one stupid guy at that high school could give her a mere city, let alone a globe’s worth. Doesn’t mean she didn’t…try. I know she was into one guy for a good while at one point. Some friend she’d made with one of the athletes who shared A.P. classes with her. She helped him study. Something she never did, unless it was with the girls and guys from her class that had weekly study group nights. But this kid she liked…he was smart, and he liked her back. She more than liked him…and he let her. Then, as all the petty high school boys do, he ditched her and all her efforts and hours spent studying and helping him pass his classes with flying colors…for a bimbo. A blonde, hip shaking, Pom-pom waving babydoll who’s all body, no brains.”

Joyce frowned. “Bauman is beautiful. She’s body, beauty and brains.”

“Yeah well,” Hopper mumbled, shaking his head disdainfully. “In high school, if you’ve got a dick, we’re letting it do the talking for us.”

“Point is,” Murray continued. “It hurt her. Big time. But that’s the thing about my niece. Given our Bauman blood, we don’t easily succumb to our sentimental feelings. We just let it broaden our dark comedic chops and cynical worldview. My niece doesn’t have mommy or daddy to run home to and cry. She’s an only child, so no siblings to help care for and bond with. Yeah, she’s got friends. But mainly at school. She’s got herself…and she’s got me.” Murray smiled at that. “Between me and her grandmother, we’ve been the ones that raise her. But to be perfectly honest, my niece pretty much raised herself.”

Hopper’s heart clenched. For both you and your uncle.

“She’s great, Mur,” Hopper murmured. “You’ve been there for her and it shows.”

Murray was quiet at that. He hated compliments. But he didn’t flinch or get snippy. He actually looked humbled, silently appreciating this observation.

Joyce sighed. “Murray…you really have been an incredible uncle to her. I know that I’ve…given you a hard time about things, but…really. You’ve never missed with her.”

Murray was still quiet. He looked everywhere but at his two best friends for several beats. Finally, he gave a curt nod. But it was grateful, and full of love. Mainly for you.

“That’s my kid.”

Murray’s voice cracked a bit. It was the most unusual sound in the barren basement of the Harrington house, bouncing off the walls despite its soft decimal in volume. The tight lipped grin on his face as he finally made eye contact with Joyce and Hopper said it all. He loved the shit outta you, like any good parent loves their kid.

“I didn’t get the white picket fence life. Or a lifelong love story with some gal. I got dealt a crazy family of addicts and narcissists and loons. Had a brother who married a gal from rehab, got her pregnant while they relapsed and went forward with having a kid that didn’t stand a damn chance at surviving it.”

Murray pursed his lips before he continued. “That’s the first goddamn miracle I’ve ever witnessed. That little fetus somehow made it, all of 5 pounds at 9 ounces. Ready to get the fuck out of the womb and live. It made for an early arrival and the risk of being premature, on top of being a crack baby.”

Murray’s eyes shone with a certain kind of fondness. It held both sadness and joy. And his voice was the gentlest it had ever been as he spoke about you.

“She didn’t have one thing wrong with her. Not one thing. Perfect lungs. Perfect heart. Perfect brain activity. Not cursed from the drugs that coursed through her mother’s veins and doomed her life from the start. That kid’s been outsmarting everyone in her life since she was a seed.”

Joyce and Hopper couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Their eyes shone with Murray’s, having been parents themselves and unable to fathom being so reckless when bringing life into this world.

“I didn’t get my own kid,” Murray continued. He looked at Hopper. “I didn’t get a Sarah.” Then to Joyce, “Or a Jonathan, or Will. A kid who’s my own flesh and blood that I’d fight for to the bitter end.”

Murray stood there, resolute in what he was getting at. “But I got her. I got a niece who loves me. After she was born, I got my dad’s mom to take her in while I traveled and worked. She’s the only family member I’ve bothered keeping in touch with. She’s an odd one. But she had a home and money and willingness to take in a stray. She never thought she’d ever get a granddaughter. Don’t even think she really wanted one much till she was handed one to take in. Between the two of us, we raised her. She got thrown at whoever would take her and that was fine with me. Meant she still had a damn shot at a life. That’s what we gave her. The rest? She’s done herself.”

Murray sniffed. Then, smirking at himself —

“I’d like to think my being an unorthodox parental figure of sorts is why she’s built for the war.”

Hopper grinned at that, swallowing back tears of his own. He squeezed Murray’s shoulder. “Yeah, she is. Kid could survive the damn streets of New York on her own.”

Murray laughed at that, and so did Joyce — she finally shook her head and wiped away a couple motherly tears. She took a deep breath, looking up and shifting gears with the topic.

“You know,” she started. “Call me a hopeless romantic… But I’m pretty sure that Steve Harrington has hopelessly fallen for your niece.”

Hopper snorted. “God, I haven’t ever liked the idea of two youngins together the way I like them.”

Murray grinned big. “Yeah that’s a plot twist even I wasn’t expecting.”

The cynical gent’s expression suddenly went from warm to grave. “…don’t ever repeat that.”

The adults all shared a heart laugh at that, making their own comments on how the two mortal enemies turned out to be lovers. Hopper cringed at the word, along with Murray — and Joyce gave your uncle hell for that, given he’s the self-acclaimed mastermind at love.

“My witch doctor hours are limited when it comes to my niece’s love life,” he argued, but it was all with humor and fondness. “I already orchestrated the basics.”

“Which were…?”

“Calling her out.”

Joyce smiled. “What do you think of them?”

Murray’s expression softened. He contemplated that for several sincere moments.

“Surprises me to say it…but I think she’s got someone who loves her fully. Will love her fully. There’s actual years there, backing them up. Years of real life shit. Abnormal shit. Valid tension, deeply rooted hatred that turned out to be love. She saw Harrington for who he was, and sees him for who he is. I mean — Jesus, she was there for all of it. Steve Harrington’s redemption arc was witnessed by her just as much as those kids that he’s taken on as a babysitter. Well, and the Robin girl. But that’s…not the same thing as what he’s got with my niece. No threat there.”

Hopper’s eyes narrowed at that, curious. But Joyce gave Murray an all-knowing grin, knowing what he was getting at.

“I don’t think she’s on the same field,” she winked.

Murray winked back. “Exactly.”

Hopper blinked. “…alright, you guys lost me.”

Joyce waved him off, continuing. “So you like him with her. Maybe even…approve?”

Murray slowly nodded. “Didn’t think there’d be a guy who stood a chance at that. But given the whole…letting us all stay here and saving her life thing…yeah. I’d say I’m very good with those two being together.”

Joyce nudged him with her elbow. “Maybe you should tell him that. Y’know…given you’re at fault for ‘ruining his life,’ too.”

Murray rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, those two never stood a chance with your broody son standing in the way of that.”

“Yeah well…that broody son of mine isn’t making much sense right now,” Joyce shook her head. She sighed, worried. Hopper stroked her back. “I need to talk to him.”

“Lover’s quarrel,” Murray pointed out. “Best let that be up to him and Wheeler.”

“Yeahhh, well,” Hopper sighed. “Emotions are high right now. Maybe a little adult intervention would be good for them.”

Murray patted them both on the shoulders, back to his usual self. “WELP! You two have a large time with that. Meanwhile, I’ve got a date with a second drink calling my name.”

***

You watched Steve sleep on top of your chest, thinking about the words he’d spoken to you before dozing off.

“What about France? Or Switzerland, somewhere with a bunch of acres and nature and a lake nearby or something?”

You’d smiled at Steve’s question. “How would we get the Winnebago over there?”

He’d stared at you for a moment, eyes sparkling as your words landed. A deep grin formed on his face.

“You really liked my little dream on wheels, huh?”

You grinned back. “Yeah. It’s not little. It’s big.”

He shrugged sweetly. “I mean, it’s not a mansion. Or a house. It’s a home on wheels. Honestly, a really small home on wheels, but…I dunno, I just — wanna travel. With my family. Not leave them behind at some big house while I go off and explore god knows where without ‘em.”

You played with his fingers, listening to his every word. He wasn’t used to this. Having someone who was happy to just…listen to him ramble. Was he even one to ramble at all? Or is that something you just brought out in him?

“I just dream of this…this little life of sorts,” he continued, speaking to you and also to himself.

You smiled at his words. “I think I like this little life.”

Steve could sing at your response. Something about that one sentence after he’d just further divulged into what a bright future looked like in his mind made him feel on top of the world. The lovesick joy in his eyes, and in his heart, made you melt.

“I only want that little life with you,” he whispered to you, cupping your neck as he bent down to press his forehead to yours. You loved when he did that. Too much, way too much.

You nuzzled your nose to his. Steve loved when you did that. Too much, way too much.

“And the nuggets,” you whispered back with the cutest grin. Then, daring to say it — “Our nuggets…”

Steve’s heart soared at that. Ours…

The happy little laugh Steve breathed against you was the prettiest sound in the entire fucking universe. He caught your lips in a kiss, sweet and soft and firm.

“Your heart needs to get its shit together,” he breathed before kissing you again.

“I know, I know,” you breathed back with that playful attitude he had come to love, gliding your lips against his. “Such a pain in the ass. I know you wanna rail me, Harrington.”

He deepened the kissing, his fingers sliding up from your neck into your hair. “Yeah, god forbid I actually just want you to be okay. I only wanna fuck you senseless.”

You sighed into his mouth, clutching his hips with one of your hands and a fistful of his shirt with the other. “Yeah, you dirty, filthy asshole…”

He sucked on your tongue, cutting you off. “Be nice, princess.”

The two of you had eventually pulled back, knowing that you needed to wait on Dr. Owen’s to bring you whatever goddamn medicine was supposed to help even out your heart arrhythmia. Steve had moved in your arms to rest his head over your heart, cheek pressed to your chest with your heartbeat in his eardrum. You could feel him shaking. So, you made up a little tune as you felt fatigue taking over you.

“I think I like this little life…

This little life…

I think I like this little life…

This silly little life.”

You could tell it made Steve smile as he held you closer. He murmured something sweet to you about liking the improvised melody, to which you murmured something back about it becoming a hit one day. Steve let your soft spoken singing play in his mind, giving him the sweetest of dreams as your voice trailed off.

And now, you were awake — humming it again. Steve was still fast asleep on your chest, which brought you tremendous relief. You dared to think it might be the only medicine your heart really needed.

There was a soft knock at the door. You craned your neck towards the source of the sound, curious. Steve didn’t move a bit. He was out. It made you grin. You sighed lightly, planting a soft kiss on top of Steve’s perfect hair. Slowly, gently — you found a way of standing up without waking him. Little did you know, the sleep he found in your arms couldn’t be bothered easily. He slept harder with you than he ever had in his life.

You padded over quietly to the door, opening it slowly and only enough to show you. Your uneven heart was flooded with warmth as you stared back at 5 familiar faces.

Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will and Eleven all stood there. They held random things. Board games, snacks, and pillows with blankets.

“We are inviting ourselves for a sleepover,” El said.

“A very unexciting one,” Lucas clarified.

“Yes, no excitement,” Dustin agreed.

“Just some good ole fashioned card games that don’t hit pique anxiety,” Mike added.

“Annnnd drawing,” Will threw in, lifting his bag. “Art is always therapeutic. Good for the soul. And the heart.”

You felt yourself getting teared up, looking at their faces with pure love and joy. You chuckled wetly, your chest clenching as you so sorely wished that the sixth nugget was awake to add her sarcasm and unwavering love to the mix.

“Plus it really sucks about the mandate coming soon,” Lucas added sadly.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “Before we know it, we’ll all be cramped downstairs in the basement or out there in the middle of nowhere.”

You gave them a sad smile.

“A not-exciting sleepover sounds like a grand plan,” you nodded with a wink. Then, cocking an eyebrow, “So I’m hosting then, huh?”

“Yeah, your room’s bigger than ours,” Dustin said.

“True,” you winked. “Orrrr, we could go over to Max’s room and have her join us?”

All of them nodded excitedly. You smiled, turning back to look at Steve sleeping peacefully in the bed.

“Gimme a few minutes to wake up mom and tell him that Max needs some attending to first, so that we can successfully host a sleepover in her room.”

They all quietly cheered, carefully moving to set down their array of stuff inside of your room. They caught sight of Steve sleeping, snickering to themselves like they were all 8 years old again. You shook your head at them with the biggest grin on your face, adoring how Lucas and Dustin were just so tickled with Steve being in your room. Will and El were giggling into their palms, with Mike shushing them but snorting himself. That made everyone fight back even worse laughter, and you ushered them out quickly before closing the door behind you. Man, you loved these kids so much.

You went into the bathroom, freshening up a bit and turning on the shower to let some hot steam hit your aching shoulder for a bit.

he sound of Steve murmuring your name made you hold off on that.

You walked out, beaming at him as he stared in your direction while sitting up. You were back in his arms in seconds, mumbling into his neck.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Jesus, how long was I out?”

“A good chunk of hours.”

Steve groaned, pulling you impossibly closer to him — still mindful of your bad shoulder. You giggled in his grasp. His ears perked up, craning his head up towards the bathroom door as he heard the stream of water running.

“How dare you think of showering without me?” he scoffs incredulously in your arms.

You continued giggling harder as Steve nuzzled his face into your neck, pretending to attack you as he smothered you with groggy affection.

“Just needed to relieve my handicap a bit,” you sighed contentedly.

With that, Steve rose to stand. He was scooping you up into his arms before you could blink, carrying you into the bathroom. He lifted your shirt off, then his. As you stripped your pants, be took the hair tie from your wrist and ran his fingers through your locks, tying it up with ease. With a kiss pressed to your neck, he took your hand and escorted you into the hot stream of water. You watched Steve wistfully as he shed his pants and joined you.

As Steve gingerly massaged the soap into your shoulder blade, you remembered you needed to tell him about the plans that had been made for you both that evening.

“Baby?”

He hummed in response, loving when you called him that.

“The kids have the evening cut out for us tonight,” you started.

Even with your back to him, you knew his eyebrows were raised. “Oh yeah? What, am I making some crazy dinner feast out of canned goods now?”

You sniffed a laugh, turning to kiss his jaw. “No, we’re on for a sleepover in Max’s room.”

“S’that so?” he mulled, a grin in his voice.

“‘Tis so. That, or in here. But I don’t know if we can move her. Plus, I really want her to hear us all talking as much as possible.”

He exhaled, a kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Alright well, I’ll need to go ahead and get her taken care of before we all take over the room.”

“Sounds good,” you sighed contentedly.

You both finished up, and as you got changed into fresh comfy clothes Steve was eyeing the pile of stuff that the kids had unloaded into your bedroom.

“Damn, they just decided to dump the haul here?” he asked.

You snorted. “Yeahhh, they like to make themselves at home here.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the fondness behind them said it all. He loved it.

Noticing you struggle with your shirt, he quickly moved to help you pull it over your bad shoulder carefully.

“Need to get better at asking for help, angel,” he winked at you, pulling your arm carefully through the sleeve.

You blushed at that, playfully rolling your eyes. “Noted.”

Steve shook his head as he made sure that your shirt was straight, lost in thought for a moment. “Guess we all won’t be able to hang out up here soon,” he murmured. “Outside of the basement.”

Your heart sank, knowing he was referring to the impending doom that loomed around the corner with the whole mandate going into effect next week. “Yeah,” you mused. “Might as well make the most of tonight with them before we have to go back to doomsday mode.”

He nodded sadly, planting a kiss to your hair before grabbing your discarded clothes along with his to start a fresh load of laundry.

“I’m gonna go start a load,” he said. “Check with Hopper on when Dr. Owen’s is getting back here with your meds.”

You sighed. “Yeah, those…”

Steve looked at you solemnly. “Hey.”

You gnawed at your lip, looking up at him.

“You will be okay,” he told you. His tone was firm yet soft. Confident, despite the worried undertone laced around his voice.

You gave him a light smile and nod.

“I’m serious, Bauman,” Steve continued, his brown eyes boring into yours. “We’re getting you on these meds and if they don’t work, then we…do the next thing that does.”

You knew he was stressed. Too stressed. You hated seeing just how fearful he’d been when he lost you before, and how much the fear of losing you again was eating away at him. Of course, Steve being Steve, he now insisted it would be fine. He’d broken down in front of you when it all happened, unable to stop it. Normally, he’d never let that happen. But given the dark reality of things, and just how much everything else had caught up to him, he wasn’t able to be his usual positive, nonchalant self with you over the last 24 hours.

With a mischievous look in your eye, you patted your chest. You gave it a little knocking rhythm, beatboxing under your breath so that he’d laugh. After a moment of Steve glaring at you, the corner of his lips finally twitched up into a grin. He tried to hide it, but you’d already seen it before he could turn away.

“Don’t worry, Harrington,” you told him. “I’m not even close to being done bothering you.”

He turned to look back at you longingly, a smile ghosting behind the way he bit his lip. He nodded.

“Don’t think that ever really had an expiration date, did it?” he asks, teasing you in his husky voice that you loved whenever he was getting coy with you.

You smirked. “Never.”

He took a moment to soak you in with his eyes. “Good,” he said. “I’m keeping it that way.”

You knew what he meant. Don’t you dare fucking leave me again.

And you had every intention of keeping your word. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.

Steve intended to keep you forever.

“Now,” you said, moving towards him. “Let’s go have a big ole sleepover with these six nuggets so that we can stop the end of the world and have another six later on down the road, yeah?”

Steve glowed. He stuttered a bit, unable to breathe. “Y-you really want that? S-six of ‘em…?”

You shook your head, smiling up at him as you stood toe to toe. “Hell yeah, I want that.”

You kissed his jaw. Then, moving to scoop up a bag of the kids snacks — “That’s more buckets of Halloween candy for us down the line.”

Steve smiled and blushed unabashedly, shaking his head with the happiest eye roll you’d ever seen.

“So we’re gonna be that family, huh?” he asked, moving to grab a sour gummy from the bag you’d just opened.

“We will win every costume contest, Harrington,” you said seriously, that signature dry humor of yours coursing through your Bauman blood at full speed. “I’m very competitive. Don't worry, the kids will be too busy having a great time to know that their mom is secretly a little psycho.”

Steve tugged at the gummy worm between his teeth with the most mischievous, flirty glint in his eye. You could smell his perfect skin mixed with the scent of the raspberry candy. “Ahh, so you are mom. Thought I was mom.”

You leaned up on your toes, inching your lips towards his where he still dangled the gummy worm. “In this era? You’re mom. I’m dad. Next one, I’ll be Mommy.”

You bit at the end of the gummy worm, going full lady and the tramp with it like a loose spaghetti noodle. Steve’s lips and teeth stretched into a wide grin, eyes swimming in sex and lust as they looked down at you. You both bit and sucked the gummy worm till your teeth and tongues met. In the lowest, sexiest of husky tones, Steve told you…

“Well in this one? I’m daddy.”

His tongue lapped your mouth, tasting like sugar sweet candy. “Your daddy.”

Before you could completely dissolve into a hot mess of a puddle, familiar voices from the other side of the door sounded off.

“EEEEWWWWWWW!!!!!!”

“STEEEEEEVE!”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god —”

The sound of all your kids gagging and losing their shit were making for an orchestra of triggered teens, and you both jumped at the noise. After gasping, Steve threw his head back and huffed incredulously.

“Seriously??” he snapped.

You buried your face in your hands, unable to keep yourself from laughing in pure humiliation — but also in adoration.

“You shitheads are listening in, seriously — Jesus.”

Steve huffed and puffed, but it was clear as day he loved it. You did, too. He moved to open it while you stood back, snickering into your palms with flaming hot flushed cheeks.

“Hello,” he said, voice flat.

“You’re disgusting,” Dustin scoffed.

“And you’re an eavesdropping ass hat.”

“Why do you smell like gummy worms?” Mike asked suspiciously.

“Because you left them in my room, Wheeler,” Steve said wryly.

“Yeah, for tonight!!! For all of us!” Lucas scolded.

“Well Sinclair? Maybe don’t leave your candy unattended in my room.”

“It’s Bauman’s room!” Mike said.

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. “Right yeah, well. My house, but yeah.”

“Lord, I can’t unhear this,” Will grimaced, but even he was grinning.

“You weren’t supposed to hear it at all,” Steve pointed out defensively.

“If you’re gonna fuck around, you’re gonna find out.”

Eddie’s sing-songy voice was new to the mix as he walked past them all, carrying a bunch of things as he made his way downstairs. “Howdy folks, don’t mind me.”

Steve snapped his fingers, pointing at him as he looked back at his kids. “That. What he said.”

El looked at everyone curiously. “What does being daddy mean if Steve is that for Bauman —”

Everyone cut her off with sounds of disdain.

“Noooope! Nope, nope nope nope.”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“La la la la la la la la not talking about this la la la la.”

“Alright, enough,” Mama Steve silenced the kiddos. “Move along.”

“No, we’ve been waiting for 30 minutes,” Mike griped.

“It’s okay,” came your voice as you emerged from the room, standing next to Steve. “Why don’t you kids come on inside while Steve gets Max’s room ready?”

They all took you up on that offer, shuffling past you both and making their way inside. Steve shook his head as you grinned, pinching his side.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be grown up and outta the house before you know it.”

You winked at him before making your way into the room with them. Steve watched you fondly, hands on his hips in true Mom Steve Harrington fashion. He had that signature sexy-sassy look on his face that everyone had come to love over the years — you especially. Despite being annoyed, Steve felt his heart fill to the brim as he watched the kids scatter the bags of candy and show you the card game selections. You were hugging El closely while Dustin pointed out that he had plenty more candy hidden in his backpack. Will was telling you about his newest art collection ideas, and you excitedly listened to him while Mike and Lucas bickered about which games were better for everyone.

“Steve, you’re joining us, right?” Dustin asked.

Steve scrunched his face in confusion, doubling back with his shoulders. “Yeah, wasn’t that already happening?”

Dustin shrugged. “Just making sure you’re not gonna be lame.”

Steve shook his head. You looked over at him as you smiled.

“F’course he’s joining,” you winked. “It’s not a party without mom.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at you playfully, making your shoulders shake with a chuckle.

He felt more at home in his own house than he ever had in 19 years.

__________________________

Jonathan watched Steve make his way into Max’s room, knee bouncing.

He was seated in the living room, next to Joyce. She’d cornered him earlier, after watching Nancy move to sit on the porch alone and stare at nothing as she sat on the steps. Robin had moved to join her eventually, giving her company and offering to lend an ear.

That sprang Joyce into action, and she found Jonathan standing outside of Argyle’s room with Will. She’d found them both talking, happy to see her boys were in deep conversation and bonding. She could tell they’d been doing that for a little while now, and when they both looked up at her the three Byers all shared warm, solemn smiles. The boys looked a bit sheepish. Mostly the oldest.

Jonathan knew his mom wasn’t gonna let him off the hook. And if he was being honest, a good honest talk with his mother about something not having to do with the upside down was something he’d needed for a long time.

So they talked. Joyce listened while Jonathan spoke, and he listened while she responded. It was the perfect blend of expressed empathy, disappointment and motherly advice shared on her end. He admitted to the fight with Steve in the alleyway, back when Will was missing. And he admitted to making a move on Nancy while she was still in a relationship with Steve. She brought up Murray telling her about him getting drunk at the Henderson’s house, 2 years back…and he shamefully ducked his head as he wrung his hands. But Joyce just rubbed his back, reminding him she wasn’t here to berate him and only to talk through things the way they always have: as mother and son.

“You know, Jonathan…” Joyce spoke softly, her heart heavy. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything that you did in helping me find Will.”

Jonathan did a double take, brow furrowed. “What’re you talking about, of course you did —”

“No,” Joyce shook her head. “No, we talked about it, sure. I verbally thanked you.”

“Many times, mom,” Jonathan assured her.

“Just listen,” she cut him off gently, clutching his hand. “I lost a son…but you’d lost a brother. We both lost him. Twice. God, twice… and each time was a brand new hell. We didn’t even have time to process the first round.”

Jonathan chuckled darkly. “Would we ever have processed that? I mean really…”

Joyce grinned at that. “Psh, yeah. Doubt it.” Looking back at him with a softened expression, she continued. “Point is…in the midst of all that stress, and searching, and worrying…you were still going through so much. Not just with Will missing…but everything else, too.”

Jonathan listened to his mother as she looked deeply into his eyes, clutching both his hands. She went on to tell her eldest son every validating thing a mother could tell her child. She recounted every single thing that Jonathan had been dealing with outside of Will going missing, and it hurt her to relive it all just as much as it hurt Jonathan to hear it all over again. When Joyce got to the part where she’d had to make them all move, Jonathan’s eyes watered up.

“You and Nancy were just beginning to dive into things deeply,” she was saying. “Really, you’d both gone through so much together and finally you both got to just…start being a couple, and then it all went wrong again, so that — that forced you both back into the upside down bullshit…”

“Mom,” Jonathan said, a bit shocked.

“I’m serious,” Joyce said back, eyes fierce and full of love. “Jonathan, you’ve had to be an adult since you were just a kid. Since you were Will’s age. And then you finally get into a relationship with a beautiful girl, and immediately you’re thrown into war. Not even able to enjoy your teens going into adulthood. Even Nancy, she…she’s been through so much with you. And now…”

Joyce’s voice trailed off. She sighed, exasperated with herself. She re-centered, turning back to her son.

“I love you,” she told him, eyes full of love. “So much, you just don’t know. You are just…a good person. And the fact you feel overcome with guilt as though you’re not —“

“I haven’t been a good person, mom,” Jonathan murmured, voice wobbly.

“Jonathan,” Joyce whispered, squeezing his hands. “Just because you’ve not acted right in certain ways…that does not make you a bad person. Do you understand that? Because if not — then whoever’s telling you that…whether it’s someone you love, or a stranger, or yourself…stop listening. Seek within. Listen to your heart, because it’s never going to steer you wrong. And no, that’s not just some dumb cliche saying, it’s true. Your mind will confuse you, and your soul will get shaken. But your heart? It will always lead you back.”

Jonathan’s lip trembled, and Joyce held him tight as he shook him her arms. He clung to his mother, overwhelmed.

“I’m afraid I’ll never say enough, mom,” he wept into her shoulder. “To Steve, or to Nancy… I’m actually more sure about what I need to say to him instead of her.”

Joyce chuckled early, squeezing him tighter. “Aw, baby… Don’t overthink. Say whatever is going to give your heart peace. You’ll regret anything you never said far more than anything that you did.”

***

“Trust me kid, I’m in the doghouse now for the hell I raised on the phone with him.”

Hopper stood in front of Steve, along with Murray. They’d just spoken with Dr. Owens on the phone, who’d told Murray that he wouldn’t be able to bring them the medication until tomorrow morning. Murray had managed to remain calmer than Hopper, to both their surprise. Now, they stood in the kitchen with Steve – filling him in.

Steve took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling just as deeply out his mouth like a puff of air he’d been holding while running a hand through his hair. Murray looked at him with a somber, empathic expression.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not just as furious about it,” Murray pointed out. “But given the whole…having a target on his back thing…I’m trying to have some sort of grace about it, mostly for her sake. And yours.”

That made Steve look over at him gratefully. He couldn’t imagine the stress your uncle was experiencing, knowing your heart — literally — was on the line.

“Says he’ll be here with it as early as he can be,” Murray added. “Just keep doing what you’re already doing. Which is the most.” His lips turned upwards at one of the corners. “The most, and then some.”

Steve allowed himself to give your uncle a sad smile back, appreciating being seen by him. He’s all that you had as far as family goes. With a nod, Steve let that news settle into his brain. He reached out to shake Murray’s hand, who shook it back firmly and dared to pat his shoulder. Physical affection was so not his thing. But he’d make an effort for the guy his niece was in love with, and who not only saved her life — but was still doing everything he could to keep it intact.

“Kids sleepover, huh?”

Hopper changed the subject, grinning at Harrington — who chuckled lightly.

“You guys know about this?”

Hopper shrugged. “We might’ve told them to allow themselves some fun for one night, before we all go into lockdown…” His expression turned grim, a thought pushing its way to the forefront of his brain. “And whatever plan needs to go into action.”

Steve knew what he meant. Getting back out there. He swallowed hard, giving him a quick nod. No one was ready for this. But were they ever really “ready” for any of this?

Murray and Hopper told Steve to not give any thought whatsoever to anything relating to doomsday until the next morning. They insisted that they just take the focus on laughing and soaking up the night with you and the kids. Steve was surprised at how certain they both were about it, but despite it being out of character for them in an endearing way…it scared him. It meant that they knew just how much everyone here was at risk. It made a sharp chill run up Steve’s spine.

Eventually, Steve had made his way up to Max’s room. He was sorting through it, making room for you all to camp out there. El had already turned her little cot bed into a floor couch of sorts, which made Steve grin.

He talked to Max out loud as he checked her vitals. Lucas already had, along with Joyce and Hopper. Still, he always wanted to make sure.

“Not sure if this is gonna be one of those nights where I’ve gotta make Dustin cut the attitude during games,” Steve was telling her with a smirk as he straightened her pillows. “Honestly, it’s probably an excuse for Mike and El to be able to cuddle at night. So I’ll likely be chaperoning the entire night. Good thing I got mad good sleep with Bauman today.”

Steve moved to close the curtains, watching the sun begin to set behind the trees in the distance. It looked dull, given all the debris and toxic air.

“You know what’s crazy?” he asked her. “Ever since I started sleeping with her — like actually sleeping, head outta the gutter Max — it’s…I haven’t had a single nightmare. I always have those.”

He moved to discard some of the kids’ loose candy wrapped and one of Dustin’s empty pudding containers, glancing over at her sleeping form.

“Seriously, it’s weird. It’s like she just…makes them all disappear.” Steve scoffed a laugh at that. “Who’d have thought… She’s been a nightmare to me, and now I can’t…can’t even stand to think back on the times I never saw her like I do now.”

Steve looked around the room, seeing it was good for the night. It would be a tight squeeze — but having shuffled Max’s bed over enough so that they all had room to play games and draw on the floor with snacks, it would do. He sighed, taking a second to sit on the edge of the bed near her feet.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” he murmured. “Tonight. Hearing all our voices at once. Arguing and bickering and laughing the way you all do together.”

Steve poked her knee. “Think that’ll kick start you again, red? Wake you back up so that you can give us all shit?”

Her silence isn’t as long as he expects it to be whenever he hears a knock. Steve looks over to the open doorway, finding Jonathan standing there. He looks…wary. Rough, and timid. Standing awkwardly with his hands buried deeply in his pockets, he shoots Steve a very quick, uncomfortable right-lipped grin.

“Hey.”

Steve blinks. “Hey.”

Jonathan rocks on his feet for a moment. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in?”

Steve blinks again, but eventually nods. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, yeah.”

Jonathan moves to lean against the wall, next to the doorway. Steve would laugh at the fact that this is Byers’ way of “coming in,” if it weren’t for the fact that he was so clearly nervous about something. Steve had a few guesses as to why he was here. He knew this had been coming, and he wishes he’d been the one to initiate it. Because they really needed to talk.

They’d needed to talk for 3 years.

“Look, Byers,” Steve started after waiting for what felt like a century for Jonathan to say something. “I owe you an apology…”

“No,” Jonathan cut him off.

It made Steve look at him in surprise. But Jonathan continued before he could say anything else.

“No, it’s me who owes you an apology.”

Steve stared. “…what?”

Jonathan sighed, scratching his neck and praying the words could find him as he finally dove into what he needed to let off his chest.

“Look I’m not good at this,” Jonathan said. “Talking, I mean. You know I’m weird.”

He gnawed at his lip, pensive and twitchy. He looked down at his feet a lot, feeling tense under Harrington’s gaze. But he sucked in a deep breath, going for it.

“Back in 1982, you had every right to break my camera.”

Steve froze. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah. Yeah you did. I shouldn’t have been spying on you guys like that. ‘Cause even though I was looking for my brother, it…it turned into me just…following the sound of you all partying and watching from afar. So I mean, technically…” Jonathan chuckled under his breath darkly. “Technically, I was being a stalker.”

He looked up at Steve finally, finding him looking at him in pure shock.

“You were dating Nancy,” Jonathan continued. “And I took…really inappropriate pictures of her. In a moment when you both were having…or well, thought you were having a private moment together. That wasn’t alright. And if…if someone had done that to me and my girlfriend, I would’ve…probably done the same thing. And honestly, you getting mad at me in the alleyway that morning —”

“Dude, no,” Steve shook his head. “Don’t take the blame for that. That was all me. It was shitty, what I did to Nancy. And what I said to you.”

“Yeah it was, but you found me in your girlfriend’s room, Steve,” Jonathan told him. “I was in there with her, in her bed, sleeping next to her when she told you that she was with her family. It looked…fucked up.”

Steve was just staring again. How in the hell was this happening right now? And why had he himself never made it happen sooner?

“So you chewed me out,” Jonathan shrugged. “And no, you shouldn’t have publicly humiliated Nancy like that at all…”

“I kick myself for it every day,” Steve murmured. “Trust me…”

“I know,” Jonathan told him, voice softer. “I know that now. I’ve…known you have for a long time. Nancy told me. I know you apologized over and over.” He took a moment, going back. “But what you said to me was just…your way of saying fuck you. You felt used, tricked and stupid. After you’d protected Nancy from a guy who’d proven himself to be a creepy stalker, and it looked like she slept with him. So you lashed out. Like any teen guy would.”

“I called you a queer,” Steve says incredulously, cringing at the memory. “I even went as far as saying you were the reason for Will going missing, along with your mom. It was low, Jonathan. What I said and did was just — flat out low. No excuses. None. I’m the one in the wrong.”

“Steve, we both were.”

Jonathan’s voice finally finds confidence. It makes Steve look at him in another light, as if he’s truly seeing Byers for the strong-willed young man that he is. It occurs to him now that maybe Jonathan has been going through some soul searching of his own, just as he had over the last few years. Clearly, he still was. Both of them were.

“We were barely 17 years old, and stupid,” Jonathan kept going. “We — we didn’t know how the hell to deal with anything. Much less a missing kid, or a guy related to that kid who’d taken creepy photos. We both were idiots.”

Steve let that land. And it actually made him laugh, sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, scratching his neck. “Yeah, I guess we were.”

Jonathan laughed too. It was still tense, a bit awkward. But it was becoming lighter. For both of them.

“Shit, Byers,” Steve shook his head. “Have we both been feeling awful about this for years and just… not saying something about it until now?”

Jonathan sighed. “Sounds like it.”

They were both quiet for a moment, letting this newfound revelation settle into existence.

“Thanks for the new camera, by the way,” Jonathan added. “I know that was you.”

Steve looked back up at him, finding kindness and sincere gratitude in Jonathan’s eyes. It made him feel shy. Worse, yet better at the same time.

“Least I could do,” Steve shrugged.

Jonathan sniffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… You didn’t take the credit for it. You let Nancy do that.”

Jonathan pursed his lips, brow pinching as he shifted against the wall and stared down at his feet again. Steve waited as he watched him curiously.

“You extended way more kindness to me than I did you,” Jonathan said softly. So softly, it made Steve wonder if it was actually what he said.

“I shouldn’t have pined after Nancy,” Jonathan said. “I should’ve asked her out. Like actually asked her out, while she was single again. Before you two got back together.”

Steve felt his stomach jump. This was…a lot. So much was being covered right now in this conversation.

“But instead, I just sulked and pretended I still wasn’t in her thoughts at all. Even though I knew that…that she liked me. But I also knew that she liked you. So I just… I convinced myself it wasn’t ever gonna happen. Because that was safer. And hating you made it easier to do that.”

Jonathan looked ashamed of everything that he was saying now, but certain about it. Steve just listened, not daring to interrupt him.

“I might not have cheated with Nancy the first time you both dated…but I did the second time. And that’s not… that’s not right.” Jonathan sighed, taking a breath. “But I was a coward. Maybe not when it came to the upside down and finding Will, but up here? In regular real life? I am. I’m a coward. I don’t say whatever it is that I’m actually feeling or thinking, or wanna say. I just…wait for circumstances to make it happen for me. You don’t do that. You just…go for it.”

Steve scoffed. “Trust me, I’m…I’ve been a coward for years. In many ways, many times, for many reasons.”

“Yeah, well…you still didn’t steal someone else’s girlfriend instead of actually making a move. And I’m really…really sorry about that, Steve. I’m sorry I swooped in like that, and then…drunkenly bragged about it to Bauman Squared while you were in earshot. It made you take it out on her, when she didn’t deserve that. I did. All she did was call me out on it with Murray. They both had no idea it would turn into this.”

That made Steve squirm. He thought about how he’d been pining after Nancy still, even when she was with Jonathan. He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to let that off his chest too.

“Look,” Steve started warily. “Honestly, I really appreciate everything you’re saying. And really — apology accepted. Completely.”

Jonathan could tell that Steve meant it, and he visibly relaxed some once he let that settle into his bones. He released a breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding.

Meanwhile, Steve was holding his own.

“And you’re right,” Steve continued. “What I did to Bauman? Taking it out on her like that was…well it was projection. Cowardly projection. Instead of taking it out on you and Nancy, I took it out on someone else. Because that was easier. Because it meant that I still got to be the unsung hero in Nancy’s life, and a bigger person than you.”

Jonathan stared at him now, surprised to hear this. He wasn’t expecting his confessed guilt to lead to Steve admitting guilt of his own.

“I’ll probably be telling Bauman I’m sorry for as long as I live,” Steve continued, voice solemn. Honestly I feel…shitty beyond belief, knowing that I could’ve been kinder to her all this time…maybe even spared myself way more heartbreak...if I’d just gotten mad at you guys instead of her. Because then, I might’ve gotten close with her and discovered feelings for her before this all went down.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan pondered, nodding. “Then again… I don’t think you’d have fallen for her nearly as hard if it hadn’t been for you giving her shit for it.”

They both awkwardly chuckle at that. But it makes them both sad to think about it. How you’d taken the brunt of it all.

“Fuck, she didn’t deserve that,” Jonathan huffs. “And I’m — I’m the one who caused it.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, eyes sad and dark as they swam in regret. “No, that was all me. I was an asshole. And truthfully, I was still so hung up on Nance that I didn’t know how to even remotely look at another girl. Let alone one I convinced myself was responsible for taking that away from me, knowing damn well that it wasn’t. Nance wanted you, and you wanted her. Plain and simple.”

Jonathan looked ashamed all over again, but Steve held up a hand.

“Trust me,” Steve assured him. “She wasn’t mine to keep. I get that now.”

Jonathan slowly smiled at that. “You love her, don’t you?”

Steve knew who he meant. You.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “Yeah, I…don’t even know what to do with it.”

Steve stared into thin air, lost in thought. Jonathan didn’t push him, just watching him and waiting for him to go on.

“I just…look back on it all and wonder how. How did I not see her in high school, or…see during the summer of ‘84 that she was clearly perfect?”

“It takes time,” Jonathan said softly. “Shit doesn’t always hit you right away. I know that better than you’d think.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Yeah. Yeah no, you’re not wrong. I just… I dunno. I guess I’m just…”

He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to get this over with.

“I was still hung up on Nance while you were in California,” he continued, making eye contact with Jonathan again. “So much so that…I told her I was. And I’d…hoped to get her back. I wanted to steal her back from you.”

Jonathan sighed, giving him a small smile.

“I know,” he said. “She told me.”

Steve stared. Oh.

“Believe it or not,” Jonathan continued. ��I’m not…mad about that at all.”

Steve blinked. “…why…?”

Jonathan chuckled. “Steve, I actually stole your girlfriend. I had it coming.”

After several more blinks, Steve coughed out a laugh. Was he serious? As Jonathan laughed with him, he realized that he truly meant it. He wasn’t mad.

“Sorry man, but I won that round,” Jonathan chuckled.

“Fair,” Steve chuckled back. “Good game, man.”

Jonathan nodded awkwardly, shuffling his feet. “Yeahhh, good game…”

They took a few moments of silence, letting the tension wear off some more. It was…nice. This weird sort of talk was nice.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Steve continued. “I’m sorry, too. For going after Nance again, and not just… facing you both sooner.”

“S'alright,” Jonathan told him. “I’ve honestly been a really shitty boyfriend these last several months.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Long story,” Jonathan waved a hand. “That’s my own wrong that I gotta make right with Nancy.”

Steve contemplated that. Had whatever was going south between Jonathan and Nancy, unbeknownst to him, been the reason she’d seemed to be interested in him again? Or was that just the tipping point for her, and her buried lingering feelings for Steve?

Regardless, it didn’t matter now. Steve was so in love with you, he couldn’t see straight. But it did make him wonder.

“And honestly, I don’t blame you,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Nancy, she’s…perfect.”

Steve smiled at him. “She’s pretty wonderful,” Steve agreed. “I’ll always adore her. But…”

“…but you found your person,” Jonathan finished for him. “Your ‘perfect’ person.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah. She makes everything make sense for me, and I just…god, I love her.”

Jonathan nodded, still smiling. “I know how you feel.”

Steve fiddled his thumbs in his lap, staring down at them and feeling his stomach knot up. There was another thing he needed to own up to…

“Jonathan, what I said to you…” Steve murmured, eyes still downcast. “Yesterday, back at the fence…when Bauman…” Steve winced, skipping that part. “...it wasn’t at all —”

“I deserved it.”

“Okay, you’ve got to stop doing that, will you let me feel bad for at least one thing I’m saying?”

“No, and especially not this one.”

Steve sighed, perplexed. “…and why is that?”

“Because I deserved it.”

Jonathan watched as Steve just gaped at him, biting back amusement. He let the sincerity of the serious topic ground him again.

“You all searched and fought relentlessly for me and my mom when this all started,” Jonathan went on to say.

“...I so did not do anything from the start.”

“Maybe you don’t think you did? But you did.”

“…I so did not.”

“You got there. And besides…like we both said earlier…lots of misdirected projection. And lots of long overdue confrontation. On both our parts.”

Steve couldn’t argue that. Byers was right, at least in this case.

“You were still mad at me,” Jonathan continued, “and I was just mad at myself but convinced that everything and everyone else — you included — were the problem. Not me.”

Jonathan gnawed at his lip for several moments, clearing his throat. “You basically unleashed years of deeply buried resentment onto me in one foul swoop. I gotta say, your words…shit hit me hard.”

Steve frowned, ducking his head a bit. “I honestly don’t even remember some of it. I just…saw red.”

Jonathan snorted. “Blind rage will do that. Shit, I don’t even remember swinging on you back in ‘82. Apparently, I did a pretty nasty job.”

“I was positive you’d done permanent damage to my nose.”

“Yeah, and then you took an even worse beating from that Hargrove kid and the Russians,” Jonathan said, nose scrunched with a laugh. Steve laughed, too. They had to laugh about it all at this point.

“Christ, man,” Steve groaned. “It’s a wonder my face isn’t the prime subject for plastic surgery…”

Jonathan shrugged. “And you wonder why we all hate you so much. You’ve gotten your ass beat so many times, and still look good.”

Steve smirked. “Thanks.”

Jonathan winked. “I’m sure Bauman Squared digs it. All the battle wounds.”

That actually made Steve blush. “Psh. Compared to the fall she took? My experiences look like a walk in the park.”

“So Dr. Owens is bringing her meds tomorrow, yeah?” Jonathan asked, brow pinched with worry.

Steve sighed, raking a hand through his hair before crouching over his knees, elbows pressing into them. “Yeah. Yeah, that can’t come soon enough.”

Jonathan looked at Steve with a somber expression. He hated that he was going through this. Seriously, when was Harrington going to catch a damn break?

“She’ll be alright, man,” Jonathan told him kindly. “She’s got you. Got all of us.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, she’s gonna have to be. I’ll lose my goddamn mind if she — yeah, she has to be.”

“She will,” Jonathan nodded, speaking firmly. Assuringly. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Steve bit his lip, staring at his hands.

Jonathan shuffled his feet, feeling shy again before asking… “So hey…are we cool? Like actually really, finally cool?”

Steve looked up at that, eyes shining with relief and kindness. He stood up, extending a hand out for a firm handshake. “Yeah man. We’re cool. For good.”

Jonathan felt relief wash over him entirely as he shook Steve’s hand, pulling him in for a tight hug. And Steve felt like he had just made so much peace with his old self in a multitude of ways, over one honest conversation with Byers. While he wished it had happened sooner, he realized…maybe if it had, it wouldn’t have led to this. This true sense of peace that came with newfound mature understanding that both of them had grown into individually.

Byers and Harrington could be friends now. They both had peace to find with Nancy Wheeler, but if they were being brutally honest with themselves — that wasn’t going to be possible until the two of them had hashed it out, once and for all. And now that they had, Steve could let Nancy know that he had finally moved on…once and for all...and so could she.

And Jonathan could go make things right with her — whether that led to them deciding to take time apart, or getting his girl back.

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hwallazia · 2 months

Text

WE KNOW

pairing: park seonghwa x fem! reader

word count: 1,3k

tags: mafia!au, angst? (if you squint), mob boss!seonghwa, undercover agent!reader, mentions of death (reader’s boyfriend), seonghwa threatens reader at the end (not this being necessarily a death threat).

synopsis: your boyfriend’s murder hurt you for so long. So you were going to do the impossible to revenge his death. One cold night, you meet the head of the responsables of your boyfriend’s death. You thought it would be a piece of cake but he was so much smarter that you. | PART TWO

| a/n: of course this is having a part 2 (I’ll eventually post it, I swear) which will contain smut. This is literally word vomit of my thoughts of mob boss! Seonghwa so I’m so sorry for the shortness of this!

You knew it, you knew that what you were doing was wrong, but your body tends to react faster than your own brain.

With your legs shaking and a lump forming in your throat, you stood in front of the majestic door of the 19-story building, knowing everything you were risking by even stepping on the ceramic floor of the hotel’s luxurious floor; your life and on the other hand your work, your boss had been more than clear that case 3498: “Park Seonghwa” would be handled by special forces and more trained and experienced strategists.

You still couldn’t fully understand why you were in front of the gates of hell of your own free will, but you simply couldn’t miss the opportunity to kill the heir of the ‘Wonderland’ cartel, his men being responsible for the death of your boyfriend, which happened a long time ago. More less two years.

When your squad leader announced that there was a possibility of finally destroying this cartel because of its leader’s murder, your eyes shone; you found hope along the way, after having gone through one full of desolation and tragedy.

That’s why you couldn’t just sit back and pretend that the case had never been mentioned. You decided to take matters into your own hands even when your boss explicitly told you to step aside.

And with a deep sigh, you walked into the hotel, the smell of wood and leather sofas filling your nostrils.

You analyzed the environment, noticing certain people casting their gaze on you. Without giving them much importance, you tried to locate your target.

You walked around the place, meeting many familiar faces and wondering where you knew them from; soon the answer came to your mind, they were people you saw, locked in your office —more like a pretty, decorated prison— in criminal records files. Some of them with quite compromising and illicit antecedents. But this wasn’t the time to think about those people.

Of all the people who were in the building, you had to locate one, which, by the way, you weren’t finding anywhere.

You headed to the elevator and pressed the button that had a downward arrow drawn on it. You waited patiently for the ‘ding’ to announce the arrival of the mechanism, and got on the elevator. Once on the floor you wanted to be, you walked down that hallway full of 2-4 person dining tables, until you finally found your target.

The only way you could attract him into your net was by seducing him, so you could make time to call the special forces. No matter how many lectures your boss gave you later, you could finally avenge the death of your beloved boyfriend.

You approached the mysterious man, your maroon dress shedding some of its fabric due to the slit in your right thigh, falling delicately to the floor. It hugged your anatomy, highlighting your exotic curves. Due to the non-accidental rip in your dress, your shiny white heels were on display. You felt beautiful, and you hoped that Mr. Park Seonghwa would fall for your charms as well.

Taking your dress by the sides, being careful not to step on it, you sat down without saying a word at the same table as the enemy. He somehow sensed a foreign presence, so he spoke.

“I wasn’t expecting a companion tonight.” His voice made a delicious shiver run down your spine, straightening your back.

“No handsome man should spend the night alone.” Your feminine and captivating voice made him finally look up and fix his dark, solemn eyes on yours.

“Is that so? Since when?” He raised an eyebrow mischievously.

“Since today, darling.”

A small laugh escaped his lips as he lowered his head to hide the curve that had formed on his lips.

“Okay, doll. I’ll let us share this dinner together,” He straightened up, focusing all his attention on you, “Why, of all the people gathered here, did you decide to sit at my table?”

“Didn’t I say it already? I think you’re cute, so I decided to keep you company.”

“With what purpose?” He leaned over the table, resting his elbows on his sides.

Very good question, with what purpose had you taken the decision, and the courage, to sit at the same table as the devil? You couldn’t remember anything, it seemed like your mind went blank every time the man fixed his dark irises on you, and the fact that he was doing it right now wasn’t helping matters.

“Don’t tell me you’re here to arrest me…” Your blood suddenly ran cold. Your mind began to spin in search of a sensible answer. Your neurons were so busy thinking meticulously about the words you were going to say that you forgot how ridiculous and desperate you’d look in the process.

“No! Not at all… Nonono,” You let out the longest existing “ehhh” in the middle of your explanation. “My goal with you tonight is different and… personal.”

“Mhm... personal,” The word slid off his tongue dangerously. “Well, I’m dying to know what you’re planning on doing with me tonight.” A curved smile decorated his lips, weakening your legs.

You urgently wanted to change the direction of the conversation, and as if you had manifested it, the food arrived at your table. The waiter placed two plates of medium-rare steak in front of you as an appetizer and a bottle of champagne that he masterfully opened. The clear liquid from the bottle slid smoothly down your glass, bubbles adorning the top of it.

Food flooded your table as you kept a conversation with Seonghwa. It was strange but intriguing. Neither of you gave more information than necessary, both always staying on the edge. You didn’t know when, why, or how but you were both laughing. When you stopped, the gangster let out a sigh and then spoke to you.

“You’re very beautiful. Y’know?” Your cheeks turned a tender pink as you felt them burn. However, you decided to test him, looking at him lustfully, clearly with other intentions. Unfortunately, Seonghwa read you like an open book and rapidly recognized the game you were playing.

“Thanks, handsome. You’re very good-looking as we-”

“Too bad you’re an agent.”

What?

How was it possible? You didn’t give too much information, and you were cautious when speaking. So how the hell does he know you’re an agent? You stayed still in your seat, unable to formulate any excuses.

“Oh, darling. I’m the heir of the greatest mafia in Asia. Didn’t that tell you and your pretty little head something?”

Words simply chose not to slip out of your mouth. So you remained silent, looking down as if you were a just scolded six-year-old girl.

At that point, you didn’t know if you were scared or what, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. It was as if a deafening voice was ringing inside your head repeating ‘don’t. you. dare.’

“I’d love to have you around, I really mean it. You’re lovely. Maybe your head hanging on my coat rack can keep me company.” Seonghwa got up from his seat, going around the table to be face-to-face with you.

“Please, let’s talk rationally.” You naively tried to keep your voice from shaking, but it was impossible. You were terrified of what this man could do to you.

“Follow me, y/n.”

Fuck.

Now there was no way to deny the undeniable. He knew your name, probably your last name, your address, your blood type, and the name of your dog, why not?

Now you were really against a rock and a hard place.

He took your hand carelessly and practically dragged you to one of the countless hotel rooms, away from the crowd. He closed the door behind him and threw you on the bed brusquely.

“W-what are you gonna do to me?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill you, I’m not as ruthless as my father.” You let out a sigh when you heard his words.

“But I am gon’ make you regret trying to arrest me, darling,” He walked towards you and leaned down so he could be face-to-face with you. His lips brushing dangerously against yours. You could see how a flame decorated his dark irises, “So much that you’re gonna wish you never had met me.”

| masterlist

#park seonghwa #park seonghwa ateez #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa drabble #seonghwa imagines #ateez #ateez x reader #seonghwa scenarios #mob boss seonghwa #ateez x female reader #seonghwa x female reader

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garoujo · 1 year

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MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS — BLUE LOCK

feat : nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae + mikage reo

♱ warnings — f!reader, situationship scenarios [they catch feelings], sort of situationship -> lovers, reo treats you in his limo, all characters written 22+, accidental confessions, jealousy. / note. my fave trope 4 my fave boys ofc <3

・✶ ｡ﾟNAGI SEISHIRO

honestly you’d never have thought that nagi had feelings for you considering his usual drowsy expression, but he was the one who had to feel his heart race every-time he heard a familiar knock on his apartment door, one that always let him know it was you as he shuffled (a little too quickly) to let you in.

there’s already a ghost of a smile on his lips when he reaches out to grip the door handle, one that he quickly buries behind a drawn out sigh when he finally greets you on the other side, as pretty as you’ve always been. “hey, you don’t have to knock y’know. eh, just come on, ‘ts cold and you getting sick would be such a pain.” he drawls despite the way he suddenly feels too warm underneath his oversized clothes.

but now nagi’s got you trembling for another reason entirely as you lie pressed beneath him, your body still coming down from your orgasm as the snowy haired striker whimpers into the crook of your neck. there’s a string of breathy, pretty curses falling from his lips as his cock thickens and throbs inside of you, hands twisting tight into your hips to keep you still.

you shudder when you feel him sink his heavy cock back into your twitching walls, giving into the needy coax of your body as his hips grinds against yours — lewd squelching noises filling the room as a mixture of both your orgasms drip and soak the bedsheets in the place between you both.

“fuck—pretty thing. quit squeezing so tight, ‘m sensitive.” nagi breathes, a trembling undercurrent to his tone and your mind is too hazy to pick up on the soft kiss he smears along your skin as he finally comes down from his high. he plops his weight down on top of you before rolling onto his side, his cock beginning to soften inside of you as he catches his breath.

you pant softly before turning to blink up at the striker beside you, but your eyes widen when his arms move quickly to pull you flush against his chest instead. it feels more intimate this time, you know nagi’s always been a cuddler, but maybe it’s the post orgasm haze that has you nuzzling closer to him.

“seishiro? are you awake?” you finally ask after a few wordless moments, your voice a breathless little whisper that breaks off into a huff with the silence that follows the question, only accompanied by nagi’s soft breathing from where his face is buried into his pillows.

it only takes a few more seconds being wrapped in his natural warmth before sleep falls heavy along your figure aswell, which means you don’t notice the way his eyes open up a few moments later when he leans into rest his lips against your temple, mumbling quiet enough so that he doesn’t rouse you as he holds you closer.

guess this plan b will work until nagi’s got the courage to actually ask you to stay the night.

“sorry, pretty thing. you were too comfy, and eh—i guess i jus’ wasn’t ready for you to leave me yet.”

・✶ ｡ﾟBACHIRA MEGURU

bachira hadn’t really considered the actual conditions of your agreement, all he knew was that he wanted you and he’d go crazy if he didn’t have you. but he just couldn’t help the feelings that came with it when you felt like you were fucking made for him, the late night visits becoming more regular because he needed you, and he didn’t even wanna deny it.

“pussy feels so good ‘round me, baby—mhm, wanna feel more of you, you gonna give me more?” he babbles from above you, lower lip held between his teeth as a giddy little smirk rests on his pleasure stricken features. it’s quick, the way he’s sinking his cock into your plush pussy with his next thrust, his hands gripping tightly at your hips to keep you in position as he begins his brutal pace.

bachira’s lips part with the next squeeze of your walls around him, pulling him even deeper as he drops himself on top of you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a low chuckle when your legs only seem to spread wider. “see, want me just as bad, baby. should just lemme have all of you, yeah?”

your back arches at his words as he smears messy kisses along your skin, basking in the way your nails claw at his back as you’re reduced to nothing but soft pants of his name, the sound alone making his pace grow irregular as his need for you consumes him. “oh, i think you want that baby. ‘s that a yes? mhm.”

bachira’s babbling before he’s pulling back to pull you in for a feverish kiss, letting out lewd whimpers of how fucking perfect you are for him as your pussy continues to squeeze him, feeling him smirk against your lips when he eagerly swallows the next needy whine from your own. he exhales shakily with the next roll of his hips, his pace stuttering when he begins hammering against the spot that he knows will have you creaming around him in seconds as he trembles over you.

he’s so lost in you — his mind is foggy, focusing on the needy push and pull of your body as he hisses, moaning shamelessly when he feels his orgasm suddenly wash over his body just as your walls twitch around him.

“want you so bad, lemme call you mine, m’kay? c-come on~ take all of me so well, baby. don’t want anyone else.” the confession that slips from bachira’s lips is sudden, a slip up in a moment of tenderness that has him swallowing rough as you milk him. he almost panics, but then you’re grabbing him tighter in response as he pushes his load into your pussy and suddenly he’s not scared anymore. “oh? told ya~”

・✶ ｡ﾟITOSHI RIN

it wasn’t something that rin had expected to happen at all, everyone he’d met had been lukewarm, but you’d stumbled into his life and been there when he was stressed and worn from practice, you made him feel better — and now he doesn’t think he ever wants to stop.

“rin, fuck!” you mumble, gasp with the first too deep touch of his cock against your swollen spots as your chest pushes tighter against his, pussy squeezing around his pretty cock as his pace only grows faster — pushing him deeper as his jaw clenches with his next pleasured hiss.

“shit—does it feel good?” rin asks, his voice low and ragged and the tone has your toes curling from where they’re hooked around his hips, legs spreading eagerly with the way your body is so eager and ready for the pleasure you know only he can give you, it almost answers on its own.

“f-feels so good.” you babble back anyway, and your mind is almost too cloudy to notice the way he nibbles at your neck with your reply, rolling the sensitive skin between his teeth like he’s hellbent on leaving his mark — because he is.

“then you don’t need anyone else, nobody else can touch you.” his words are muffled, buried into your skin like he wants, needs your body to remember them as his fingers curl into your skin.

rin thrusts into you again, his pace a little rougher this time as the sound of skin slapping picks up with every wet press of his hips into yours. he hates the way he can’t seem to control himself around you, like you take every ounce of his self control and consume it — you devour him completely with one pretty little look and he hates it. he hates how much he fucking loves it.

his fingers curl into the fabric of the pillow next to your head before he curses roughly, fucking into you with practiced thrusts that have you keening until you’re almost melting with every loud slam of his hips with yours. you’re only vaguely aware of what’s going on with the pleasured haze in your mind, rin’s cock is smoothing along all of your sweet spots but he’s still managing to hold you so tenderly — gentle, and a stark contrast to how ruthlessly he’s fucking into you.

you look up when you feel his fingers rest along the side of your jaw, but he pulls away just as quickly before he’s mumbling something beneath his next groan, a rush of warmth in his veins due to the fluttering pull of your pussy — but he makes sure you hear him.

“you’re—fuck, you’re mine. say it.”

・✶ ｡ﾟITOSHI SAE

the agreement was never something sae thought he’d find himself in, not when he barely had any time for anything other than practice — getting better, being the best. but then he met you and suddenly he was making time, enjoying your company more than he’d like to admit, but he needs to control himself.

“does anyone else make you feel this good, sweetheart?” he breathes from where he’s pressing into you, he knows he shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help the sudden jealous feeling that seems to overcome him everytime he’s wrapped in the warmth of your body, does anyone else get to feel you like he does?

sae considers trying to play it off like a slip up but then the next roll of his hips into yours makes you moan out his name so pretty, and suddenly his sharp gaze is cutting into you and his next thrust is digging the answer he craves out of you. “i asked a question, answer me.” he grits as his pace slows with the next roll of his hips, and he can feel the way your tight walls stretch around him when your lips part.

“no—fuck, no sae. there’s nobody else.” you mumble back, it’s affirming, and it has a low curse falling from his lips with the next twitch of yours walls around him as he begins a steadier pace. he can’t deny the pride that swells with the desire in his abdomen, your answer on spurring on his movements as he takes more of you.

“hm, keep it that way.” your hands grab at sae’s shoulders to keep yourself steady with his words, but he lets you pull him closer in the process until he’s almost curling over you — smearing kisses along your temple everytime he sinks his cock deeper into your walls.

you’re already whimpering at how good he fills you, your eyes closing in bliss and for a moment, you feel his pace stutter when he sucks in a breath, you look pretty like this, replaying like a mantra in his mind as he takes in the sight of you.

sae’s hips jolt forward as he watches the way your features contort in pleasure, needy moans of his name falling from your lips as they draw him in. his head dips towards you before he’s placing a gentle kiss against your cheek, and his cock twitches again when your sending him a starry-eyed glance as he rocks his body into yours again.

“i’m the only one who gets to feel you like this, isn’t that right?”

・✶ ｡ﾟMIKAGE REO

your agreement with reo was definitely unlike any sort of situationship you’d had before, it had started normally, meeting up whenever you were both free — letting off some steam. but then the dates happened, the way he spoiled you and bathed you in affection and money like it was limitless.

but he can’t deny that he can’t get enough of you, it’s like you’ve suddenly became something a little more — he’d taken a liking to you, bragging about you at functions and practice. which is why he doesn’t see any problem with spoiling you like he feels like you deserve, because you were his afterall.

it’s dark in the backseat of reo’s limousine as you sit straddling his lap, your shopping bags from your day together lying forgotten on the floor as his hands grab at your hips to keep you flush against him. he looks up at you like you’re a real prize, bouncing yourself dizzy on the end of his cock as his hips meet each of your needy little thrusts.

“you’re mine, right? all this is for me.” he grins but his words don’t waver, even when your walls are squeezing around him so sinfully as your body rocks forward, but his hips follow the movement with the next deep kiss of his cock against your sweet spots.

“ye—ah! yes, i’m yours..” you gasp, it’s pretty and warm and reo can’t deny the way it makes his cock fucking throb before he’s dragging you along the length of him again, hooking one of his hands around the back of your neck so he can pull you in for a kiss. it’s needy, greedy the way he licks into your mouth with his next breath as you tremble on top of him, grabbing fistfuls of his violet hair to keep yourself grounded.

“yeah? look so pretty on the end of my cock, bunny. makes me wanna spoil you some more—“ he drawls, but he means every fucking word when you push yourself back into him, and the movement on its own makes something primal, possessive take over his body as his pace grows quicker, heavier until he’s almost slamming you down onto his cock.

“come on, cum for me and i’ll be so good to you, treat you better than anyone. only me, bunny. mine, yeah?”

#blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk smut #bllk x you #nagi x reader #nagi smut #bachira x reader #bachira smut #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin smut #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae smut #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo smut #reo x reader #reo smut

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aluraveil · 1 year

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♧ his ballerina. 💫

Yandere Scaramouche x Ballerina Reader

TW : Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, and huge spoilers to Scaramouche’s backstory. Inspired by this post right here.

Word Count : 1.2k

A/N : I got huge inspiration from his teaser! I love him and his character lore so much! I wanted to get this out during maintenance before Scaramouche would be released in game! I knew I had to write a fic about the ballerina and Scaramouche 😭

The past wasn’t something Scaramouche often liked to dwell on. He’d often describe his own as painful and tragic.

After being abandoned by his own mother because he was deemed useless, he was left to venture and explore the world on his own. But who knew that the pure, innocent soul would experience even more heartbreak after his birth?

His past was something he didn’t want to even think about. But as the old saying goes, in darkness there’s always hope. Maybe it would be true for everyone else, but it seems that Scaramouche would just face darkness after darkness.

The hollow puppet was wandering around the streets of Snezhnaya in the middle of the evening. He had finished all his harbinger duties and there was nothing left to do.

He stared into the night sky as he thought about his old life. He sometimes wonders what would have happened if his mother didn’t throw him away, deeming him useless.

He snapped out of those thoughts as he noticed a ton of people gathering around what had looked like a stage. He was curious at what was happening and he heard chatter going around saying that a dancer would be performing in a few minutes.

With nothing better to do, he sat down on the hill near the back which gave him a good view.

The stage light was on you and you began your performance. Your graceful moves and the way you danced on stage was incredibly mesmerizing. The way you moved with the soft music in the background along with your twirls and the way you spun so elegantly made Scaramouche lean in closer on instinct. He was so enraptured and his eyes widened as he kept watching the show. You looked like an angel with the way you moved so flawlessly. You looked really perfect with the way your tutu complimented your figure. You were like a dove on stage.

Your dancing had drawn the Balladeer in and it felt like he had forgotten the world around him. It felt like he was in a dream where he was able to forget all of his worries. For a moment he was able to forget all the suffering he had endured just by your captivating performance. You were an amazing dancer and Scaramouche was hooked. The puppet became more captivated with each twist and turn of your body.

Your dancing was like a drug, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was addicted to that feeling. When he walked back home that day he felt like a whole different person. It wasn’t everyday that someone like himself was impressed. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you spun so delicately.

Without even realizing it, Scaramouche found himself showing up to performance after performance. The feeling of forgetting his worries put the harbinger at ease and he was more hooked with each twirl you did.

In one way, you reminded him of the ballerina in a tale he was once told by the small child. But perhaps he was only coming to every one of your shows because he still had a soft spot for his one and only true friend.

Though the harbinger doesn’t talk about it a lot, he will admit that there was once someone who was very special to him back when he was known as Kunikuzushi. He will never forget the special moments he had shared with his one and only true friend, a small child he had met when he first ventured into the world.

The boy always had a smile on his face and seeing him happy made Scaramouche happy too. Him and the child grew an inseparable bond with each other. But even after all of those happy moments filled with joy, he still couldn’t help but feel empty. Like he was missing something.

Sometimes the small child and him would share a cup of tea together and sit down. They would talk about everything, but there was one conversation in particular that stuck out to him even after all the time that had passed.

“...You mean, you wish you had a heart?”

“Mhm.” Kunikuzushi said as he took another sip of his cup of tea. “I’ve always wished I had a heart.”

“You mean like the tale about a puppet soldier and the ballerina?” The small child inquired.

“Huh? I’ve never heard of it. Why don’t you tell me what it’s about?”

The tale was about a puppet soldier who wanted to be with a ballerina. But one day, his owner deemed him useless and threw him into a fire. Then the next day, all that was left was a heart left in the fireplace.

Kunikuzushi couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “It must have been a heart made from ashes.” He took another slurp of his tea. “That kind of thing just doesn't happen in real life, only in legends and old tales.”

“Maybe,” The small child replied. “But what if hearts can be born from ashes?”

The next day, the island had been plagued with tatarigami. Humans that had lived in the area began dying from it and it set everyone into a panic. One day, Kunikuzushi came back with a basket of lavender melons. With an eager smile, he opened the door only for his smile to drop into a horrified expression.

The boy had died.

Kunikuzushi was upset. His only friend and the only person who cared about him was dead. In the fit of rage, he had set everything in the house along with his friend’s body on fire and he watched as it turned into ash.

But there was no heart. It was just ashes.

“What a joke.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “It’s just ashes.”

The only thing that was left in the fire was a small doll that the boy owned. Kunikuzushi picked it up and since then, he has kept it with him. He left the burning house and he never looked back.

In a way, you reminded him of the ballerina in the tale. Perhaps he still has a soft spot for his old friend and that’s why he keeps coming back to watch your performances. Each time, he hugs the small doll tighter and tighter. He wishes that the small boy could have been there with him too. He knows that the small child would have loved your shows.

You reminded him so much of his past. Perhaps by showing up to each one of your dances, he relives his past with only the good memories and not the bad ones.

The Harbinger found himself growing a strange obsession with you. At first, these feelings didn’t make sense to him. He was a puppet with no heart. But maybe he just clings onto you because you remind him of the small boy.

Scaramouche often finds himself calling you,

“My ballerina.”

“My heart.”

It’s a habit really. He can’t really snap out of it.

But as Scaramouche starred up into the night sky after another ending of one of your performances, he couldn’t help but wonder,

Perhaps you had been the heart that he was searching for all this time.

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writefightandflightclub · 1 month

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Seven (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Phew! Well, the last couple of chapters were a lot, hey? I wonder what will happen next, tee hee! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. You give me life! ILY :-*

Word count: 8.6k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

“Hey,” you croak, as Frankie cracks the door to your room, finding you laying in the glum light. You’re on top of the covers and hugging your pillow to your chest, body curled around the white mass like you’re trying to form a human s’more.

Of course, you can’t sleep. You’re just slumped there, despondent, blinking into the crow black dark. Your tears have subsided, at least. But you feel sapped. Like you barely have any energy to feel anything anymore.

“Hey,” Frankie returns, dipping the mattress as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Benny send you?” You had insisted Benny go and get some shut eye, after comforting you for the better part of half an hour. There were hugs and warm tea and threats to handle Pope if he’d done something to deserve it. He hadn’t, you’d explained. He hadn’t done a damn thing worse than you, at least.

“Negative.”

You hum neutrally and scooch your body up so that you’re sitting with your back to the headboard, knees drawn up around the pillow you still cling to like a security blanket.

“I’m gonna say something, okay?” Frankie says firmly, and you brace, fully expecting to receive some tough love. You note with relief, however, that as the man turns his head towards you, his eyes are nothing but soft. “You and me. We’re going back to your sister’s tomorrow. Get you some space.”

Space from him. That much is implied.

“No, Frankie.” Your throat tightens. All you’ve had is space. For months. The last thing you need is more.

He places a hand on your knee, his tone firm and almost paternal. He’s going to make a damn good father, you think, with a swell of pride. “That’s what we’ll do. It’s not going to be like this anymore. We’re gonna stop taking chunks out of each other.”

All you had wanted to do was to be close again. You’d never meant-

“-Frankie.”

“Just think about it.”

You nod, and Frankie pats your knee. Stifles a yawn. Presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He looks wiped. With a gust of breath he stands, preparing to leave. “G’night, chiquita. Get some rest, alright?”

“Yeah. And Frankie?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry, by the way.”

“What for?”

You sweep your hand through the air. “For the drama. Et cetera.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you know…” You cast a sidelong glance towards the black pane of the window. “Is… he coming back?”

The man drags his tongue along his lip. He does that when he’s uncertain. “He’ll be back.”

“How do you know?” You don’t remember the last time you felt or sounded so small.

“Because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment,” Frankie attempts a lopsided smile, his cheek tugging on the corner of his mouth; but it drops when he realises his joke hasn’t landed. “Just… try to get some rest. Okay?”

You nod, and you watch Frankie leave, his face murky but kind through the shadows as he gently tugs your door closed behind him.

When he’s gone, you wait a moment for his footsteps to retreat and then you cross to the window, cracking it open far enough that you can hear the gentle shush of the waves. Far enough that you could hear either the sound of a truck pulling away in the dead of night, or the front door clicking gently closed, perhaps.

You lie back on top of the bed covers, flat on your back, and your limbs stretched out like a starfish. You lie with your eyes open, staring at the ceiling - exhausted, but wide awake.

And, after who knows how long like this, you hear footsteps tramping on to the porch. You hear the front door gently being latched, and the soft pad of someone travelling up the stairs. You hear the footsteps pause outside of your door for a moment and you hold your breath. You imagine an outstretched fist, primed to knock, but you dismiss this as wishful thinking. You’ve done a lot of that lately. Too much.

Then, finally, you hear him shuffle into his room, clicking the door shut behind him.

Only then - when you know he’s back - can you sleep.

And, as you drift off, your thoughts of him merge with the soporific sounds of the waves.

You’d doubt, with how much you’ve ached for him already, that you could hurt anymore, but you know fine well that it’s possible. After all, the waves break over and over, don’t they?

They break, and they break, and they break.

***

The following morning is an awkward affair. Everyone is tetchy, and even after a very necessary lie-in, residual grumpiness abounds.

It figures. A shouting match and a rude awakening will do that.

Still, the day must go on. You get knocked down? You keep moving.

Will, ever an early riser and a true hero, brews up the first pot of coffee. Starts cooking up some breakfast, and, one by one, you and the boys filter downstairs, chasing the scent of sustenance.

“Don’t even,” you say to Tom the moment he opens his mouth, the room falling silent as you waddle sleepily downstairs, gravitating straight towards the caffeine and the relative safety of Will. Frankie, Benny, and Tom are sat around the dining table, and, you note -because of course you do- that Santiago is glaringly absent.

Maybe Frankie advised him not to come downstairs just yet. Perhaps he’s simply sulking. Or sleeping. Or avoiding you. Perhaps, maybe, possibly a million and one things, which you’ll never know the reasoning behind.

It doesn’t even matter now.

You’re done trying to figure him out. Since when did that ever get you anywhere useful?

Instead then, you attempt to refocus. To divert your attention away from your sun, and towards the wider constellation of stars you are proud to call your squad. And, of course, to your plate of breakfast - that deserves attention too.

The one thing you refuse to focus on, for the moment, is the elephant in the room.

Still, you glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs.

“What else is new with you then, Benny boy? Seeing anyone?” You reach for just about the only topic you hadn’t covered with him yesterday evening - when you had been trying ever so valiantly to distract yourself from Santiago and all that he entails.

In response, his baby blues dance with mischief and he grins, raising one arm to pop a bicep in celebration even as he shovels forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth with the other. “I had myself a date the other night.” He probably flexes in his sleep, this man.

“She stay for breakfast, Benjamin?” Frankie interjects, finally managing to be vocal again now that he’s been provided with the sweet hit of his second mug of caffeine.

“‘Catfish. She was breakfast.”

You hear Will groan from over at the stove. “Too much information, Ben.”

Ben, meanwhile, looks entirely unapologetic.

“Whatever happened to being a gentleman, huh? The way your Granny raised you?” Tom enquires with a thin smile. “Thought gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but I was a gentleman, Redfly. Let her finish first ‘n’ everythin’.” Benny offers a shit-eating grin, and you are once again grateful for the distraction as the room descends into fond bickering, the back-and-forth culminating in Will whipping his sibling with a rolled tea towel for continuing to overshare, accidentally catching Tom in the crossfire.

“Those dirty-minded individuals asked the questions, man,” Benny defends, jabbing his finger around in a circle at the rest of you in accusation. “They always wanna know what action I’m getting. Hell, no-one ever asks me what I’m readin’.”

You snicker.

You glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs.

“Of course not. We’re trying to live vicariously through you, man,” Tom interjects. “We don’t want to vicariously read things.”

“Especially not the pretentious shit you read, Benjamin,” Frankie digs, before collecting up the plates and conveying them over to the sink. And, given a natural lull in the conversation, Benny takes the opportunity to grab your attention.

“You still up for training later, hon? I’m tabled for a beastly session this afternoon.”

It briefly crosses your mind to wonder where Benny gets his abundance of energy. You, on the other hand, can’t even be bothered to trace that train of thought through to completion. “Yeah. Maybe, Ben. I, uh, need to drive into town this morning though.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, with a mouthful of streaky bacon, swivelling his cap to sit backwards on his head as though that will help him pay better attention to you.

You glance once more -only briefly, of course- towards the mouth of the stairs.

“Mmm-hmm. Need to grab something from the pharmacy.” You blink, attempting to look as innocent as possible, but your face burns with a flare of heat, and you can’t help but scratch your nose self-consciously.

You feel as though they all know the purpose of your trip - somehow - even though that’s impossible. And, you pray that even if they do, that they will at least have the courtesy to let it slide.

Unfortunately though, you suddenly remember that Tom exists, and that therefore, you’re likely not getting away with it that easy.

“You and Pope all out of condoms or something?” he guffaws around the lip of his coffee mug as he takes a deep swig.

“Tom,” Frankie warns, subtly shaking his head as he comes to retake his seat by you.

Oddly though, Tom’s comment barely even manages to irk you. You pat your defender on the arm. “Frankie. I’m fine.”

He surveys you regardless, to be sure, and you are grateful for it. Frankie knows fine well that Tom has a talent for rubbing you up the wrong way. The two of you have never quite seen eye to eye.

“See, she can handle herself just fine,” Tom reminds him pointedly. He never did like the way the rest of the boys fussed so damn hard over you. His tone has the veneer of light-heartedness. “You can take a joke, right?”

Your lips twitch around some halfway cruel retort, but, turns out, you truly have no ire left today. You’re all out - and besides, you’re not looking to burn any more bridges than you have already on this trip.

“Listen,” you begin sincerely, cradling your mug of coffee between your palms. Deciding to nip this in the bud before it spirals. “Are we good, Tom? I was a little bit hot-tempered yesterday. I’m sorry.”

Once again, you glance towards the mouth of the stairs. Your gaze lingers a fraction longer this time, until it ticks back to Tom.

He looks at you levelly for a moment over the rim of his mug, before his brown eyes begin to shine with a dull, metered-out warmth. Nothing like the warmth of your sun, of course, but shining on your more brightly than Tom had deigned to in a long while, at least. “Sure we are. So long as you don’t wake me up in the middle of the night again. I need my beauty sleep.”

You hold your palms up in rare surrender. “You got it.”

“What was all that about, anyway?” Tom needles, shuffling forward in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. Beside you, you can sense Frankie and Benny ready to knock him back should he dare to overstep. You wonder suddenly if you’re too harsh on the guy. If you need to loosen off, be a little kinder.

You wrap both hands more tightly around your coffee now, letting the warmth bleed through into your interlaced fingertips and the steam rise under your chin. “The usual,” you dismiss, not wanting to go into specifics. That would involve replaying it all. Would call for a digging out of the shrapnel lodged in your chest - an activity far too involved to undertake alongside a lazy breakfast. “Sometimes a storm is what it takes to clear the air, right?”

“And?” Tom cranes forwards a little more. You clock Frankie’s nostrils flaring subtly in annoyance. “Is the air clear now?”

You know what Tom’s asking. Was anything resolved? Are you two done?

Is all this over?

Apparently curious, all three of the men direct their gaze toward you, keenly awaiting your answer. You even reach for one -an answer- but you come up lacking, and your uncertainty carves a notch into your brow. Makes your mouth go dry. Your gaze flicks to the mouth of the stairs, and this time, you can’t look away from it. “I…”

Thankfully, unfortunately, you are saved and damned all at once as Santiago finally appears. Emerging from the spot you’ve been glancing intermittently at all through breakfast.

All the faces in the kitchen turn abruptly towards him as his careless footfalls sound out, and suddenly his eager skip down the stairs entirely loses steam. His pace slows, dragging to a dead halt by the time he has reached the base of the stairs.

Your eyes go as wide as they can, through no fault of your own, and despite being the focus of the whole group’s attention, Santiago stares straight ahead at you. Of course he does. Only you, as though there is no-one else in the room to acknowledge.

“Morning,” he addresses, solely to you, his expression impassive, yes - but certainly not harsh. Not angry.

“Morning,“ you respond, as brightly as possible, your eyes still wide and unblinking, and it is a little unnerving as every other head in the room swivels simultaneously around to face you. Oh good. Because you’d worried this might be awkward. You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Will has bacon,” you offer stiffly, your whole body so full of tension it feels brittle; like it could snap.

As if the product of some hive mind, the heads swivel in unison back towards Santiago. He doesn’t drop his gaze from you, however. Doesn’t even blink - just looks between your left eye and right repeatedly. “Fabulous. Thanks.”

Sure. Okay. This is totally normal. Except… you don’t think you’ve ever heard Santiago describe something as “fabulous” in his life. But why not start now, hey? This is fine.

You watch him turn. Walk towards Will and the stove top, and when his gaze finally drops from yours it is like the taut line which was drawn across the room finally snaps, blissfully allowing some of the tension to sag with it.

“Good timing, Garcia. Here.” Will doesn’t miss a beat, transferring the spatula into Santiago’s hand and shuffling him seamlessly into his position before he can clock what’s happening. “I’m officially passing the torch of Breakfast Duty into your capable hands.“

“Uh. Sure,” Santiago obliges, obediently beginning to move the sizzling strips around the pan as Benny stands, already crowding him to jostle for seconds. Will slaps the waffled tea towel across Santiago’s shoulder for good measure too, and you die a little inside at how goddamn domestic he looks. Especially since he’s still wearing his fluffy sheepskin slippers. Rocking his bedhead of gently tousled, greying curls.

It makes you yearn.

“Want a ride into town, soldier?” Will calls to you across the space, jutting his chin up at you and snapping you from your stupor. Immediately, you scrape your chair back, the gentle throb of nerves making you eager to animate. Eager to jump on any excuse to get the hell out of there.

“Yes! Please!”

You scoop up your plate and cutlery, and you attempt to take Frankie’s to the sink too. That is, until he protectively winds his arm around it like a bear defending its cub and begins actively batting your hand away. You guess he wants second helpings too.

You sidle over to the stove then, where Santiago is dedicating himself to his latest occupation with vigour, Benny equally invested in hovering with his empty plate - and not above begging for scraps.

“Where to in town?” Santiago asks in a hushed voice, his thick eyebrow arcing. You dismiss your plate into the dish bowl to soak, and he pauses his spatula duties momentarily to await your response.

“Pharmacy.” You look at him pointedly.

His face crumples with something resembling apology. Or - perhaps more likely - regret. “Okay.”

Your eyes lock for a moment, and he looks so different to you this morning than he had in the dead of the night. It is more than the gentle morning sun giving a soft glow to his features, the dusting of late summer freckles on his nose popping in the light. It is more than the wholesome appearance of him cooking up breakfast. More than the hush in his tone, and the way his chin dips down, making his eyes look big and round and gentle as he looks at you from beneath his long sweep of lashes.

You suspect that he is purposefully making himself soft. Blunting his harsh edges so deliberately and so entirely that you fear he will sluice to the floor like the insides of a cracked egg. “You, uh… You need anything? Need me to…?”

Santiago. Honey. You’ve done quite enough already.

“No,” you say, but the word doesn’t audibly make it out the first time around. You clear your throat. “No. Thank you.”

“Okay.”

Your gaze dips to the dried, rogue fleck of toothpaste right on the corner of his mouth. You can’t explain why, but this tiny, human detail makes your chest ache. “Talk later?”

He forces his sober expression to twist into a halfway smile. His eyes grow big and earnest, that cup of coffee gaze gently warming you. “Okay.”

Don’t, you inwardly plead with him. Don’t give me hope. Don’t break me again, Santiago.

A niggle plays at your brow. It’s odd, really. You remember the words and venom spat from each of your mouths yesterday. Of course you do. But you can no longer feel the all-consuming ire that came along with them. That part -that feeling- is absent. Every scrap of anger consumed. It seems as alien to you as the raging storm must feel to the clear morning which follows.

And so, you can’t help it. Really can’t help it. You dip forwards to kiss Santiago, softly. Right on the point of his beautifully high cheekbone, giving his tea-towel adorned shoulder a light squeeze.

You leave, then, to the sight of that subtle crimson flush darkening his cheeks, your gesture evidently both confounding and flustering him.

You leave too, to the sound of Benny yelling “Look alive, Pope! Don’t burn my goddamn bacon!”. The spatula has gone limp in his hand as Santiago’s gaze trails after you, and the tension is once again pulled taut like a string across the room. You imagine a festival of blush red balloons tied all along it, rising and dancing like your hope.

You leave, with an answer to Tom’s question.

You and Santiago? Is it over?

No. It’s not done.

But you are done with being angry.

You’re done breaking, and no longer will you throw yourself against those rocks.

***

The time away from the house was useful, and the scenes of the open coast slipping by smoothed your roughened edges out like a tossed, worn pebble. The salt-saturated air humming through your wound-down window had you drinking in deep, energising lungfuls. Then, there was Will’s steady, reassuring drawl, and all the feelings of security that came along with it.

Steady, dependendable, straightforward Will. You always knew where you stood with him.

At least, that’s who he had always been to you. Not the volatile, ticking time bomb you’d heard he’d become since he’d gotten out. Since he’d almost choked a man out in the tinned produce aisle.

It was good to have time to talk with him. You were endlessly glad to hear the ways Will was moving forward. You were glad -first and foremost- for him, of course; but you couldn’t deny it bolstered your own hope too. To know that there was a route out? A path onward - even when some things attempted to drag you back? It felt good.

Speaking of things which dragged you to them, you were also grateful that Will didn’t press you (too much) on Santiago-shaped matters. In fairness, at this point the whole squad is probably sick to death of the topic. Regardless though, it was refreshing to talk about other things. About Will’s new life. His bizarro public speaking gig. His worry for Benny, as an unfailingly attentive and loyal big bro. His insistence that the “kid” is not living up to his full potential.

Benny’s doing fine, you had assured him. Benny’s… buoyant.

So, in sum, it was safe to say that despite everything, by the time you had arrived back to the house you’d felt decompressed. It made you wonder if - maybe - last night’s storm really had succeeded in clearing the air. Of course, that depended on Santiago too, and where he was at today. Whether he had any more drama brewing, up in that pretty head of his.

From his vibe this morning though? You had gotten the sense that he was oh so tired too.

It didn’t change anything of course. The fighting. The fucking. Not really. Not any of it. The anger, once given its release valve, had simply moved through you like weather. It had turned out, it was all mostly bluster. Ephemeral. Shifting. And it couldn’t touch the truth of things, could it? The permanence and depth of your love for him? Not really.

It did change something in you though, that unforgiving storm. If nothing else, it had made you acutely aware of how powerless you are. Your weather cannot move the mountains, and Santiago is as stubborn and immoveable as a wall of rock.

You’d believed, at one time, that perhaps you could succeed in shifting him. Encouraging him. Convincing him.

But now you know for sure.

The only way he’s running into your arms is of his own accord. In his own good time.

When he’s ready.

If he ever is, of course; ready. And on that topic, you’re less and less sure that he ever will be. That Santiago will ever be ready to be loved by you.

It’s sad in one way to realise that. But in another way, it’s freeing. To give up. To stop trying to shape things into what you’d hoped they could be, and to simply let things be whatever they are. To make peace with the truth of things. And peace? It may sound counterintuitive, but as a soldier, peace is all you’d ever really wanted.

Perhaps that’s why you feel calm as you pace down the track back to the house. Why there’s a spring in your step as you fix up a sandwich for yourself and Will, heading out across the dunes to where the boys laze by that frilled edge of ocean. Perhaps you feel calm because you really have exhausted all of your options.

Because there’s truly nothing else you can do.

Because it’s out of your control.

Because you cannot move mountains.

And so, when you join the group and Santiago flashes you a tentative and oh so pure smile? You return it easily this time.

You can’t change yourself and how you feel. You’ve tried that. You certainly can’t change him. You’ve tried that too.

And… why would you want to, anyway, huh? To change him? In so many ways, you think, as you watch his rich, scratchy laugh bob in his throat, and see those delicious crinkles radiate from around his eyes, he’s perfect exactly as he is.

After all, he’s your best friend.

And, for the remainder of the afternoon, you simply want to focus on that.

For today, you reckon you’ll simply have to try to see him in pieces. In fragments.

You don’t want to admit to yourself that’s the only way you can make it through, but when you do realise, it strikes you. If you too find it hard to reconcile who he’s always been to you with all that he could be, then maybe you and he never were so different after all.

He certainly could never grasp all of you at once, could he?

***

The rest of the day passes pleasantly - much to everyone’s relief, you suspect. After the card games wrap up, there is plenty more entertainment to be had. There is time whiled away goofing around with a football and a frisbee. There’s a grill session on the dunes and chilled beers and music. When the heat becomes too sticky, too intense, there are sea swims and splashing around in the waves and everyone trying to dunk Benny. There’s solitary time too. Time for sunbathing and reading and podcasting and naps; and, in between, there is the cyclical eruption and waning of amiable chatter - whenever someone sparks up with a talking point.

In sum, you all opt to just be with each other. No particular agenda in mind, and it feels good. Really good.

You’ve missed them all. Hell, even Tom, though you’d never tell him that to his face.

The stretch of beach you’ve claimed is stunning too. The sands are golden and fine-grained and the water is perfectly temperate; but, it’s a hidden gem, the patch not attracting a fraction of the stifling crowds you’d find along the main drag. Throughout the day, other people come and go, of course. There’s the family with the adorable little kids, for example. The little boy, in particular, who had seemed to take a real liking to Benny - and who’d even roped him into helping build sandcastles. You’d watched, fondly, as each of your squad’s faces had split with wholesome, eye-swallowing grins at the adorableness of it all. There was the lone woman who spent 45 minutes giving you evil eyes - apparently, you’d deducted, for daring to be surrounded by five attractive men. You’d even suspected she might march over and punch you at one point, judging from the hate seething in her eyes when Will had asked you to slather-up his milky-white back with his trusty factor 50.

Mostly though, it had stayed pretty quiet, and you and the boys had more or less had the beach all to yourselves.

Various members of the group would filter off every now and again, of course. To replenish supplies, grab a new book, or buy an ice cream from the truck which pulled up. But, there had always been a core contingent remaining, even as the intensity of the day’s heat had begun to burn off, replaced with a softer, gentler, and more oranged glow.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t realise it, until it had already happened.

That by now, you and Santiago were alone.

You look up from your book and all of a sudden, you are the only one left lounging on the blankets. You look out to the water, and Santiago is the only figure to be found there too, currently floating on his back, bobbing over each gentle, orange-frilled wave which laps up to the shore.

Christ. When did it get so late?

Santiago must realise the predicament at a similar moment to you, you think, as by the time you have finished swivelling your head to scan the sands for signs of anyone else -finding no-one but a distant dog walker- he has already begun to wade out of the water.

It is something you have watched him do so many times today, but now that it is just the two of you, this time it hits just a little different. This time, you notice him. Really notice him. Can’t help it. You watch him rise out of the water in the golden glow of the descending sun, and shake the rivulets of water from his darkened, wetted curls. See his tan chest emerge first, the colour in his shoulders a deeper, richer brown already from a day soaking up the sun. That silver chain of his swinging and glinting in between his smooth, shapely pecs. And, you note the soft cushion of his tummy swelling over the waistband of his swim shorts, the garment sodden and clinging tightly to his ample hips and thighs. Even slipping down just a little as he wades from out of the water, revealing a hint of his happy trail as he beelines directly towards where you lay.

Your stomach twists with a deep, hot yearning, and you are grateful that you have at least a moment to compose yourself before he arrives, sea-shined and dripping, at your now deserted camp. You have the wherewithal, at least, to throw him a towel as he reaches you, trying not to stare (too much) as he begins to dry himself off.

“Thanks,” he offers, with a lazy flash of teeth, and you unconsciously rearrange yourself, very suddenly aware - now that you’re alone - that you are stripped right down to your flimsy bikini.

You see a swallow sink down Santi’s corded throat as his eyes skim down the length of you, but he is quick to obscure it. He’s still playing nice. Softening himself, you think.

With a laugh as roughly hewn as driftwood, he flicks some water at you after scrunching his hand through his sodden curls, spraying cold flecks across the bare expanse of your belly, causing you to tense and squeal. His shoulders shake with gentle mirth, and, once he’s towelled off and wrung out his shorts a little, he spreads his towel out next to you, parking his ample ass down.

“Didn’t feel like a swim? The water’s nice.”

“Nah.”

His head swivels about, eyes traversing the length of the beach. He scoops a hand around his stubble, and you hear it rasp like sand. “Where the shit did everybody go?”

You shrug with one shoulder. “Beats me. I was far too engrossed in my trashy novel to notice.” You dog-ear the page of said book and put it to one-side before leaning back, supporting your torso on bent elbows, legs still elongated before you and crossed neatly at the ankle. The position pushes your breasts out, and you swear Santiago tries valiantly to look just about anywhere else - more or less succeeding too.

“Then… I think we’re alone now.”

A mischievous smile catches the corners of your mouth. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.”

You turn your head towards him, to see if he’s picked up on your song-lyric-inspired choice of words, but the solemnity of his expression catches you off-guard. His brows are drawn down, the sockets of his eyes all shadowed despite the golden hour glow still pouring over the horizon, lighting the stark contours of him.

In unison, the two of you shift position, coming to sit cross-legged. Side-by-side, looking out over the ocean. It seems easier that way, you think. Not to face each other directly as you each say whatever it is you need to say.

You know that it’s come time to say it. That it’s overdue.

Besides, it’s undeniably beautiful, looking out across the view like this. Enjoying the lapping waves and the undulating, orange zest water stretched out below that burning sky. Now cooling, post-dip, Santiago reaches over for his trusty tartan blanket. Silently, he first tucks it around his shoulders, then he passes it around yours. It’s a stretch for the square of fabric, and so you huddle a little closer to one another, finding it is even more warming as your bodies press together. The wetness of his thigh, from those water-logged, sand-coated trunks contacts you too, but you make no effort to move away, instead resting your folded thigh just on top of his.

You can smell the ocean on him. Salt and sunshine and sunscreen. He smells like summer.

You look out across the landscape with renewed concentration as you wait for him to speak, not ready to face whatever expression his features may offer. You look outward with vigour while you wait for him to look inward, and you worry that his words - when they come - will surely be more ugly than the sight before you. Will be bitter and not sweet.

You even brace for it.

You’re so used to the storm.

Still, when he eventually speaks, you are surprised. Surprised that he is calm and steady. That his voice is like slow, warm sand pooling into your cupped hands. That his words are both bitter and sweet. “Hey. C’mere.” You link your arm into him. Lean your head onto his shoulder as his tone grows wistful. “Do you… Do you remember that night in Philadelphia?”

You smile immediately. There had been only one such night in Philadelphia.

It had been your birthday. You and Santiago had been catching a connecting flight, heading back from a deployment and en route to meet the boys off-base to celebrate. However, all the planes had been grounded due to some technical hitch with the tower. You’d been bummed that your plans had been ruined; but Santiago had come through. Had gifted you one of the best nights of your life. A very silly, drunken night, if you recall.

You cringe, hazy, smooth-edged memories flooding back. You clap a hand to your face with residual embarrassment. “Christ. The karaoke.”

Santiago chuckles warmly, and you feel his laugh reverberate through you. “It wasn’t karaoke! You hijacked the goddamn wedding band.”

Your hand clamps in dismay over your mouth now, and you lift your head from his shoulder to face him. “Oh my god. You’re right.”

Your laughs mingle together in the tight space between you, becoming indistinguishable, like the tide and the shore. “I still can’t believe you blagged our way into a wedding reception.”

“I can’t believe it took us so long to get rumbled,” his hand settles over yours, where your arm is still hooked into his.

You beam at him. “Thank God I’m stealthy.”

He pumps his eyebrows, entirely incredulous. “You? Yeah right.”

“I’m sure I must’ve helped, Pope.”

“No, cariño, no. You were not helping.” He scratches at his layer of scruff. “Shit. What was it… What did you tell the kid on the desk your name was, again?”

You try to recall, and when you remember you snort in a full-blown laugh. Your ensuing, chaotic giggle planes tears of joy out of the corners of your eyes. “Mariana Trench!”

“You’re fucking despicable. You know that?” Santiago laughs along with you, and God. It feels good. Really good. It feels effortless, your mirth sharing space like this instead of your anger. Your laughs mingle then dissipate, withdrawing gently like the retreat of a wave.

You lean your head back on to his shoulder, but your giggle fit is evidently not wholly through - not just yet. Your shoulders begin to shake up against him - gently at first, and then with a rising chuckle. “Whiskey in the jar-o,” you sing under your breath, wistfully recalling your drunken duet of choice. “Fuck, Santi. That was a good night.”

He rests his head on top of yours, the weight of it a comfort. “Yeah. Yeah it was,” he agrees. “Jesus, I’m telling you though. They were lucky we showed up. Before we livened things up? The dance floor was as dead as a battlefield after one of Redfly’s sweeps.”

You hum at the fond memory, a soft smile arcing over your face. He has you curious though. “What made you think of that night?” Why this memory, out of everything?

He stiffens noticeably up against you. Sits more upright. Presses his palms together. “That was, uh. That was the night that I-”

“-Vomited into a soup tureen?” You interject with a snort, as another random memory flashes back to you.

“No. Nope,” Santi counters decisively. “That was Cat’s Oma’s 80th.”

You giggle chaotically again. “Oh yeah. Shit.” You miss that lady. She was a sweetie.

“Hey. Listen,” Santiago begins with far more gravity. Enough gravity that you shift, turning your body as he draws your gaze to him. You had been waiting for this moment to arrive; but, now that it’s here, you wish you could cling on to the sweet things for a few moments longer. Still, you settle opposite him now, the two of you still cross-legged but positioned face to face. He adjusts the blanket around your shoulders, tugging on each corner. With a watery smile, you slide your palms on to his wrecked, perfect knees and give him a gentle squeeze there, seemingly pushing his croaked words out with the gesture too. “I want to say that I’m sorry.”

You have nothing for a moment. No words, at least. Nothing but the motion of your hands smoothing back and forth over his knees. Nothing but the pained expression as your eyes swim with an ocean of feeling, deep enough to rival the vast body of water before you.

You note that his eyes are wet too as he settles his own hands over yours, gathering them up into his grasp. He stares down intently at your hands, his brow notching with a deep frown. He drags in a slow breath and releases it. “This got so fucked up, and… that’s not it at all.” He looks back to you then, his umber eyes shining with remorse. Deep regret welling in his resonant tone. “That’s not how I want to show up for you.”

Your tongue, too, reaches for an apology as readily as your hands had reached out for him. “Fuck, Santiago. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry too.” You had never meant to hurt him. You had never wanted that.

He drops his gaze to your neat pairing of hands. Gingerly begins to smooth the rough, sea-pruned pads of his thumbs over your knuckles, your skin humming dully where he touches. “I mean it. I’m sorry for everything.” The tendons in his jaw clench, muscles slipping over bone. He drags your cupped hand into his lap, drawing an absent-minded spiral in your palm with the pad of his thumb. The sensation makes a pleasant tingle bed down beneath your skin. “I swear. I never meant for my bullshit to affect you. Christ - that was the whole fucking point. Thought the least I could do, after everything, was protect you from that.”

At his earnest words, your chest tightens, and you abruptly halt the dance of his fingers by clasping his hands, gathering them between your own palms like a prayer. Your voice cracks in half like a broken promise. “Santiago. For Christ’s sake. You think I need protecting?” The implication in his words cleaves your heart in two. “From you?”

He shrugs with one shoulder. Sniffs. The muscle in his cheek tugs up, and you feel his hands go clammy in your grasp.

He frees himself from your grip for a moment, before continuing to skim his fingers up and down your forearm arm in a gentle, tender dance. The lightness of his touch contrasts starkly with the heaviness settling into his brow, his wet, puppy dog eyes swimming beneath. “I dunno. I was always a better fucking soldier than I was a friend.” He swallows, his voice so soft you can barely hear him. “Than I was… anything else you might’ve needed me to be.”

“No. That’s not true,” you respond adamantly, your head shaking vigorously from side to side. “You’ve always been there for me.”

“Except when it counted.”

“No!” you emphasise, the thrust of your words carrying your whole body forward. You shift position, transferring on to folded knees, crouching before him in the sand. Reaching, to slip your palms up to each side of his face, and you hold him like a prayer now. “No, Santiago. Especially when it counted. Believe me.”

He tries to turn away from you - you see it. He tries to begin his retreat, like usual, but this time, you capture his roughened cheek with one palm and you hold his gaze with yours. You speak firmly, willing him to understand. “Santiago Garcia. Idiota. You’re my hero.”

He scoffs lightly. His face twitches with scepticism. With doubt. With this self-deprecation he always carries, usually so well concealed by his confidence and easy charm. And yet, as you caress his stubble-flecked cheek with your palm, he sinks gratefully into your touch. Leans against it, his eyes fanning closed and his long lashes splaying down towards his cheeks.

“God,” he breathes softly in Spanish, barely audible. “No-one has called me that in a long time." He lives in a world of aliases and nicknames, and you see the weight of his grief twist his face at hearing his name fall from your mouth.

“I mean it. Do you hear me?” you plead, snagging his eyes to yours as they drift open. “You have made my life more beautiful in a thousand ways. You’re not -and you never were- something I need protecting from.” You regard Santiago, and his pretty eyes glisten, wet with a well of scarcely contained emotion -starlight in his lashes. “I love you, Santiago. Whatever has happened. Whatever happens. I love you. Not when you’re this ‘perfect’ version of yourself you finally deem worthy of love.” You search his eyes “That’s bullshit. I love you. I love you now.”

Santiago slowly, gradually musters a nod, and you smooth your hands over him. Over his shoulders. the nape of his neck. His chest. Trying to plaster over the evident cracks as his emotion crashes like a wave against rocks. He scoops a hand around his stubble, his lower lip now downturned. Trembling with feeling. Fat, liquid tears shining in his eyes, threatening to overspill. “I love you too.”

What a terrible, sad thing, you think. That you love each other. That there’s such bounty and abundance, but that at the same time… it is never quite enough.

Maybe one day, it will be; enough.

For now though, it is still something which causes you pain. And, you can see -more clearly than ever now- that it hurts him too.

His eyes dance over everything but you. His face twists. Contorts and tightens as he wrestles with it, but he cannot hold back the tide a moment longer. Full, wet tears spill down Santiago’s cheeks, and he makes some attempt to fumble them away, until they grow too numerous. You reach for him instead, and for a moment he tries to gently bat your hand away. “Hey,” you scold, protest, smooth. “Santiago.” His eyes drop, and his gaze fixes intently on a spot in the sand as you gingerly scoop his tears away with your crooked forefinger. The finger you then trace lovingly along the length of his jaw. The finger you trace along his eyebrow. The point of his cheekbone. Every place the waning golden light paints him. Your eyes dance over him. Every contour. Every sharp angle and every hollow. Every soft, silver curl. And he stays perfectly still. Unmoving, as though he is afraid your touch will withdraw like a tide at any moment.

“I missed you,” you whisper, and it is at once bitter and sweet. “It hurts. It… hurts to be without you.”

For a stretched moment, you do not believe he will respond, the only sign of movement from him a lone tear sluicing down his sculpted cheek. But, eventually, his words come. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I need to find a way it doesn’t hurt you to be with me.” You shake your head, a protest dying on your lips as Santiago drags your hands to him. “I know you won’t buy this. You don’t have to. But I do want out. I swear it’s just this one last job with Lorea. And then I can… Then maybe we can…”

He trails off, his words waning. Breaking on the rocks.

He never could articulate a future with you, could he? Never could seem to dream that up.

You could be angry about that, you suppose, but you truly have no more anger left to give. You could be sad instead but, turns out, you’re out of that feeling too. All you have left to offer in this moment, in fact, is a small, resigned smile.

“It’s okay,” you smooth, and what’s more, you mean it. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Your fingers play over the leather and beads of his bracelets. Over the tendons in his wrist. The light hairs on his forearms.

You’re done with all of that now. Done trying to push him towards a future you’re not even sure he wants with you. Not sure he ever wanted. It’s funny almost, as you sit here, letting the future go. You sit here with him, so much history humming between you it’s like standing amidst ruins. Like you are two statues, memories and stories carved into your bodies. Sometimes, it feels like the past is all you have. But, you are thankful when the sinking, orange segment of sun draws you to it, reminding you there is one more thing you have. Something between the past and future.

You have the here and now.

You reach for it.

It’s all you’ve got. Might be all you ever have with him.

You twist your body, turning outward again, away from him. You fold your knees up to your chin and you loop your arms around them, fixing your eyes straight ahead on the undulating ocean.

“That’s one thing I always loved about you, you know,” you push out. “How you always live smack bang in the moment. I’m constantly wishing it all the fuck away, aren’t I? Always thinking fifty steps ahead.”

Santiago follows your lead, swivelling to face the sunset too. His body becomes all right angles as he plants his elbows on the points of his spread knees, his butt and the soles of his feet flat to the floor, his hands loosely laced together in the space between his legs. “You should. You should think about that stuff. You deserve all that. Everything you talked about last night.”

His words cause a tight lump to rise in your throat.

Do you?

Does he really believe that?

Because, if so, then why in the hell don’t you deserve him? Why can’t he be the one to give it to you?

You offer a theory.

“Does it bore you, or something? The thought of a future like that?” The question emerges tattered, torn on hooks in your throat which try to hold it back; but it’s something you’ve wondered for too long to suppress it any longer. You’ve wondered without ever wanting to push that thought too far - too afraid of the answer.

“Yeah,” he says levelly, not a hint of doubt in his voice, and you hold your breath. “With anyone else, yeah. But not with you.” You are relieved but that fades ever so quickly, your face crumpling into something halfway petulant.

“Then… why?”

Why is he still running?

Why is he running from the life you could offer him if it’s something he wants too?

You hear Santiago tug in and release a deep sigh. Out of the corner of your eye you see him lace his fingers together, soothing his thumb over his own hand like he’s retracing your comfort. “Because… I’m not brave like you.” His voice tips up at the end. Like a question. He reserves all of his doubt for himself, then? It’s not you he refuses to believe in?

“You’re ridiculous. You’re the bravest man I know.”

“Heh. Yeah,” he lifts a hand to self-consciously scratch at the bristle of hairs at the nape of his neck. You hug your knees more tightly to your chest. “Running into bullets. Eliminating threats, sure. But… running into safe hands? I’m a fucking coward.”

You hum, a neutral, bland sound which expresses neither agreement nor disagreement. Which takes you nowhere.

There’s nowhere left to go.

Perhaps the road ends here.

Dead end after dead end.

Only resignation.

“Maybe we were on the same path, once upon a time, huh?” You throw the statement out with little conviction. You’re giving up on the idea that your words or your actions can make the slightest bit of difference to what could be. For now, you simply wish to make sense of what is. “Maybe - I dunno. Maybe I just ran too far ahead. Racing towards this dream of the future, before you were ready to go there. Maybe I just created too much distance.”

Santiago hums now too. A tight, pensive sound. “Huh. Is that what you think happened?”

You rub your palms over your own face. Dig the heels of your hands into your eye sockets. You have as much energy as a spent wave. “Uch. I don’t know.” Wordlessly, tentatively, Santiago reaches, retucking the soft tartan blanket around your shoulders. You manage to smile softly at him, surprised that it does not feel at all forced. “Maybe we just forget all that now. Maybe we just… I dunno. Live in the moment?”

Santiago’s palm draws slow circles on your upper back. You shuffle a little closer to him. “Okay. Then what do you want?” he enquires. “Right now? In this moment?”

His arm weighs over your shoulder, huddling you closer. “Oh. I don’t know. What does it even matter?”

“We leave here tomorrow. So tell me. What do you want right now?”

You could imagine that you are tired of wanting. That all you want is a moment free of wanting anything at all. But that’s not true, is it? You want the very same thing you’ve craved for so long. You want him. Finally though, something in you has shifted. You find yourself able to envisage a future which is far more immediate. Something you can grasp now instead of distantly yearning for.

The words feel hard and tight in your chest, but by the time they reach your lips, they feel so very soft and loose. Easy to sound out. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to hurt you. All this time I missed you so much.” Unconsciously, Santiago holds you just a little more tightly. “I just…”

“What?” he whispers.

“I want us to fall asleep together. I want to hold you. I just want us to have one moment like that, Santi. Peaceful, you know? After everything, don’t we at least deserve that?” You tug in a breath to launch your next words, your throat closing protectively around them. Making them sound small. “And… And maybe…”

“What? What else?”

“Can’t we just fuck and feel happy about it? Can’t we have just one fucking moment together that doesn’t feel like an ending?”

You wait, your raw-wound words laid out in a line on the sand. You brace. You brace for them to be washed away. To have the salt poured in.

“Okay.”

Your eyes snap to his in surprise, and you find his soft, ardent gaze dancing over your features. “Okay?”

Santiago’s fingers lace with yours, and he tugs you to standing. “Come with me. Come on.”

He gathers up the remaining supplies, slinging the filled beach bag over one shoulder. Then, he folds his other arm around your middle. Tucks you into him. You let him lead you to the house, and it’s nice. It’s nice that for once, you’re not begging him to follow.

You let him lead you up the dunes, back to the house, and up the stairs.

You leave the golden, sinking sun behind you, but with Santiago’s warm, molten gaze shining on you, you still feel the sun on your face.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #santiago pope garcia #ride or die series

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lemonjestercoffee · 6 days

Text

so i said something about alicorns being funky in my last mlp redesign post yeah? well before i get into that-

the beautiful bride and the ugly ass groom

okay okay jokes aside here's Shining's real sheets and Cadance on her own

starting off with design choice notes

Shining Armor - his was like- really hard to figure out and i didn't really know what i was doing, but i did like the concept of him having lost a leg in some sorts of battle. one thing i did know what i was doing with tho was his armor, i never really liked the canon armor so i decided to take my own stab at it. decided to make it cover the more important areas better, added gambeson underneath, put a royal crest on it, and gave them a head weapon. yes the metal horns are on all species armor, it's there not only to protect real horns from oncoming attacks but also give all soldiers an emergency weapon if they get disarmed. the tassels would be colored differently depending on rank

Cadance - the only through i really had going into her design was i wanted her to have a cloud and heart motif, but i'm unsure if the way i handled it is the best. her cutiemark is meant to resemble a Mexican sacred heart because deity of love- like come on. i also wanna kinda change the color of the carnation in her hair to stand out more, but white carnations have a different meaning so it's fiiiinee

okay now what we really wanna hear about, what the fuck did i do to the alicorns?

i decided to tamper with their lore quite a bit, as i was inspired to by the Skyscraper Gods Au by Shirecorn. now mine is no were near as drastic as that au, obviously, but it did inspire me to come up with my own quirks for them.

i went more "alicorns are more like the elves of ponies but because they can only be made by some unexplained rare mystical intervention and live for fuck off long, normal ponies see them as demigods of sorts". i've even given them things like groups or locations that they act as patrons of and prioritize above other things, but that stuff gets a little rambley so imma not do that on this post

for the anatomy tho, i can talk. i'll be using Twilight as a visual example because she's the one i've drawn in all stages

so basically the concept here is pretty similar to the canon, but with some funky add-ons.

first up- when an alicorn ascends, not only do they gain the wings/horn combo and grow an inch, they also gain some other unique anatomy from the other species.

Unicorn- along with the horn, they also receive the ear tip tufts i gave unicorns. these actually have a purpose, they're sensitive to magic energy and allow unicorns to tell where magic is coming from. depending on the unicorn they vary in sensitivity but alicorns are by far the most sensitive Pegasus- along with the wings, the get some of the extra feathers pegasai have on their bodies, namely the ones on their ankles that are used for finer trajectory adjustments in flight. they also receive the sensitivity of their hooves that's used to pick up changes in cloud texture and sense their stability Earth Pony- earth ponies may seem like they don't add shit, but they actually give two very important things. the first thing is a strength boost, as they're stronger than the other two pony species by nature. the other thing is dense as fuck hooves. that sounds kinda lame but they have rock hard hooves that allow for them to dig into dense materials and have a kick with some real bite in it that the others just can't replicate and might tear their own hooves up trying. they also add the visible fluff in the ear canal. but that's just a dust filter and if isn't cleaned properly might actually be more of hindrance

it's worth noting- if you look at Cadance and Twilight side by side- that despite being given extra anatomical traits from the other species they will always look more like the species they were before ascension. this is mostly visible in the ears, tails, and hoof shapes -unicorns have long tails with hair only growing from the underside, basic ears, narrower hooves, and usually have long fetlocks as part of their culture. -pegasai have short tails that are completely covered with hair and have rudder feathers at the base, pinned back feathery ears with restricted movement, and really shallow hooves with no fur around them -earth ponies have medium tails with even hair growth around a third of the way down, basic ears, and slightly taller hooves with varying fetlock sizes.

second up- the only uniquely alicorn physical traits that they really have (aside from height) are their hair and beards. unlike normal pony beards that are made of the same hair as their manes, alicorn beards are made of coat fur and will grow a specific length each year that marks how old they are kinda like tree rings. due to this the alicorns don't try to cut them. the manes are kinda funky cause they start out at the roots as normal hair, but then become more "ethereal" after a few inches or so. they tend to start to become ethereal roughly 10 years after ascension

they do have one more weird trait but it's less noticeable and that's the thing with the patterns. when an alicorn is first ascended they gain an extra pattern on their legs, and that pattern gains a second layer around the time they start to get their ethereal manes. you can see it happening on Twilight's lineup.

there's also a bonus thing here that has nothing to do with alicorns as much as it does unicorns- but i like the idea of Unicorn tails (flesh/bone, not hair) getting longer with age. it's usually not too noticeable because they don't normally live long enough for it to be really noticeable compared to younger unicorns, but alicorns do- so former unicorns can end up with some long ass tails in their 1000's

that's all i really got now- if i added in magic and social stuff this would have been way longer. i'm done with my rambles

#my little pony #mlp fim #mlp redesign #mlp headcanons #princess cadance #shining armor #twilight sparkle #kai doodles

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yuesya · 7 months

Note

Just imagine Shiki configuring canon!Satoru's body to look like how she would look if she had her own body. Then when the Satoru(x2) and Twins!Suguru show up to get Shiki, they see her "in the flesh" for the first time and her brother and boyfriend get a little emotional at seeing Shiki with her "own body". Alll the while canon!Satoru is like "what did you do to my body?! Are you able to reverse this? Hello?!"

And the other canon characters are equally confused and wary, but at least this weird female Satoru is able and willing to kick Sukuna and Kenjaku's collective asses (along with Megumi, sorry Megumi.)

I just want to make a note that this ask was sent before the snippet for twins swap AU v2 was written. Anon here has excellent story-senses haha.

Suguru doesn’t know what he’d expected, upon traveling to a parallel universe. Probably a world not entirely dissimilar to their own –albeit missing many people who had all ended up passing on over the years. Gojo’s voice when he’d talked about the subject had been casual and unaffected, but Suguru is familiar enough with his own Satoru to read between the lines of what remained unsaid.

It was… disquieting. Unsettling. What happened to Satoru and Shiki was a tragedy that should never have been allowed to occur, but in a world where Shiki had been completely erased… it was frightening, to hear how events might’ve played out.

(“He’s not me, Suguru. He’s not us. What happened in that world will never happen here, I guarantee it. Shiki would promise you the same, if she were here right now.”)

Still. For all the various differences in the people that Suguru had been prepared to face… it had never occurred to him that they’d land in a world that looked like it came straight out of a post-apocalyptic film instead of a normal city.

Suguru has exactly one second to register the sprawling landscape of destruction, the debris and ruin stretching as far as the eye can see –and then, his attention is drawn to the young woman standing across from them.

“Shiki?” Suguru’s breath catches in his throat, because there’s no doubt about it. The body is different, but he recognizes her, down to the depths of his very soul. Shiki. It’s Shiki, standing before them as a normal young woman, in her own body. Was this what she would’ve looked like, had she not been killed by her father shortly after birth?

White hair, long and flowing, brushing just above her ankles. Cursed blue eyes, dark and abyssal but oh so familiar. Pale white skin, smooth and–

And–

Belatedly, his mind catches up with the unexpected sight before his eyes, and Suguru can feel the blood rush to his face.

“Why aren’t you wearing anything?”

Suguru all but rips off his own outerwear in panic, leaving him in nothing but a thin undershirt. That’s still better than Shiki, though, who’s standing there with a silly little smile on her face, completely naked and utterly unconcerned about it–

“Suguru! Toru-nii!” Shiki launches herself at her brother first, grabbing him in a tight hug. Satoru returns the gesture just as fiercely, and it hits Suguru that this is the first time that they’ve hugged each other. The first time that the twins are holding each other in their arms, and the thought makes his throat tighten with emotion.

Then he steps forward and finally wrangles the girl into actually wearing something and covering herself up.

… It turns out that his shirt is far too large for her. What served as a normal-sized shirt for Suguru turned into a loose, baggy dress that barely brushed her thighs, but it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than nothing, for heaven’s sake–

Shiki bounces, doing a curious little twirl to test her movement, which does… interesting things, to the curvature of her body.

Suguru has about half a second to realize that actually, Shiki wearing his shirt is a Bad Idea, before he catches Satoru smirking at him.

Oh no.

“Shiki, Suguru here could use a hug, too!”

… And that’s how Suguru promptly finds himself with an armful of soft, giggling, mostly-naked young woman pressed tightly against his body, doing his best not to expire on the spot while Satoru is of absolutely no help at all.

“So you do like female–”

“Not. Another. Word,” Suguru mutters. Satoru acquiesces easily to the demand, smugly gracious in victory.

“I missed you,” Shiki tiptoes up and whispers simply into his ear.

This is it. This is how Suguru is going to go out: Spontaneous combustion from acute embarrassment, because neither of the Gojo twins have any sense of propriety or restraint when it comes to teaming up on him together.

But even so…

“I missed you, too,” he murmurs back, squeezing her around the waist before he can think the better of it. Then, Suguru steps back and coughs awkwardly, avoiding her eyes. “A-As did Satoru! He’s been stuck with Gojo –the Satoru of this world– all this time. You would not believe the arguments they got into –wait a minute.”

A sudden thought occurs to him.

Suguru turns back and peers down at Shiki suspiciously. “… If you switched places with Gojo… then… what happened to his body?”

“Oh… that.” Her response does not inspire any confidence in him. Neither does the way she looks askance evasively, “… Technically it wasn’t me who’s really responsible for this–”

With a sense of impending doom well-honed over the long years spent with the Gojo twins, Suguru resignedly reaches out and flatly tips her head back towards him with his fingers. “Shiki. What did you do.”

The young woman pouts. “… It was an emergency, I was fighting Sukuna! And I can’t fight properly with his body, so I… made a few adjustments…”

Suguru’s jaw drops open at the implications, while Satoru openly bursts out laughing.

“You mean this is his body?” Suguru gapes. “You turned this world’s Gojo Satoru into a woman??”

“I reconstructed his body so I could actually use it!” Shiki pouts, flipping a long lock of hair over her shoulder huffily. The young woman sniffs, “Besides, I’d say it’s an improvement over what he had going on originally.”

Hunched over and wheezing from laughter, Satoru slaps Suguru’s knee a few times. “Man, this guy’s reaction is a riot. He’s asking if you can turn it back.”

“Mm… yeah, I can probably revert the changes. I think I’ve got the hang of reconstructing this body now. But… really? Is he sure?” Shiki gestures towards the full length of her form, “At this point, I’m pretty sure my cursed technique is already carved into this body, with how much power I was throwing around while fighting Sukuna, so it’d be a bonus for him to just take over like this. Is it the face that he’s averse to? Does he want it to be prettier?”

Suguru covers his own face with his hands at the utter trainwreck of the twins’ particular brand of chaos, groaning. “… Shiki, no.”

“Shiki yes!” Satoru and Shiki chime immediately in perfect synchronicity, then burst out laughing together.

Suguru slowly shakes his head, fighting a helpless, reluctant smile.

#QA #zenith of stars au #Writing #twin swap au v2 #i skipped the entire battle with sukuna because [REDACTED] sorry #also we won't be talking about megumi #because in this case he's also [REDACTED]#ok back to working on the next chapter for zenith of stars now haha

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yukidragon · 3 months

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I'm a bit curious was it ever confirmed that Shaun and Ian interacted with one another or met before the eventual breakup between Ian and MC. If not what are some of your headcanons on this matter would they have gotten along at all?

Actually, yes, it has been confirmed that Shaun and Ian knew each other before Ian and MC broke up in this comic posted over on the official Sunny Day Jack twitter!

Credit as always to Sauce for their awesome artwork and for giving us this hilarious glimpse into college age Ian and Shaun. Consider supporting them and the rest of the SnaccPop Studios team by joining the patreon for even more lore tidbits I can't even mention publicly. Just remember, don't share anything privately posted!

While a lot of teaser/development art should be taken with a grain of salt, if it appears on one of the official pages, it's a pretty safe bet that it's canon to the timeline of the game.

So this comic, also drawn by the awesome Sauce, while hilarious, may or may not be canon.

I think it's a pretty safe bet to say that Ian did not pass Shaun's vibe check.

The first comic certainly makes it clear that Shaun didn't find Ian attractive considering the way he reacted. Maybe it's due to jealousy (I don't think Shaun wants to think about his crush having sex with someone else) or maybe it's because of Ian's bad taste in anime. Who can say?

Content Warnings: This post contains talk of cheating, jealousy, drinking in excess, (unintentional) self-harm, near death experience, SA, issues with sex, and toxic relationships.

I suspect that these two just didn't get along. Between Shaun suffering from jealousy due to his crush and the two of them having different tastes, they were probably only friendly to one another for MC's sake.

I would imagine that Shaun's opinion on Ian took an extreme nosedive when they found out Ian cheated on MC.

Man... can you imagine how much pain Shaun has been through? He had to watch his best friend/crush be happy with someone else... then get devastated by being cheated on. The worst part was if he had bad vibes from Ian from the start, but he ignored his gut feelings for MC's sake.

When it comes to my personal headcanons that I use for Sunshine in Hell... Shaun and Ian had friction since the first day Alice introduced the two of them.

It wasn't just Shaun being jealous of Ian either. Ian was jealous of Shaun too!

Ian has always suffered from a low sense of self-esteem. Shaun, by comparison, is much more well put together, more outgoing, and has this natural charisma that draws people to him. Shaun is just so likable that he gets a lot of attention and friends. For years, Ian was the exact opposite of that, which led to him being bullied and degraded often.

So one day Alice, his childhood friend and partner, is super excited to introduce Ian to her new friend. Shaun and Alice have a lot in common, and it was very visible in the early years of college when Alice was in the middle of her pastel goth phase. Shaun and Alice had a love for horror movies, cats, the goth aesthetic, and a whole bunch of other things. They clicked so quickly, and it scared Ian a little.

It didn't help that Alice had trouble making friends like Ian did. They had that in common, something that gave them a sort of understanding that no one else could intrude on. Now that they were in college they started making more friends, and that was a good thing, really! But Alice clicked with Shaun about as fast as she did with Ian.

In the 1st grade, one day Alice mustered up the courage to talk to Ian in order to cheer him up. After that they started talking every day and they were besties ever since. From there, they started dating. She's never really clicked with anyone else so fast like she did with Ian...

Until Shaun, that is.

Ian kept comparing himself to Shaun, unfavorably. He kept worrying about Alice falling for Shaun instead since, well, clearly Shaun had so much more than Ian had to offer. Why wouldn't she? What didn't help his insecurities was the fact that they had been a couple since high school, but they still hadn't had sex yet.

I integrated the comic into part of Alice and Ian's troubled sex life. The depicted instance was Ian's attempt at making things romantic so that they could finally go all the way.

It took them a while to start being sexually intimate due to their mutual lack of practical knowledge and Alice's SA trauma. She was very cuddly with Ian, not afraid to kiss him or go into a make out session, but she struggled to go further than that for a long time. It left Ian struggling with insecurities, fearing that he wasn't attractive to her despite her constantly reassuring him that wasn't the case.

Really, it was that insecurity and self-blame that pushed Alice to go further than she was ready for, to pretty painful results that she learned to just accept as part of the experience.

Alice is the type of person who can't be comfortable with people touching her unless she trusts them. However, when she gets close to someone, she can get pretty cuddly, even with her friends, giving them hugs often. So, for Ian, seeing his girlfriend get comfortable hugging another guy... someone he might have noticed looking at her a certain way...

Well, getting cockblocked on his rocky road to losing his virginity didn't help Ian see Shaun in a more favorable light.

Really, this was an incident that pushed Ian to be a bit more possessive of Alice. He was already struggling with the fact that his partner was sharing a dorm with someone else, but for Shaun to just casually walk into her bedroom like that without knocking? Ian certainly had permission to come in there without Alice knowing since he's her boyfriend, and he was planning to surprise her with a romantic evening, but how long had Shaun been just letting himself into her private space so casually?

Ian didn't believe that Alice was cheating on him, but what if Shaun decided to take advantage of her? What if this casual blurring of their living space led to feelings blooming?

What if Alice realized that Shaun was so much better than Ian in every way?

This led to Ian asking Alice to move into an apartment with him, even if it cost them money. He was able to feel more secure when they were living together, and he could be the one going into her bedroom at any hour of the day to be with her instead of someone else.

Shaun did try to befriend Ian, but it seemed like every time they hung out, something would rub him the wrong way. He did his best to be happy for Alice and Ian in their relationship, but it wasn't just Ian's shit taste in anime that struck Shaun as a red flag.

It didn't take Shaun long to notice a pattern in Ian and Alice's relationship. Ian would be down on himself, even cry and apologize for being inadequate, and Alice would reassure him. It seemed like every day, he saw this happen at least once. He tried reassuring Ian as well when he could, but after a while it gets tiring to try and lift someone up who keeps dragging himself down. Shaun would suggest Ian try therapy, and Ian would insist it wouldn't work, he was hopeless, and it wasn't worth wasting money on.

It was only when Alice showered Ian with love, and when their mutual friends bent backwards to cheer him up, that Ian would perk up again.

Shaun saw the red flags going up, how Ian was so needy for Alice and it was wearing on her. She went out of her way for Ian all the time, doing so much more because Ian "needed" her.

What made it worse was that Shaun saw how unbalanced their relationship was, how Alice gave Ian so much more than Ian gave back. Because Ian was so clingy, Alice had to often cancel meet ups with friends at the last minute, citing that he was having a bad day and needed her. Yet, on days when Alice was feeling like shit, she just kept powering through, pretending nothing was wrong. It took Shaun a lot of effort to pry her into leaning on him, and he'd even go out of his way to do stuff for her without her asking, like buying her lunch when she was so overworked she forgot to bring any.

Shaun worried for Alice because she was his friend, and she didn't deserve this sort of treatment. It was like she had become Ian's emotional crutch. Regardless of his attraction towards her, regardless if they could ever get together, he wanted her to be happy.

Shaun's opinion of Ian slowly deteriorated over time, but it turned into downright hate when Ian cheated on Alice, especially after she almost died because of it.

It was just a normal night when Shaun got a phone call from Ian. It was about Alice of course. It was the only reason Ian ever called Shaun - to check up on Alice. That night was different because Ian was in a panic. Alice wasn't picking up for him, which was unusual enough, but Ian was insistent that Shaun needed to check on her to make sure she was okay.

It was lucky that Shaun had the spare key to the apartment Alice and Ian shared. The sight of her lying unconscious in a pool of blood in the bathroom is a scar that'll forever be etched in his memory.

Shaun spent an entire night terrified, wondering what had happened. Did Alice try to kill herself? Why? She might have been missing Ian after he moved across the country, but she always reached out to Shaun and others when she wanted company. What happened that night? When he mentioned Alice's state to Ian, he just wailed that it was all his fault and Shaun couldn't reach Ian after that, as Ian was busy trying to book a flight back home to see her at the hospital.

Shaun had to be the one to call Alice's family too, but he had no answers to give them. The doctors would only let family or her legal partner see her for a while. It was only the next day that he learned that it was all because Ian had cheated on Alice, and she drank to dull the pain, only to hurt herself under the influence of alcohol poisoning.

Shaun could've kicked himself. He saw the problems in their relationship, but he didn't think it was his place to say anything. He worried his jealousy was coloring his perspective, seeing things too negatively. Now he wished he pushed harder like his gut told him, got Alice to see that the relationship was no good for her.

When Alice forgave Ian and tried to make it work, Shaun couldn't just sit back and let it happen.

So, yeah, Shaun's opinion of Ian in the present day is very negative. He views Ian as a toxic, manipulative, cheating scumbag who didn't deserve Alice. It was a relief when he managed to help Alice see that too so that she could finally end that toxic relationship. He was there for her so many nights when she cried over Ian and missed him. He saw the pain Ian put Alice through, and it just made his hatred of Ian grow.

Ian is grateful for Shaun being there to help Alice and even getting her to the hospital, but that doesn't get rid of his jealousy. Shaun and Alice are still talking even though she never picks up the phone for Ian anymore. He sees their exchanges online. They're still close. Shaun could one day sweep in and...

Ian can't let that happen. He can't let Shaun steal away the person who means so much to him. He can't let Alice just let him go like this. He just has to apologize to Alice, keep apologizing, and everything will be fine.

Sooooo... yeah, suffice to say, Ian and Shaun do not get along, and I doubt that they ever will... at least in my headcanons.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Sauce-y Art

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

Text

A Slytherin's Gryffindor

George Weasley x fem!Slytherin!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Draco being an asshole (he breaks up with the reader, makes crude/cruel jokes at George and her), physical violence, slight insinuations to smut

Author’s Note: HELLOO

If you remember this story you probably read Horrid Ex Boyfriends which I wrote in 2020 but I feel like I’ve grown a lot since then and wanted to take my hand at rewriting some old fics. I loved this one much more in its current form <;3

The original request: by anon, Hello love, your pinned post made me all fluffy inside: I’ve dreamed of this story for so long!! Could you do a Draco Malfoy’s Slytherin ex-girlfriend hating the Weasley twins but amidst the break up, finds herself drawn to George and falling for him? Just so you know, I even read the stories about fanbase I do not know because your writing is A+ !!! ❤️

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Draco gave you a look you didn’t recognize. You knew his face by now. You knew his expressions better. Dating the Slytherin heir came with its perks but it also came with its downsides, like having to know exactly what he was feeling for the sake of yourself and everyone around you.

But this look seemed unfamiliar. You sat together at the table in the Great Hall, across from Goyle and Crabbe. You didn’t particularly like either boy but you tolerated them for the sake of Draco.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, gently, trying to coax out some sort of emotion. His face wiped of any disdain.

“Nothing,” he snapped. You widened your eyes.

“Alright.” You cleared your throat, putting down your fork. “Do you want me to meet you after the Quidditch game tonight?”

“Don’t bother,” he said. “I have things to do.”

“Oh? What kind of things?” you asked, defensively.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“What is your problem Malfoy?” There was a loud bout of laughter coming from the Gryffindor table. Your eyes followed the noise, landing on the familiar group of redheads. George Weasley’s head was resting on the table. He was shaking from laughter. You found yourself longing to know what they were laughing at. They always seemed to be having more fun than you were.

“Damn Weasley’s think they’re the only people in the world,” Draco grumbled. “Don’t they know we can all hear them?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” you pointed out.

“We’ll talk later,” he promised, voice sneering. He reminded you of his father then. You had the displeasure of meeting Lucius on multiple occasions and the more you watched Draco grow the more he became like him. Was that his goal all along? Did he strive to be the heir his father wanted him to be? Or did he want to be his own person, more like his mother?

You got up from the table and grabbed your bag. If you could sit with the Gryffindors you would, if only to annoy your boyfriend. You left the Great Hall and Draco didn’t even bother to watch you go.

George did, only because you caught his eye. Dinner wasn’t even halfway over. You had a determined look on your face that intrigued him. No matter how much your boyfriend attempted to put the Weasley’s down, you never were able to join him. You usually stood, a bystander, which implicated you only in your silence.

George stood abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Fred questioned, still laughing about the tail end of some other joke.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, the light hearted smile never leaving his face. He rushed to the doors, suddenly eager to follow you.

The silence outside of the Great Hall was sometimes deafening. It always surprised you when the loud voices became muffled. You never felt more alone than when you were no longer part of Hogwarts student body. You were just a girl inside a large school, far too large for her own good.

It was easy to hear that someone had followed you. The door opened, creaking, and the voices were loud once more for just a moment. You leaned between some pillars, against a stained glass window. You should get your books for your next class. Forget Draco entirely, focus on the schoolwork you knew you had to get done.

You expected Draco to round the corner, a forgiving look on his face, knowing that you would mend things with him again. You were startled to see a gentle look and some red hair. You squinted, confused.

“Miss Slytherin, what on Earth are you doing out here?” he questioned. He crossed his arms. He wasn’t here for some other reason, he had followed you. You glanced behind him, attempting to find Fred. Surely they were here to tease you mercilessly, just as Draco would’ve done to them.

“Where’s your better half?” you asked, bitterly. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“He’s still eating, just as we both should be.”

“Who’s stopping you from going back?”

“A very solemn look on a very not solemn girl.” You hardened your face defensively. You looked down at your shoes, hoping not to reveal anything else to him.

“I’m fine. Just getting some air, Weasley, don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worried. I’m curious. There’s a large difference.” You found yourself grateful for his care. Draco should’ve been the one to follow you but he never would've been inquisitive on your feelings. He would’ve told you his, begged you to forgive him, promise it would never happen again.

“I’m fine,” you repeated but it sounded less true this time than it had the first time.

“I can sniff out liars. It’s a skill I have, courtesy of Ron being best friends with the boy who lived and such.” You eyed him, guarded. “Alright, well you can’t say I didn’t try.”

He started to back away.

“It’s Draco. Though I suppose that gives you satisfaction doesn’t it?”

“I can’t lie, it absolutely does.” He smiled slyly. “But you don’t deserve whatever that twat has dished out.” You looked back down at your shoes.

“Thank you Weasley,” you said, quietly, like saying it any louder would mean you’d have to confront the situation.

“Do you know which Weasley I am?” he questioned, hands in his pockets, a familiar trickster look on his face.

“George,” you said, without missing a beat. “I’m not stupid.” The smile he gave you was genuine. It felt like he had handed you a small promise, a gentle secret.

The doors to the Great Hall opened. Draco emerged, showing almost no reaction to you and George speaking. Almost. You knew his face and you knew the twitch in his lips and the anger boiling within his eyes.

“Get lost Weasley,” he said, enunciating clearly.

“Come to beg for forgiveness Malfoy?” George questioned.

“I don’t need to tell you twice,” Draco promised, walking between the two of you. George put his hands up in surrender.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys,” he joked. He sauntered away, throwing you a wink that only you caught. You tried not to smile. It wasn’t until he had returned to the Great Hall that Draco spoke.

“We need to break up,” he said, clearly. The smile on your face fell into despair. What had you done to warrant this? The question seemed to be painted all over your face because he answered without you saying anything verbally. “We don’t work anymore. It’s nothing you’ve done.”

Your face twisted.

“Clearly it is.”

“It’s not. There’s no need to be emotional about this, we both knew it was coming.” You wished you could disagree with him. But you could tell he was distancing himself for this moment. You just thought you could play this game a little bit longer.

“Alright,” you breathed. “Fine.”

Draco showed nothing on his face other than awkwardness. He shoved his hands into his pockets. How long had he been wanting to do this? You crossed your arms and turned away, walking farther away from the Hall and back to the dorms. You weren’t going to class this morning.

“You aren’t going to fight?” he questioned, annoyed.

“Why would I? Clearly you’ve given this a lot of thought. We’re better off without each other.” His jaw set. He wanted a spat. He wanted a fight. Draco and you did nothing better than fight. You two could fight like no one else, screaming, throwing things, kissing and making it all better.

You wanted to fight him. You knew how it would end. But you also knew you were better off without it this time.

“Fine,” he said. You were still walking away. Draco had been part of your identity here at Hogwarts. It would be an adjustment without him.

“Fine,” you repeated and rushed away, turning a corner so you could allow your emotions to flow.

The next morning you made it halfway to your potions class before giving up. Sitting in the hallway and fake studying seemed so much more appealing than sitting in a classroom with Snape and Draco. You had no energy to make your way to the common rooms or a library so you sat on the steps beside a window, a book in your lap that you weren’t reading.

You could hear footsteps making their way towards you and you quickly searched for some sort of excuse to be on stairs instead of in class. You were pleasantly surprised to not find a teacher when the footsteps emerged. Fred and George Weasley gave you curious looks.

“Oi! What are you doing over here?” Fred asked. He seemed a little annoyed that they had run into you. You couldn’t blame him. Draco was cruel to the Weasley family and you couldn’t say that you were any better. You at least, never stopped it.

“Just ignoring potions,” you said truthfully. You wiped your eyes, just in case any stray tears from your small homework crying session had lingered.

“What’s wrong?” George asked. He seemed genuine but you didn’t want to give him the immediate satisfaction that Draco had broken up with you.

“I want to apologize. For being so rude to the two of you, it isn’t something I pride myself on,” you said changing the subject. It had been itching at you since yesterday and you were happy to finally get it out.

“It’s alright,” George started.

“We rarely think such things personal,” Fred finished.

“I would personally blame the most of it on that horrid boyfriend of yours,” George said. You locked eyes with George. The sympathy on his face led you to believe he knew. He hadn’t been told. He had guessed.

“Well I suppose you won’t have to worry about him influencing me any longer,” you promised, voice hard. You attempted to ignore the emotions that came with speaking it out loud. He wasn’t worth the tears, you tried to tell yourself.

“He finally did himself in,” George observed.

“After I spoke with you yesterday,” you explained.

“Good to be rid of him then,” Fred said.

“You always did deserve better.”

“Truly so.”

All three of you heard footsteps coming down the hallway at the same time. A panicked look came across your face but they remained entirely calm. George grabbed the book off your lap and helped you up. You gazed at him, confused, as he led you to a hallway that hadn’t seemed to be there before. You gasped, looking around, somehow within the walls of Hogwarts.

“How did you know this was here?” you questioned in awe.

“Lucky guess,” George promised, hand still holding your arm. It was a tighter space than you had been in before. You heard whoever was walking go past. You remained where you were, looking up at him with curious eyes.

“This wasn’t a guess. What do you two know?”

“More than you,” Fred assured. You scoffed, though the laughter was pleasant. You moved away from George, leaning against the wall.

“You Gryffindors act like Slytherins are the sneaky ones,” you mused.

“To be fair, a Slytherin created the Chamber of Secrets didn’t he?” You shrugged at the observation.

“Alright Weasley’s let me out of the walls.”

It was unexpected, just how drawn you felt to the twins. Especially George. You had never bothered to give them the time of day when you were with Draco. George was easy going when you needed emotional attention. They were light hearted and funny. You needed light hearted and funny.

The Hogsmeade trip was the highlight of everyone’s month. Getting to leave the school was exciting, even if your school was a literal castle. You had always gone with Draco, even before the two of you dated. Still you forced yourself to get ready, bundle up into a scarf and hat, promising yourself a good time.

“Hey!” You turned to find George, a smile plastered on his face. He was cozied up for the cold as well, though he was without the twin that usually trailed behind him.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite Gryfindor,” you mused. “Where’s Fred?”

“Fred had to stay behind and make up a test for Snape. I offered to help him cheat but he’s already on the terribly bad side of that teacher and decided to fend for himself,” George explained.

“Well better that than to end up having detention for the next month.”

“Would you care to be my companion on this trip?” he asked, bowing dramatically and offering a hand. You laughed gently, shivering. It was starting to snow. You took his hand.

“My red knight,” you teased. He threw his arm around you. You tried not to lean into him, or feel anything at all. You had just broken up with Draco.

Well, Draco had just broken up with you.

“Honeydukes?” he asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You stopped in for some butter beer and walked around until you were too cold to be outside. By the time you entered Honeydukes you were full and George had a butterbeer foam mustache. You pointed at it, shivering from the new warmth of the shop.

“I’ve been trying to grow one,” he admitted, not wiping it away.

“It is a good look,” you admitted, laughing.

“You think so? Perhaps I could draw one on with some make-up pencils.”

“They’ve got to have some fake mustaches around here somewhere.” George gravitated towards the candles which had some prank ones mixed within them.

“Which should I bring back to Fred?” he questioned. “I was sorry he had to miss today.”

“One of those,” you said, pointing at the ones that explode when you light them. “He’d love that.”

“You’re absolutely right Miss Slytherin. I’m glad you’ve got to come along with me.”

“Me too,” you said earnestly. You couldn’t remember the last time you had so much fun at Hogsmeade. Your smile lingered more now. George could almost swear you were glowing. It made him want to take you aside, keep you to himself. He refrained and offered you a candle to smell. You leaned in, a serene look going over your face as you breathed in. You made a twisted face.

“What is that one?” “Firewood.”

“That’s an awful candle!”

You were laughing when Draco saw you. It was odd, going to Hogsmeade without you. He found himself unable to figure out what he wanted to do. Usually you dragged him around the shops and he ended up buying something you didn’t need.

Seeing you so happy made his stomach churn. With a Weasley no less. He had thought you would still be heartbroken. He would be lying if he still wasn’t a tad torn up himself. But you looked immensely unaffected by the lack of him around.

You looked happier.

“Goyle, go see what they’re getting,” Draco spat. His friend nodded, eyeing him suspiciously before slinking through the crowd of people.

“Smell this one,” you said, offering another disgusting one. “You should get this one for Fred, if you’re going to get him the chocolate frog like a good brother. It’s only…” you trailed off, feeling Draco’s gaze. You caught his eye. At the same time George saw Goyle, coming to do Malfoy’s dirty work.

“Oh bloody hell,” George muttered. He gave you the things he was holding and turned to Goyle who looked like a deer caught in headlights. George grabbed him by the scarf, dragging him over to Draco.

Draco had never noticed how tall George Weasley was.

“Made your minion come and do your dirty work, did you?” George questioned. You rushed forward, leaving your things on the table where you were at.

“What’s your end goal here Weasley? Have you gotten into her pants yet?” Draco questioned, voice like venom. George shoved Goyle at Draco, almost causing both of them to fall over.

“Listen here Malfoy-”

“George he isn’t worth it,” you promised, grabbing his shoulder.

“Oh no, let him speak.” Draco stepped up, sizing up the twin. “What, did she call my name instead of yours?” There was nothing you could have done to stop George. He was already throwing the punch before you could even register Draco’s words.

Draco staggered, hand up to his nose.

“Watch your tongue Malfoy,” George seethed. You had never seen him so worked up before. You weren’t even sure he knew how to get angry, let alone through a punch as good as that one. Draco’s nose was bleeding, dripping down his chin. Goyle turned to his friend, eyes wide in shock. Hexes were one thing. An actual assault was something completely different.

“George come on,” you hissed, pulling him away. This time George listened, allowing you to drag him out of the shop. You didn’t speak until you had left the scene completely, landing on one of the hills just outside of Hogsmead. The snow had piled up. You could see the footsteps you took here.

George had calmed down, the red almost completely gone from his face.

“God George,” you hissed, grabbing his wrist. You looked at his knuckles, now slightly bruised from the impact on Draco’s face.

“I don’t regret it,” he promised. His general joy was back.

“Why are you being so nice to me? After all Draco and I put you through, I didn’t deserve that,” you questioned.

“Fred and I agree, it was always more Malfoy than you.” He paused, gazing down at you. “And I always did think you deserved better than him.” His voice was quieter now.

“Like who?” you asked before you could even process his words. “You?” You meant for it to come out like a joke but your tone was too soft to have it be read as one. There was a moment of silence. You smiled at his stunned face. You had caught him off guard and he wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Well yes. I suppose,” George said finally. You smiled. You could feel the cold on your face, making your movement slower than usual but the joy was there either way.

“Good then.”

“Good?” he asked. You were still holding his wrist, so close to his hand.

“We’re in agreement.” He scoffed.

“Agreement then.”

“Yes. Agreement.”

“Love, I’m going to kiss you now.” The words sent shivers down your spine.

“Alright,” you breathed. His lips were warmer than yours. He didn’t allow you to get away with just a peck. He said he would kiss you and he meant it. You were smiling against the kiss, too stunned to do much else than kiss him back.

When you pulled away you noticed one of his hands were on your side and he had started to hold the one that was once holding his wrist. You could see your breath in the cold but you could see him more clearly.

“Let’s go back to the school and get a bandage for your hand,” you said quietly. He nodded, keeping your hands intertwined.

“Just a moment.” He took off his scarf, the red and gold one that signified his house colors. He took off yours, the Slytherin green and black. He wrapped his own scarf around your neck and you watched him with wonderstruck eyes. The scarf smelled like him. It was warm with his body heat. He lazily put yours over his neck. “Alright we can go now.”

Fred was in the Gryffindor common room when you got back. The school was empty, sans the portraits, ghosts and a few stragglers. Everyone was still going about enjoying their day outside of the grounds.

“What did you bring me?” Fred questioned, standing up from the couch beside the fire. You had started to shed your layers, taking off your gloves and hat. “You have a severe case of hat hair Slytherin,” he noted.

“George punched Draco in the face,” you explained brightly.

“Good for him.” He patted George on the back. “He had it coming.”

“So we had to run away,” you explained. “Hence, the empty hands.” Fred rolled his eyes.

“You could have stolen something but alas.” George gave his twin a gaze that caused Fred to pause. There was a beat of silence. “I think I left something in the dorms...” he said, slowly, eyes squinted.

“Yes that sounds right.”

Fred backed away, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Faster Fred,” you said, smiling. You couldn’t remember the last time you had smiled this much. He took the hint and scurried up the stairs. George sat in front of the fire. You looked around for some bandages, finding a familiar box of supplies that you had in the Slytherin common room. You sat beside him, helping him take off his large jacket.

“You can help take off the rest of my clothing if you would like Slytherin.” You flushed, unable to meet his eyes.

“I’d like to wrap up your hand first.”

“First implies a second thing,” he mused.

“Yes, yes it does.” You finally looked up at his face. He was gazing at you with a look Draco had never even understood. George’s eyes had softened, the lines on the side of his face turned downward. His lips were parted expectantly. “Thank you for today,” you whispered.

“I’d like to do it again, if you’re up for it.”

“Punching Draco or kissing me?”

“Honestly I wouldn’t mind doing both again. But I was talking about the kissing thing.” You giggled. You actually giggled.

“I already promised that. Don’t be so eager George.”

“I will be as eager as I want to.”

You gently joked at each other as you wrapped up his knuckles, getting warmer by the fire. He played with his scarf around your neck. He distracted you by trailing his fingers across your jaw. He promised to memorize your face.

You promised to memorize his.

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