#I’m trying so hard to like April you don’t understand | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

godslino · 26 days

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IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched.

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.”

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.”

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find.

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful.

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.”

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.”

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs.

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.”

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong.

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.”

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.”

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.

“But I can’t.” you choked.

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend.

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?”

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.”

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.”

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?”

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?”

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater.

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it.

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view.

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything.

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused.

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away.

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes.

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?”

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!”

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?”

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him.

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.”

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays.

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face.

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics.

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?”

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home.

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true.

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles.

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him.

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip.

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet.

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no– I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you.” you say first this time.

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless.

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs.

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?”

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks.

You nod, slowly.

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.”

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock.

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded.

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle.

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving.

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks.

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say.

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.”

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place.

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

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aealzx · 8 months

Text

Don had been quick to rush out of the plane to get the infirmary ready, but Leo found it was hard for him to put too much urgency into his movements. Twice now Donnie had reacted better to slow, careful motions than abrupt ones. So Leo found he was continuing to be a lot more gentle and careful than strictly necessary when picking him up. He was completely limp, even after having had two and a half hours of sleep. But at least a little bit of color had returned to his skin now. At least Leo thought he looked a little less pale. When both teens were asleep Don had shown Raphael and Leo the video of what Augustine had ordered to be done, and through it they had learned the assistants had taken nearly a liter of blood from Donnie, along with cutting tissue samples from him. It had been enough to get Raphael rapidly walking the length of the plane several times to calm down, and gave Don more of an idea on how to take care of Donnie. Leo just understood a little more why Donnie had reacted defensively towards him, and hoped the teen didn’t wake up in the middle of them treating him.

“Thank April,” Leo found himself saying distractedly to Mom April as she welcomed them home. It was always nice to get a hug from her, but Leo found he was too anxious to stick around and fully catch them up on everything. “I’m okay, can we talk later? Maybe over dinner? You guys might be able to meet the kids then too.”

“...Sure thing, Leo,” Mom April relented, noting how absent he seemed and not wanting to stress him out more. He always had been the one to worry a lot. Even when they were kids.

Leaving them with Mikey, Leo moved quickly to the infirmary to find Raphael sitting near the surgery table with Lil Mikey in his lap, and Don scurrying around the room to gather the supplies he needed. “Over there, Leo,” Don directed, pointing to one of the beds he’d already started gathering items next to. Obediently following the directions, Leo gingerly lowered Donnie to the soft mattress, silently praying that he didn’t wake up just yet. At least they were all breathing better after each getting at least one dose of the antidote. Leo could only wait patiently for Don to finally stop at the bedside, slipping his tactical sleeves off in the meantime, and by then Raphael had managed to convince Lil Mikey to accept treatment and was casually chatting away with him.

“Okay, I think I got everything. Can you support him so his back is to me? I need to figure out how to get that device off,” Don directed, sounding just slightly breathless. Wordlessly doing as he was directed once again, Leo pulled Donnie upright to lean forward against him, looking over the metal backpack from his angle as well to try and help Don figure out how to safely remove it.

“Hey!” Lil Mikey’s voice suddenly grabbed their attention while Don was running his fingers over the cool metal. “Don’t take that off! He needs it!”

The scolding caused Don to flinch, and turn to look over at the other table. “...Needs it as in it’s physically attached to him and offering some sort of life supporting function?” he asked, wanting clarification on what exactly Lil Mikey meant so he could judge if he actually needed to obey his demand, or explain that it was necessary to remove it. He didn’t want to ignore Lil Mikey’s concerns, but he wasn’t sure if they would hinder treatment for Donnie despite being in good will.

“N-no… Nothing like that. It’s just… it’s not safe for him to have it off. Especially when away from home,” Lil Mikey faltered, having not thought his choice of words would make the others think Donnie was some sort of cyborg.

“...Mikey, it’s okay. You’re both safe here,” Raphael assured, reaching out to rest his palm on Lil Mikey’s shoulder.

“Even if it’s a prosthetic, it’s not safe to wear one while sleeping. And I need to check him for injuries. We saw evidence that Augustine’s people may have done something to his back…,” Don explained gently, understanding that Lil Mikey was still wary despite everything that had happened. He couldn’t expect the teens to trust them fully just yet.

It seemed that mentioning that something may have happened to Donnie’s back was enough to get Lil Mikey to completely flip his stance, sucking in a tense breath and wiggling his feet as he considered. “...There’s a button on the inside of the right shoulder,” he relented, frowning miserably. “Just make sure to be super extra careful, okay?”

“We’ll be extremely careful. Don’t worry,” Don assured, grateful for the tip on where to find the trigger to release the device. Once he knew where to look Don quickly found the button and pressed it, marveling as the shoulder pieces flexed outward with a slight hiss, and the belt went slack. “Fascinating…” he breathed, earning a chuckle from Leo as he hefted the metal aside, distracted by trying to get a quick analysis of it while he moved it away..

As Don took the equipment a short ways away, Leo adjusted his grip to keep Donnie supported against him, resting his hands on the teen’s back. But what he felt caused him to stiffen in shock, suddenly afraid to move. His fingers were able to push into what should have been a hard keratin shell, and when his gaze snapped down he saw a significantly flatter shell with four jagged marks across the surface. “....Donnie get back here now,” Leo blurted rapidly, flexing his fingers just slightly to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“What is it- Oh!” Don rushed, semi dropping the backpack device the rest of the way to the floor and rushing back over to them. What he saw caused him to freeze as well, but then he gingerly reached out his fingers to brush against Donnie’s back. “...Oh wow…”

“It’s soft right? What does that mean? Is that bad? Shells aren’t supposed to be soft,” Leo rambled, his concern overflowing and pushing his bubbling thoughts to words before he could fully consider them. What had Augustine’s people done? Was it shell rot? Was it some crazy experimental garbage Augustine had infected him with?

“He’s a softshell you idiots. Stop manhandling him!” Lil Mikey blurted irritably, offended on behalf of his brother for the other two curiously running their hands all over his back. “So rude,” he huffed, creating small chains to wrap around Don’s wrists and pull them away.

“Sorry!” Don gasped, snatching his hands back as the orange chains broke him from his stupor, and not minding Lil Mikey scolding him. “Sorry- Let me just… do some quick research- I thought you were both box turtles like us…,” he rambled, pulling his phone out to access the internet.

“Ohmigosh- He’s not an alien. Just treat him like me, but be extra careful, and make sure you clean your hands and everything you use. Leo- my brother says he’s prone to infections. He’s always using antibiotic stuff on him and making sure he gets washed up properly for even small cuts. Otherwise he does everything else pretty much the same,” Lil Mikey huffed again, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

The interaction caused Raphael to snicker despite the situation. He didn’t want to admit he was curious to head over and take a peek for himself, but he figured Lil Mikey would probably throw him across the room with his chains if he did. So he decidedly remained where he was and continued to be amused from afar.

Don listened to what Mikey said, but also sped read through a few sites and different search parameters before he grew more relaxed and sure of his thoughts. “Infection… right, that would explain the fever,” he spoke, mostly to himself, then nodded firmly. “Okay. I got this. Leo, go ahead and lay him back down, then get some water and antibacterial soap. They both need to be cleaned up, and I’ll check the incision sites…”

Leo wasn’t quite as sure of himself as Don was, but at least he had directions now. What Don said made sense to him. If Donnie got infections easily then getting him cleaned up from the grim on him was a priority. Resting him back on the bed, Leo darted off to fetch a soft rag, soap, and water so he could wash off the debris from Augustine’s facility. Don had returned to his focused state after he started peeling the bandaids off, carefully inspecting each injury as he did so. He could at least count it a small blessing that Augustine had apparently ordered only the smallest possible samples be taken. The cuts were only 15 millimeters wide, and less than a millimeter thick. But it looked like they were pretty deep, and Don gingerly cleaned each wound again before rubbing antibiotic ointment on them and getting them covered again.

It didn’t take long before Don had finished addressing the injuries, started an IV with a small amount of antibiotics added to it, and strapped a heart monitor to Donnie’s finger just in case. When he began pulling a blanket over Donnie and tucking him in, Leo knew the treatment was done for now, and asked what he’d been wondering for a while now. “Is he going to be okay?”

Don paused for a second to think, but nevertheless nodded. “I think so. Aside from the bloodloss there isn’t anything incredibly concerning. I think he’s just incredibly exhausted, and that’s why he hasn’t woken up yet. We’ll need to keep an eye on him of course, but at this point I think it’s safe to just let him sleep. The IV fluids will help until his body restores the blood he lost, and we’ll need to get him a good meal when he’s up. But he’ll be fine.”

The explanation, and plans for what to do later, earned a sigh of relief from Leo. It could have been much, much worse. He was glad that, aside from Lil Mikey’s gunshot wound, nothing seemed to be critically serious. “I’ll go check what Mikey is cooking then. And let Master Splinter know we’re all home safe, in case he’s still up.”

“You know he is,” Don gave a small grin, and slight shake of his head.

Leo just laughed quietly, rising to his feet to head to the exit. “Yeah, I know.”

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the fun thing about adding drawings to these is that I can throw in random lil details without derailing the story X'D

Also after seeing some of the comments, don't worry, they're all gonna be fine. I don't believe in hurt without comfort =3= Donnie is just taking an extreme nap to process all the overstimulation and stuff.

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #rise + 2003 crossover #cross dimension kidnapping #writing #long post #lookit these dummies being confused about a softshell #medical treament #description of injury

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rinwritesfics · 1 month

Text

Rather Be Hurt Than Be Okay

Plot: Echo gives you an item and you blurt out your feelings for him.

Warnings: some swearing

Word Count: 1063

Author’s Note: This is for @manofworm, for @cloneficgiftexchange’s April 2024 Bad Batch exchange! Thank you for hosting, @ghostofskywalker! I had fun exploring what this prompt could be, and I really hope you like it!

Prompt: “I’d rather be hurt and be with you than be okay without you” || “This isn’t just a(n) [object], it’s a promise”: GN!Reader

Having travelled with the boys for a while, you were pretty familiar with each one’s particular mannerisms. Hunter got quiet when in thought, whereas Tech continued to talk out a problem most of the time. Wrecker was a gentle man who would do everything he could until he decided to step in and protect his family with his strength. Omega was curious, intuitive, and determined, always searching for ways to help. From what you remember about Crosshair, he was silent and observant like a cat until he pounced.

And then, there was Echo.

Echo… you could talk about him for hours. His determination to find justice. His desire to do the right thing. How he wanted to pay forward the kindness shown to him.

You had seen him trying to hide his phantom pains and his nightmares, and it took him a long time to warm up to letting you help. The strength inside him also doubled as his stubbornness, but you were determined. And he had finally let you in.

That was where the problem began.

You fell for him – hard.

His tendency to be vulnerable with you, to be near you and gently nudge you in the direction you needed if you got stuck, or to balance you out when something was bothering you.

But you weren’t going to tell him that. You felt he didn’t need that added stress, so you began to pull back a bit. And he either didn’t notice, or he let you do your thing. You weren’t certain which one was better in this case.

Now, something else going on. It bothered you.

The Marauder had just landed on Ord Mantell and were accepting a new mission.

But, you had noticed that despite your little bit of space between you and Echo, Echo had been acting a bit… off all day. It wasn’t like he was avoiding you, he was just not spending as much time talking or working around you as he usually did, withholding a bit of himself. It was very unusual. So obviously, something was on his mind.

You vowed to find out what it was.

After the briefing, you planned to talk to him, but he found you first and pulled you aside to a back corner of Cid’s bar. You felt both a thrill at being alone with him in the darker area, and nervousness at what he was up to. You both sat down, and you silently admire his facial features in the dim blue light from the bar.

“Echo, what’s going on?” you asked softly, glancing around to see if anyone else was watching you. No one was.

“I have something for you,” he said quietly, and curiosity bloomed in your chest. Echo held out a small cylindrical item that would fit in the palm of your hand, but you didn’t take it.

“This is a commlink, Echo,” you say quietly, raising an eyebrow.

“This isn’t just a commlink, it’s a promise. I’ll see you again.” Echo tried to hand you the device again, but you moved away slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’re heading out shortly.”

A scoff leaves your mouth. “And I’m supposed to be coming with you.”

He shook his head. “Not this time.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach soured, causing your brow to furrow and your lips to purse. You moved to stand up. “You’re leaving me behind?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Echo’s hand set the commlink on the table, then touched your forearm. You stopped just enough to listen. “You will only end up getting hurt if you come with us.”

“That’s bullshit! I’d rather be hurt and be with you than be okay without you! Don’t you understand that by now?!” you yelled, then clapped a hand over your mouth.

“What do you mean by that?” he whispered, his eyes widening in surprise, but his grip tightening a bit.

“I….” you trailed off, then sighed and looked away, sitting down again. He let go of your arm, then moved his hand to your face. His forefinger curled under your chin and he placed his thumb under your lip, gently guiding your face to look at him again. Your heart began to race, warmth flooding your cheeks at his touch. His gloves were a bit rough, but his touch was so gentle.

“Please tell me,” he said, his voice quiet. His eyes scanned your face, eyebrows upturning. Was it concern? Was it hope?

“What is it you hope to hear?” you whispered.

“What is it you want to say?” he whispered back.

Your breath hitched, gaze flickering to his lips. A small smile grew as you watched and your gaze went back to his eyes. His touch on your chin didn’t falter and relief flooded your body.

“You want this as much as I do,” you say softly, a smile growing on your lips, too.

“I do. And it would kill me if you got hurt coming along with us.”

“And it would kill me to not be with you. I want to be with you, Echo. I didn’t stay behind when the squad went AWOL by leaving Kamino, I will not stay behind now.”

His lips parted, and then he smiled again. “I want to be with you, too.”

“Then don’t ask me to leave you.”

Your fingers slipped into the gaps between his armor pieces and you pulled him closer. His eyes widened slightly, then relaxed to match the sly look in his smile. Your left hand gently touched his prosthetic arm, then you slid your fingers down to his scomplink. His breath hitched as you gently brought his arm around the middle of your back.

“I’m staying, Echo. For better or worse.”

He chuckled. “I’ve heard that phrase before.”

You grin. “It’s a little early to get to that level, but I wouldn’t mind it with you.”

He breathed in sharply. “Really?”

“Really.”

He grinned back and leaned forward a little. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while, now. May I?”

You leaned in, too. “I would love that.”

As your lips met and your eyes closed, you hear a whoop from across the room. Whomever it was could wait. You had been waiting on this for too long. And it seemed like Echo agreed as his lips moved softly over yours.

Taglist (open!): @trixie2023

#tbb echo #tbb echo x reader #TBBE24 #the bad batch echo #rin writes things

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auras-moonstone · 8 months

Text

high infidelity — ethan landry

word count: 1,910

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: y/n and chad are in a dying relationship and ethan brings y/n back to life.

warnings: cheating (try not to do that!). fluff (might be a bit cringey??). sexual tension.

author’s note: i’m sorry if this isn’t super great, but my inspiration left the chat this week and college has been super hard too :(

EVER SINCE LIV’S DEATH, CHAD HAD CLUNG ONTO Y/N AS IF SHE WAS THE LIFEBUOY THAT KEPT HIM FROM DROWNING. At first, she was thrilled because she had had a crush on him for way too long. But eventually, he started healing and slowly began to pull away from her, yet not quite letting go. It was a miserable place to be for Y/N, and she was left trying to hold onto the remaining pieces of the relationship that meant a lot to her.

Chad was the first person Y/N had ever loved, and she really thought it was going to last forever. Looking now, she cursed herself for being such a hopeless romantic and creating too much expectations for a teenage relationship, especially for being her first one. Hell, she had even followed Chad all the way to New York.

As soon as they stepped foot in the city, Y/N panicked. A new reason not to break up with him just entered the list—if she did, she would be alone, in an unknown city where she didn’t have anyone but him. Because that was the truth, while she really liked Mindy, Sam and Tara, they weren’t her family as much as they were Chad’s.

They included her in their plans, but that didn’t mean she felt part of the group. She would’ve felt really lonely if it weren’t for Ethan Landry, her boyfriend’s roommate, who understood her silences like no one else and made her days lit up with just the sight of his smile. Two introverted loners who found a safe place in the other.

Y/N’s name had been engraved on Ethan’s heart since the very first day he saw her. He was disappointed to find out her heart belonged to his roommate, but it didn’t take him long to realize that maybe that wasn’t quite true—yes, Chad held her heart, but it didn’t belong to him. It was obvious Chad didn’t love her enough, and it was slowly killing her.

It boiled Ethan’s blood. Chad didn’t realize he was lucky enough to have the most amazing girl in his arms and he had been taking her for granted and neglecting her. And Y/N didn’t realize Ethan was there, willing to lover her with all his heart and show her the appreciation she deserved, and instead she was dancing around the truth of her dying relationship. Why couldn’t she see him?

Yet everything changed on April 29th. As almost every Friday, Chad had dragged her girlfriend and best friend to a frat party despite their countless complaints.

“Chad, you know I don’t feel comfortable at these parties. It’s not my scenery. I can’t stand crowded places and loud music” Y/N continued to fight her case.

“Stop complaining for one day” Chad groaned. “Don’t be boring, it’s just for a couple of hours and I’ll be right there with you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, she wanted to yell so many truths. It made her a bit annoyed that Chad couldn’t understand she wasn’t being “boring”, she genuinely felt anxious and suffocated. She didn’t even understand why Chad wanted her there, considering that within the first five minutes he would leave her alone to talk to some frat boys or to get wasted.

“Hey, it’s fine. If you really can’t stand it, we’ll leave” Ethan said in a low voice, squeezing her shoulder in reassurance.

“Okay” she nodded, her body relaxing a bit. Why couldn’t Chad be more understanding?

CHAD DIDN’T EVEN WAIT FOR Y/N TO ENTER THE HOUSE BEFORE HE LOST HIMSELF IN THE CROWD OF PISSED PEOPLE. Once again, Y/N was left behind by him and if it weren’t for Ethan, she would have been completely alone in an unsettling place.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked, noticing her tense shoulders.

“Just want the night to be over” she sighed. “I’m going to get a drink, you want one?”

“Sure” the boy nodded.

Pushing and shoving, she managed to get to the table filled with drinks. Knowing Ethan wasn’t really a huge fan of alcohol, she chose the less strong drinks. She turned around, cups in hand, ready to go back to Ethan when she slammed into a hard chest.

“Hey, gorgeous” a tall guy she didn’t know spoke. The strong scent of vodka invaded her nose and she couldn’t help but scrunch her nose in disgust.

“Um, hi. Could you move, please?” she asked politely.

“Dance with me” it wasn’t a question, more like a command.

She scoffed “Go bother someone else”

“Playing hard to get? I like it” he smirked, grabbing her waist. She tried to step back, not being able to do anything with her occupied hands, but the guy wouldn’t let her.

“Let me go” she glared up at him.

Before the unknown guy could respond, she was pulled away from him and new hands gripped her hips. This time, she leaned into the touch, recognising the strong male cologne coming from behind her. The protective and strong grip made her feel relaxed and secured, the way she always felt when he was around.

“Are you deaf? Back away from her” Ethan’s tone was new to her ears. It was confident, threatening and harsh. This side of Ethan was hot, and Y/N’s body grew warm.

“Sorry, didn’t know she had a boyfriend” the guy stepped back.

“Doesn’t matter if she has a boyfriend or not, she said no, so you walk away and leave her alone, got it?” Ethan spoke between his teeth. Once the guy left, his soft demeanour came back, but Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the way he had acted a few seconds ago. “Did he hurt you?”

Y/N shook her head, staring at him intensely. “Thank you” she said in a low tone. The lust she was feeling clouded all her senses, and it was hard to do anything but stare at him.

Her eyes spelled desire, and while Ethan could sometimes be oblivious, he was definitely not stupid. “You can’t look at me like that” his tone was a bit shaky.

“You are looking at me the same way, Ethan. That’s kinda hypocritical” she said, not taking her eyes off him as she took a sip from her drink.

He clenched his jaw and backed her into a corner. Her back collided harshly against the wall but that’s not why she gasped. One of Ethan’s thighs sneaked between hers, applying a bit of pressure to her heat. And if she hadn’t been aroused before, she definitely was now.

“You look so fucking hot tonight” he used that tone she recently discovered and was already a fan of.

Her hands gripped his biceps and her doe eyes almost made him collapse to the ground. Her look was one of need, but they also held sweetness and adoration and Ethan swore it was his downfall.

“Ethan” she said his name unlike ever before. She wasn’t just calling him, it was the recognition of something she had known for a while and was finally ready to admit.

“Yes?” he said hopeful. Their lips were close, yet not daring to touch. The desire was so strong that the gravity was becoming too much.

They were on a treacherous slope, and the smart thing would be to walk away but it felt like they were standing on quicksand. And while the path they were about to began was reckless, they knew it was worth it.

“I like you” she finally said.

The party and the people went out of focus in that moment. Ethan had dreamed about those words coming out of her mouth for so many months that finally hearing them in real life almost made him cry. He couldn’t help it, and before he realized what he was doing his lips captured hers.

It was like her heart started again, as if that kiss brought her back to life. Feelings Y/N thought were buried after her failed relationship with Chad had been slowly starting to make their way towards the surface once she began to spend time with Ethan. And now, right there in the dimly lit room, with music so loud it caused a migraine, and his body pressed against hers, they had finally reached the surface.

IN THE MORNING, Y/N WOKE UP WITH THE WEIGHT OF ETHAN’S BODY OVER HER. It took a few seconds for the memories to sink in, but once they did, her face broke into a smile. She looked down and had to fight the urge to grab her phone and take a picture—the boy had his face hidden on the crook of her neck as he breathed peacefully, his unfairly long eyelashes tickling her skin and his strong arm around her bare stomach. How could someone be that beautiful? Ethan was mesmerising and breathtaking, a literal angel.

He woke up a few minutes later, and his confused face was probably the cutest thing Y/N had ever witnessed. And then, when he caught sight of her, his entire being lit up and constellations appeared in his eyes.

“So it wasn’t a dream” he spoke with a raspy voice.

Y/N threw her head back laughing “Hi, you look really cute in the morning. I could get used to it.”

“I would love to get up like this every morning” he said with a lovey smile, “Though maybe we should talk about what we are going to do.”

Y/N nodded “Yeah. Well, I know I’m going to break up with Chad. But should I tell him about this… us?”

“He’s going to be furious, things are going to get awkward, and he’s probably going to hate us… but lying would be worse.” Ethan said, and she hummed in agreement. “Do you think I should be there? When you tell him, I mean.”

She thought about it for a second and then shook her head “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That might be too overwhelming for him”

Ethan nodded and silence filled the room for a few minutes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course” she relied softly.

“Are you sure about me? I mean, I’m not some kind of getaway car, am I?” Ethan asked, the insecurity in his voice broke Y/N’s heart.

“Eth, no. Absolutely not” she sat up, face expression as serious as her voice. “You know, before I met you, I thought I was in love with Chad. And then you came and made me feel at home, protected, at peace and you made me realize that while I do hold love for Chad, I’m not in love with him.”

“And… are you in love with me?” he asked unsure.

Y/N smiled and peck his lips. “I’m so in love with you that every time you’re around my chest feels like exploding”

Ethan finally smiled and pulled her to his bare chest so she could feel his heartbeats. “I’m in love with you, too, as you can tell. To be honest, I’ve known it since the first time I met you.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait for so long. If I hadn’t been so scared, maybe I would’ve realized it sooner. It was kinda obvious, though. You have become my happy place.”

“You say the sweetest things, you’re going to melt my heart, love” Ethan said, looking at her completely enamoured.

“I feel like I should warn you—I’m the clingiest, most cheesy and affectionate girl in the world.”

“Warnings taken, I’m still staying.”

“Are you sure? You still have the opportunity to ran away” she said with a teasing smirk.

“Why would I ran away from my happy place?”

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sattlersquarry · 1 year

Text

forget-me-not (steve harrington x gn!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4) Steve Harrington broke your heart almost a year ago. You think it's only right to still hold a grudge, despite how good he seems.

Word Count: ~5.9k

Warnings: Language, alcohol, sex is mentioned and alluded to but not described, angst with a happy ending, this was originally inspired by Little Freak by Harry Styles but it got away from me and now it's a different beast entirely.

A/N: There are a lot of lovely fics out there where y/n gets stood up for a date and best friend Steve comforts them, but I'm evil, so in this one, Steve is the stander-upper 😈

April, 1986

Hawkins is in shambles.

The earthquake ravaged the town, and now ash spews out of large cracks in the ground every few days. The military attempts to contain the strange, almost reptilian animals in the forests, but there are too many to keep up with, and all citizens are encouraged to be in their homes by 6 p.m.

You don’t fully understand how it went down, how the sweet, small town you grew up in became such a nightmare.

You’ve been spending your time volunteering with the relief effort. In doing so, you’ve gotten closer to people you’ve tangentially known all your life but never gotten to know that well. You’re also forced to spend time with people you’d never wanted to see again.

One such person is Steve Harrington: former playboy turned into…you aren’t really sure yet. Despite your grudge, he’s better. Kinder. Softer around the edges than he was during your school days. During the days he broke your heart.

Perhaps that’s melodramatic. You hooked up once last summer, and then he stood you up for an Enzo’s date. You aren’t even sure he remembers doing it, but as you stand side-by-side folding donated clothes, the memory sears through your brain.

Summer, 1985

You try to contain your excitement as you enter Enzo’s. You’ve been on plenty of dates to cheap diners and movies, but this is your first real, official, proper “adult” date.

So what if you’re doing things out of order? Sure, you’ve already slept with Steve. The two of you both worked at Starcourt before it burned down, and you spent all of June flirting on your breaks. You’d visit him at Scoops Ahoy, he’d visit you at Waldenbooks. He’d walk you to your car the nights you both closed, promising to provide free ice cream for you tomorrow.

After a particularly hard day and long shift, you’re easily enticed when Steve asks if you want to come over.

“For pizza,” he says. “And a movie.”

So you eat pizza, and watch a movie, and then you kiss him a little, and then he kisses you a lot, and the next thing you know, the two of you are in his bed.

It isn’t the awkward one-night stand you’re afraid it will be. On the contrary, Steve is genuine and sincere the morning after.

“I really like you,” he says. He brushes a hair out of your face as you lay side-by-side, curled up under the covers. “I want to take you out.”

“To dinner?”

“No, with a sniper,” he says with a snort. “Yes, to dinner!”

So you agree to go to Enzo’s the following Friday night.

After the mall fire, Steve calls and asks to postpone a couple weeks.

“I’m just in a weird place right now,” he says. His voice is a little hoarse.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concern etched in your tone. “Do you need anything?”

“No, no! I just—listen, can we meet up in two weeks instead?”

You assure him that’s fine, and you spend the next two weeks preparing for the date. Your friends help you pick an outfit. You decide what you’re going to order ahead of time. You even pick a perfume that’s strawberry scented, since you know that’s Steve’s favorite ice cream flavor.

The day of the date, the Enzo’s host leads you to the table Steve reserved. You wait, and wait, and wait, and after thirty-five minutes, the waiter comes around for the fourth time to ask if you’re ready to order.

“My date’s running a little late,” you say. Panic nests in the back of your mind, but you push it down. “Can I have a few more minutes?”

“You must order something to keep the table,” the waiter says snidely.

“Oh, right, sorry,” you say, snatching up your menu. “Um, can I just have two of the house special?”

The waiter gives you a prim nod and retreats.

You beeline to the slew of payphones, hands shaking as you dial Steve’s number. You get his voicemail.

“Hey, Steve,” you say, trying to keep your voice upbeat. “It’s me. Y/N. Um, I’m at Enzo’s and I’m waiting for you. Our table’s in the back, near the potted plants? I hope you don’t mind, I ordered for you. The waiter was about to blow a gasket. Anyway, I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You return to your table. And wait. And wait. And wait.

The waiter brings you two plates of chicken parmesan. You eat yours and wait. Then, you eat Steve’s, and you wait some more.

90 minutes after your arrival at the restaurant, you head to the payphones again. You suck in a shuddery breath and try to keep from tearing up as your fingers fumble over Steve’s number. Voicemail, again.

“Steve, me again. Are you still coming? The wait staff are starting to give me pitying looks. I really, really had a good time with you this summer and want to see where this goes…it’s fine if you don’t feel the same. But, please, come to the restaurant so we can talk. Or, just call the restaurant and they can get the phone to me. Um, okay. Bye.”

A full two-and-a-half hours after your arrival at Enzo’s, you’re a wreck. You’ve ordered five desserts to try and keep your table, on the foolish hope that Steve will arrive.

He doesn’t.

Your waiter has softened somewhat when he brings you the check.

“Whoever they are,” he says in a low voice, “they aren’t worth it.”

Your face burns hot with embarrassment as you hand him your credit card.

After getting a to-go box for the strawberry cheesecake you ordered for Steve, you slink to the payphones once more. This time, you don’t stop the tears from falling, but you compose yourself enough to keep the final voicemail from devolving into a blubbery mess.

“Steve. I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving. I waited for you for almost three hours.” You sniffle and add, “If all you wanted from me was a one-night stand, why did you make me think otherwise? Jerk. Have a nice life, Harrington.”

You slam the phone against the cradle and stomp out of the restaurant, waiting until you get behind the wheel of your car to let out a heaving sob.

April, 1986

“Earth to Y/N!”

Steve snaps his fingers in your face and you startle.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you say, shaking yourself out of the memories that makes you hate the boy next to you.

“I asked if you had any plans this weekend?”

You resist the urge to scoff. Fun plans, amidst the disaster? And he’s trying to make small talk with you? That further confirms your theory that he’s forgotten all about you, or that he’s such an arrogant blowhard he doesn’t even realize how much he hurt you.

“I might go to Enzo’s,” you say, trying to jog his memory. “It’s one of the only restaurants still open right now, and I hear the chicken parm is really good.”

You glance at him, but his facial expression remains unchanged: a contented smile as he organizes the clothes he’s folding into boxes for summer and winter.

“Hey, that sounds fun. Oh, you should get the strawberry cheesecake. It’s delicious.”

You scowl, having hit your limit of being nice to him.

“You’re such an ass,” you scoff, shoving a bundle of folded sweatshirts into his arms and storming off.

“Huh? What? Whoa, whoa, Y/N! Wait up!”

You weave through the volunteers, heading toward the doors for a much-needed respite. Steve, however, won’t leave you be.

“Hold on!” he says, catching up to you and stepping in front, blocking your escape. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you kidding?” You bark out a humorless laugh. “Wow, you’re more of an idiot than I thought.”

Hurt flashes across his face, brow furrowing.

“Excuse me?”

“You seriously don’t remember?” you say. “Last summer? Enzo’s?”

Steve scrunches his face up with confusion. He rubs his eyes.

“Wait, hold on,” he says. “When did we go to Enzo’s?”

“We were supposed to, at the end of July,” you say. You jab a finger in his chest and push just a tad too hard. “But you fucked me and then stood me up, and you never even called me back. Steve, I felt used and I was mortified. And you have the audacity to ask me about my plans and recommend the Enzo’s strawberry cheesecake, as if I didn’t eat three slices waiting for your sorry ass to show up!”

You start to storm off, but Steve grabs a hold of your shoulder.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he begs. “Please don’t go. I just—I can’t remember—when did we make the Enzo’s plans?”

“Who cares when? What matters is you didn’t show—”

“Y/N!” Steve says louder, catching the attention of some nearby volunteers. He blushes and drags you to a secluded corner behind some old gym mats. Eyes wide with panic and shame, he repeats, “When did we make the plans?”

You wrench free of his grasp.

“We originally made the plans a few days before the Fourth,” you say, voice cold, “after we slept together. You asked to reschedule. And I never heard from you again.”

About seven different emotions flick across Steve’s face.

“Oh, shit. I think I know what—listen, last summer I started having these gaps in my memory, and I—”

“Save it,” you say tiredly. “I don’t need your excuses, Harrington. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Before he can say anything, you leave him alone with his thoughts and regrets.

🍓🍓🍓

Steve is starting to think the universe hates him.

After his foray into the Russian bunker, he remembered about your date and that he needed to reschedule. He even called Enzo’s and changed the reservation. But the weeks following the drugging and the beating, he started to forget more and more things.

He missed a dentist appointment. He forgot what day his parents were coming back into town, so he set the dinner table for the whole family six nights in a row until they actually returned. He unintentionally skipped a job interview at Bradley’s Big Buy with Robin.

That night you waited for him at Enzo’s, he could tell he’d forgotten something. He assumed it was giving Dustin a ride.

“What are you doing here?” Dustin had asked when Steve parked his BMW outside the Henderson house.

“Don’t you need a ride somewhere?” Steve had said with a frown.

Dustin, not one to turn down a free carpool, had Steve take him to the arcade.

Steve wasn’t home when you called from the restaurant. When he did return home, his mother had already deleted your voicemails, assuming they were all telemarketers.

Steve never got your messages, but he didn’t forget about you. He saw you in town a few weeks later and tried to go talk to you, but when you saw him coming, you glared and darted in the other direction.

He tried not to be too hurt by that. His foggy memory made him wonder if he misread any signals. Maybe you had just been looking for a one-night fling. Maybe the sex hadn’t been good for you. Maybe you had moved on and found a new guy while Steve recovered from the Battle of Starcourt. He didn’t hold it against you if you had.

Now, eight months later, Steve realizes he’s been wrong this whole time.

“I messed up and Y/N hates me!” Steve groans, ferociously spreading peanut butter on bread. Robin works on the jelly sides as they prepare meals for the hungry of Hawkins.

“It’s not your fault that you forgot the date!” Robin says. She drops her voice to a whisper and adds, “We were tortured. You were concussed.”

“But I didn’t even call,” Steve says. He slaps two slices of bread together harshly, angry at himself. “After I saw them looking so upset in town, I should’ve called to check in. To clear the air. If I had, maybe I would’ve realized what happened and could’ve fixed it.”

“You can think about ‘what ifs’ all day,” Robin says. “Or you can try to make things right.”

“I can’t,” Steve says. “They won’t even look at me anymore. I don’t blame them.”

“I don’t get why they’d hold such a grudge,” Robin wonders, neatly packing their newest sandwich into a brown paper bag. “I mean, you missed one date. It’s not like you slept with them and ditched them. Unless…”

Robin narrows her eyes at Steve. Ashamed, he doesn’t look up from sandwich making.

Robin scowls and smacks his shoulder.

“Ouch! Robin!”

“You are the horniest dingus this side of the Mississippi,” Robin says. “Of course they’re so angry! They think you used them for sex! Technically you did, since you never followed up.”

“What happened to the ‘it’s not my fault’ shit!”

“It’s not! But the unfortunate truth is that you look like a total ass. You need to apologize.”

Steve does. He’s fully vulnerable and partially honest, and spins a tale about how a new medication with unfun side effects, such as brain fog, is why he completely forgot the date.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Steve says, after he’s finished. He’s tempted to ask if you’d be willing to try again, but he resists.

You study him, eyes scanning his face for any indication he’s bullshitting you. You don’t look angry, but you don’t look very forgiving either.

“It’s fine,” you say, after what feels like a millennia. Steve relaxes when you give him a small smile. “Let’s just move on. Hand me those sweatshirts?”

And so you two continue to work together, nothing more than acquaintances at best.

August, 1986

Steve almost dies in the final fight with Vecna.

The battle causes more earthquakes that leave many in town dead or wounded. Eleven is finally able to kill Vecna and destroy the Upside Down once and for all—but not before Steve is severely wounded by Vecna’s army of demodogs.

He doesn’t remember much after the attack. He thinks he remembers Robin and Dustin crying. Someone—Hopper? Jonathan, maybe?—carrying him out of the Upside Down. The paramedics asking him his name, the year, the president, to count backwards from 10.

Then, it’s all a bit fuzzy, until he wakes up a few days later. He’s got a lot more scars than he did, but he’s alive and Vecna is gone, so that’s something.

He doesn’t expect to see you in his hospital room when he comes to.

“Y/N?” he croaks.

You whip around, eyes wide as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Except you aren’t doing anything wrong—you’re adding a stuffed bear to the collection of Get Well Soon gifts on the windowsill.

“Oh, shit,” you say. “Let me get your doctors.”

When you disappear into the hall, he gets a better look at the teddy bear you’ve brought. It’s pink, with a strawberry-shaped nose. The mylar balloon tied to its paw says: Get Well Bear-y Soon! Steve’s heart swells at the realization that you remember his favorite flavor, that you went to the trouble to buy him a gift. He’s not sure he deserves it.

He assumes you’ll come back in, but instead, a swarm of doctors and nurses encroach. Then, it’s Dustin and Robin and Nancy and Jonathan visiting him. Then, Hopper and Joyce and the other kids.

By the end of the day, he’s exhausted from visitors, but he still wants to see you once more.

He does, three days later.

He returns to his hospital room after physical therapy—the demodogs did a number on his shoulder. You’re there again, adding a Feel Better card to his stash. You startle when he walks in.

“Hi!” you say, a bit louder than intended. You clear your throat. “Sorry. I don’t want to disturb you, I’ll just go—”

“You’re not disturbing me,” Steve says. “I could actually really use the company.”

That’s a lie. Robin’s been in his room so much the nurses think she’s his sister. But you don’t have to know that.

You relax and nod.

“Sure, yeah, I can stay for a few minutes.”

Steve sinks onto his hospital bed and you sit in an uncomfortable-looking, plasticky armchair.

Silence stretches between you two. It’s not tense, but it’s charged with something.

The two of you start speaking at the same time.

“Sorry,” you say. “I just—I hope it’s not weird that I’m here.”

“What? No, not weird at all,” Steve says. “We’re friends.”

And that’s true. The past four months, the two of you have become much closer. Still fully platonic, but on the cusp of something more.

“Robin told me that you got hurt in the big quake,” you say, clueless to the true nature of the disasters. “She said—um, she said you almost didn’t—almost didn’t make it. And that made me feel horrible, because I really like you…r friendship. And I couldn’t imagine losing that. So I’m glad you’re going to be okay.”

You hesitate before covering his hand with yours. His hands are calloused and warm. Yours are icy cold. Steve represses a shiver at your touch.

“Thank you for coming,” Steve says. You squeeze his hand and his breath stutters. He recovers just enough to say, “And thank you for the bear. He rocks.”

“You like him?” you say, glancing over at the fluffy teddy on the windowsill. “You should name him Enzo. In honor of the strawberry cheesecake.”

“I was actually thinking of naming him Beartholomew,” Steve says. “Beary, for short.”

“That’s perfect. Or Beart, like Bart?”

He chuckles. The sound of it triggers an incomparable feeling in your chest.

“I like that. Beart Harrington.”

The two of you smile at each other. It feels warm and easy, same as your flirtationship the summer prior.

Your eyes flick to his lips. Is it weird to ask someone on a date in a hospital? you think.

Before you can turn on the charm and see if Steve wants to join you for a cup of Jell-O in the cafeteria, the door swings open and his friends Dustin, Robin, and Erica rush in.

You drop his hand on instinct. Steve misses the feeling of your touch.

“Steve, Max is about to be discharged and she asked—oh, hey Y/N!” Robin says. “Sorry, are we interrupting—”

“I was just leaving,” you say, standing. “I have to head to the soup kitchen. Then I’m back to the high school for more donation work. But I’ll see you around, okay?”

Steve wants to ask you to skip your shifts and stay. But the request dies on his throat. Instead, he just nods and says, “See you around.”

You give a polite nod and smile to his friends before leaving.

“Is that them?” Erica asks once you’re out of earshot. “The one you’re totally crushing on, like a weirdo stalker?”

“He’s not a stalker!” Dustin says. “He’s pursuing his Suzie.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“They’re not my Suzie,” Steve says, “as much as I want them to be. That ship sailed, ages ago.”

October, 1986

When things in Hawkins are a little better, you’re able to start your second year at Roane County Community College.

Steve and Robin enroll as well, and share an apartment off-campus. For Halloween, they invite you and half the student body to a rager.

You don’t want to go at first. Mainly because you’re afraid alcohol will spur you to do something stupid, like tell Steve that you want him.

You’re not sure why you do. You gave him the benefit of the doubt but still don’t fully believe his story about why he missed your date, and wonder if his recent kindness and friendship is a trap to lure you in and break your heart once more.

But that seems too cruel for him. He’s not like that, you’ve learned in your six months of new friendship.

Plus, he almost died over the summer, and while that kind of thing would’ve made you bitter and angry and terrified of the world, Steve doesn’t let it weigh him down. He’s still kind and empathetic, still loyal and bright.

Fuck, you want him so bad. As a friend? No: as a boyfriend, as a lover, as everything all the time.

You stand in the corner of his and Robin’s living room, nursing a hard lemonade and avoiding eye contact with the object of your affection (currently dressed as Marty McFly).

Marty McSteve dances his way over during “Monster Mash.” You laugh at his chaotic display, trying to mentally murder the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey!” Steve says. He adjusts his orange vest. “Wanna dance?”

Friends dance with friends…right?

“I’d love to,” you say with a smile.

The two of you drink, dance, and drink some more. At some point, you and Robin do shots. After that, you stop resisting the urge to throw yourself at Steve. You boldly go up to him and ask, “Hey, you never showed me your new room. Give me a tour?”

The excuse is shoddy but works its magic. Two minutes later, you’re making out with Steve in his room, pulsing beat of the music reverberating through the thin apartment walls.

His kisses are hot and heady, his hands wander your frame and make your skin burn.

“I’ve wanted to do this again,” Steve murmurs between kisses. “For so long.”

“Me too,” you say, breathless, pulling him even closer to you. The two of you drunkenly stumble around until he pushes you onto his bed.

He kisses your neck, and it feels so amazing, you want to live in this moment forever. But then you glance around his room and see Beart Harrington on his dresser shelf, and you’re taken back to that night at Enzo’s, eating strawberry cheesecake and waiting alone.

You don’t think he would do that again. But the tiny part of you that’s unsure panics.

“Steve,” you stutter out.

Unaware of your inner turmoil, he moans your name and continues kissing your neck. One hand grips your waist, the other roams higher up your thigh.

“Steve. Stop.”

At that, he immediately pulls away and off you, concern clouding his features.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. His voice is so tender, you melt a bit.

You’re not sober enough to properly articulate your feelings. To tell him that you like him so much and getting heartbroken by him again would destroy you.

So you simply sit up and say: “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“That’s totally fine,” he says. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” You don’t respond, just stare at your lap. Steve adds, “Do you need anything? Water, or something to eat?”

You flounder, stammering something about how you don’t feel well and want to go home.

Steve nods. If he’s disappointed or upset, he doesn’t show it. “I can walk you home if—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt. “I’m sorry, again.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Steve says gently. “Seriously, it’s all good.”

You mumble out a goodbye and practically sprint away, leaving Steve alone on his bed.

“I don’t understand,” he says as he and Robin clean up beer cups after the party has ended. “They ran away so fast. Did I do something wrong?”

“People are allowed to change their minds about sex, you know,” Robin says. She tosses an empty cup at Steve. He fumbles and catches it.

“I know! And that’s okay. But if I made them upset, I want to know why. Rob, I like them so much. I don’t know if I can just be their friend anymore. I want more. And sometimes it seems like they do too, but right before we cross that line, they push me away.”

“This is a conversation you need to have with them, not me,” Robin says. She pulls a pillow off the ground and groans. “Great. Molly puked on the carpet. Hand me a sponge.”

🍓🍓🍓

Steve calls you the next day to check on you.

“I’m okay,” you say, fingers twisting in the phone cord. “Just tired.”

That’s not necessarily a lie. But you’re speaking in mistruths by not openly telling Steve how you feel. How you want him but are so terrified of what will happen. What is this effect he has on you?

“That’s good,” Steve says. You can tell he’s nervous by the way his voice cracks. You can practically see him run a hand through his hair over the phone—an anxious habit he can’t seem to break. “Listen, I’m really sorry if I made you upset yesterday when we were about to…you know. I didn’t mean to cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you rush to reassure him. “It’s not you…”

You cut yourself off before adding the dreaded it’s me. Instead, you say, “I wanted to do it, but I just panicked.” You suck in a breath. “The truth is, I really, really like you Steve. A lot. Like, I like you way more than a friend should.”

Steve stops breathing for a moment.

“You do?” he asks.

“Yeah. And that terrifies me.”

“What?” Steve says, holding the phone closer to his ear. “I terrify you?”

You laugh, despite the tension you’re feeling.

“No,” you say. “You’re a gem, Steve Harrington. But the thought of getting heartbroken by you again…that’s what scares me.” You drop your voice to a near whisper. “I think it would ruin me.”

Steve gulps. You had been forgiving about the Enzo’s thing when he cleared the air, and the two of you have become such good friends since then. Guilt gnaws at his insides when he realizes how much being stood up affected you.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N,” he says, after a beat. “I didn’t realize—I mean, I knew what I did hurt you, but I didn’t know—”

“It’s fine, just forget about it—”

“No!” Steve says urgently. “Please. I like you too. I want to make it up to you. To take you out on a real date.”

You pause, chewing your lip and pondering the idea.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” you say cautiously.

“Please. Just trust me.”

Trust. You trusted Steve last summer, and look where that got you.

But you don’t want to be afraid of falling in love with him. Not anymore. So you agree to go on a date with him, hoping for the best.

🍓🍓🍓

Steve doesn’t give you any indication what the date will be. He just tells you to be ready at 7 p.m. sharp.

As the clock ticks closer to 7, you feel your anxiety spike. You’ve convinced yourself he’s not coming, that you’re being stood up again, until—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You stand from the couch so fast you make yourself dizzy.

When you open the front door, Steve is waiting. However, he’s not alone.

“Oh!” you say, recognizing Steve’s friend Dustin from some volunteering shifts. “Uh, hey, guys. What—”

“Good morrow!” Dustin booms in a theatrical voice. Steve sighs and shakes his head.

“Henderson,” Steve hisses. “I told you: no Shakespeare shit!”

He turns to you and beams.

“Hey, you look great!” he says. Steve holds up a bouquet of forget-me-nots, your favorite flower. The irony is not lost on you. “This is for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, taking it. “You do too. Uh, and Dustin! Nice hat.”

The hat in question is some sort of computer joke, with lots of 1s and 0s. You don’t understand it. But Dustin preens at your praise.

“Thanks, Y/N!” he says. “Now, are you ready for the date of your life?”

“I’m supposed to be the one to say that,” Steve says. “Henderson, just go wait in the car. In the back seat! BACK. SEAT.”

Dustin clambers into the back of Steve’s BMW.

“Steve,” you say, “did you invite me on a babysitting date?”

“I promise I didn’t,” Steve says. “But I did ask my friends for some assistance. You’ll see. Now, what did Henderson say—are you ready for the date of your life?”

He holds out a hand. You hesitate, but take it and smile.

“I think I am. Rock my world, Steve Harrington.”

He drives you (and Dustin) across town to the nature reserve. Dustin exits the car before Steve’s even fully parked, sprinting ahead into the forest.

“Are we supposed to follow him?” you ask.

“He’s going ahead to set some things up. We’ll follow, just much slower.”

Steve holds out an arm. You link yours in his, a bit flustered at the closeness.

“Sorry if this is weird,” Steve says as the two of you leisurely walk on the reserve’s wooded trails. “I know it’s not your typical dinner date, but we tried that, and I fucked it up.”

“It’s really fine, Steve,” you say. “You were on that medication that made you forget.”

Steve bristles at the reminder of his shitty lie. He wishes he could tell you what really happened. Maybe one day.

“It’s not fine,” Steve says quietly. “I hurt you, and that’s the last thing I want to do. So I hope this will make it up to you.”

You make it to a clearing and you gasp. A picnic table has been decorated with flower petals. Twinkly lights are strung on the tree branches and bushes, and around the nearby park ranger station.

Local rock band Corroded Coffin stands at the edge of the clearing, tuning their instruments. Robin, the new lead singer after Eddie’s passing, notices the two of you enter.

“The lovers are here!” Robin says. “Let’s go, boys! 1, 2, and a 1, 2, 3, 4!”

You’re expecting a heavy metal song, and are pleasantly surprised as they start to perform “Crimson and Clover.”

“Do you like it?” Steve asks. He’s wringing his hands together and looking at you expectantly as you survey the picnic.

“It’s amazing,” you say, eyes shining.

Dustin appears from the ranger’s station with his friend Lucas. They’re in matching bow ties.

“Welcome to Chez Hawkins,” Lucas says. “Table for two?”

The boys lead you and Steve to the picnic table. Dustin hands you two hand drawn menus while Lucas pours red wine into two plastic red cups.

“These are lovely,” you say, fingers lightly tracing over doodles on your menu. “Did you guys draw them?”

“Will Byers did,” Steve says. “He’s, like, an amazing artist.”

“May I recommend the house special: grilled cheese?” Dustin says.

“Mainly because that’s the only thing we know how to make,” Lucas adds sheepishly.

You and Steve “order” grilled cheese sandwiches and the boys disappear back into the ranger station. You can faintly hear them arguing with a third person about how much cheese is too much.

“This is really thoughtful,” you say, gesturing to the decorations and the live band and the wine. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“I wanted to,” Steve says with a shrug. “I want to show how much you mean to me.”

Your insides turn to jelly. No one has ever shown you this much care or attention before. And to think, you wasted two-thirds of a year hating Steve Harrington when you could’ve been having these kinds of lovely date nights all the time?

You push away your regrets about your grudge to enjoy the date. The grilled cheeses Lucas delivers are delicious and pair surprisingly well with the wine. You and Steve talk about everything and nothing, and you thoroughly enjoy the music and the company. Corroded Coffin plays all love songs for you two, except for one or two Metallica hits.

When it’s time for dessert, Lucas and Dustin return with their friend Max Mayfield. She parks her wheelchair next to the picnic table and plops a tupperware onto the table between you and Steve.

“Sorry for the lame presentation,” she says. “I hope you like them.”

Dustin pulls off the tupperware lid and waves “ta-da” jazz hands, revealing four red cupcakes. Each is adorned with pink frosting and heart-shaped sprinkles.

“Red velvet cupcakes with strawberry frosting!” he says. “A combination of your favorites.”

You stare at the cupcakes, jaw dropped. Steve panics when you don’t say anything. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says. “I thought you said once that you liked red velvet, because your grandma always made it for you. You don’t have to eat it! I think I have half a granola bar in my car if—”

“I told you that last summer,” you interrupt.

“Huh?”

“The thing about red velvet cake,” you say. “I told you that last summer. Hell, that was one of the first things we talked about, because I asked if Scoops had a red velvet flavor. And you remembered that? One passing comment from last June?”

Steve swallows hard, nervous under your relentless gaze, and nods.

“Uh, yeah? Is that insanely creepy of me?”

“Kids,” you say, not breaking your gaze from Steve’s adorably flushed face. “Close your eyes.”

Dustin, Lucas, and Max voice their confusion, until you lean across the picnic table, pull Steve up by the collar of his windbreaker, and kiss him fiercely. When the kiss registers, Steve wraps an arm around your waist.

The two of you look ridiculous, each half-sitting, half-standing on your sides of the table. Max snatches the tupperware onto her lap just as you pull a little too hard and Steve falls onto the tabletop. He winces and rubs his elbow, and you apologize profusely—but can’t stop smiling.

“Disgusting,” Lucas says, shaking his head. “You two couldn’t even wait until we were gone.”

“Eat these before you make out,” Max says. “They took all day.”

The trio of teens mumble about “gross adults” before retreating to the ranger station. You join Steve on his side of the table, not wanting to be even two feet apart.

“This is the perfect dessert,” you say, “and this is a perfect date. Thank you, Steve.”

“Of course,” Steve says. “I hope it makes up for last year. I still feel so bad about it—”

You place a hand on top of Steve’s.

“You don’t have to be sorry anymore,” you say softly. “It’s all right, Steve. I fully and wholly forgive you. The past is the past.”

“You’re not just saying that because I gave you wine and cupcakes?”

“Nope. But I like wine and cupcakes, so you should do that again sometime.”

“I think I can swing that.”

He takes a bite of his second cupcake just as you whisper something about a different kind of dessert you want to give him, if he wants to take you home. He almost chokes on sprinkles, face as pink as the strawberry frosting, before he grabs your hand and pulls you down the trail. You giggle as he calls over his shoulder, “Robin! Stay with Vickie tonight!”

“Harrington! You paid us to play!” Gareth, the drummer, shouts after you two. “Not clean up!”

“Oh, let them go,” Robin says. “They’re in love! Besides, we’ll make Dustin clean.”

You and Steve spend a perfect night together. As promised, he rocks your world.

🍓🍓🍓

Your boyfriend Steve is forgetful.

He misses doctor’s appointments. He forgets to pick you up from work sometimes. He gets schedules mixed up, and, yes, sometimes he forgets date night.

But you’re a patient person, now that you know he doesn’t do it intentionally. You love him with your whole heart, and you know he feels the same. And you couldn’t ask for anything more.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #st fic: forget

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idyllicwillowtree · 1 year

Text

Vickie's Friend - Part 2

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve are both very protective of your friends.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: use of y/n, silly goose!Steve, fluff, trying not to out somebody

Author’s note: Sorry this took so long! I got some of the inspo from an episode of Friends

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Saturday, March 22, 1986

“I mean, it’s hilarious! I could never place what Tammy Thompson sounded like but Robin got it spot on,” Vickie enthused.

“Yeah, it’s a Muppet joke. The muppets are always funny,” you replied, focusing more on the stack of new books you were arranging on the shelf. Vickie twirled around the bookstore you both worked at, following you as you did most of the work.

“My point is that when I compared Tammy to Kermit the Frog she laughed. And not like a fake laugh either, like a real, genuine laugh. It was perfect.”

“But…?” you waved the book in your hand, gesturing for her to continue.

“But I’ve been trying really hard to stop that thing where my mouth moves faster than my brain so there was just that weird awkward silence you get when you want to keep talking with the person but you don't know what to say but I had like a million things I wanted to say but I suppressed the shit out of that so I wouldn’t keep talking and talking and talking and I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?” Vickie gasped slightly, forgetting to breathe during her run on sentence.

Sending your friend a tight lipped smile, you say, “yeah, you are.”

“I’m hopeless,” Vickie exhales and leans against the bookshelf you were organizing.

“Eh,” you turn to lean next to her, “we both are.”

“If only we could like, combine,” Vickie said, intertwining her own fingers together.

“Combine?”

“Just think about it. I know exactly what I want, and I’ve found the girl of my dreams, but I can't get the courage to ask her out. Meanwhile, you go on a million dates and you have no idea what you want. So if we just combined, all our problems would be solved.”

She was right, you had gone on what felt like a million first dates with no plans for a second one in sight. Unfortunately, Vickie is forgetting a crucial flaw in her hypothetical plan.

“Vickie?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you forget about Dan again?”

Your best friend’s face dropped as she blinked rapidly at you. “Right…Dan…”

“It’s alright, Vick. As long as you break up with him before you and Robin do anything, you’re good,” you say with a teasing smile.

“Robin and I aren’t going to do anything!” her fair cheeks flooded with pink.

“Okay sure, whatever you say.”

Vickie rolled her eyes in defense before gasping, “Ooh, I found our next book club book!” Her jewelry started clanking together as she jogged across the store.

You sighed dramatically at her attempt to change the subject, “I still don’t understand why we call it a club if it’s just us-”

Vickie spun around to show off the novel she chose, “‘Sense and Sensibility’ by the one and only, Jane Austen.”

“Ugh, you know I don’t do historical fiction,” you grimace.

“But it’s about doomed love!”

“That’s relatable,” you scoffed

“Precisely,” Vickie said with a smile, already grabbing you your own copy.

_______________________________________________

Friday, April 4th, 1986

Steve did end up asking you out after your volunteer shifts at the High School. You both were awkward and giddy about it but it was comforting to know that he was just as nervous as you were. You found him to be very charming and endearing and you were excited to get to know him better.

Your first date was very sweet and simple. There wasn’t as much to do because of all the businesses that had to close due to the earthquake, so he took you to a diner that had managed to stay afloat.

You were having a great time, the spark of electricity you felt when you flirted with him that first day flooded through your body the second he came to pick you up, and it continued as you sat and ate your food. Your topic of conversation quickly transitioned to Robin and Vickie.

“And then the guy goes, ‘what? There’s no ‘b’ in rose.’ and the other guy goes ‘there was in this one!’” Steve looked at you with anticipation in his eyes and a big grin on his face. You blinked at him, still waiting for the punchline. He sagged slightly, realizing you didn’t get his joke, “it’s funnier when Robin tells it.”

“I’m sure it is,” you teased. “Robin is very funny.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and sent you a lopsided smile that sent butterflies to your stomach.

“Speaking of Robin…her and Vickie have been talking a lot on the phone,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. You eyed him closely, assessing his reaction.

His eyes jumped around nervously as he took an extra long drink from his milkshake. You could already read him like a book, he was very obviously stalling.

Steve cleared his throat, “yeah, they seem to like each other a lot.”

You leaned forward, trying to invade his space a bit, “Steven Harrington… What do you know?” your voice was low and suggestive. It made Steve’s heart skip a beat, although he wasn’t sure if it was from his attraction to you or from nerves. He has spent so long keeping Robin’s secret, he didn’t want to accidentally out her and make her the ‘town’s pariah’, as she liked to say.

Little did he know, you made the same promise to Vickie.

When Steve kept his mouth closed, you sighed and said “okay, but if you found out on your own, that would be okay, and then we could talk about it, right?”

Steve had an idea as to what you were referring to, but he needed to tread lightly just in case. “Well, then it wouldn’t be a secret. So, yeah that would be okay,” he said carefully.

You eyed him for a moment, seeing if he’d break first.

He squinted his eyes back at you, “do you know something?”

“Do you know something?” you said quickly.

“I might know something.”

“I might know something, too.”

“What’s the thing you know?”

“Oh no, Steve. I can’t tell you until you tell me what you know.”

He shrugged softly, “I can’t tell you what I know.”

“Well then, I can’t tell you what I know.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Fine.”

You both sat there in awkward silence as you contemplated what the other was saying. Or not saying in this case. Anxiously gnawing at the dead skin of your thumb as you looked out the diner window, you could feel Steve staring at you, watching you suspiciously.

_______________________________________________

Saturday, April 5th, 1986

You and Steve were so excited to see each other again that you planned your second date for the very next day. Unfortunately, you had to cancel.

You didn’t want to postpone, especially since you were still eagerly still waiting to kiss him, but you had to. Vickie and Robin were finally going to hang out together and you wanted to spy. Some would probably call it stalking, but you didn’t care.

Being Vickie’s only friend that she trusted enough to share her secret with came with a lot of pros and cons. On the plus side you were honored that she trusted you, but on the other hand Vickie can talk a lot and it can get to be a bit draining. You earned the right to spy a little on their first date.

Also, Robin could be a serial killer. You never know. Stranger things have happened in Hawkins.

Steve actually told you, when you called him to reschedule, that he was about to cancel as well. He had some excuse that you weren’t really paying attention to, you were just excited that he wanted to eventually see you again.

You hung up the phone with a smile still on your face. Immediately, it started ringing again. “Hawkins’ Book Attic, how may I help you?”

“Hey Y/N, is Vickie there?”

Of course it was Robin.

“Hi Robin! Yeah just a second,” you pulled the phone away from your face before shouting, “Vickie! Phone’s for you!”

“Thanks Y/N, I’ll take it from the break room.” Vickie shouted from the back.

You returned the phone to your ear, covering the mouthpiece, so you can hear when Vickie picks it up.

“Hello?” you heard Vickie say.

You were about to hang up when you heard Robin say, “hey baby!”

That’s new, you thought. Against your better judgment, you continued to listen.

“Hey hun, I was just thinking about you.”

Your eyes widened. You looked around, making sure no one was watching you before you realized there was no one else in the store. It’s been closed while you and your co-workers cleaned up the place. The building itself wasn’t destroyed like some of the other businesses in town were, but it definitely left a mess with all the knocked over shelves and books.

“Awh, that’s sweet. I just wanted to check to see if we’re still hanging out after your shift?”

Ah, yes. The date you were planning to spy on.

Vickie giggled sweetly, “of course, Robin! I’ll pick you up after work and we’ll head over to that wildflower field by the quarry.”

You hung up after that, that’s all the intel you needed for your mission.

_______________________________________________

Luckily for you, your shift at the bookstore ended at the same time as Vickie’s. You managed to get to the field before them since Vickie needed to go pick up Robin. You found some street parking in a neighborhood nearby to ensure that your best friend didn’t see your car. You smoothly parallel parked in front of a dark brown BMW to start your stake out.

You focused on the road that was perpendicular to the street you were stationed on. Only when you saw Vickie’s blue hand-me-down Ford Cortina drive by did you grab your bag and exit the car, starting the short trek to the woods surrounding the open field of colorful wildflowers.

Spotting the two girls from a distance was easy with Vickie’s fire-red hair and Robin’s towering height. The tricky part was finding a suitable hiding spot.

Glancing around the wooded area you noticed a tall tree nearby. Before you could assess the strength of the branches you heard the rustling of a giant bush at the perimeter of the field a few feet away from you, followed by whispered curses. Denim clad legs were sticking out of the green shrubbery as a man was trying to wedge himself through it. You’d know those white sneakers (and that fine ass) anywhere.

“Steve?”

You heard a hollow “thunk” as Steve jumped in surprise, his head hitting one of the branches. He slowly emerged as he rubbed the back of his skull with a grimace. He was wearing giant women’s sunglasses and a long blonde wig that now sat lopsided on his head.

“O-oh, hey Y/N,” he said sheepishly.

You let out a surprised snort at his appearance, before realization bloomed in your chest. You smirked, knowingly.

“What are you doing here, Steve?”

Steve shuffled to the side, trying to block your view of Robin and Vickie setting up their picnic.

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

“Okay…what are you wearing?” you said suspiciously, tugging a leaf out of the synthetic fibers of his wig before crossing your arms.

Steve immediately paled. He snatched the jumbo lady glasses off his face, showing you his panicked brown eyes. What excuse could he come up with for wearing this in the middle of the woods instead of going on your second date?

“Uh…it’s just-...you see-”

“Is that Robin and Vickie?” you interrupted, craning your neck to look over Steve’s shoulder, pretending like you had just noticed them.

“What? Uh, n-no I don’t think so.”

He was such a bad liar.

“Yeah it is! Let’s go say hi-”

“NO!” Steve’s voice echoed across the field, making Vickie and Robin glance in their direction. Before they could see, you gripped Steve’s shoulders and pulled him down to crouch behind the shrub he was trying to hide in moments before.

“What are you-”

“Shut up, Harrington. Do you want to blow our cover?” you frantically whispered, peaking around the leaves carefully to see Robin handing Vickie a pink sparkly drink with a glimmering smile on her face.

Steve gasped dramatically. “I knew it! You’ve known this whole time?”

“Oh please, you knew nothing,” you said with a giggle.

“Okay fine, but I had my suspicions,” he grinned at you. Finally, he had someone to talk to about Robin’s love life. You two already had an immediate connection, but this solidified his attraction to you even more.

“Ooh! Wait, I came prepared too.” You swiveled, turning your back to him as you dug through your bag. He watched as you pulled something out that you placed on your face. Then you whipped out a baseball cap that you tucked your hair into before placing it on your head. You spun back around to face him again, “ta-da!”

He let out a surprised snort, similar to the one you gave when you saw him in his disguise. You had stuck a dark black mustache to your upper lip, wiggling your nose like a rabbit to show it off.

You both continued to laugh as quietly as you could at the absurdity of the situation you were in. Somehow, you both separately planned on canceling your second date, dressing up in a disguise, and spying on your friends.

“We need higher ground, I think,” Steve whispered after his laughs had died down.

“Come on,” you gripped his hand, ignoring the tingling sensation it gave you, and dragged him to the tree you were planning on scaling earlier.

You helped hoist each other up, finding two parallel branches that were sturdy enough for you and Steve to sit across from each other on. It was the perfect spot to spy on Robin and Vickie with the opening in the tree leaves, while still staying hidden. Steve rested a foot on your branch as he got comfortable. You were close enough to him that his spare knee was in between yours.

Your legs swung lazily underneath you as you admired him, happy to have someone to share this moment with.

“Look, look, look,” Steve whispered excitingly, leaning towards you more as he pointed towards your friends.

Angling your body to get a look, you didn’t realize how close your faces had gotten, but Steve did. He nearly fell out of the tree when he got a whiff of your sweet perfume. He held his breath as he subtly studied your face, scrunched in concentration before lighting up with excitement. Despite the fake mustache, you were the prettiest person he had ever seen.

“I can’t believe it. Robin is feeding her! And it's a strawberry? That’s like the sexiest food,” you snickered. Turning to see Steve’s reaction, you almost bumped noses with him.

Both of you froze, no one was leaning in, but no one was pulling away either.

After what felt like forever you whispered, “Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?” he replied, equally breathless.

“Have you ever kissed a woman with a mustache before?”

He beamed at you, eyes sparking with humor. “Can’t say that I have,” he glanced at your lips, “have you ever kissed a guy wearing his mom’s old halloween wig?”

Before you could stop it, you snorted right in his face. Luckily, it made him smile even more.

He gently held your cheek as you placed your hand on his leg that was still propped up on the branch you were sitting on. Your heart was practically bruising your ribcage as it pumped in anticipation. Steve’s face heated up even more as you both started to lean in.

Before your lips could touch, his foot shifted and you lost your balance, sending both of you tumbling out of the tree, breaking branches along the way.

Steve landed on his back in the plush grass below, it wouldn’t have hurt if you didn’t land directly on top of him. The breath in his lungs got pushed out as he let out a loud “oof” that quickly dissolved into laughter. Once you realized he was okay, you began to full body laugh alongside him.

Both your disguises got lost in the chaos, he could finally get a good look at you. You were still laying on top of him as his brown eyes stared happily up at you, ignoring the leaves and debris that were still raining from your fall.

It’s like deja-vu, time slows as you stare into each other's eyes, slowly leaning forward yet again.

“a-hem!”

Both your heads whipped to the side to see Robin, now only a few feet away from you, glaring disapprovingly at Steve with her hands on her hips. Vickie had her arms crossed and her furrowing brows were directed towards you.

“Our cover has been blown!” you say to Steve.

“Retreat! Retreat! Abort mission,” Steve said, a grin still plastered on his face as you both hopped up and ran through the woods, hand-in-hand. Robin and Vickie watched you both go, listening as the sounds of maniacal laughter echoed throughout the woods, fading away the further you got.

Both of you made it back to your cars, still laughing through your heavy breathing. Steve didn’t waste time catching his breath before gripping the back of your head and planted his lips to yours.

You were still giddy with laughter as you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck in an attempt to get closer. He snaked his arms around your waist as he walked you backwards, pining you to his car.

You pulled back for air, still nuzzling your nose against his. Both of you were still smiling like a couple of idiots as happiness and adrenaline flowed through your veins.

You continued to pant in each other’s faces before you whispered, “hey Steve?”

Steve pecked your lips again, “yeah?”

“So… you know that Fast Times tape we returned a couple weeks ago?”

_______________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

Tags:

@johnricharddeacycy

@stormwellsstuff

@impossibelle

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@heyyimmisunderstood

#stranger things #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley #mutal pining #steve harrington x y/n #steve x reader #canon divergent #80s #netflix #vickie's friend #robin x vickie #fluff

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

Hi Zoey,

Thank you so much for your head cannons.☺️ Our Queen of Head cannons! Anyway today has been kinda a bad day for me; and since your stories have always cheered me up. Some backstory so you can understand what I’m asking: when I have bad days I have a hard time forcing myself to eat. Would you be willing to write a hc about it. That would be wonderful if you would. Gn character with bad batch and anyone else you would like to write with it.😇🤗 Thank you! Even you don’t write it that’s ok.

Aloha! First off, I have to apologize for taking so long. This request dates back to February 😨

Apart from requests piling up, the time between January and April was hard on me. Sorry! Enough with the excuses, let's get to work...

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Take Better Care Of Yourself

Warnings: Suggested Eating Disorder

__________________________

Hunter

As patient as he can be, he doesn't like it when you neglect yourself. Especially when he perceives it repeatedly, he intervenes. "I know you're not feeling very well right now, but you need to keep up your strength". You can argue or whine back and forth all you want, you see Hunter standing in front of you, arms crossed in front of his chest, brows drawn together critically. He won't listen to any excuses. He doesn't want to grumble, and he knows you're not really doing it on purpose, but from his life with his brothers, he only knows the path of severity in situations like this. "Eat at least half, I don't want you to pass out on us here," he finally growls, also making sure you do just that. He takes you aside later, massages your shoulders and talks to you gently, trying to relax you and bring you to other thoughts, hoping that he can drive away the gloomy thoughts and maybe stimulate your appetite again. He will leave no stone unturned to help you.

Echo

He can't take a joke when it comes to food, especially since he puts so much effort into preparing it. And Echo is a fantastic cook. When Wrecker is already reaching for your portion because you're not eating again, Echo slaps him on the wrist. "'Stop that! That's not your plate." "But-" Echo's critical, stern look makes the giant fall silent, pouting. You can't help but feel guilty, Echo has a knack for just looking at you and making you feel guilty about food or generally how well you take care of yourself. However, Echo also knows that he can't force you to do anything and might even make things worse. Instead, he'll prepare a picnic basket filled with all sorts of things you like best and arrange to whisk you away to one of your favorite places together at the earliest opportunity, hoping to stimulate an appetite there. He'll also take you up on that food problem. "How can I help you? What can I do to make you feel better, love?"

Wrecker

At first, he doesn't think much of it. There are rare moments when he loses his appetite, but he has already experienced with his brothers that this can happen. He gladly accepts the extra portion you offer him. But he notices that this pattern repeats itself, and he starts to worry. "You can have my portion too." Wrecker frowns, you see his expression suddenly look worried. "Again? Aren't you hungry?" "Not really," you admit. Wrecker seeks advice from his brothers before discussing the problem with you. He tries everything possible to stimulate your appetite. He gets your favorite snacks, creates a special ambiance, takes you hiking to make you hungry, gives you relaxing massages. Wrecker has no shortage of ideas. Wrecker wants you to be healthy and happy, he makes it his mission to make sure you have everything you need. In this, he is very persistent and lovingly determined.

Tech

The first few times, Tech doesn't say anything, but he notices and makes mental notes. In fact, he keeps a sort of mental log of all your mannerisms and things you do, among other reasons, to better understand you. Finally, you do it again, leave the food, and Tech looks up from his datapad. "You have an eating disorder." Surprised, you look at him. "What?" "Your strange behavior, regarding your food intake, indicates that you have an eating disorder. To be honest, that worries me greatly," he says matter-of-factly, pushing his goggles with his index finger and examining your body with his gaze. He explains to you in gruesome detail how this can affect your health, what diseases and disabilities can be triggered by the lack of certain essential nutrients over time, how they show up, the symptoms, and the less-than-pleasant end results. Tech doesn't hold back on this, even though he sees you squirming. He thinks it's extremely important that you're aware of any consequences. "Perhaps we should consider therapeutic measures before it gets to a point where we may be left with invasive, medical options. Force-feeding, is probably extremely uncomfortable." He may seem very matter of fact and maybe even cruel, but Tech is worried, he is approaching this in such a logical, almost clinical way because that is his way, that doesn't change the fact that underneath the matter of fact facade sits an anxious Tech who is in agony out of fear of seeing you suffer or even losing you. Communicate with him, tell him what is bothering you, what exactly is preventing you from eating. Give him the opportunity to work with you to find a way to address this problem.

Crosshair

He is very attentive and notices your eating behavior immediately. "You're not one of those who stuff themselves with food when no one's looking and then puke it back out, are you?" You look at him in surprise. "What?" Sourly, he says, "I swear, if I catch you doing that then-" Crosshair interrupts himself, he doesn't really know what to threaten you with himself, basically he's just worried and can't really handle it. He's going to ask his brothers and get information elsewhere to find out what he can do. Crosshair wants you to be well, even though it may not seem that way at first. He is not angry at you, but at the helplessness he is pushed into in this situation. It will take a while, but he is adjusting and doing his best to accommodate you helpfully. He will leave no means untouched, whether they are interpersonal, therapeutic, or otherwise medical.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

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livesincerely · 2 months

Text

[bits & bobs] common knowledge

aka the ‘Jack didn’t know they were dating’ fic

00000

One of the last things that gets packed⁠—right up there with the wifi router, the stuff for the bathroom, and Jack’s good pillow⁠—is the calendar. Davey carefully peels it from its place of honor on the front of the fridge, almost the whole of April carefully x-ed out.

“The 29th is on Friday,” he notes as he tucks it carefully away, smiling softly. “We should try and do something.”

“Dave, we are up to our ears in fuckin’ boxes,” Jack complains from his spot on the floor, a roll of tape sitting on his chest as he attempts to become one with the carpet. “We ain’t gonna get our deposit back if we ain’t outta here before the first.”

“You were out of town on a contract last year and the year before that we both had the flu,” Davey complains. “It’d be nice if we could actually do something to celebrate this year.”

It’s at this point that Jack realizes he has no idea what the fuck Davey’s talking about.

“Dave,” he says. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“The 29th,” Davey says, like that alone should be enough of an explanation.

“What’s so special about the 29th?” Jack asks.

Davey frowns⁠. And not just his Jack, you dumbass frown, but the full-blown, pinched-mouth, brow-furrowed, Jack, this isn’t funny, stop it frown that makes makes Jack’s soul want to shrivel up and die whenever it’s pointed his way.

So, Jack pivots. Hard.

“I’m kiddin’,” he lies quickly, alarm bells blaring behind his eyes. What the fuck is on the 29th? “‘Course we can do somethin’. What about dinner at that Italian place we saw on the corner? It looked like a nice joint.”

Davey’s expression clears.

“God, I would kill for some tiramasu,” he says with a wistful sigh.

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” Jack laughs, more relief than anything. “I’ll call in the mornin’, see if they take reservations.”

“Perfect,” Davey says, with a beaming smile that makes Jack’s heart lurch for entirely different reasons. “It’s a date.”

“Yeah,” Jack says weakly. “It’s a date.”

00000

Jack panics.

Well, first he calls the restaurant and makes a reservation for two at 7pm.

But then, he panics.

He calls Katherine first, which turns out to be less than useless.

“Can you please stop cackling for three seconds and fucking help me?” Jack demands into the speaker, tugging at his hair in frustration.

But Kath just laughs and laughs until Jack hangs up on her in a huff. After about ten minutes, he calls her back—she’s still laughing.

He tries Tony next.

“You’re such a fucking moron,” Tony says, after sitting in dead silence for so long that Jack pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. “I genuinely don’t understand how Davey’s put up with you for so long. I should send him a medal. Or maybe a fruit basket.”

“Quit with the wise cracks and help me,” Jack demands. “Davey’s, like, super fucking excited about this dinner an’ if I don’t figure out what the hell we’re supposed’ta be celebrating, he’s gonna kick me out before we even get moved in.”

“More like he’s gonna dump your dumbass and find someone who can actually remember an anniversary,” Tony snarks.

“He ain’t gonna— I’ve told you a thousand times, we ain’t like that,” Jack says, louder than he means to, flushed and flustered.

There’s another long, judgmental silence.

“Please seek professional help,” Tony says, flatly incredulous. “You are so beyond me, you’re orbiting fucking Saturn, Jackaboy—“

Jack hangs up on him too.

00000

“Are you upset?” Jack asks tentatively.

“I’m still deciding,” Davey says in a thin, even tone that really doesn’t bode well.

….

“Jack,” Davey murmurs, close enough that he can feel the whisper of his breath against his cheeks. “Apparently you haven’t noticed, but we’ve been dating for years. Tomorrow is our three-year anniversary.”

Jack, who had been swaying towards the warmth of Davey’s body, towards the promise of a kiss, freezes dead in his tracks. “What?”

But Davey just smiles. “Three years,” he repeats calmly.

“No, no, I heard you the first time, I jus’…” Jack shakes his head, hard, as if that with somehow make any of what’s happening make any kind of sense. “What?”

“When’s the last time you had sex with anyone but me?” Davey prompts—impossibly patient, all things considered. “Or went out on a date? Gave someone your number?”

“Not in fuckin’ ages,” Jack sputters, offended at the very thought. “You an’ me, we’ve got a good thing goin’. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You wouldn’t cheat on me?” Davey specifies, tilting his head.

“Course not!”

“Why would it be cheating if we aren’t together?” Davey asks, pointedly.

Jack stares at him, trying to find the riddle hidden in Davey’s question. Because… Because…

“Oh,” he says blankly.

Davey laughs, curling his hands around Jack’s waist. “Oh,” he agrees.

“Three years?” Jack asks weakly.

“Jackie,” Davey sighs, apparently realizing that Jack needs this spelled out to him. “We live together. We share a bedroom. We spent last Christmas at your mom’s house and you introduced me to Charlie’s kids as ‘Uncle David’.”

“Oh,” Jack says again, because it really bears repeating. “How the hell have you managed to put up with my dumbass for three fucking years?”

“It probably helps that I’m madly in love with you,” Davey says, rolling his eyes even as another soft smile curls over his lips.

“Huh,” Jack says. It’s maybe not the best response, but it’s honestly a miracle he manages to say anything at all.

“You’re in love with me too,” Davey helpfully informs him.

“Well, I knew that part,” Jack huffs. Then, “How did you know that?”

“Because I know you,” Davey says, lacing their fingers together. “But feel free to say it aloud any time you like.”

“I love you,” Jack murmurs.

Davey’s smile is like the first days of spring: bright like sunshine, full of promise and full of hope.

And the taste of his kiss is even better.

#newsies #javid #*editor's note #*the writing desk #bits & bobs #not so much an update as a compilation #but please enjoy regardless

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rip-us-xoxo · 1 year

Text

Georgie- George Weasley x Reader (REPOST)

Posted DECEMBER 27, 2020

Reposted APRIL 16, 2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings- FLUFF

Prompt is in bold: “You’re too good for the world”

A/N- This is for @/dracodear‘s lucky number sleepover & writing challenge! Sorry it took so long!

Enjoy!!!! And I hope you like it Olivia!

_______________________________

1st Year

“Georgie, let’s just go,” you heard Fred Weasley say from behind you. “What are you wearing, Weasleys? Hand me downs?” you heard a Slytherin boy cackle, making his friends cackle.

You were sitting down at the Hufflepuff table, talking with some of your new friends when you heard the bullying. As a true Hufflepuff (as your friends liked to call you), you embodied what Hufflepuff was all about. The sorting hat did sing “You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuff’s are true And unafraid of toil;” and that’s exactly what you were.

Now, you had exchanged words with the Weasley twins, but the words that were coming out of the vile Slytherins mouths were making you feel like they were your best friends.

The words were making you very angry inside, so angry that you needed to go and do something about it.

“I’ll be back,” you told your friends with a smile before putting on a determined face and walking over to the scene.

“Hey!” you called out, making all of the students stare at you. You gulped, “Don’t make fun of them! That’s not nice!”.

“That’s not nice!” one of the Slytherins mocked and took his knee off of the bench that it was leaning on and walked over to you, towering over you, “Whatcha gonna do about it, Huff?”.

You gulped once more and your eyes flickered over to the boys, locking eyes with George for a few seconds before looking back up at the Slytherin, “What you were saying to him was not okay, and I came to put an end to it.”.

You shivered at the look that the boy gave you before laughing and pushing you ever so slightly but making you tumble backward. “Oof,” you grunted when your butt hit the ground.

He and his group all threw insults at you about how you were “a weak Hufflepuff” before turning around and leaving you there with everyone looking at you. You started to try and get up by yourself but you heard someone quickly scurry over to you and before you knew it, you were being pulled up by your bicep off of the ground.

“Are you okay?” the person asked. You looked up to see George Weasley, one of the two boys you were trying to defend. “U-Um yeah, I’m sorry,” you said sadly and looked down. “Hey, it’s alright, thank you for defending us. My family isn’t too well-liked by purebloods, which is what all those boys are,” George said while patting your shoulder. You looked up into his eyes but quickly looked back down.

Your face went red and you turned your body slightly toward him, still looking down, “I just don’t understand why everyone can’t be nice to each other, it’s not that hard.”.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You smiled at his laugh and looked back up at him, “I’m Y/n.”.

“Yeah, I know, we have herbology together,” he informed and thought back to all of the times you were praised for being a child prodigy in herbology.

“Oh, well, I’ll see you later George,” you said with a smile that made his heart thump before giving him a quick hug, not even giving him enough time to hug you back, before letting go and running back over to your friends.

2nd Year

“Georgie!” you screamed as you watched your red-headed friend fall off of his broom after getting hit in the chest by a bludger.

It was only his second game of the year, or, ever, and it was against Slytherin, who was never fair during quidditch matches, so someone was bound to get hurt. You just hoped that it wasn’t going to be George, but from the gasping of everyone in the crowd to the boy literally on the ground, you knew that he was the unlucky duck.

“Excuse me!” you shouted while walking through the crowd in the Hufflepuff stands. You got to the stairs and quickly climbed down before running onto the field. To your horror, George was knocked out on the ground.

“Ms. Y/l/n, move! We need to get Mr. Weasley to Madame Pomfrey!” Madame Hooch declared and motioned for you to help her. You put your limp friend on your shoulder, his other arm slinging around Madame Hooch, and you both headed off for the hospital wing.

You were panicking the whole time, you immediately thought the worst, contrasting the positive mindset that you had about everything.

“Madam Pomfrey! We had a bit of a mishap during the quidditch match,” Madam Hooch announced while you both laid him down on one of the beds. “Oh boy, a bludger, I’m assuming?” she pitied while looking at his face that had scratches all over it from the impact he made with the grass.

“Exactly that, the poor boy was doing great, but he got a little distracted and missed the bludger heading straight for him,” Hooch cooed while patting his face, “Well, I have a match to get back to refereeing. I’m sure Weasley will be fine, I’ve seen worse.”. She took one more look at him before patting you on the shoulder and walking away.

“Will he be okay Madame Pomfrey?” you asked, voice shaking from your nerves. “Yes, he will be just fine, Ms. Yl/n. As Madame hooch said, there has been much worse,” she said while finishing up cleaning his cuts.

After the final dab of alcohol she stood up and studied him for a few moments, “He should wake in a few hours.”.

You breathed a sigh of relief and watched as she walked away before grabbing a chair and sitting beside him. “Thank Godric you’re alright,” you chuckled and studied his sleeping face, “Well… kinda, I guess, I don’t know.”.

Your nerves were getting to you again, but not because of the fact that George was hurt, it was because you were just near George. You’ve recently been slipping up while talking to him, always being mesmerized by his very handsome face. You would get all blushy when you two were close, not something that used to happen before.

You stayed there for hours, watching as people walked in and out and occasionally talking to George. “Ms. Yl/n, it would be a good idea to go back to your dormitory. You’ve been here all day, you should go and get some rest,” Madam Pomfrey coaxed, but you didn’t budge.

“I don’t want to leave him here, he’s my best friend,” you informed her with tears brimming your eyes. “Go get some sleep, Y/n,” you heard a tired voice say from beside you.

Your head shot sideways and you smiled brightly when you saw Georges smirking, and slightly concerned face. “Georgie!” you exclaimed and jumped to hug him.

He grunted and hugged you back, pouting small when you pulled away. “How long has she been here Madam Pomfrey?” George asked.

“Since ten in the morning, I’m afraid. She hasn’t left your side all day,” Madam Pomfrey recounted. George looked over at you with a look on his face that said “Really?”, but it was like you were stupid, stupid to be there all day with him.

“What? I was terrified! You think I was just going to leave you here?” you asked perplexed. He shouldn’t be surprised that you stayed all day with him, it’s just in your nature to take care of people.

“Go and get some rest, Y/n, I’m fine,” he beseeched and made a motion with his hand, telling you to go. “Are you sure you’re alright?” you questioned, not believing him. You wanted to make sure he was at 100% before you left him alone.

“Yes, Y/n, I’m fine!” he assured you, “Go and sleep, please, for me?”. He made puppy dog eyes that he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Fine,” you breathed out after his cuteness became too much. “Thaaank you,” he mused. You gave him a small nod before slowly, and reluctantly standing up from the chair you were sitting in.

You turned around quickly so that you wouldn’t look at him anymore, you felt bad for even leaving his side. You walked hastily out of the hospital wing and got pretty far down the hall before your guilty conscience started going a million miles a minute, making you feel horrible for leaving him there.

You stopped in the middle of the hall, fiddling with your fingers, debating whether you should keep walking or if you should go and sit with George. You started bouncing up and down, the guiltiness eating you alive.

You let out a whine before running back to the hospital wing. George looked at you disappointed when he saw you walking toward him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t leave you,” you apologized and sat down next to him before laying your head down on his stomach.

“It’s alright,” he chuckled, “just get some rest.”. You nodded your head before letting out a cute yawn and drifting off to sleep.

3rd Year

“Georgie, that’s too funny!” you laughed as you, Fred, George, and Angelina were walking through the corridor. “I am pretty brilliant,” George boasted, laughing too.

“Ah shit!” you heard someone groan from across the corridor. Your head looked toward the direction of the words to see a Slytherin boy looking down at a bunch of books scattered all over the ground.

You left your position beside your friends to go and see if he needed help. “What do you think about that, Y/n?” George asked before looking sideways to see that you weren’t there, “Y/n?!”.

He looked over to see you walking toward the Slytherin boy and quickly followed behind to make sure that he wouldn’t touch you. Fred and Angelina followed closely behind too, to make sure that George wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Are you alright? Do you need help?” you asked the boy. He glared up at you, making you gulp. It was the boy who bullied the twins in your 1st year. “I don’t need help from a dumb Hufflepuff,” he seethed and bent down to pick up his books.

“Now you listen here!” George growled and walked toward him, but you placed your arm in front of him, holding him back. “It’s alright George,” you told him.

“But he just insulted you!” George chided and pointed toward the boy who was struggling to pick his books up from the floor.

“Here, let me help you,” you told the boy, ignoring George. You picked up some of his books and stood up at the same time as him, handing his books to him. He took them reluctantly from you and looked over at his friends to see them laughing at the scene.

“Stupid huff,” he mumbled and stomped back over to his friends. “That’s it,” George seethed and pushed past you.

“George, please don’t! He’s probably just having a bad day!” you called out after him. George turned toward you and walked back to you, “How could you be so optimistic? He just called you stupid!”.

“Yeah, Y/n, I couldn’t see a good reason why he called you stupid even if I wanted to,” Fred chimed in, Angelina nodding in agreement.

“Everyone has their bad days. And besides, it’s not worth hurting someone for it. Kindness always wins,” you informed them and grabbed George softly by the forearm, pulling him closer to you.

“I can’t believe you,” George scoffed, amused by just how optimistic you could be. You gave George yet another smile that made his heart thump, as did every other smile you gave him.

He just rolled his eyes, trying to hide the red that flushed his face, and walked ahead of the three of you to lunch.

4th Year

“Georgie!” you called out after George, flower crown in hand. He turned around to see yellow robes running toward him, making him immediately smile. “Yeah?” he asked, watching as you finally got up to him.

“I made you this,” you told him sheepishly and held out the flower crown. “Thanks!” he beamed, “What’s the occasion?”.

“Well, I thought I might make something for my new boyfriend,” you told him, giggling when you saw blush spread across his cheeks. “Well, I love it,” he told you and set it on top of his head.

“How does it look?” he asked and struck a funny pose. “Lovely,” you giggled and walked up to him. “Hold on,” you said and stood on your tippy-toes to adjust it on his head, your tongue slightly sticking out because of how hard you were focusing.

You looked down slightly to see that you and George were face to face, and also that George had been staring at you admiringly the whole time. You became shy under his gaze and quickly looked back up, “There,” you breathed out and looked back into his eyes.

He smiled slightly at you before grabbing you by your waist, catching you by surprise. “Now or never,” he mumbled and brought his hands up to cup your cheeks before pressing a kiss onto your lips.

Although you two had been dating for a few weeks, you two hadn’t kissed yet. You didn’t know when it would be the right time because this was both your guys’ first relationship, you didn’t know how any of it worked!

Once George pulled away, you frowned a bit, already missing the feeling of his lips, not knowing when you would be able to feel that again.

“Wow,” he breathed out and looked at you. “Yeah, wow,” you giggled, causing him to giggle too.

“When can we do that again?” George mused. You just laughed and shook your head before pressing another quick kiss on his lips, catching George by surprise.

“Later Georgie,” you giggled and ran past him. George looked around, blushing like mad, making sure that no one saw the state he was in; A complete and utter mess for you.

5th Year

“Georgie! Don’t put that in-!” was all you got out before George poured a random ingredient into the potion you were supposed to make, making it explode. You and George both froze while Fred’s laughter erupted from behind you both.

“Good job George!” Fred cackled, “Now Snape’s gonna have your head!”. And Fred wasn’t wrong, within a matter of seconds, Snape was in front of you both scolding you two.

“I assume it was your doing, Mr. Weasley. Putting… whatever you put into the potion!” Snape scolded him.

The wave of guilt went through you, although it wasn’t your fault at all, you didn’t want George getting in trouble. You should’ve just stopped him and not have let him pour that ingredient into the potion.

“No, Professor Snape, I did it,” you told him shakily, making Snape’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. You were one of the best-behaved students in his class. “Well, Ms. Y/l/n, I guess I will be seeing you in detention after class, and taking 5 points off of Hufflepuff,” Snape ordered and gave you and George a glare before walking dramatically back to his desk. “Dangit,” you whispered and slumped back in your chair.

“Why would you do that, Y/n?!” George scolded you, “We both know that I did it! Why would you take the blame?!”. “I didn’t want you getting in trouble,” you shrugged and looked into his eyes.

He just sighed and pulled you into a hug. “You didn’t have to,” he whispered and put his head in your shoulder, looking down at where he was stroking your bicep.

“I know, but isn’t that what girlfriends are for?” you chuckled, making George look up at you sadly. “Thank you,” he mumbled and kissed you on the cheek.

“I’d do anything for you, George,” you proclaimed and kissed him on the cheek.

6th Year

“Georgie, help me please,” you laughed as you walked up behind him where he was standing by a tree talking to a few quidditch teammates. George turned around and started laughing as well, “Looks like you’ve got your hand full there,” he chuckled.

You had 5 first years all hugging you at the same time. Over the past year, the first years have come to like you a lot. Ever since you helped one girl with her homework, all of them asked for your help and now every day you’re hanging out with first years, which you don’t mind.

“Do you think we could sit here? It’s the biggest tree for shade and it’s pretty sunny out,” you asked him. “Yeah, of course,” George said and motioned toward the ground.

You gave him a thankful smile and looked down to the first years piled on you, “Alright guys, sit down and get out your books.”. They all quickly let go of you and sat down on the floor before rummaging through their bags.

You sat down too and looked up to see George still standing there, his quidditch mates now gone, just looking at you. “You wanna stop staring at me and sit down? Maybe help me a bit?” you laughed and motioned toward the 5 eager first years.

“Sure,” George chuckled and sat down behind you, spreading his legs out so that they were on either side of you. He then scooted up and pulled you into his chest so that you had room in between his legs to write down things for the first years.

You giggled a bit and leaned back, holding a book up so that you could read it. The first years’ assignment was to read one of the sections in their textbooks and answer questions for History of Magic.

“Alright? Who wants to read first?” you asked the students. One of the girls, Alexia, immediately raised her hand. When you nodded your head and motioned for her to go, she smiled and took a breath before beginning to read.

After everyone got a turn to read, including you and George (who didn’t want to read at all but did it because you asked him to), you all started answering the questions. But unfortunately, that is when George started getting ancy.

“Y/n, are we almost done?” he whined, bouncing his right leg. You put a hand on the bouncing leg, making it immediately stop, “No, George, we have 20 questions to answer, and then they have a potions essay to write.”.

George groaned and threw his head back, his right leg starting to bounce again. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” you told him softly and brought your hand behind your head to pat him on the cheek, “I’ll be fine by myself.”.

A few minutes later, you heard snoring coming from George. You felt bad that he was sitting on the ground sleeping, but then again, these first years needed your help. You sighed and kept helping them, but trying to stay as still as possible for George.

“No, I want to stay with you,” he whined and put his head in the crook of your neck. You just giggled and went back to helping the first years.

Around 3 hours later, as the sun was beginning to set, you decided that it was enough homework for today.

“Alright, guys! Good job today, I’ll pick you up from the great hall at the same time tomorrow and we can keep working on your potions essay!” you told them as cheerily as possible, you were tired out of your mind.

“Thank you, Y/n!” they all said in unison before each of them giving you a tiny hug, considering that George was behind you, fast asleep. “Bye guys,” you whispered and gave them a tiny wave as they all ran off.

You chuckled when you heard the snoring from behind you get louder. “Georgie, wake up,” you whispered and maneuvered your body around to face him. His face almost hit the ground when he woke up, “What, what?! I’m up!”.

You giggled at his quick reflexes and blushed when he looked at you, he looked adorable. “Oh, hi, love. How long was I out for?” he asked before yawning and outstretching his lanky arms.

“For about 3 hours, I’d say,” you told him while looking down at your watch. “Oh okay, wait? Where are the first years?” he asked, noticing their absence.

“They just left, I’m gonna help them again tomorrow, if you want to come and snooze on me again,” you joked and ruffled his hair. “Sorry about that,” he apologized.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You’re like a giant cuddly teddy bear,” you giggled. “Oh yeah?” he chuckled and tackled you to the ground, making the both of you roll around on the ground while laughing.

“George!” you laughed as you had rolled around for probably the 5th time. He stopped and hovered above your face, “Hello,” he giggled and placed a quick peck on your lips before hopping up to his feet and outstretching his arm to you.

You took his hand and he pulled you up quickly, making you fall into his arms. “Now let me get you back to the Hufflepuff common room and then I’m going to sneak into the kitchen to get some cookies,” he said and put his elbow out for you to link with.

“How gentlemanly of you,” you giggled and linked your elbow with his before walking into the castle.

7th Year

“Georgie, do you have everything set?” you asked him as he was packing his bags to leave Hogwarts. The plan would be set into motion in about 3 minutes. “Yep, I think so,” he sighed, his voice laced with sadness.

He turned toward you and grabbed your hands, “Why can’t you come with me? There’s enough room in the flat above the shop! You could get out of here, Umbridge will never hurt you again and you can be with me!”.

You looked up at him, eyes starting to brim with tears, “You know I can’t. I can’t leave the first years behind. They need me.”.

He nodded sadly and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. “I’ll see you in a couple of months. Make sure to owl me every day. Or at least every week,” he told you and grabbed your hands once more, moving them as he was talking.

“I promise,” you smiled up at him, “Now go! Go and make your dream a reality!”.

He smiled brightly at you before giving you another kiss and grabbing his broom.

“Ready Fred?” he asked, “Ready George,” Fred confirmed. George threw the firework so that it would fly into Umbridge’s class and within seconds, the boys flew off and made their final ruckus at Hogwarts before flying off, the gigantic ‘W’ in the air really making their final mark.

You cheered along with the others and immediately went to go write a letter to George so that it would be there when he arrived at their new premises.

The Night After the End of 7th Year

“Georgie!” you squealed as you saw him standing outside of the shop. The moment you got off of the train, you apparated to Diagon Alley.

“Sorry!” you apologized as you ran into someone, but you just kept running toward George. You opened your arms as you rammed into George, nearly knocking him over. “Y/n!” he exclaimed and squeezed you as tight as he could.

You let a few tears slip out of your eyes, you missed him so much while he was gone. You couldn’t stand not being with him almost every second of every day. You couldn’t stand him not sneaking into the Hufflepuff common room almost every night so that you two could cuddle.

You both pulled away and looked at each other, the amount of love between the two of you was almost too much to handle. You both grabbed each other’s faces and slammed your lips together, almost completely forgetting you were in public.

When you two pulled away, people were giving you weird looks, but you two couldn’t care less. “I missed you so much,” he breathed out and pulled you in for another hug. He looked so grown up, he had a suit and tie on and everything. All while you had a dress on that made you look like a little girl. “I missed you too, Georgie,” you proclaimed and nuzzled your face into his chest.

“Y/n, I have something I want to do,” he told you shakily. You looked up at him, worried. Was he breaking up with you? No! He couldn’t! He just said he missed you. All of your worries drifted away when George got down on one knee and pulled out a tiny black box.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I first laid eyes on you in first year,” he began, making you tear up. “I love you with everything I’ve got, and I know it’s not much, but my Heart aches sometimes because of how much I truly love you. You, Y/n Y/l/n, have had me wrapped around your finger since we first exchanged conversation. You’re too good for the world and that’s why I love you so much. You’re too good for me, honestly,” he chuckled, you couldn’t believe it.

“You’ve stood up for me when Slytherins denounced Fred and I, you were there for me when I got hit by a bludger and cared too much about me to leave my side, you helped a foul Slytherin who hurt you just because he needed help. You didn’t care that he called you mean names afterward, your heart was too big to accept that there was any evil in this world. You made me a flower crown for me when we first started dating, you saved me from getting detention by taking the blame for a potion mishap that I caused, you would always help first years and even refused to leave school with me because you knew that the first years needed you more than I did.”.

His words were making your heart swell. “You’re too good for me and there’s nothing I could ever do to fully deserve you, but I’m glad that you’ve given me a chance to try,” you were now sobbing at this point, “I guess what this is all leading up to is… Y/n, the love of my life, the girl who owns my heart, will you marry me?”.

You wiped a few tears from your eyes, “Yes, Georgie, of course, I will!” you squealed through tears and let him put the ring on your finger before letting him pick you up and spin you in the air. Once he sat you down, you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him like it was the last kiss you two were ever going to share.

“Yes! You finally did it!” you heard Fred cheer from beside you two. “Hi Fred!” you greeted him and showed him the ring.

“Holy crap, did you steal that thing, George?! It’s gorgeous! There’s no way you could afford that!” he gasped. “Only the best for the best,” George told him while still looking at you.

“Mhm,” he eyed George suspiciously and walked over to you, giving you a hug, “Well congrats, Y/n, make sure to hide that ring when you go out, you don’t want to be caught with stolen jewels,” Fred told you and walked back into the shop.

“I didn’t steal it,” George told you, “I know,” you mouthed while giggling, making him chuckle too.

“I love you so much, more than you will ever know,” he expressed, the tears that were brimming his eyes now starting to pour down. “I love you more, my Georgie,” you said in barely a whisper, trying not to sob again, and kissed him once more.

He was your Georgie forever and he could barely believe it. The purest, most positive, and good soul in the world was his fiancé, soon to be wife.

Georgie was a very lucky man indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

xoxo

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley imagine #harry potter characters x reader #harry potter fanfiction

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yanteetle · 1 year

Note

I’ve had this fic idea burning a hole in my brain for the last month and I think you’d appreciate it. (Disclaimer that this scenario is Yandere!Donnie while the rest of his brothers are not yandere.)

Donnie slams his head onto his desk in dismay, shoving the phone away.

Stupid, stupid stupid!

He knows that when he had first met Y/N at April’s school, he had been using his cloaking broach to disguise as a human, but he had been trying to confess the truth!

if only Y/N hadn’t been asked out by their crush, causing him to move up his plans.

He had tried to ambush them in turtle form at their apartment, but they had managed to wrench themselves free from his grasp and escape.

Not his finest moment.

And now, he had just received a text from them:

I’m really sorry I didn’t come to our meet up, Donnie. There was this horrible turtle mutant! It tried to grab me! I only just got away. What kind of monster would try to do that to someone anyways?! I hope I never see that thing again!

This was it. All of his plans- gone.

Y/N hated him.

They must belong to him. They may not like it, but he knows what’s good for them better than they do.

Unfortunately, them hating his true self was a problem that would be almost impossible to work around.

Donnie hears a knocking at his lab door.

“Go away!” He yells, irritated at the interruption.

With a flash of blue, Leo does the exact opposite, portaling into the room.

“You called for your favourite brother?” He sings.

“Leo, now is not the time, I’m dealing with some serious problems with what I’m working on!”

“Awww, poor genius.” Leo says, patting him on the shoulder only to be swatted away.

“I’m sure that whatever’s not working out the way you planned, you can fix it. You’re always making fixes for your other projects, so just work your Donatello magic for this one!” He reassures.

Donnie sits up in shock.

“That’s right! When things don’t work out the way I want, I make a fix! Why shouldn’t this be any different?!”

“I’m glad to see that my wise words have helped you once again!” Leo smirks.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, you’re so helpful. Now get out, I need to start working on this.”

”So bossy! As you insist, bro!” Leo falls backwards into another portal, vanishing with a flash of blue.

Under his breath, Donnie mutters,

“You’re just broken right now, my dear. Don’t worry, though, I’ll fix you as soon as I can so you’ll understand what I already know:

You belong to me.”

oh my god the scream I scrumpt when I first read this. CHEFS ABSOLUTE KISS. ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS AMAZING!! Q&^@*($!#$89??? I adore how you wrote this and the way you incorporated Leo into the writing, it feels so natural and sick and I the insanity Donnie is experiencing is SO ARGH- <333 And how you portrayed his frustration too?? It's so perfect and I had such an easy time imagining his voice saying the words too! It's really hard to have that in ROttmnt writing sometimes, so it's really precious when you're able to do it well! <33

I know I postponed writing this for an unreasonable amount of time, but you deserved to know that this is precious and that if you ever write for Rottmnt, I'd love too see more of your work, okay? Please have a nice day and take care!! <33 More people need to see this, so I'm adding extra tags for this one! :DD

#teets blockables #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #random asks <3 #yandere rottmnt #yanteetles tellings #yandere #obsessive yanderes #rise tmnt #rottmnt x reader

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gunkbaby · 15 days

Text

All Of Shuu’s TG Calender Appearances! (In Chronological Order!)

*this was initially just gonna be a twitter thread but I’m posting it here first bc is easier to draft and arrange. :) Wrote the little information cards that are under the pics and will try to image ID them for the text late one.

Under a cut bc there are twenty-four of them! Enjoy! <3

(I believe the image below is from an anime calender? Or something? I’m not sure.)

January 12th - Skiiing Day

On January 12, 1911, Major Lerch of the Austrian Army first taught a young officer in the Niigata Prefecture how to ski. Be careful when doing tricks!

February 6th - Blog Day

Based on bu (2) rogu (6). A blog post from Shuu, it reads: “February 6 Have you heard of a flower called the ‘Hardenbergia’? It is also called a ‘Komachifuji’ and as its name suggests, it blooms with lovely purple petals. And here is the usual Tsukiyama Shuu’s Flower Language Corner. In flower language, a Hardenbergia refers to: “A fateful encounter.” “Happiness will unexpectedly drop in.” …and the like. There’s also “a miraculous miracle”… —But this is what I think. Encounters are always fateful, and reunions are always miraculous. Fate, miracles, our world is filled with such. This moment is also a miracle.” The comments feature Touka being quite rude, Kaneki adding little of importance, and Yomo not understanding technology.

February 13th - Bank Robbery Day

On February 13th, 1866, the first ever successful bank robbery took place in America by Jesse James.

February 25th - Hori Chie’s Birthday

Hori was Tsukiyama Shuu’s classmate in Seinan High School. Hori treats Tsukiyama as her photographic subject and despite Tsukiyama being a ghoul, she doesn’t fear him. Tsukiyama in return finds her intriguing and treats her as a pet. Their relationship continues on until now making them long-time acquaintances. Whether they have a good relationship or not, it’s difficult to say for sure.

March 3rd - Tsukiyama Shuu’s Birthday. (Obviously.)

Happy Birthday, Tsukiyama Shu.

March 26th - Untitled.

No text.

March 31st - Untitled.

The inauguration (to celebrate the completion of the structure) of the Eiffel Tower in Paris was held today. I wonder if Tsukiyama has ever been to France before.

April 28th - Nice Bath Day no. 3

No text.

May 1st - Untitled. Shu’s second blog post.

This blog reads as follows: ‘Hey, everyone. We have now entered May, yes? Speaking of May 1, it is a custom in France to send muguet (Lily of the Valley) as a present to the person you love on this day. And the recipient is said to be visited by great fortune.” Now then, upon hearing the words ‘the person you love’, whose face do you picture in your mind? How about giving flowers as gifts to him?…Or her? …With that said, that beloved person you just thought of may already be a happy person at this point. Shu.’

May 11th - Salvador Dali’s Birthday

The Persistence of Memory. “I saw three soft Shuus. One of them had a deplorable figure that hanged down from the branch of the olive tree.”

May 27th - Hyakunin Isshu Day

No. 86 Saigo Hoshi “Should I blame the moon, for bringing forth this sadness, as if it pictured grief? Lifting up my troubled face, I regard it through my tears.” Grief? Is that what you’re trying to say, moon? I don’t think so. Did I only just want to blame the moon for this sadness?

May 28th - Fireworks Day.

On this day in 1733, fireworks were launched for the first time for a festival in Ryogoku. The festival was first held by the 8th shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate, Yoshimune, in order to calm the spirits of the dead who fell to the great famine and cholera in the previous years. Now, it is held annually as water god festivies to ward off evil spirits. (Note: turn up the brightness or stare very hard for a long time. He is there, I promise.)

June 9th - 6th Ward Day

A huge amount of members were sacrificed during the annihilation of ‘Aogiri’s Hideout’ in the 11th Ward. Afterwards, Kaneki left ‘Anteiku’ in order to follow Rize’s footsteps and entered a new world, the ‘6th Ward’, alongside Tsukiyama and Banjou.

June 25th - Spaceyama.

No text. Shuu gets a cow and a Strange Thing and his father is proud.

July 20th - The Day of the Moon Landing

On 1969, the human race landed for the first time on the moon in the spacecraft, Apollo 11. At that time, Commander Armstrong sent a message to Earth saying, “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”.

August 6th - Handsome Day

Based on ha (8) nsa mu (6).

August 27th -Miyazawa Kenji’s Birthday

A poet and writer of fairy tales who was based in his hometown of Iwate. The paradise of his work was given the name ‘Ihatov’.

In his masterpiece “The Restaurant of Many Orders”, two young men went hunting in the forest, got lost, and strayed into a restaurant called ‘Wildcat House’. The irony of it all is when the two instead became the food.

September 21st - Fashion Show Day

On this day in 1927, the first fashion show in Japan took place in kimono shop called Mitsukoshi in Ginza. At that time, kimonos were mainstream.

September 8th - TG’s 5th Year Anniversary

Serialization strted on Weekly Young Jump No. 41 which was sold on this day in 2011. Thank you very much for reading.

September 9th - Rollcake Day

Based on how the cross section of a rollcake forms a ‘9’. June 6th is also called ‘Rollcake Day’ for a similar reason.

September 16th - Match Day

On this day in 1948, freely selling previously rationed matches was accepted.

October 14th - Glasses No.2

No text.

October 25th - World Pasta Day

On this day in 1995, the World Pasta Congress was held in Italy.

October 26th - Kishimen Day

Kishimen is a slick type of noodle that’s thin and wide in width. Based on tsu (2) ru (6) which means ‘slick’ or ‘slippery’. It is also considered the ‘autumn of appetite’.

December 23rd - Palindrome Day 3

‘Intimidating, Tsukiyama… Will you get burned?’

December 29th - Chanson Day

On this day in 1990, a long-established Chanson cafe in Gonzales called ‘Ginpan’ went out of business. The place was known as a gateway to success for Chanson singers.

Ok I think that’s all :)

Tell me if I have missed one, I will edit. Sorry, am tired from exam prep, hopefully this is okay. I love you so much. I feel like Shuu is always home for me in stressful times.

I’m planning to do one of these for Kanae and Rize too. I can do other characters I guess afterwards.

I own this calender. I think I might like a second one to cut out and make postcards with to go on my Shuu shrine.

#Goodness. I hope this is all correct #It took me so long #that second blog post always makes me sad :(#Bless you shuu #Thank you for being a part of my life #shuu tsukiyama #Tokyo ghoul #shuucore #gunk #tg gunk #tg calender

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emonydeborah · 8 months

Text

snw 3x01

now I’m having Thoughts so I might as well

this would be how I want it, but trying to keep it realistic to the previous writing

we have our season 2 recap and end with Chris staring into the camera like he’s dying

we open on the Gorn ship. It’s dark and creepy and we hear the clicking. The prisoners are panicking. La’an and co. assess the situation and decide they are in trouble. La’an has an angsty line about the gorn being monsters.

it’s set up to be a Chris episode but I’m already so tired so let’s make it a La’an episode. I want flashbacks. IN FACT, we opened with a flashback. The creepy ship was a flashback, we saw little La’an, and then we went to grown La’an and crew talking.

back to enterprise. Let’s not make their momentary escape a big deal that takes up time, let’s just say they’re away somewhere safe-ish for the moment. The bridge crew- pointedly missing Erica, La’an, and M’Benga- discuss their options. After Pike insists they’re going to get their people back, Spock is assigned to find a way to get onto the gorn ship.

Pike dismisses everyone but Una stays. She knows what he’s thinking, but she’s absolutely not letting him onto that ship. He froze on the bridge and he’s compromised. Una has super strength, and as first officer she’s supposed to take the dangerous missions anyway. Pike is all “you don’t understand, I have to” and Una drops her friendly approach. My crew too. La’an is over there. Chris you are not fit for this. She convinces him but he’s angsty about it.

On the Gorn ship, Sam is panicking. La’an tells him to shut up and he gets mad, and Erica goes to calm him down. M’Benga checks on La’an and says he knows how hard this is. Our favorite tragic past girlie goes no you don’t. Erica comes back and reports on the morale of the prisoners. Second flashback, little La’an is being shoved through a gorn ship with other prisoners. Someone tries to run and they get eaten.

ENTERPRISE

Chris goes to check on Batel. She has accepted her impending death and he has Not. They have a little tiff about it. Chris reveals that a team is going over. Christine comes over with meds and Chris leaves. Batel goes get me stable enough to join the mission.

meanwhile, Spock, Pelia, and Una are discussing how to get to the gorn ship and back. They need a way to keep in contact without the gorn knowing. Una repeatedly emphasizes that they do in fact need a way back. Scotty and Uhura are hanging around and Scotty suggests something. Uhura builds on it. Something something phase harmonics something something transporters. Spock and Pelia go sounds legit. Una says do it.

GORN SHIP

La’an is briefing the other three on what the gorn are going to do. It is not fun. She’s going off about how they’re animals and monsters and Sam is like… they have spaceships. Let’s assume some rationality. La’an is like nO you don’t uNdERsTanD. We need to RUN. yes but we need a plan. They start to make a plan.

ENTERPRISE

chris gets a call from April and he’s ordered to retreat. They fight about it. April ends the call with a definitive get back here or so help me.

Una and her team (Spock, some redshirts, Scotty to set up a way to get them back) are suited up and ready to go. Chris comes to see them off. Batel walks in, also suited up, and Chris goes absolutely NOT but it’s not up to him. She’s immune to gorn it makes no sense to leave her behind. We’ll talk about this when I get back. They beam away.

Uhura calls him in a panic. The communication set up isn’t working. The away team is on their own.

GORN SHIP

La’an and co. are on the move. Sam works out where the transporter room is and he and M’Benga are going to get the prisoners there. La’an and Erica are going to find the engine room and lower the shields. Flashback to little La’an being dumped on the breeding planet.

The away team doesn’t have comms. They start to creep through the ship towards human life signs.

Flashback to little La’an being captured and put in the lifeboat. Erica and La’an talk as they head towards the engine room. If we want a little Erica backstory here we can do that. They mostly talk about the gorn. They get to the engine room and start to work with on the shields. Something clicks in the shadows. They don’t see it.

the away team finds the prisoners. M’Benga tells Una La’an and Erica went for the engine room. Una and Batel go after them while Scotty and Spock work on the transporters. Scotty has an idea about communication.

a gorn attacks La’an and Erica from the shadows. La’an is knocked over and her vision (and the camera) goes fuzzy. Little La’an is in the lifeboat, oxygen is falling, it’s very cold. Grown La’an sees/hears phaser fire, and sees the gorn go down. A figure in Starfleet gold approaches little La’an, kneels next to her. “Hello? Can you hear me?” The face comes into focus. Grown La’an “Una?” (This is the main moment I want. Do what you want with the rest I want this moment specifically). Una pulls La’an to her feet and I want a hug but I will settle for La’an about to break down and Una squeezes her arm or something. We see the gorn got her with the venom and La’an starts to panic but Una calms her down. One problem at a time.

Batel and Erica have done something to the shields. And they can destroy the other gorn ships, just for fun. Someone would have to stay behind, though.

Scotty is doing some wire engineering thing and goes I’ve got it!

ENTERPRISE

Chris is STEWING. Uhura is on the comms, doing her best. They get a signal. They start to beam people over.

GORN SHIP

the girls are fighting about who gets to die. Batel is like I’m dying anyway let me do this for my crew. Una goes well I’m dying too so checkmate. If she wants to fight dirty, Una goes what am I going to say to Chris? Batel is like it’s my choice. Also, you think Chris would forgive me if I came back without you? Another gorn drops by and goes for La’an, and Una puts herself in between. (Yes I realize if she’s been sprayed the gorn shouldn’t attack her. Don’t worry about it I’m working on it. It wouldn’t be the biggest plot hole in this show.) Batel jumps in front of her, and the gorn backs off. Erica kills it/knocks it out. Batel says she’ll call when she’s ready to go. Una sends La’an and Erica back but she’s going to try to stay. Batel calls for her to be beamed out and the enterprise obeys.

ENTERPRISE

Una goes no send me back!!! Or get her out!!! She’s trying to sacrifice herself!! Scotty works on it but for technobabble reasons it can’t be done. Chris talks to Batel and she says goodbye. We see her on the gorn ship, she does not look good. The lizard babies are coming and she’s running out of time. The angst. The chaos. Batel takes out all the gorn ships.

for whatever reason the enterprise is buffeted by the explosion or something. They get out. Chris is shell-shocked. This is when Una chooses to almost faint and La’an yells about getting her to sickbay.

IN SICKBAY

Christine is working on Una. Somber moment. They both try to banter a little.

chris is talking to M’Benga. I can’t lose her, too. M’Benga goes her Illyrian physiology is reacting in a way I have never seen, and cannot predict. It’s not a good prognosis. La’an punches a wall and storms out, Chris goes after her. They talk about Una and how much they love and need her.

there’s a ruckus from inside sickbay. La’an and Chris run back in and Una is glowing. It takes a long time, and she passes out. Frozen moment of silence. Christine scans her and says there’s no gorn. They draw some blood and labs. This could mean a cure. La’an and chris are on either side of the bed. La’an is crying. Una is tired.

LATER

Something something captain’s log. Headway against the gorn but they’re still a threat. Admiral April something. Is what I’ve lost worth what we’ve gained or some broody nonsense.

Chris is staring out the window in his quarters. Una comes in. She’s been released from sickbay, after they took a lot of samples. Chris pours her a drink, and they toast Batel, and the conversation gets to he doesn’t know what he’d do without Una. Una hugs him. Chris leans all the way into the hug, and we zoom out to the ship. We think it’s done.

WRONG. We have traumatized La’an so much so let’s check on her. Surprise surprise, she’s having a nightmare. Memories of Una pulling her out of the lifeboat, Una on the gorn ship from this episode, Una dying, everyone dying, there are gorn everywhere- La’an wakes up.

…obviously I am not a screenwriter. This would be fun though. Gets everything I want, anyway.

if anyone has any theories on where they think the first episode will go, I’d love to hear them!!!!

#snw #snw season 3 #Chris pike #una chin riley #la’an noonien singh #erica ortegas #joseph m'benga #sam kirk #marie batel #montgomery scott #pelia #spock #christine chapel #nyota uhura #Snw theory #Gorn

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betterthanburrow · 10 months

Note

heyo!! this sounds like a weird request but can you can an insta au with a reader who’s a kpop idol ???

Celebrity Crush - Instagram AU

(Bengals QuarterBack! Joe Burrow x K-Pop Idol! OC)

liked by 570,815 users

Bengals: If the internet breaks, this is why.

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username1: MVP SEASON INCOMING ‼️

username2: the Bengals page is really trying to turn my gay at this point…

username3: 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

username4: he could tell me to jump into an active volcano and i’ll do a swan dive!

username5: hard to look ❌hard while looking at ✅

liked by 1,009,513 users

yourinstagram: Night 1 in New York!

Thank you, I love you 🤍

keep dreaming, loving, and doing what you gotta do!

Thank you for a lot of love last night!

view all 420,075 comments

username1: the concert was so much fun!

thegarden: 🤍🤍🤍

username2: NEW YORK LOVES YOU!

liked by 99,513 users

ALLKPOP: Cincinnati Bengals Quarterback Joe Burrow revealed in the Media Press Conference that he is a big fan of K-POP Soloist Y/FN Y/LN and he said that she is his celebrity crush and that everyone should go listen to her new album that was released in April.

Who Knew That The NFL QB is a K-POP Fan?!

view all 50,111 comments

username1: i never thought that my two worlds would collide 😵‍💫 i don’t know how to react to this information

username2: i’ve seen this guy all of my FYP… he’s hot!

↳ usermame3: he’s even hotter now that he’s admitted to being a fan of Y/N!

username4: A NFL QB LIKES K-POP?! WHAT UNIVERSE TIMELINE ARE WE LIVING IN?!

liked by 690,205

WORLDWIDE_Y/NUPDATES: Y/N’S INSTA-STORIES

view all 101,630 comments

username1: this is the first time Y/N has acknowledged a celebrity when they say they like her music 😳

username2: the kissy face and pink heart emojis 😶

username3: nice choice of emojis @.yourinstagram

username4: as a burrow girl and a Y/N fan… i think i might pass out seeing my two faves interacting 🫨

liked by 20,513 users

lovely_Y/N09: LOOK WHAT I SAW ON TWITTER?!

view all 9,055 comments

username1: WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT… WHAT?!

username2: now i understand why Y/N decided to acknowledge that Joe Burrow listens to her music…

username3: Y/N IS A BURROW GIRL?!

↳ username4: i didn’t even know she liked american football… who introduced her to the world of sports?!

username5: i want to be a fly on the wall when Y/N found out that Joe Burrow listens to her music.

username6: this is the wildest thing to happen in the K-Pop World in a very very very very very long time 😳

liked by joeyb_9 and 1,505,013 users

yourinstagram: Night Two in New York!

Thank You So Much… I Love You 🤍

being able to perform multiple tour shows at Madison Square Garden is an honor and i’m so thankful for the love and support you all have shown me on tour.

view all 222,009 comments

thegarden: you’re always welcome at MSG!

username1: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

username2: i can’t believe tour will be over soon ☹️

username3: WE’RE SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!!

joeyb_9: you need to do a concert in Cincinnati.

↳ yourinstagram: new tour dates are coming soon 😊

Author’s Note:

i used to be a fan of k-pop (i only listened to one boy group, a few girl groups, and a few soloists) so it was kinda interesting to combine one of my old interests with one of my new interests.

it’s been a while since i’ve published a requested Instagram AU, thank you all for the patience as i’m trying to catch up on all the IG AU requests that are in my Inbox at the time.

if you have a Instagram AU request, please send the IG AU request to my Inbox and i’ll try to get the requested Instagram AU published as fast as i can!

thank you all for the love and support! 🤍

#Joe Burrow #NFL #CFB #LSU Tigers #Cincinnati Bengals #Joe Burrow Fanfiction #Joe Burrow Fanfic #Joe Burrow Fic #Joe Burrow x Reader #Joe Burrow x OC #Joe Burrow x Y/N #Joe Burrow Instagram #Joe Burrow Instagram AU #NFL Fanfiction #NFL Instagram #NFL Instagram AU #Instagram #Instagram AU

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melancholysway · 1 year

Note

I'm an hypocrite who promised herself not to hound you and yet here I am again! I'm putting this here, answer it or not at your leisure: S/O never actually told the turtle "I love you" even though they are together. Then it comes out of the blue during an ordinary day and moment and S/O get so overwhelmed by having said it they just spill out every reason why they love their turtle. Even shutting them up if they try to say something because they're on an emotional roll and have to get to the end of it before hearing any reply.

Hi! I’m so sorry this took so long! I haven’t had the time lately to just sit down and write with work & all, so hopefully this is what you had in mind??

TMNT (Mix) Imagines: Spilling Your Feelings

2007!Leonardo

I have a love-hate relationship with 2007 Leo omg

It’s been hard, holding it in

Leo came back from his training, and the first thing he does after saying hello to his family is come see you

He jumps rooftop to rooftop like he used to do before he left, remembering your route by heart

He comes over to that window he’s so accustomed to, and knocks on it like old times

You can’t wait to see him, and you almost trip from running to the window to open it, and he’s just there.

Standing and looking at you, smiling widely and coming inside just to give you a long-awaited bear hug

Leonardo is back, and nothing could get any better than that.

“I missed you,” You say while he rubs your back, “I really, really missed you Leo.”

“I’ve missed you more, love.” Ugh, you loved it when he called you that. It was also important to point out that neither of you had said it yet, the “I love you.”

That is, until Leonardo gets comfortable, and you both decide to catch up by cuddling on your bed and watching a movie.

It’s just like before he left, he’s still the same goofball you fell for before he left for training. He’s still the same caring, loving, amazing boyfriend. He hasn’t changed. He’s visibly stronger, yes, but he’s still the same Leo you’ve come to know and love.

Once the movie’s finished, you both just lay together, becoming one while he talks of the many stories from South America.

The people he’s seen, the things he’s done, everything. It’s amazing, that Leo was able to experience something to nice as travel. It was secluded, yes, but he was able to see sights that wasn’t New York City.

“I understand if you didn’t…want to wait for me.” He knew it, that sometimes people get lonely and need someone there for comfort. But, not you. You were devoted to Leo no matter what.

“Leo,” You always hated when he says selfless things like that, he deserves to know his worth. He’s worthy of love. “I love you, I don’t care how long I had to wait to see you again and-”

Uh oh.

As a shocked look is plastered on Leo’s face, he can’t help but ask.

“You…love me? Even after I left like that?”

Well…yeah, you do.

Now, Leo hasn’t told you he loved you either. But after that whole trip abroad, the training, the long nights of just thinking. How you were so supportive of him to go and be a better leader and version of himself, despite not being able to see or touch him for a few months.

Or rather, a year. He prolonged his stay, although it meant he wouldn’t see you for longer.

But, you waited. You still waited for Leo, had hope that he was okay when he stopped sending you and his family letters. You waited when April said she found him deep in the jungle, and you waited when you had a gut feeling Leo would be coming home soon thanks to her.

You both just sit there next to each other, and you just let it out.

“I do, Leo, I…I love you. I missed you so much that I just wanted you to come home.”

He just listens to you, he listens as you continue to spill your feelings out to him without saying a word.

You start feeling anxious, because Leonardo hasn’t said anything.

Too soon? No, you’ve been together for about a year now.

If anything, you’re surprised you haven’t said it sooner. But, with Leo being gone and all, it just made you realize how you truly felt.

Your boyfriend just sees your face looking concerned, and he immediately does what reassures you.

He takes your small hands into his bigger ones, and kisses you softly on the lips.

“I love you, too.” He does, Leo truly loves you. You waited this long for him to come back that, oh my gosh, who else would do that for him?

“Thank you for waiting for me.”

Bayverse!Raphael

You literally started dating Raph like…a month ago. One month. It’s been a month.

A fucking month.

But you had this feeling about him that you seriously couldn’t shake. You loved him.

Well, of course you did, he’s your boyfriend, but, were you really going to keep it in until he said it first?

It might be an eternity before you hear Raph says that he loves you

He’s never usually vocal about his emotions, he’s an action guy.

He’s definitely shown you that he loves you, but he hasn’t said it.

You continue being (trying to be at least) cool around him. But it’s so hard. Especially when he has that smexy handsome smirk everytime you speak to him or how he gives you that forehead kiss everytime you come over to the lair and just

UGH

It’s gonna be so much harder than you think.

You’re now at your peak for wanting to tell Raph that you love him, but you seriously try your hardest not to.

I know, try not to tell your boyfriend you love him, weird, right?

Raph is a pretty good communicator, though like I said, his actions are what define him. He’d rather show you than just tell you. He knows that words are just words.

You try and at least get through this day in the lair trying not to tell him. You’re restraining yourself so much that Raph takes notice of how uncomfortable you look.

“You okay? Ya stopped countin.” Raph stops mid push-up to tend to you, but now you’re sort of on the spot with him.

“I uh, um, no.”

“What’s tha matta babe?”

He’s just teasing at this point. Without even realizing it.

And when he gets up and just looms over you like his brothers do, you seemingly crumble.

“Fine! I love you! You squeezed it out of me, happy?!”

Okay, RUDE. Raph just gives you a confused look, as you weren’t one to raise your voice or get mad at him.

“When did I-” “You knew what you were doing! You’re just over there doing push ups looking so hot- what did you think I was thinking?!”

Raphael just stares at you. He isn’t sure what to say, considering you’re on a roll (no butter)

He gets like that, too. He just goes on and on and on and on, until you just stop him from riling himself up or getting angry.

You just need to be calmed down. That’s what you always did with him after he got stuff off his chest.

“Y/n, cal-” “I won’t calm down! I know it’s been a month and all, but seriously, I love you, Raph.” That’s what you had to get off your chest.

“Ya know I love ya too, right?” Raph thought he was doing pretty good at showing that.

“I…yeah…you just never said it.”

And that’s where you and Raph find common ground.

“Just cause I ain’t say it, doesn’t mean I don’t love ya.” You’re calming down, and after that whole ordeal, you tell him that you would like to hear it sometimes. So you feel comfortable saying it to him.

Raph was still getting used to being in a relationship. Although he likes to do things his way, there may be times where he has to lean towards doing it how you prefer it. One of these things being vocal. It’s taking him out of his comfort zone, but if it makes you happier, he’ll do it. It’s not a crime to tell your s/o that you love them on top of showing them.

2003!Donatello

Dating Donatello has been absolutely peaceful. He’s probably the most easygoing turtle you knew. He just…invents things, then shows you when he’s done because he’s so excited to share it

Aside from inventing or fixing things, he loves to spend his time with you whilst doing them

You begin to pull all nighters as Donnie’s lab assistant, and honestly, the 3am talks go a little like this:

“If I was a worm, would you still love me?”

“I’d probably step on you by accident,”

“Donnie!”

Or something like:

“Do you think Walt Disney is in cryosleep right now?”

“Y/n, do you think we’re in a stimulation? I’m feeling a little…NPCish.”

It’s super cute, but some of the conversations are pretty odd.

However, one night while helping Donnie, you’re both feeling flirty and lovey that you just outright say it as you throw in the towel and go take a nap on the couch in the lab.

“Donnie…I…love you.” Okay, you’ve only been dating for a few months, and neither of you had said it yet.

Donnie was nervous it was too soon, so he kept it to himself. But, it was obvious. Terribly obvious that he loved you without even having to say it. You just didn’t realize it. But boy, his brothers did.

You begin to drift off into sleep, before you could even hear what Donnie had said.

But, when you wake up, you sort of think it was a dream. Donnie greets you as usual, on his 10th cup of coffee, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Hey, love.” Donnie says, tinkering with a new device in his hands, “How’d you sleep?”

You’re unsure if you told Donnie, or if he’s just unfazed, but, whatever it is, you have to know.

“Diditellyouilovedyoulastnight?” You say quickly, yet Donnie understood every word.

“Well…yeah, you don’t remember? It w-” “I don’t remember,” here comes the rambling, “was that too soon? It’s not like I didn’t mean it, but, if it’s too soon I’ll like, take it back or-”

“Woah, Y/n! Calm down, I think you knocked out and didn't hear my reply.” Donnie smiles, trying to soothe you and calm your nerves. It wasn’t too soon.

“I said that I loved you too. Though judging by the drool and the confused look on your face, you had no idea.”

Though you glare at your boyfriend while you wipe the corner of your mouth, you smile back, feeling relieved.

It’s not like there’s a time limit on how long you should wait before saying ‘I love you,’ in fact, lots of couples realize their love for each other before being in a relationship together. This may have been the case with Donnie, since he gets feelings pretty quickly.

It wasn’t like you weren’t friends before being together. It’s why you and Donnie had been working so well. You knew what he liked and disliked, as he did with you. Being friends for a year and change truly makes a difference here.

You loved Donnie, and you were so glad he felt the same.

2012!Michelangelo

Saving the world from an alien invasion definitely deserves some recognition

After saving April, and the whole fight between Splinter and Shredder, a lot of things are revealed and left unsaid, but now, it’s just time to unwind

Mikey suggests a party, and as Splinter meditates in his room, the dojo floor is all yours

You try (and lose terribly) to a dance-off against Raph, and you watch as Donnie’s only safe move is the sprinkler to try and impress April

You all eat all the pizza you can like it’s going out of style, and once it’s done and everyone is crashed on the couch in the living space, you and your boyfriend still have energy for days and agree to skateboard on the rooftop

It’s super dangerous btw, don’t ever do this

But who cares, right?

“Yolo, am I right?” No, Mikey, you’re not right.

If you don’t know how to skateboard, you gon learn tonight.

But if you do, awesome!

If you don’t, Mikey would gladly teach you, and once you get the hang of it, you start having fun, without the thought of falling on your mind.

You’re both enjoying each other’s company like you usually do, and the atmosphere is just so fun and alien-free that, you realize in this moment you love Mikey.

So, should you tell him?

Mikey has actually been telling you that he loved you for quite awhile ever since beginning to date, but you never truly said it back. You weren’t sure. Plus, Mikey is always quick to spill how he feels, and it came so easy.

You, not so much.

You start to overthink it mid-skate that one of the wheels gets stuck thanks to a rock, and now you’re basically making out with the rooftop concrete.

“Oh no! Y/n! Are you okay?!” Mikey, being the loving guy he is, runs straight to you and helps you up, with a look of concern on his face. His baby blue eyes just stare at your form, and once you sit up and you tell him you’re all good, you just say it.

And his face lights up. He understood why you didn’t say it in the beginning of the relationship. I mean, it started off by you saying you liked him, and after a few weeks, he came out and told you that he was beginning to love you. And boom, Mikey x Y/n around the Lair if you will

Though his brothers wonder what exactly you see in him, you just smile and tell them you just see a loving guy who’s so ready to give out all the love

He could die from happiness! He can finally rub it in Raph’s face that he’s the first one out of the four to get a human to love him (sorry Donnie,)

Take that, Raph!

Taglist:

@bee-1n-space

Masterlist

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #raphael #leonardo #donatello #tmnt 2012 #bayverse tmnt #tmnt imagines #tmnt x reader #bayverse raph #tmnt fanfiction

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afreakingdork · 1 year

Text

Crush Too Much - Part 20

RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader

Warnings: Longing, Angst, Fluff, Embarrassment, Overbearing Siblings, Aged-up Turtles

Synopsis: So you met a customer three times at work and that made a pretty big impression on you? That’s nothing to necessarily get worked up over, but when you’re all prepared to ask for his number the next time you see him and his brother gets involved instead, you might be in for something more than you bargained for.

FIRST 💜 PREVIOUS

“So…?”

“Need I remind you that you called me?” Donatello huffed. Glancing up, he watched as the last orange hues of the sky were swallowed up by inky purple.

“Oh, I know.” April’s snarky snap crackled through the receiver

“And…?” He mimed her earlier drawl.

“Come on now, I know you know what I’m getting at!”

“That you are calling dangerously close to my meeting time with Y/N to inquire if I am going through with your seemingly bland idea of a walk? Then, yes. I am currently waiting at the Southeast entrance of Central Park. I could send you my coordinates if you are so inclined.” Finally dragging his eyes away from the sky, Donatello perused the gaggle of people milling about.

“That would be very helpful-No, fool! I’m trying to find out how the last few weeks have been!”

Though he’d never tell her, he always secretly marveled at how April’s tone could shift wildly between words.

“Satisfactory! I recently moved into beta with a new bouncy compound I’ve been working on with Mikey-”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” April’s voice cut through with a sigh.

“I absolutely am.” He gave a satisfied smile to himself.

“Tell. Me. How. It’s. Going. With. Y/N!” He could hear what he identified as a pen in her hand being clicked with each choppy line.

He debated continuing his petty teasing, but instead turned away from the proverbial crowd. He lingered there, staring into the darkenrd tree line before speaking. “It’s been… good, I believe.”

“Yeah?” Her voice softened as well. He also enjoyed how she could usually read subtle tone. They had always understood each other better than the rest.

“While I’m still unsure of your methods, I see what you meant about enjoying one’s love.”

“Is it fading?”

He paused.

He’d had a million and one thoughts on the matter. They jumbled into a roiling mess that was drowned out by the white noise and sheer elation when he thought of you.

“I would say there hasn’t been an increase or decrease.”

She made a little noise of understanding and for a moment they were both silent.

“Are you happy?”

He didn’t need time to process that one. “Very much so.”

“Good.” April clicked her pen once more and then a shifting squeak of a rolling chair followed. “You deserve that, D.”

“I suppose…” He tilted into the phone.

“Suppose nothing!” She griped. “Did Mikey style you like I asked?”

Shifting on the new line of thinking, he looked down. His typical winter coat was unzipped which seemed terribly inefficient for its functionality. Underneath it, a cashmere black v-neck sweater could be seen beneath the open strip of coat. His trapper hat had been exchanged for a pale purple beanie, but the rest of his winter attire remained unchanged. “Yes, but I don’t see the necessity when a child could have done this.”

“And after I spent my hard earned money on that sweater…” April trailed off in a feigned forlorn manner.

“You bought this?” Donatello reached up and ran a finger over the fabric.

“A little early gift for completing all our tasks.”

“I do enjoy a fine fabric.” He hummed contentedly.

“Good, sounds like your mentally and physically ready for the final battle then.”

“I doubt it will be anything like that.” He clicked his tongue and turned back to survey his surroundings just in case.

“I think you’ll find everything has been leading up until this moment.” She practically sang the sentence.

“You are the cause for concern at this point.”

“Uh huh, don’t want to keep you longer! Oh, is that my boss? What? There’s a fire at the water factory-!” She rambled out quickly and he could visualize her pulling the phone away to end the call.

“Before you contend with your impossibilities, I have one question.”

“Shoot?” The way her voice came back to the receiver meant his deduction was correct.

“There won’t be any interference on any of your parts, will there?” He narrowed his eyes and scanned the crowd with excruciating care.

“No, Donnie. It’s all you tonight.” Her voice was so earnest, he stopped dead in his sweep.

“I see.” He said lamely.

“Good luck and text me how it went!”

“I’ll queue up ‘we walked and it was fine’ now to save myself the trouble.” He tucked his free hand into his pocket.

“We’ll see how that confidence holds up, bye!” She strung out the last syllable all the way through her voice fading and hanging up.

Donatello rolled his eyes as he watched her contact information time out. Swiping over the time, he then stuffed both his phone and other hand into their respective pocket and continued to survey the crowd. It wasn’t as if the newness to meeting you had worn off, but instead his confidence in not imploding everything had leveled out. It was especially bolstered by his save during the ice rink debacle. He was almost willing to trust his instincts once again. It left his mind free of the usual clutter and, in turn, he felt as though he would enjoy this evening to the fullest. Falling in line with the thought, he spied you coming up off the road.

You were hunkered down into a chunky scarf that was wrapped around your neck and you weren’t looking where you were going. He watched with a itch of anxiety as you narrowly dodged a speed walking pedestrian with your eyes glued to your phone. He was about to call out when he felt his phone ping. A lopsided grin came to his lips as he assumed what the message could be. Unearthing the device he glimpsed the preview from you commenting on your attendance and how many people were around. The smile broadened as he replaced the device and headed straight for you.

You greeted him with a glimpse of your nose poking out above the wrap. “Vigilant as always.”

“It’s part of the job description.” He hummed with appreciation. “You look cozy.”

“We’re gonna be outside for awhile. I had to dress accordingly.” You held out your arms to make the bouncing of your shoulders more prominent. The tightly coiled scarf shuffled, but otherwise didn’t budge. “Speaking of…”

Maybe there had been some necessity.

You reached out and passed him a glance. He nodded amicably and you felt the fabric over his chest.

“That’s nice.” You mused.

“It’s cashmere.” He gave a little flourish and gestured down the path.

“I didn’t realize this was such a luxe occasion.” You tittered, falling in time with his steps.

“It was a gift for celebrating what will hopefully be deemed a job well done.” Through closed eyes, he opened one at you as if it were a sly hint and not a outright statement of his intent.

“We’ll see.” For a moment your genial attitude dropped, but was quickly eclipsed by a bounce in your step.

Figuring it a blunder, he was glad he wasn’t the only one in a jovial mood.

“So, what’s the plan of attack tonight?”

He evaluated the statement, steering towards Center Drive. He debated a litany of responses before settling on the simplest one. “We walk.”

“That’s…” You seemed to turn the simple sentence over. “…it? No crazy surprise? No cake or light show?”

“Yes well, I did fail to mention the mariachi band I hired to follow us along. Unfortunately, they got hung up.” He tilted his head towards you in amusement.

“Dang, Volver Volver would have been a bittersweet match for all this too.” You pulled your hands out of your pocket just long enough to snap before burying them back into warmth.

“Alas.” Donnie murmured.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, taking in deposits of light bubbled from rows of lamps. There were others out, strolling and running, but otherwise keeping to themselves. Donatello would sneak a glance at your every so often and frequently found you gazing softly at your surroundings. You caught his eye at one point and your smile forced his away. It was like enjoying the best version of a classic; when done right, it’s better than anything you can imagine. The only thing, he decided, that could make the perfect evening better was if he were able to hold your hand. He hadn’t considered himself one to do so for long periods of time as the prolonged connection seemed awkward, but if it were now, he could walk the entire perimeter of Central Park without a care in the world.

“We’re not doing the Loop…” You suddenly spoke as if reading his mind.

“Observant.” He responded dryly.

You shot him a rueful glare. “Did you have a route in mind?”

“We’re heading towards The Mall currently.”

You bobbed with an idea. “It’s gonna be almost empty, isn’t it?”

“I’m certainly not going to tell you before we get there.” He swayed to the side, but kept his feet on course.

“It’s so peaceful.” You sighed comfortably.

He nodded with agreement and the stroll continued. You both watched in amusement as a jogger almost stepped on a rat and stumbled a fair amount of feet without ever falling over. Further down the way, an elderly couple got up from one bench only to shuffle down to sit on the next. Tilting on a curve a group of teenagers belted by in some sort of race out of the park. Closing in on The Mall, a crow, seemingly unaware of the hour, stood in the middle of the walkway and cawed angrily at the passersby.

Hitting the destination proper, Donatello was the next to break the silence. “Not to rush you, but you should have enough information to rate your experience…”

“Can’t go by your usual scale.” You chuckled.

“I don’t see why not.” He feigned a cold shoulder.

You shook your head. “Satisfied or dissatisfied with something like this…” Your steps hitched and then you ran forward, spinning around on the near empty Mall. “It’s not that simple!”

“Indulge me.” He smiled, coming to stop and watching you take large steps in a space that rarely allowed such a move.

“Because our… relationship is so much bigger than just this past month.” You shifted, locking your hands behind your back and walking purposefully forward.

He trailed behind and kept his eyes to you.

“You broke my heart. You confused me to no end. You acted so selfishly at times that I almost hate thinking about it…” You slowed and he mirrored your movements. “You also made me happier than I’ve ever been. You’ve made me laugh harder than I ever have and you’ve shown me things I don’t think I would ever see if I lived this lifetime a hundred times without you.”

He watched as your head tipped back and looked skyward.

The shift hadn't come swiftly, but a gentle dread washed at his feet.

“Did you make it up to me?” You let the question ride the night air.

He stared with bated breath.

“Definition?” You asked another question to the sky, but he could sense it was more pointed.

“To reconcile differences after a fight and become friendly again.” His reply sounded thin to his ears.

“Friendly…” You spoke more softly, but the quiet evening made it easy to hear. “Can I guess who recommended what event first?”

He wasn’t moving, but it felt like every one of his muscles were vibrating. His body was caught by the conufsion of whether any of this strange conversation was cause for concern. “Yes.”

“Can you lay them out for me or should I guess that too?”

He swallowed hard. “Win a gift, geology, crush them, and take a walk.”

You turned incrementally, but not enough for him to see your face. “The skating contest at the rink was the actual plan?”

“Technically, yes.”

“Leo.” You said simply, shaking your head.

“Correct.”

“Jerk.” There seemed a little reprieve to your otherwise somber demeanor. “Unless…”

“He guessed I would lose.”

“Jerk!” You repeated with more fervor.

Despite himself, he smiled.

“I’m gonna stick Mikey with Geology.”

“Is it because he pops up and scares you?”

“You noticed?” You almost turned, but seemed to stop yourself. “Do you know if he does that on purpose?”

“I truly don’t.”

“Was I right?”

“Two for two.”

You gave a puff of satisfaction. “Who are the last two?”

“April and Raph.”

You looked down at your feet thoughtfully. “I never did get to meet April.”

The sense of finality to your statement nearly choked him. “I didn’t realize you wanted to.”

“You didn’t? But…” You trailed off and quieted. “I didn’t tell you.”

He couldn’t help but wonder who you had.

“It’s tough because Raph could go either way and he’s the only one I have a read on…”

The simple guessing game felt like it was closing in around him.

You started walking again so he did as well.

“I’m… gonna guess Raph was for winning a prize…?” You seemed unsure.

“Which leaves…?” He urged you to lock in your answer in an attempt to end whatever was happening.

“April decided tonight.” He watched the way your coat moved around your legs as you walked.

“You got them all.”

“I was right?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

Silence stretched out in the distance between you both. The soft padding of shoes on pavement was the only sound to be heard.

Exiting The Mall into a grid of planters, you finally slowed and turned to him. “You went above and beyond making up.”

He stilled. The content of the statement should have been a positive, but the tone of your voice said the opposite. From where it had settled in his throat, his heart bottomed out. Any confidence he’d approved earlier in the evening seemed brittle and shattered through his fingertips. Where had he gone wrong again?

“It’s just the problem is-” You swept your eyes up to him and stopped.

For a moment he thought he’d simply fallen through some sort of pocket in space and time.

“Do you hear that?” You swiveled your head past the end of The Mall where the stonework marked the street to Bethesda Terrace.

His ninja training kicked in and he became painfully aware at how small his pocket of awareness was. The sphere of self expanded rapidly as he took extrasensory note of everything in the radius. It oddly included the soft plucks of string.

“Where…?” You trailed off, seemingly entranced and started walking again.

On guard, he glued himself to your side and searched wildly for a threat. Crossing the road, the tip of the fountain and lake came into sight. Feeling particularly vulnerable, Donatello slid a hand into his coat and grasped his telescoped tech-bō.

Reaching the top of the steps, you both halted and looked down at a small ensemble of violinists. Though they were turned toward the fountain, they finished their warm-up and starting playing as if on cue. A sweet melody rose from them and several people milling about slowed to a halt.

“What are they doing this late?” You wondered aloud, your hands gently laying atop the stone fence.

He scanned those who stopped. From the thinned smattering of people dotted around the fountain, he surmised that this wasn’t a planned show. Instead, based on their clothes, it almost seemed as if members of the Philharmonic had randomly gathered. “They’re playing.”

Softening as there seemed to be no perceived threat, he turned his head incrementally to watch you. There wasn’t a trace of worry on your face. Instead, he found a small smile on your lips and a quality of sadness to your eyes. The music seemed to caress him and wind around his arm. He brought it up on command until one of his fingertips just grazed your cheek. You didn’t jolt at the touch, but instead slowly turned into it. His fingers rotated with the action until he was cupping the side of your face. You stared up at him unguarded, but there was still that gloom in your irises. He wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to know what the problem was. He wanted to make everything right.

The music crested and soared.

“Donnie?”

He watched as you blinked and he reflexively traced his thumb over your cheek bone. When your lashes ascended there was molten quality of tenderness in your eyes. His heart stuttered at it. He wanted to examine it further, but almost as soon as it appeared, the look disappeared under that dejected veneer.

He couldn’t figure it out.

He dipped down, coming eye level with you and narrowed his gaze. There had to be a clue. Somewhere. Anywhere.

“You said I went above and beyond?” His voice felt thick as it emerged.

“Too good…” You whispered. There was a flash of that heated look again. Why wouldn't you let it stay?

“Then what could possibly be the problem?” He was on to something. He just knew it.

“Donnie…” It wasn’t really a protest, but you brought your hands up as if you were going to push him away. He readied himself to let go, but your fingers instead hit the cashmere of his sweater and tangled up in the fabric impulsively.

“Can I guess first?” He'd let you go if he just knew.

Your eyes widened.

“It’s because I messed up.” He continued without waiting for your reply.

“Messed up?” Your voice was barely legible amongst the music.

“I said we could be friends.” That was what he agreed upon. That was what he’d resigned himself to. It was also not what he'd meant to say. If only his mouth would just stop moving. If only the ensemble would stop playing. He could still reign it in. He still had the shred of a chance at salvaging this.

“We can’t.” It wasn't a question. So you knew it as well. Then your gaze went and shifted again. He couldn’t quite identify the look, but it seemed to undulate between hope and despair.

Even if he misdiagnosed the emotions, the fact that it nearly mirrored his own is what pushed his lips over the edge. “I think I love you too much to.” Impulsivity was its own form of evil. All he could do was hope the moments suffering from this single decision weren’t as great as his previous had been.

As soon as the words hit your ears, he watched as your breath was stolen away. He swore he could see a thousand fireworks go off in the colored core around your iris. Everything felt bathed in a dreamy faded filter. He dipped in closer, mesmerized by your gaze. Then it happened; the moment he ran from in what felt like a lifetime ago. It might have been unconsciously, but your eyes drifted shut. He watched as your tongue darted out to wet your lips and your head tilted incrementally to the side.

He’d dreamed of having another opportunity.

He'd sworn to not waste it again.

Closing the distance, he captured your lips with his own.

A/N: and with that dear readers, we have only two chapters left 💞

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