#cycling rain jacket

[roadie1963]

Seasonal Ride Essentials: Rain Jackets

Image By Florian Marette from Unsplash.com As winter starts to wane and spring slowly makes its triumphant return, the weather changes from cold, snowy, and wet to warmer days with lots of rain. Here in the Midwest, spring rain occurs frequently during any given week. In the summer, there’s still rain but it doesn’t occur as frequently. If it rains while you are on a bike ride, you may not have…

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#Bicycle Travel #Bicycling #Cycling #Cycling Rain Jacket #Road Cycling

[saddledrunk]

Dry Jacket Verde..

Only available at Primera Sport in Bournemouth.

We did not want to call it Shake Dry as other brands do but we wanted to make sure you understand that this will keep you 100% dry thanks do the research & developments studies we made to make sure that all the stitches are thermo sealed so no water can penetrate the garments.

The cuffs have been designed to make sure that you dont get cold or wet. Just check out the Giro d’italia 2021 images and see what most team worn during rainy days.

The collar has a double layering to keep you warm.

The back has 2 holes to enable you accessing your jersey pocket with over flaps. So no water can enter.

Tear drop on the back to keep your back side dry.

Reflective strip band in the sleeves and the rear to enhance visibility during the hours of darkness.

The garment comes with a wash bag for washing and a musette to carry your valuables off the bike, ie on the beach or to the gym.

The material is unique to make sure you do not get wet.

Attention please: The photos and the videos were taken during a thunderstorm in Italy.

DONT FORGET TO FOLLOW US ON INSTAGRAM,FACEBOOK,TWITTER TO ENTER AUTOMATICALLY INTO A RANDOM PRICE LOTTERY DRAW. ALSO DONT FORGET TO TAG US IN YOUR PHOTOS.

#cycling #cycling rain jacket #rain jacket #water resistant cycling jacket #made in Italy #made in italy 100% #rain jacket cycling #reflective rain jacket

[jesusvelasco]

GABBA R, la nueva chaqueta de Castelli Cycling contra la lluvia.

PRESENTACIÓN DE GABBA R La sexta generación del Gabba lleva la protección para condiciones climáticas adversas a un nuevo nivel. Una nueva tecnología de tejido exclusiva hace que el Gabba R sea funcionalmente impermeable y altamente transpirable, mientras que el ajuste al cuerpo lo convierte en la chaqueta más aerodinámica que hemos probado. Con diferencia. Ya sea que tu objetivo cruzar la…

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#castelli cycling #ciclismo #cycling #GABBA R #lluvia #prendas #rain jacket

[pinkjersey]

watching primož try to put on his jacket i swear my life flashed before my eyes

#this week has TRAUMATIZED me re: rain jackets #cycling lb

[sprucesports]

MTB Shorts for man & Women's

Our MTB shorts are suitable for mountain biking, cycling, running, traveling, camping, fishing &; other outdoor activities. Check our cycling shorts for men/women.

for contact us visit our website: https://sprucesports.com/

#MTB Shorts #Mountain Bike Shorts #Padded Bike Shorts #Rain Jackets #Cycling Shorts #Cycling Jackets #Cycling Jersey #Triathlon Trisuit

[sprucesports1]

Stay Dry and Ride On: Exploring Cycling Rain Jackets from sprucesports.com

Introduction:

Cycling enthusiasts understand the importance of being prepared for unpredictable weather conditions. When the rain starts pouring, having a reliable and high-quality cycling rain jacket becomes essential. In this blog post, we will delve into the world of cycling rain jackets available at sprucesports.com, a reputable online retailer that offers a wide range of cycling gear. Discover how their rain jackets can keep you dry, comfortable, and protected during wet weather rides.

Waterproof and Breathable Materials:

Sprucesports.com provides cycling rain jackets constructed from advanced waterproof and breathable materials. These jackets are designed to repel water and prevent it from penetrating the fabric, keeping you dry even in heavy rain. The waterproof feature ensures that water droplets bead up and roll off the surface of the jacket, preventing moisture from seeping in. Moreover, the jackets are also breathable, allowing perspiration and excess heat to escape, ensuring comfort during intense rides.

Lightweight and Packable Design:

Cycling rain jackets from sprucesports.com are designed to be lightweight and packable, making them easy to carry during your rides. The jackets can be compactly folded into a small size, allowing you to store them conveniently in your jersey pocket or backpack when not in use. Their lightweight nature ensures that the jacket does not weigh you down or hinder your performance while riding.

Windproof and Durable:

Apart from protecting against rain, cycling rain jackets from sprucesports.com are also windproof, providing an additional layer of defense against gusts and chills. These jackets are crafted with durable materials that can withstand the rigors of cycling and frequent use. Reinforced stitching and high-quality zippers ensure longevity and durability, allowing you to rely on the jacket for multiple seasons.

Adjustable Fit and Visibility Features:

Sprucesports.com understands the importance of a proper fit and visibility when it comes to cycling rain jackets. Their jackets often feature adjustable cuffs, hems, and collars, allowing you to customize the fit to your liking and prevent water from entering. Additionally, some jackets incorporate reflective elements or vibrant colors to enhance visibility in low-light conditions, ensuring that you remain visible to motorists and other cyclists.

Versatility and Additional Features:

Cycling rain jackets from sprucesports.com offer versatility and additional features to enhance your riding experience. Some jackets include ventilation panels or zippered vents to regulate temperature during exertion. Others come with a removable hood or adjustable hoods that provide additional protection against rain and wind. Multiple pockets, both internal and external, provide convenient storage options for your essentials, such as keys, small tools, or nutrition.

Conclusion:

When it comes to cycling in wet weather, having a reliable rain jacket is a game-changer. sprucesports.com offers a range of cycling rain jackets that combine waterproofness, breathability, and durability to keep you comfortable and protected during rainy rides. With their lightweight and packable design, adjustable fit, and additional features, these jackets are a must-have for any cyclist. So, gear up with a high-quality cycling rain jacket from sprucesports.com and embrace the elements confidently, knowing that you can stay dry and ride on.

#cycling rain jackets

[sprucesport]

MTB Shorts for Men’s & Women’s

Our MTB shorts are suitable for mountain biking, cycling, running, traveling, camping, fishing & other outdoor activities. Check our cycling shorts for men/women.

MTB Shorts with Padded LinerFeatures: Taslan Fabric ideal for baggy style MTB shorts Stretchy Crotch Area to minimise restriction of movement High quality detachable inner liner shorts with Coolmax anti-bacterial padding(can be worn separately) Partially elasticated waist for a comfortable fit Reflective Logo on Front Button fastening Press stud

#MTB Shorts #Mountain Bike Shorts #Padded Bike Shorts #Cycling Shorts #Rain Jackets #Cycling Jackets #Cycling Jersey #Triathlon Trisuit #Karate Uniform #Compression Activewears #Padded Cycling Pants

[emeraldborealis]

It Will Come Back

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!reader

TW//CW: Angst, dog motif, a flicker of fluff if you squint really hard, no use of y/n. RE6 era Leon.

Words: 1,942

Part two

Don't give strays a warm meal, they'll come back for more. Don't domesticate a wild animal, they bite when you make them nervous. Leon seemed to be a stray you couldn't get rid of. Even when you tried, he'd show up on your doorstep drunk, howling like a mutt for attention. Knowing you'd let him in if he tried long enough, and you couldn't turn away someone in need of love.

He'd leave as quick as he'd come, gone as soon as something became consistent and reassuring. 

You couldn't blame him, you knew he worked some highly secret job that was constantly calling him away. But he'd leave even when he wasn't working. You didn't know where he went, you were pretty sure he didn't have his own apartment, considering how much of his stuff he'd snuck into your house over months of coming and going. 

Somehow you always knew when it was him at the door, no one else really came over, and never at the hours he'd come. 

Getting up from the couch you opened the door, Leon was standing there, leaning against the doorway, his eyes already begging to come inside. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Don't sweetheart me." Despite your words you moved to let him inside, you always did. You let him in as often as he'd come back. You weren't sure you were capable of turning away a wet dog.

He stepped inside, slipping off his shoes, a promise to stay a while, even if he never did. "Don't be mad at me, you know how I am." He begged with those soft blue eyes of his, the ones that looked like gusts of a perfect storm, a warm rain where spots of blue sky were still peeking through the clouds. 

And just like that, he was forgiven. 

You knew better than to let him in, you both were just waiting for the cycle to stop. But neither of you would put an end to it. Why? Because he was funny, and he was sweet, a dog who bites isn't always bad company. And he'd never stop coming back as long as you kept offering him love, something consistent, and something he could keep safe. 

"Whatever." You helped him with his jacket, noticing the way he winced when he moved, did he come just to lick his wounds? "You eaten yet?" 

"No, you offering to feed me?" Leon smiled softly at you, moving to wrap his arms around you, you let him, against your better judgment. He was always so warm, and he always had this sweetness to him when he'd first arrive, after he got passed the kicked puppy phase he had this soft innocence sometimes, like the person he once was before all the hell would peek out from within him. 

Sometimes he felt more like a wolf, someone hungry and willing to devour you whole, just to keep you as his, keep you away from anything wanting to hurt you.

"I have some leftovers." You leaned into him for a moment, before pulling away to lead him into the kitchen. He followed close on your heel, not quite bold enough to hold your hand as he followed. 

Opening your fridge you grabbed the leftovers of your dinner, you were going to take them to work for lunch, but Leon was more important. You could always buy lunch somewhere, maybe convince your favorite coworker to go with you, spot them to convince them so you wouldn't have to go alone.

"You like meatballs with rice?" You ask to fill the silence as you put it on a plate and into the microwave. 

"I like your cooking. So yes." He stood right beside you, barely giving you space to move. 

"Do you come just for my food? Maybe a warm bed?" Your tone was sharper than you'd meant it to be, making you inwardly cringe, you didn't want to cut.

"Maybe I do." He took it in jest, letting it pass without showing pain. "Maybe I just like you."

"If you really liked me you wouldn't leave so much." You crossed your arms, not meaning to get so defensive so suddenly.

Leon seemed to think for a moment, he didn't want to bite back, not today. Not yet. "You know how I am. Don't let me in if you don't want me to come back." He gently grabbed your wrists, uncrossing your arms to force you to relax with him.

You were about to say something more when the microwave beeped, interrupting you. Taking a deep breath you moved to grab him his food. 

"I appreciate you always feeding me." He moved to be standing directly behind you as you grabbed the hot glass plate from the microwave. You nearly tripped on him when you turned around, but he caught you, taking the plate from you he grabbed a fork from a drawer and planted himself at your table. 

Getting both of you a glass of water you joined him at the table. "It's fine." You handed him his glass, which he immediately drank from.

"No juice?" He looked at you from over the rim of the glass.

"It's expensive, only have it for special occasions now." You drank from your own glass of water.

"I'll buy you some, your favorite kind." He continued to eat, shoveling the food you'd given him down his throat, either he hadn't eaten in a while, or he wasn't sure if he'd be leaving soon.

"You don't have to." Despite his flaws he was sweet, always trying to do nice things for you, like your dishes, or folding your laundry, things you hated to do yourself. 

"You deserve juice, so I can have some too." He drank more of his water, a mischief in his tone and playfulness in his eyes.

"Oh, I see how it is." You playfully rolled your eyes at him, seeing his true intentions here. 

"What? I deserve some juice, don't you think?" He kept playing, having some light banter for once, finishing his food and water, taking his plate and glass to the sink to wash them, he washed the container the food was in too. 

Sudden memories of the yelling match you two had the last time he'd showed up at your door came to memory. You'd told him not to come back again, he'd said some hurtful words, hell, you had too. But he still came back to your door.

"Why do you keep wincing when you move your shoulder? What'd you do to yourself?" You changed your subject of thought, trying to be worried for him rather than reignite your anger towards him, or your hurt feelings. He was here now. 

"Just work." He always said that whenever you asked about his injuries, his scars, his bruises, hell even his broken bones. 

"Okay." You didn't push it, you knew better by now. "Be more careful." 

A small pause in conversation ensued, a quiet hum from Leon as his acknowledgement of your words. 

"What have you been up to? Any hot dates or guys I need to chase off?" He always tried to hide his insecurity through jokes and lightheartedness, it's not like you two were dating, but he wouldn't let you date someone else.

"Nope. Never is." You got up from the table, walking into the living room, Leon right on your heels, grabbing ahold of your hand as he followed you to the couch. 

"Good. That's good." As soon as you'd sat down he was on top of you, pulling you to lay down, positioning himself between your legs to lay his head on your stomach. You were used to this by now, absentmindedly playing with his hair, tangling your fingers in his blonde locks as he tried to let himself relax, a soft groan of pain escaped him as his hurt shoulder let go of it's tension.

You knew he'd probably be gone tomorrow, and you'd let him leave. You wouldn't ask him to stay, you never did. 

You snaked your other arm around him, holding him closer to you, smiling softly as you didn't smell alcohol on him this time. "You can rest here whenever you need to. I don't mind being your shelter, even if sometimes I do."

He didn't say anything, just nuzzled his head against your stomach, rubbing his nose against the fabric of your shirt, gently pushing it up a little, just to get to skin. 

He'd always come crawling back, always with different intentions, but he'd always come back. Whimper and howl at your door until you let him back in, bite if you threatened his welcome, or if you tried to get too close. He was a bit skittish sometimes, untrusting you when you let him in, other times he'd be all over you.

"Don't let me in with no intention of letting me stay." He mumbled against your skin, gently biting at your stomach, the sensation nearly made you blank on what he'd said.

"I never turn you away." You gently pulled him by his hair, making him look up to you.

"You don't ask me to stay. We both know you're tired of this game, just stop letting me in, stop feeding me, stop talking to me, stop smiling at me like that, stop holding me like this if you don't want me here. I know, I'm a stray, you see me like a dog. Maybe I am a dog, maybe I'm the mutt you believe me to be. I bite the hand that feeds me. I hate you." He suddenly snapped at you, his words seemingly coming from nowhere, but this had been a long time coming. The catalyst? Maybe a bad mission. He didn't talk about work much but it was more than taxing. "I'm a dog for everyone."

"You hate me?" You sat up, pulling your shirt back down. "Don't even start that with me. No you don't. Or- maybe you do, but if you did, why would you come back even after I've told you to go?"

"Because you let me back in. You won't abandon me, even when you try to. I come back because I know I can. I always can with you." He pushed you back down, his hands on either side of your head, trapping you down. "I don't want to hurt you. But that's all I do. That's all I've ever done. Hurt."

"Leon, what are you even talking about? That's not all you do." You accepted being under him, letting him have you as he wanted you, it was no use fighting him on this. He wouldn't hurt you. Never.

"It is. All I do is fail others, I work, I try, and It's not enough. I can't work harder than I am. They already have everything above my head, and I couldn't stop them from taking more. I can't save the people who deserve to live." This wasn't about you, something had gone wrong at work.

"Not everything can be on you." You tried to sit up again, but he pushed you back down. "You're one person, all you can do is all you can do." 

He took a deep breath, changing the subject, not wanting to get you in on his work things. "Why do you let me back in every time?" 

You honestly didn't know the answer to that, you'd asked yourself the same question many times. "You keep coming back." You finally answered. 

Leon sat up, pulling you up with him, before he stood up. "Then I'll be back." It was spoken as a warning. You tried to grab him, but he was already out of your reach, grabbing his jacket and putting on his shoes before walking out the door. Leaving you alone. Again.

#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon x reader #x reader #oneshot #reader insert #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x reader angst #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil fanfic #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader

[lattenha]

y(ours) — P1HARMONY!hyung line

wherein the members have become acquainted with your personal belongings. ft. non-idol!p1h hyung line x gn!reader. fluff.

a/n: it’s like almost 3am as i’m posting this while also recovering from a cold. enjoy <3

keeho

your shirt.

during the walk to your apartment an abrupt downpour of rain came crashing down on keeho, catching him by surprise. when he reached your unit and knocked on the door, you crooned at the unfortunate state that your boyfriend was in. soaking wet, cold, and shivering. you urged him to take a warm shower and tossed his clothes into the dryer for the time being.

the cycle was still ongoing when keeho hollered from the bathroom that he was finished. with no other option you opted to give him one of your oversized shirts you use to sleep in and a pair of sweatpants that originally belonged to him. how you managed to steal that is beyond his acknowledgment.

when he finally dried himself off and slipped into the articles of clothing you lent him, he bunched the material of your shirt and brought it close to his nose to sniff at it. you always had a nice scent that was a mix of vanilla with a hint of minty freshness. is this how other couple’s feel when they use their partner’s clothings?

keeho stepped into the kitchen where you finished plating both of your guys’ food.

“you look really cute!” you chirped, and he pulled you in for a warm hug.

“you smell really good…” he mumbled into your hair to which you laughed and turned the compliment back to him. commenting on how much you liked the cologne he wears occasionally.

by the time that keeho’s clothes finished drying right after cleaning up the table from dinner, he refused to give back your shirt and declared he would “live in it” until your smell wore off. you weren’t one to oppose, secretly finding it adorable that your boyfriend reminded you quite literally of yourself whenever you’d rummage through his closet for a hoodie or two to melt in.

theo

your tote bag.

more often than not— actually, scratch that. theo always makes you carry his belongings in your tote bag wherever you guys go. sure, you’ve gotten used to it but sometimes you sneak in a little sarcastic eye roll when he asks you to “hold onto his things” (not without giving you a guilty smile of course).

the beach? he’ll find a way to stuff his towel in with yours, only contributing more to the bulkiness of your bag.

the mall? his wallet, lip balm (that he actually stole from you), sunglasses, and other personal trinkets get mixed with yours.

when it’s too hot out? his jacket will find its way into the safe haven of your tote bag.

in the end, you don’t mind carrying his things in addition to your stuff; it’s the least you can do as his partner without making a big fuss over something that isn’t trivial. besides, theo’s a great help when he notices that he may have overloaded your bag with his possessions, and is more than willing to take it off your shoulders to let it dangle on his own.

“it’s only fair that i do this, too.” he once said, as the two of you walked hand-in-hand together, enjoying a brief stroll in the park after getting brunch with a couple of other friends. you giggled, surveying the way he so naturally held onto the straps of your tote bag with his free hand.

little did he know that you were planning on buying one of his own, although, he might just end up leaving that at home and still relying on you as his carrier.

jiung

your jewelry.

jiung is a big fan of your accessories and constantly finds himself digging through your jewelry dish and organizers for some bling to spice up his outfit.

this new habit of his happened one day when he noticed the vintage vivienne westwood necklace looped around your neck. the signature pendant caught his eye, he was quick to compliment the piece of jewelry and said that it looked “really nice.” there was some kind of hinting notion in his voice that egged you on. with a knowing grin, you let jiung have a go at trying it on to see how it looked on him. needless to say, you’re pretty sure he’s worn that very necklace more than you have.

and that’s how his obsession with your collection of silver and gold pieces spurred.

over time, you began to collect more jewelry. purely for you and jiung to share— but mainly for your boyfriend. whenever you’d do your daily online window shopping or in-person window shopping, you would always have jiung’s taste in the front of your mind when considering what to buy next. a lot of what he liked overlapped with you, so things worked out perfectly with every new purchase.

when you came home sporting a pair of earrings he’s never seen you wear before today, jiung rushed to your side to examine it.

“actually, i got one for you too.” you said, revealing his own set. not missing the twinkle in his eyes and big smile.

#cgi-aenergy #p1harmony #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony scenarios #kpop imagines #p1harmony hyung line #keeho imagines #kpop fluff #kpop scenarios #jiung imagines #theo imagines #p1h theo #p1harmony x reader #gender neutral insert #keeho #p1h jiung #lattenha

[cheeseceli]

Just like now

Pairing: yeonjun × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, short drabble, sort of friends to lovers

Description: yeonjun thought he could endure being just friends with you, but a rainy night showed him that he might've been wrong

A/n: I love to write epiphany with literally no dialogue, it's healing

Playing now just like now, by xeed

It felt like a loop. This endless cycle of looking at your eyes, feeling so much love that he thought his heart wouldn't be able to handle it and then not saying anything. Yeonjun was stuck in this limbo, and he hated it.

He was not shy, not at all. He was known as the biggest flirter in his group of friends, for God's sake. And still, every time he tried to confess to you, he'd become a blushing mess and end up saying something that was completely unrelated to what he wanted to say at first.

For a while he thought it was okay. He couldn't bring himself to ask you out but at least you could see each other as friends. He wasn't brave enough to kiss you but at least you would still hug him at times. He still had you, just not in the way he wanted. But that was okay. Until tonight.

Tonight you were both looking at the night sky after running away from a boring party. Yeonjun had offered you his jacket and God, you looked so beautiful with his clothes covering your shoulders. You were sitting close enough to almost lean on each other, but none of you did it because that would be too intimate, wouldn't it? The stars were reflected in your eyes and he wished so much to just come closer to you. But he couldn't. Because you were just friends. And suddenly that wasn't okay anymore.

He wanted to stop time. He wanted to be with you, that way, forever. Because this moment was so precious to him. But he'd wake up tomorrow morning and he wouldn't have this moment anymore. He'd just have a memory. That could be good, if it wasn't for the fact that he'd probably never live it again. Because you were just friends.

As if the weather could feel the debate inside Yeonjun's head, it started to pour. Just like that the raindrops washed his thoughts away. Or maybe you did.

You were chuckling, looking above as if the rain didn't bother you in the slightest. You looked so beautiful. He wished his forever could be just like now. Comforting, happy, light. With you.

And then you looked at him. Water was running down your face and there was a huge chance your clothes would be drenched by the end of the night. But you were smiling.

That was enough for Yeonjun to want to break the cycle. He didn't want to shy away and live another day with you in his memory only. If there was any chance that you felt the same, he was ready to go for it.

When he locked eyes with you, you didn't avert your gaze. When he moved closer, you didn't move away. And when he finally kissed you, you didn't stop smiling.

Perhaps he was creating a memory that he could live again later. Perhaps he was allowing himself to live just like now forever. And so did you.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

#celi drabbles #yeonjun #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun soft hours #choi yeonjun #yeonjun txt #yeonjun tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together fluff #tomorrow x together scenarios #tomorrow x together x reader #tomorrow x together soft hours #tomorrow x together #txt fluff #txt soft hours #txt scenarios #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader

[whalesforhands]

digest your feelings pt.10

previous masterlist next

warnings: fluff, a bit angsty

Years have gone by. Years that pass, that float, that run, that leave you behind. Years in which everyone has grown, for the better or for worse, changed and yet you remained the same. Seemingly stuck in an endless cycle, never knowing when you can break your curse.

Left behind.

Each day, each hour, each second trapped in there made your heart grow heavier and heavier, slowly burning, fizzling your last hopes out. Transparent regret wafts through the air as whirling teardrops get accustomed to the blaring sound of the growing wind.

Abandoned.

You died believing you were unremembered. A blotted out name in the minds of which you adored the most. Gone, and never to be recalled, never to be dragged out from the confines of this swirling darkness.

You can’t hate it, can’t cry out. Only continue to breathe.

It was that little boy who made you believe in— Whatever there was left of you.

So lonely, so discontent with the world around him, so quick to shut himself off before anyone gets too close. So bruised and battered from the scuffles he gets himself into despite your disapproval and disappointment.

Yet, still clawing so desperately at glimmers of hope to be saved all this time. There was a belief in chance, in the glitters of having a saviour who would take the pain away.

Perhaps that’s why your soul was so attracted to his in the first place, always so drawn towards those who needed help, so self-sacrificing in search of a kinder world.

Your naivety needs to be popped.

Kind— Soft, weak, fragile, inadequate, substandard, imperfect and overall lacking. All that you could ever see in yourself, all that you ever knew about your own.

Would you ever amount to more?

If you could change yourself, you would. Forget the true shape of your soul, reform yourself entirely. Be less dull, show less gaps in that facade of trying to be strong.

How much time will pass until you reach those inner dreams? If— If you move slower until you stop, would that be okay?

Acknowledging yourself, doubting yourself. You wanted it, wanted to be better just to be able to muster enough courage for it. You— Wanted to be there too.

You want to live.

Two flowers that bloomed in spring fell in love, balmy, ambrosial and stretching, reaching towards the sunlight together.

A lone summer bud looks towards them, from the shrouding darkness, stretches towards the light in which they bathed in, unblossomed and the smell of gunpowder.

Never reaching, never touching.

——

The spear has been long ripped out of you, Suguru’s jacket tied tight around the wound, a hand pressing down to constantly apply pressure as the other was under your legs, doing his utmost best to keep the blood flow to your heart and brain.

You need to live.

Even as your body rots, crumbles from your fading consciousness. The decomposition of your skin starting to show once more as your soul starts to fade away for real this time.

It’s his fault. Geto Suguru wants to die, to choke himself and suffer and give his everything to you.

“I don’t blame you.”

Of course you don’t. Of course you never will.

Even as the cold, unforgiving rain pelts down onto your icy skin, you will never find it in your heart to make him the antagonist, the villain.

For once, Geto Suguru realizes how stupid your mentality is.

——

Your eyes blink open at the scent of cigarette smoke and pomegranate sweetness, mixed with the mild, yet overwhelming stench of sour formaldehyde.

Familiar, yet so foreign. Your body aches as you shift about on the mortuary lifter, eyes heavy and tired, arms akin to dumbbells that were filled with sand and burdens, your joints popping as you start to sit up, your skin brushing against the slightly scratchy material of the hospital gown, feeling over the thin fabric to feel jagged, bumped up skin, your back healed and scarred over.

You live. And you only have one person to thank for that.

“Shoko…” Your eyes avert momentarily as the nostalgia floods in, the colour of her go-to brand of cigarettes having rebranded. You say it out of old, die-hard habit.

“Smoking’s bad for you.” It’s with that sentence that causes her to freeze in place, the lit cigarette in her mouth falling to the floor, hitting against tiled floor of the morgue.

(Isn’t it funny that her dead friend says that the moment that they reunite?)

She’s holding her head as she starts to laugh, minuscule tears building in the corner of her eyes as she starts to smile, to allow the exhale of joy overtake her face.

you you you you you you you

“I missed you.” A beat passes, your eyes turning upward at the sight of her. Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous Shoko.

“It’s nice to be missed—“ By you. By your precious friend. She’s older, dons a rogue of sultriness and elegance on her lips in contrast to the graceful and daintier pink of her youth.

“I love you.” It’s awkward, for you to suddenly say something like this out of the blue. Yet, it feels like it fits right as your eyes trail her from top to bottom, the clack of her heels approaching you as you laid there, bandaged galore and sore and it is just… Too much to move.

She produces a pack of cigarettes from her doctor’s coat, and another and another. The plastic packaging of the unopened boxes crinkle in her hands, newer, perhaps just bought. She holds them out in front of you, making a show of letting you see that she’s emptied her pockets.

Before she crushes them, hurling them all towards the trash. “You don’t like it when I do it, right?” Breathy, unrefined and unprepared. “I’ll stop.” Stop as long as you’re here again. As long as you keep looking at her with that sparkle of happiness, of proud innocence and tender fondness.

“So… Could you—” She takes in yet another breath. “Could you say it again?” Her eyes shift towards the fabric of your hospital gown, before they meet your shiny gaze, nearly bursting with the devotion you have in your eyes as she gets lost in the warmth, in the comfort of you.

She just wants to hear it again, to punch herself into this reality. This reality that she’s always wanted.

“I love you.” Of course you do. You always did.

“Thank you.” A pause. “I love you too.” She doesn’t part from you, shifting closer and squeezing your hand in hers as she delays herself from letting go. Does not want to let go. “We all do.”

Ieiri Shoko feels whole. In your company, from basking in utterly you.

“Welcome back.”

——

“You know,” The shifting of the fabric beneath his hand culminates in your ears in this silence, having carted you to your old bedroom that Shoko left you in to better rest. “Satoru—“ He breathes, tries to choke back the hesitance for a moment or two. “Says that I’m not a bad person. That I never will be.”

How can he even face you right now? He’s so shameless, so absurd and absolutely disgusting.

“Suguru,” Your voice is more soothing, softer than his mind had ever managed to imagine. Mellow, tolerant and so humane. “You are the kindest person I know.”

He wants to throw up.

No. He’s not. You are. You, the paragon of forgiveness and goodwill, of kaleidoscopic rays of gentle light, of the breeze that billows the dandelion seeds into the blue of spring days, of seafoam that floats, drifts even in the rage of the waves.

Of white noise that blocks out the screams of the voices.

You, whose cursed energy tastes of balsamic clouds and tainted jasmine, the taste sour, tangy on his tongue.

He would’ve recognized this taste anywhere, he would’ve known your presence blind if he hadn’t been so— Impetuous. So emotional.

(He doesn’t deserve you.)

His lip trembles, grip on your sheets so tight that his knuckles turn white, pale. You don’t want him to feel bad, don’t want to see him in this state, a bandaged hand reaches forth, before it’s so selfishly, so desperately snatched up in both of his, the size of his hands dwarfing yours, calloused palms pulling your hand forth and pressing it against his beating heart.

“I love you.” His stunning bronze-amethyst meet your own lovely eyes, his gaze full of dread and hopeless tears, full of cowering anxiety, and yet, it’s nothing but Suguru in its entirety. It’s just him.

I love you love you love you love you loveyouloveyouloveyo—

“I— I love you too…” It really is you, with how swiftly you responded, how easily it spills out as if it were instinct, a second nature. How your voice traces over every single one of those sacred words so carefully, so unforgivingly you.

Don’t you get it? No. No. You don’t get it. You don’t get it at all. Yet, you still cause a stutter in his heart, a flying, torrid wind in his stomach that refuses to settle.

Geto Suguru can see it in your eyes, even after all these years where you were ripped apart from him, from them, the hidden pain of your bubbling feelings, the way you try so hard to keep your love contained. The way your fingers tremble against his slowly increasing heart, feeling the race, the pressure that comes with.

It’s frustrating. He can’t take it.

“No— Not in that way.” He loves you so much he wants to die, he wants to strangle it out of himself and shove it down into your throat for you to finally feel, to finally understand.

You’re confused. Why? Why? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy—!

“Can I kiss you?” It’s quiet, unassuming and yet, absolutely livid with a fire that has been stoked for too long.

(What?)

“N-no.” You’re shaking your head and trying to pull your hand back, salty tears and hot confusion forming in your eyes as you try to avoid his gaze, avoid this before you become a homewrecker.

He feels like he’s going to break.

“W-whatever you feel for me— Satoru—!” You’re crying, starting to sob with the utter heartbreak.

You want to. But you’d hurt him, you’d hurt Satoru, you’d hurt their family—

“Satoru loves you— Loves us.” His grip unwittingly tightens, yet so gentle and soft and accommodating to you so that you won’t be hurt anymore. How can he make you see?

How can he get this point— This fact across more obvious than ever without more miscommunication?

His hand, making sure to keep your own in place, so that you won’t pull away, won’t leave. The other reaches into his pockets, as if frantically in search of something before a small, velvet box is pulled out.

W-what in the world—?

Beautiful. The ring inside is absolutely gorgeous.

There’s no way.

“It’s yours.” He’s hurriedly reaching into his shirt, pulling out his necklace to show off the matching third. “This— Satoru has the same one too.”

Their marital exchange rings. Your eyes tremble as you stare at it, at him, at the shine of the metal within the soft velvet.

“So, please.” He moves forth, his forehead pressed against your own as he whispers into the cold night, “Don’t misunderstand, don’t cry, don’t be sad anymore.” The ring is plucked off from its confines, and slipped onto your finger as you stare in shocked silence.

You— Don’t know what to feel. Love? It’s what you always feel for them.

He says it again as you begin to cry harder. “I-I’m sorry— I just— Adore you.”

I’m sorry for loving you. For making you this sad. For making you cry. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

“I love you.” It lacks all restraint, raw in its entirety as the words tumble towards you once again. You cry, your tears soaking into the bandaids upon your face as you feel his own start to drip onto your cheeks, mixing with your own.

——

It’s been— 24 minutes. There’s a standoff between Suguru and Shoko.

“I—home.”

“She’s— my patient— hasn’t hea—.”

“She lo—s— fine.”

“Are yo—doctor?”

“—cheating—is—“

The door is opened as they both walk in side by side. “Someone like you is lacking in shame.”

“Aha? Do I now?” Suguru has made his way past you, flashing you a sweet smile as he opens your windows wide.

Shoko crosses her arms, staring at him with a look of exasperated calm that preceded all her initial anger and worry for you.

“Try gaining a little more class—“

“Then I’ll be taking her~” He’s cutting her off as you’re practically scooped up into his arms as your helpless, confused eyes meet Shoko’s, a raised hand waving at you as she unwraps another lollipop.

“Hopeless.”

——

“Suguru.”

“Satoru.” An eye is exposed.

There’s a bit of a tense silence in the air where Gojo Satoru has halted the both of you from just above a residential area.

It’s cold.

Though, Suguru had thrown a now clean jacket over your head prior to your flight, your body being completely swallowed by the fabric.

“You look cute like that. Keep it on.”

(He knows you’ll complain about him being cold.)

The wing flaps of Suguru’s bird curse continues, as you before it disappears. Alas, you don’t expect to fall.

You’re floating midair.

(Geto is using cursed energy to lift you both up.)

“Suguruuuuuuu!!! Where’s my kiss?!” Complaints are thrown out the window when you’re suddenly pressed forward and leaning onto the— You now noticed— Much taller man, much harder bodies squishing you as Suguru’s lips meet Satoru’s own, long arms wrapping around the both of you.

“S-stop— Licking me.” Geto is smiling, red blush dusted across his cheeks as he tries to pull back from the wet embrace. Laughing as he doesn’t even wipe at the remnants of spit.

His half-blindfolded gaze holds your own.

(You don’t think he’s ever taken his attention off of you for even a second.)

“Now your turn~” His lips are puckering up and comically smushed up as they lean down towards your own.

Oh my god. Is this— Needed? Oh god you don’t feel ready— Suguru isn’t helping. Why are his eyes all upturned with that stupidly cute smirk on his face! Ahh, they’re both so dumb— Don’t put you in this position!!! Wife?! Your heart is going so fast, you can’t breathe— Is it just the air pressure up here? Gosh, just close your eyes and pucker up—

You feel a flick on your forehead instead. An arm going around your waist to pull you in closer to him as Geto lets go from behind you.

“Joking~” Your forehead throbs. “Not gonna do anything if you’re uncomfortable.” He laughs again as he gives a noncommittal shrug, letting you float there momentarily by using his cursed energy to hold you up, before your hands, fingers are intertwined with his own.

(He needs to touch you more.)

Even after all these years, it’s still him. Silly, adorable Satoru. He was never good with words, always letting his actions speak for themselves as he flies a circle around you, checking on you from head to toe before plopping his head onto your shoulder from behind.

“Papa~, I left the kids at home. Twins are sleeping!”

“Oh, did you sign Megumi’s parental slip? Tsumiki needs a bento tomorrow too. Did you get dinner ready?” Suguru’s pulled out his phone, floating midair and checking through some texts.

“Uhh—“ There’s a breath in as he takes in the smell of you over the various responsibilities his husband had just listed to him. “Does the microwave count?”

“Satoru…” Suguru’s sighing before he leans down toward you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. As if to ease stress. “Gonna go solve a crisis. See you both for dinner okay?” He leaves with a small bonk to Satoru’s arm, hand— Touching. Infinity is off. It always has been.

“Idiot.”

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to.” A playful stick out of his tongue and he’s gone, touch lingering on your skin. “Dinner will be ready soon!”

You’re gently pulled, your bare feet now atop Gojo’s shoes as he settles himself behind you.

You’re alone with Gojo Satoru.

“Hey.” It’s soft, as if it was a cool summer breeze flowing through your ear. “How much do you trust me?”

And it feels like the memories are coming back all over again.

“…I can’t jump off if you’re holding me so tight.”

He’s laughing, hands daringly trailing over your body as you just stare down at the sheer height you’re at.

“Did you…” You feel a pounding at your chest. “Know what Suguru said?” His hold on you is intimate, close.

His heart is beating so fast.

“I’ve tried telling you before, you know?” He has. Even tried to show you from the beginning, to the festival. You just never got it, no matter what.

“I’m—“ Sorry? Does that even answer for all those years you’ve left him? You don’t know what to say.

Silence ensues.

“You have—“ He sighs again as his nose is pressed into your neck. “A scary hold on me.” A shackle that holds him down, that makes him want to worship the very ground you walk on, that makes him want to keep you inside forever—

“Just…” You feel your insecurities creep upon you as you interrupt his train of thought. “Why me?”

He’s huffing as he walks you through a cloud, your back against his chest as his hands hold yours from his position behind you. “Liking you doesn’t require reasons.” He pauses to turn you around to face him, leaning down. “But you’re too slow to realize that, huh?”

That line slightly irritates you, yet you laugh all the same.

(He stays silent to let that melody play longer.)

“You know, I don’t regret most things.” He has no reason to. After all, “I’m the great Gojo Satoru.”

You keep quiet, feeling his finger circling your ring. Your fingers pushing into the plushness of his cheeks as you fight to overcome his sheer adorableness.

“My hwusband ish the hwottest man awlive, and he’s married to me—“ He tilts his head down slightly when he feels you kiss his jaw, closing his eyes when he feels the light pecks just under his blindfold. “The prettiest, most perfect, me.”

“I’m supposed to have no regrets.” There’s a tug, and his blindfold is gone, leaving just his pretty eyes curtained by his pretty hair.

“But you,” Hands come up to cup your face, an entire galaxy that rivalled the skies reflected him in your eyes. “Were my only one.”

(“I should’ve noticed sooner.”)

“And I don’t like having stains on my perfect record.”

The promises and visions made, the days that passed so cruelly yet so softly without you by his, by their side, the despairs and utter feeble perturbation that haunted his mind. Another chain that he never regretted tying himself to, all fades away with the rains and dark clouds that never seemed to vanish.

Like tranquility after a storm, the pale light of the sun enfolds them all. The wounds that still ache, the thirst that was never quenched. It doesn’t matter anymore.

You are back.

——

“I’m back!!!” Satoru’s kicking the balcony door open as he holds you in a bridal carry, your hands over your face in embarrassment as you try to hide away from their— Your children.

“Nuh uh. You aren’t walking with those out and about.” His cheek is rubbing vigorously against yours as he cuddles you. “Let’s put all those pretty clothes I bought you to use when we get home, okay?”

This is not okay. You’re not okay as your feet gently touch the wooden floor of the family home. There’s excited squealing, a rustle of fabric as Suguru carries a pile of clothing in his hands as the girls help him.

There’s also a sudden presence tugging at you.

He stares up at you, nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed as he grips your hand, squeezing, nails lightly sinking into your flesh. As if to confirm your presence.

“Hello,” You almost miss the way your tongue lolls his name out. “Megumi.”

You kneel down, getting onto his level as you stare into his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

previous masterlist next

Notes:

“I want Mama to sleep in my room tonight!” Nanako.

“Ehhh? No! Daddy wants her more!”

“Daddy is right, Mama has injuries and should stay with the grownups.”

“Tsumiki is a grown up!” Mimiko.

“I’m old enough to take care of her!” The said girl is immediately raising her hand up as her feet kick about excitedly on her chair.

“Papa and I are stronger and can protect her from monsters!”

“Mama shouldn’t sleep with boys! Didn’t Papa teach us to not touch the other kids at all?!”

“Darlings, that’s different—“

You feel a tug at your clothes. Megumi.

“Sleep in mine.”

nvy’s aftertalk:

originally i wanted stsg to be shirtless at one point + sexy scene in this cause i was thirsty but then i got shy

i can’t believe dyf is coming to an end soon hahah also i lied abt finishing epilogue and this at the same time i would go insane. pt.11 with more family fluff or should i focus on epilogue guys

#dyf au #geto x reader x gojo #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satosugu x reader #geto suguru x reader #ieiri shoko x reader

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[bellarkeselection]

Breathe With Me

Request from @val2557 imagine of Kayce Dutton and he is helping the reader when she has a an anxiety attack when there is a lot of people at a dinner they are attending?

Everybody that knew who the Dutton family were had started making their own judgments about my relationship with Kayce. His father John always asked his kids to show up to the Livestock dinner party but it was rare that they all showed up. Beth didn’t see the point in it, Lee was focusing on running the ranch, Jaime was trying to run for office and that left the reason Kayce didn’t go to them….me.

I wanted to attend the dinners I really did. There was just one problem. I had anxiety when it came to large crowds who I felt were judging me. Running my hands down the light orange dress I was wearing I sighed letting my mind wander with my thoughts. “Come on Y/n. You can make it through this.”

“Y/n, are you ready….wow.” Whipping my head around I heard my boyfriend’s voice enter the bedroom.

I turned around making my short brown boots screech against the wooden floor. Normally I had my hair up in a braid but I decided to leave it loose and just put some curls on the ends. “Is it too much. I don’t know how you dress for a livestock dinner.”

“It’s not that. You….damn you look good.” Kayce gasped slowly crossing the floor until he was standing in front of me.

I smiled eyeing him in a tux for once. “You clean up rather good too, Dutton.” He had his normal black cowboy hat on his head paired with a white dress shirt and a black suit jacket.

“Are you sure you’re up for tonight. We can just stay home. My father will understand why.” He suggested to me.

I teased him trying to not have the conversation. “You just want to stay home so we can lay in bed all night.”

“I mean you weren’t complaining last time when we had sex for hours….but I am being serious about not wanting you to be nervous.” Kayce pointed out to me with a smirk on his face leaning closer to me kissing my forehead. He wrapped his arms around my waist tugging me against his chest gently.

Shaking my head in disagreement I draped my arms over his shoulders kissing his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Kayce. Tonight is important for your father and he want him to keep liking me if you ever want to put your mother’s ring on my finger.” He nodded looping his arm through mine leading me to his truck since we said we would meet him there later.

The drive wasn’t that bad since we just listened to county music until we parked the truck outside the building. He helped me out of the truck and we walked in together not holding hands since I wanted to appear confident during the dinner. Kayce had me walk in front of him opening the next door wheee I gulped coming into contact with a room of livestock members all talking. “Hey, look at me. Just tap me if you need to go and we will.”

“I got it, Kayce.” I nodded moving through the crowd of people finding our table and name tags at the very front.

John walked out onto the stage nodding his head down at us as a silent thank you for being here the second we sat down in our chairs. Lee was there but Beth and Jaime’s spots were still empty. “Since 1886 every Dutton who died is buried 300 yards from my back porch. My great, great, grandfather, to my wife, and someday I will be there myself. When a tree grows on my ranch, I know exactly what fed it. That’s the best we can hope for because nothing we do is for today. Ranching is the only business where the goal is to break even. Survive another season. Last long enough for your children to continue the cycle, and maybe just maybe, the land is still there when a tree sprouts from you…lord god give us rain and a little luck and we’ll do the rest, amen.”

I smiled, watching his speech feeling fine until I heard someone next to our table whispering. "I can't believe they came tonight."

"My boys were joking that they don't come because she might be pregnant." Another mumbled to their friend.

Reaching for the fork on the table I attempted to push past the tightness I could feel beginning to surface in my chest. "But there is someone I'd like to recognize tonight because she has been a great member of the family for a while now. Y/n L/n, I appreciate everything you do for this family."

"Hey are you okay?” Kayce shifted his gaze over to me seeing my chest heaving up and down. I was also clutching the fork in my hand until my fingers were almost turning white.

Lee glanced our direction beginning to clap at the end of his speech. “Congrats to Y/n and my father.”

Everybody around us joined in the clapping and cheering while John made his way over to our table. He sat down in the chair next to me. I shifted my gaze around the room quickly in a panic seeing my vision start to get blurry. “Y/n?” Kayce calls my name the second I dropped the fork and it clattered to the floor and I jumped up rushing through the crowd to the bathroom.

Shutting the door quickly I gasped for breath sliding down onto the floor to catch my breath. Gripping my hair in between my fingers I was so annoyed at myself. I shouldn’t have ran out of the room like that but I didn’t know what else to do. “Y/n, darling. Can I come in?”

“Yeah…” I croaked out wiping away the and getting up from the ground floor when he opened the door and shut it so nobody would see me crying in there.

Kayce stared at me silently for a moment seeing that I was shaking in my boots. Wrapping my arms around myself I felt like I still couldn’t breathe even though the tightness in my chest had gone away. He opened his arms and tilted his head telling me to com here. “Sssh I’ve got you. I’m right here…it’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it….how badly do you think I embarrassed your father leaving like that?” I sniffed through tears gripping onto his dress shirt as tightly as possible.

He just keeps me close to his chest resting his chin on top of my head. He knew that I was going to worry about this when there was something more important like my well being going on. He wasn’t concerned with what the others out there thought, he just wanted me to be okay. “It doesn’t matter right now. Just breathe in and out with me until you’re better. Can you do that for me?”

“Mmm.” I made a noise barley breaking the hug where he was holding onto my forearms since I still didn’t have good balance. Taking in a couple of long breaths in and out I finally started feeling better where I laid my head back down on his chest and he kissed my forehead.

Kayce smiled lightly squeezing my hand in his. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ll explain what happened to my dad later.”

“Are you sure he won’t be upset?” I questioned him where he leads me through the hallway and out to his truck. He helped me back into the vehicle before getting in on his own side.

He reached over taking my hand in his once more. “I’m sure, baby. I just want you to feel better.”

“Thanks Kayce.” I smiled laying my head on his shoulder and we stayed in the parking lot just enjoying the silence before we went home for the evening. Both calm in the others presence and away from the busy livestock diner.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#kayce dutton #kayce dutton x fem!reader #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton imagine #luke grimes #yellowstone series #yellowstone #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone masterlist #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone x reader #ask box is open for anything #requests open #comments really appreciated #anxiety attack #yellowstone one shot

[sweetsweetjellybean]

If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 4 | The Reason

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Adapted from As The World Burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Angst, Smut WC:11038 Masterlist Here

The nights are louder than he remembers. Full of the songs of the cicadas and peepers. The occasional croak of a bullfrog or the hoot of an owl. The distance sounds of traffic from streets away. Somehow it all seems much louder than the Upside-Down. Between the booms of thunder and howls of creatures, there were hours of absolute silence. It’s been six weeks, and Steve hasn’t forgotten how the silence made him feel. Anxious and defensive, like an itch he could never scratch. 

Returning to his dark empty house, the quiet is more than he can stand. It’s become routine for him to sit outside on one of the loungers, watching the last rays of gold sink beneath the treeline, waiting for the sky to cycle through the palette of sunset until darkness finally gives way to the burst of stars. The nighttime sounds calm his worries. This is home. Sitting there, he tries to remember every detail so that it can never be taken from him again. Focusing on the pattern of shadows woven across the moon, he can’t help thinking about you. Are you looking up at the same sky? 

“I thought I’d find you out here,” Nancy’s voice pulls him from his thoughts as she steps out of the house from the sliding glass door. “You didn’t answer when I knocked. I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.”

“Of course not,” Steve says, twisting to look at her over his shoulder, “Come have a seat,” he gestures to the chaise beside him. 

She moves into the space between the two loungers sitting down sideways so she can face him, folding her dainty hands in her lap. “I heard you were at Dustin’s all day today.”

“I put some shingles on that spot on the roof where the tree fell. They don’t need it leaking when it rains.” Construction is underway all over town. Minor projects are getting pushed down the waitlist as tradesmen try to complete the most lucrative jobs first, so Steve has been doing what he can to help his friends and neighbors.

“Well, that was nice of you,” she comments with a smile.

“Well, if you haven’t heard, I’m a nice guy,” he says with smug charm, his lips quirking on one side, aiming to pull an incredulous laugh from her. 

“I think I may have heard that somewhere before,” she giggles, rolling her eyes before continuing, “You must be hungry. Do you want to get something to eat?” 

“Nah, Mrs. Henderson made pot roast. She wouldn’t let me leave until I ate two helpings.” He rubs his flat stomach, smiling. Dustin’s mom always makes him feel like family. 

“How about a movie then?” she asks, hope filling her voice. 

“I’m exhausted, Nance.” He reaches out, patting her hand, “It’s a nice night. Stay here with me for a while.”

“You’ve been sitting out here a lot lately.” She looks down to where his hand covers hers.

“I never realized what I had until I almost lost it,” he says, pulling away from her and looking back towards the horizon. “I like it out here. It helps me think.”

“Think about what?”

“Everything…nothing. I don’t know.” The longer he looks, the more stars come into view. Simple truths are relieved by just taking the time to look.

“You’ve been so distant.”

Her words have him turning towards her again. She’s still looking down, wrapping her arms around herself, her small hands disappearing into the sleeves of her sweater.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be,” he frowns, watching how she’s trying to protect herself, “Are you cold?” He sits up, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off his shoulders. “Here. Sit back.” He stands and waits for her to swing her legs onto the lounger before tucking his coat over her like a blanket.

“Thanks,” she pauses, settling into the leftover warmth, “I thought this would be our time, and I’ve hardly seen you. We haven’t… we’re barely ever alone together.”

He runs a hand through his hair before sitting sideways on the lounger, taking up her position from earlier. “I guess we haven’t,” he says, knowing he’s been neglecting her, but there’s not much left of himself to give, “Work is keeping me busy, and the kids–”

“Steve,” she cuts him off, frustrated by his excuses, “Volunteering at the shelter and doing odd jobs for free doesn’t count as work. And the kids don’t need you to babysit them anymore. Robin’s been back at Family Video for a few weeks now. She told me that Keith has called you.”

“I don’t want to go back to Family Video,” he says, looking away. He’s been over all this before with Robin. “I’m not ready.”

“I know it’s been hard. We’ve all been through so much, but Max is healing. The kids are fine. Everyone is moving on. It’s time for you to start your life.”

His mouth opens with surprise. “Nance, the kids aren’t fine. Have you seen them? Max is struggling.”

“She’s getting better.”

“Nancy, she’s blind. And it’s not just her. Haven’t you seen the way Lucas panics every time he has to leave her side, even for a few minutes?”

“Steve,” she sits up, his jacket slipping down around her waist as she swings her legs to the side, reaching across the space between them to take his hand, “Nothing you can do is gonna fix that.”

“I know that,” he mumbles, but even acknowledging it stirs his guilt. 

“I think you should come with me to Boston.” her fingers tighten around his as if she can already sense his reluctance.

“Boston? For school?”

“I think you’ll really like it there. It’s smaller than Indianapolis, and there are all these great old buildings. I called Emerson, and I’ve got it all figured out. It’s not too late to get the money back from my room and board. We can get an apartment, and I can get a job on the weekends.”

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be studying, not working,” he shakes his head, looking away, “I don’t even know what I’d do in Boston.”

“It’s a city. I’m sure you can find some job that you’d like. Anything is better than Scoops, right? Maybe you can even go to school?”

“Sure, Nance, I didn’t get in at Hawkin’s Community, but I’ll pull out that acceptance letter I got from Harvard.” his eyes roll. 

“Then just be with me, Steve. Let’s try and make it work this time,” she moves her head, seeking his eyes, trying to break through the wall between them ever since he’s been back.

He swallows hard and meets her eyes. “I want to, but I can’t leave them.”

She blows out a deep breath and lets go of his hand.

“What if something happens? What if it starts again?”

“It’s not going to, Steve. It’s over,” she emphasizes, like it's something she’s explained before. “Why can’t anyone accept that?” Her question makes him realize maybe she has just not to him. He may not be the only one thinking of someone else. Steve has only seen Will a few times since he’s been home. The boy’s clothes were even looser on his slight frame, and purple skin circled his sunken eyes, and Jonathan wasn’t leaving for school in the fall.

“That’s what we thought the last time, Nance. That’s what we’ve thought every time,” he says, his voice quiet but resolved, “I need to stay until they graduate–”

“That’s three more years,” she complains.

“They need me.”

“I need you.”

“No, you don’t.” he gives her a soft smile, reaching for her again, “You never have, not even once.” 

She swipes at the tears forming in her eyes before they can fall. There isn’t anything else she can say.

“Come’er,” he tugs her off her seat, pulling her into his side as he settles back onto his lounger. Her arm wraps around him as she rests her head on his chest, the worry coming off her in waves. “It’s going to be alright, he smooths his hand over her hair, “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, snuggling closer, “Just don’t take too long.”

He holds her tightly as he looks back toward the darkened sky, the endless stars glinting as brightly as the moon. He tries to imagine his life with her in Boston, sitting on the rooftop of their tiny apartment. Would the stars shine as vividly with all the city lights? Would he still be thinking of you?

“Double check for any loose nails,” Steve instructs Dustin as he climbs down the ladder, his white t-shirt covered in sweat and dirt.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Dustin says smartly as he picks up the discarded singles that Steve had tossed down from the roof and throws them into the trash barrel. 

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the lawn mower,” he points his finger at the boy before picking up a bottle of water and taking a long pull. Despite the cool nights, the heat during the day still felt oppressive, and he could feel the tenderness of a burn beginning on the back of his neck.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the mower,” the boy mimics in a mocking voice before adding, “What an asshole.”

“Hey!” Steve fumes, settling his hands on his hips just as Mrs. Henderson comes toddling out of the house holding two glasses of lemonade.

“Oh boys, you finished! It looks so nice,” she says, handing the boys the lemonade and stepping back to admire the view, “You two did a great job.”

“You can’t even see it from down here, Mom,” Dustin scoffs. Earning a warning glance from Steve.

“Well, I can just tell,” Claudia Henderson informs her son, “It’s going to be such a relief not to worry every time it rains,” she says, turning her attention to the other boy, “I can’t thank you enough, Steven. I know you said I couldn’t pay you but here,” she pulls some folded bills from her pocket trying to hand them to Steve.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve waves his palms in front of his chest, “The pot roast was thanks enough. It’s been a while since I had a meal like that.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime. Isn’t that right, Dusty?” She looks for confirmation from her son. When Dustins folds his arms across his chest with a mumble of ‘son of a bitch’, her face goes red with embarrassment. She recovers quickly, smiling at Steve, “Would you like to stay tonight? I’ve got a casserole already to go in the oven.”

“Well–”

“Not tonight, Mom,” Dustin cuts in before Steve can finish, “I’m going to Gareth’s for Hellfire.”

“Dusty, We’ve talked about this. I don’t think that’s safe after everything that’s happened,” Claudia says, her fingers clutching the front of her shirt.

“Jesus Christ, Mom. Eddie’s dead. What more do you want?”

“Watch it, Henderson,” Steve says, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Steven,” Dustin says, shrugging him off.

“Dusty!“

“Excuse us,” Steve says to Mrs. Henderson as he grabs Dustin by the collar and yanks him around the corner of the house.

“Since when do you talk to your mother like that?” Steve asks the boy as he releases him against the side of the house. “I know you’ve been feeling bad since Eddie, but you need to get this attitude in check. She doesn’t deserve that, and neither does anyone else.”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” Dustin says, his voice rising in anger as he puts both hands on Steve’s chest and shoves him away. “You didn’t know him or care about him. Just do me a favor and add his name to the list of people you don’t give a shit about and forget you ever met him.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, confused. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Ding ding ding. Good detective work, Sherlock Holmes,” Dustin says, trying to walk away until Steve stops him, grabbing the front of his shirt. 

“So help me, I may not win many fights, but I know I can kick your ass, you little shit,” he pushes Dustin back against the house. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Like you care,” the boy spits, his face red with anger. 

“Of course I care!” Steve yells, waving his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but for how long?” Dustin challenges.

“What?”

“Just until you get to play the hero again. Right, Steve?” he asks sarcastically. 

“Are you kidding me, dude?” Steve asks, catching on. How can he actually think that? “That’s what this is all about because I pushed you through the gate? I did that for you. So you wouldn’t get stuck there. Someone had to stay-“

“Don’t give me that. You did it to be the hero. I begged Eddie not to go back,” Dustin yells, his voice cracking, nose beginning to run, “He just wouldn’t listen, and neither would you. I don’t need another dead friend, Steve. I need you here.”

“I am here!” 

“I heard you,” he says, swiping at his eyes, “When El found you, screaming for her not to take you. You don’t know what it took to get you out. To get that gate back open. What we risked. Tell me again how much you care about us.”

“You got this all wrong. I care about you. All of you,” Steve shakes his head and pulls the boy into a reluctant hug, “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, you understand?” 

Dustin nods into Steve’s chest, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and Steve recognizes the gesture as his own. He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out thick with emotion. “All I thought about was getting home, man. I just couldn’t leave her behind.”

Dustin sniffs, one arm reluctantly landing on Steve’s back. “There’s one thing I don’t get, Steve. If she was so important, then where is she?”

The polished silverware slides against each other, hitting the back of the drawer with a loud clank when Steve yanks it open with more force than necessary. He pulls out a fork and retrieves the open can of SpaghettiOs before heading outside through the slider of the sunroom. The conversation with Dustin plays on a loop in his mind. It’s clear the scars that they all bear are more than skin deep. How do you rejoin a life that doesn’t belong to you anymore? 

He sits on the lounger stirring the tomatoey contents of the can. It’s later than usual. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon. A light mist hangs over the pool's surface, its blue-green light brightening the dark corners of the yard. With the thick clouds obscuring the waning moon and stars, the woods surrounding the yards stay shrouded in shadows. Decisions hang over his head like a knife about to drop, hurting the people he cares about. It’s not the past that’s hard to let go. It’s the future that was never supposed to be.

“I don’t know how you can stand that stuff cold,” Hopper’s voice comes from beside Steve just as the first bite passes his lips. 

“I guess it’s just a habit now,” Steve replies as Hopper eases himself down on the chair beside him, a six-pack in his hand. He pulls one from the plastic ring, handing it to Steve before taking one for himself. 

“Hmm,” Hopper cracks the tab of the Schlitz and takes a loud slurp, “Habits can be hard to break.”

Hopper had been dropping by Steve’s a couple of times a week since he had been home. Steve isn’t sure if this is Hopper’s way of checking up on him or if he just wants an hour of quiet before returning to the full house he shares with Joyce. Hopper has as much on his mind as Steve. Some nights they don’t exchange more than a few words. Whatever his reasoning for stopping by, Steve welcomes the company.

“So,” Steve says after washing down a couple more mouthfuls of Spaghettios with the cold beer, “If I needed to find the address for someone outside of town, is that something you could help me with?”

Hopper’s answer comes in the form of a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pulls a slip of paper from his breast pocket, holding it out to Steve in between two fingers.

There’s a skeptical look on Steve’s face as he takes the paper from the older man. Hopper picks up his beer, going in for another sip as Steve unfolds the note, his eyes widening. 

“You’re a damn good cop. You know that, right?” Steve asks, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his jeans. 

“You’re not the first one to tell me, kid,” Hopper says, settling back into his lounge and looking to the sky where the clouds have shifted and thinned. Beams of light push through the thin wisps, brightening the darkness. “Whatta ya know?” Hopper says, pulling a cigar from the same pocket, “Looks like it might be a clear night after all.”

A light breeze blows the gauzy material of your sundress around your bare legs as you walk down the street toward your apartment. As you hitch your tote higher, the sun warms your shoulders, and a smile plays at your lips. The pieces of your life always find their way together like a jigsaw puzzle without the bigger picture. Forcing them into what you want never works, but eventually, they fit, a new section more beautiful than you imagined is laid out before you.

Your eyes lift from the sidewalk as a car speeds past, Higher Love blasting out of its open windows. The notes blend with the rush of wind through the trees that line your street. One yellow leaf flutters to the ground, an unmistakable sign that the end of summer is near. You watch the car cruise down the road until it passes the stone steps of your apartment. Your stomach and heart turn somersaults when you see him sitting there watching you from behind a pair of dark avatars, a million-dollar smile gracing his handsome face. Your pulse quickens as you approach, wondering if he will always have this effect on you. 

“Hi,” he says, pulling off his glasses and tucking them into the collar of his white tee just as the car turns the corner and the music fades away.

“Hi yourself,” you say, stopping in front of him. “This is a surprise.”

“I thought it was fair,” he shrugs, squinting up at you with one eye slightly closed. “We have unfinished business.” He moves his coat and an empty soda can to his other side, inviting you to join him on the steps.

Climbing a few, you sit next to him, letting the bag fall from your shoulder to rest beside you. “What’s this business?” you ask, your arms circling your knees.

He smirks in response, turning to pull something from his jacket. Returning with a cellophane packet of Twinkies in his hand. “The other pack got a little squished,” he explains as his long fingers tear open the packaging, “These are fresher. I checked the date.” He hands you one of the yellow cakes before taking the other for himself. 

“Thanks,” you laugh, taking the slightly sticky treat from his hand. He brings his to his mouth but pauses, wanting to watch you take your first bite, and you oblige him. One hand hovering under your mouth to catch the crumbs as your teeth breach the soft cake. The sweetness is overwhelming you as much as his gesture. “Mmmm, that’s good,” you say with your mouth still full. 

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling, taking pleasure in your reaction, at how it feels just being near you again like no time has passed.

“Mmmhmm.” Your tongue darts out, licking the filling from your lips, missing a tiny glob in the corner. Before you can make a second pass, he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his mouth to taste. Behind you, the apartment door opens, and your neighbor from upstairs is maneuvering around you with a heavy box in his arms. Steve’s arm is around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, giving your neighbor more room to get by. It happens quick enough for you to feel dizzy. Five minutes ago, you didn’t think you’d see him again, and now he’s surrounding you, heat lingering like a ghost every place he touches you. The thin material of your skirt barely separates your skin from his Levi-covered legs, his mouth just inches from yours as he bites into his Twinkie. 

Your hand shakes as you turn away from him to pull a bottle of water from your bag. Twisting the lid, you take a few gulps to give yourself a moment to regroup.

“Are you alright?” He eyes you with a curious expression. He knows you too well. “Is it okay that I’m here?” He asks, his voice dropping, turning serious.

“I’m always glad to see you, Steve,” you answer honestly. It’s the goodbyes that you can’t bear.

He takes a moment, looking down at the cracked sidewalk. “You look really pretty,” the corners of his mouth lift but not with charm or arrogance, with something much softer. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I saw you coming down the street, you looked happy. I didn’t get to see that when we were…there.”

“Thank you. So do you, but I kind of miss the axe.”

A laugh bursts from deep in his chest, “Yeah? Did that do it for you?”

“Definitely,” you giggle, nudging him with your shoulder, “Want some?” You tip your bottle towards him. 

“Sure,” he takes it from you.

“It’s my new habit,” you nod toward the bottle, “I get a bit panicked if I don’t have water with me. Kinda crazy, right?”

“Nah,” he takes a sip before replacing the cap and handing it back to you, “That’s not so bad as far as habits go. It’s kind of a smart one, actually. I keep eating Chef Boyardee cold.”

“Eww.” Your nose scrunches.

“Right out of the can,” he chuckles, his fingers circling your wrist, gently pulling your arm into his lap, turning it to reveal the healing scar running down the inside of your arm. “I can’t stand the quiet at night,” he says without looking up from your arm. “I sit outside on my back deck for the noise. It’s where I think about you.” His long fingers trace the raised skin with the softest pressure. “I fall asleep out there most nights.”

“I sleep with the lights on,” you admit in a quieter voice, loving and hating how he touches you like you belong to him-like you’ll always belong to him. “And I stuff a couple of pillows behind me, so it feels like yo–like I’m not alone.” 

His eyes lock with yours, and his fingers still. An ache that dulled over the past few weeks but never disappeared completely, crashes over you like a wave. You belong to him, but he’ll never be yours. Not here. Only in another world. Pulling your arm back, you wrap it back around your knees.

He frowns, sensing the shift between you, and changes the subject. “Were you coming from school?” he nods in the direction you came from. 

“Oh. Um, yeah,” you say, following his eyes. The center of campus is a few blocks away from your apartment.

“Have classes started?” he asks, thinking about the answer he owes Nancy.

“No. Not for a few more weeks. I-uhh…I was changing my schedule. I’m not going to do fieldwork anymore. I’m going to teach instead. Maybe high school,” you explain.

“But you loved it,” his eyebrows pull together in a straight line. 

The same expression your advisor gave you when you told him. “I know, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, an expression of guilt washing over his face.

“Hey, don’t feel bad for me. Teaching’s a good gig. Great hours. Summers off. There are worse jobs.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he says, recovering. “You can force all those kids to listen to your bad jokes.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, squeezing your knees tighter, “What about you? Have you figured out what you want to do yet?”

“No, not yet,” his head turns away, looking down the other side street, “Nancy wants me to come with her to Boston.”

Your heart cracks open even though you knew this was coming. “So you’re together again?”

He turns, shaking his head, “No. Not really. She wants to be.”

“And what do you want?” you ask, but your heart already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” both hands card through his thick hair, pulling on the ends, “I don’t know. It’s not that easy. The kids….Nothing makes sense to me anymore. Nothing’s made sense since the last time I was with you. That’s why I had to see you.”

“I think you know exactly what you want.” You place your hand on his knee, a gesture meant to comfort, but he takes full advantage, covering your hand with his, lacing his fingers through yours. You should pull away, but your heart pleads to take what you can. Goodbye is just on the horizon. 

“You’ve loved her for so long.”

“It doesn’t feel right anymore,” he argues, leaning closer, his forehead brushing yours.

“I think,” you pause, wetting your lips, and his eyes track the movement. “I think you’ve been making decisions thinking of everyone else for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to choose something that will make you happy.”

“What if the right thing,” his voice has dropped to just louder than a whisper as his nose runs along your cheek, “and what I want is the same thing?”

“Steve,” your breaths are coming in shudders from deep in your chest. Tears sting behind your eyes as a cruel voice repeats from the back of your mind. He’ll never choose you. 

“Can we go inside?” his lips touch yours with the barest of brushes.

His question is a jolt of ice water up your spine. You’ve indulged yourself too long. If you let him in now, tomorrow when he’s gone, you won’t recover. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, pulling back. You let your resolve steel your spine as you stand. Climbing a few steps, putting distance between you. 

He stands, trying to follow. Sadness and confusion marring his pretty face. “Honey– "

You stop him with a hand held out in front of you. “All of this. Everything we’ve been through. It happened so you can get what you’ve always wanted. So she can see you. Don’t throw it away, Steve. You’re going to thank me someday.”

His mouth opens, but he can’t find the words. Stepping forward, you throw your arms around him in a hug too quick for him to return before you step back. “I’m so happy to have seen you again.” you smile, working hard to keep your tone enthusiastic, promising yourself you will not fall apart despite the pain. Not this time. “Send me a postcard from Boston, okay?” you ask, but you’re already turning away, pulling your keys from your tote, and moving to the door.

“I miss you,” he says. The pain in his voice makes you pause and close your eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone before, not the way I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you turn back to him. You know he’s trying, but it’s not enough, not after having him. He’s still not choosing you, and you deserve someone who will, even though it’s so tempting to give in to him.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you next time,” you keep it light, “I’ll show up in Boston when I need someone to share a Twinkie. Take care of yourself, Steve,” you push your key into the lock.

“Wait. Wait, he says, waving his hands before they settle on his hips, “If you’re so sure I’m supposed to be with her, then what’s your reason? Why were you there? Why did we even meet?”

Your eyes shift to your shoes, trying to find an answer that isn’t a lie, reasoning that it’s okay to lie if it’s for his own good. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

The lock clicks before he can say anything else, and you quickly seal yourself on the other side. You wait until you see him walking down the steps to let yourself into your apartment. Immediately dropping your bag and leaning your back against the door. Your hand moves to your stomach as you silently apologize for your lie. Pushing away, you walk through your tiny kitchen to the refrigerator. Rubbing your eyes, you refuse to let a tear fall. You won’t regret doing the right thing. Your hand wraps around the handle before you yank it open and pull out a juice container. “It was the right thing,” you whisper, letting the door swing closed, revealing the black and white strip of photos of a small blurry shape taped to the other side. “For all of us.”

The buzzing from the cars zooming past in a haphazard flow does nothing to calm Steve’s nerves as he makes the long drive back to Hawkins.

“Fuck,” he slams his hand against the wheel as the memory of you closing that door, shutting him out of your life, replays in his mind. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. He shouldn’t have pushed. After being apart for so long, he should have known better. But seeing you come down the street, having you so close–it was like no time had passed. It felt natural to touch you. He had just wanted to talk. Just wanted to see that you were alright, but the feel of your soft skin under his fingertips had only made him want more. And then, just like before, it was over before it really began.  

Steve snaps off the radio, cutting off Lindesy’s pleas. One thing had come out of it, though. He had gone to you looking for clarity, and you had given it to him. You were right. He does know what he wants. He keeps the radio off, rolling down the window, listening to the sounds of life around him. Watching the highways turn into towns and more familiar roads until he was crossing the Hawkins town line. Passing the turn for Cornwallis, he heads north toward Maple. The house is dark when he pulls into the driveway, his lights bouncing off the second-story window he had climbed through more than a few times before. But not tonight. He turns the key, pulling it from the ignition, the leather creaking as he leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. The light’s still low, just breaking, when the knock on his window wakes him. The blue of Nancy’s eyes is brighter than the sky as she stands barefoot, freezing her nightgown. She takes his hand as they walk inside.

“I’m working on it, Flo,” Hopper yells in response to the knock at his closed office door. He scrambles for the empty file folder stuck between his booted feet and the desk that they are resting on. He wraps the folder around the copy of Car and Driver that he’s been reading and quickly shoves the half-eaten donut into his top drawer. Replacing it with a red apple that he takes a big bite of just as his door swings open. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he says as Steve wanders into his office, shutting the door behind him and sitting heavily in the chair in front of Hopper’s desk.

“What do you want?” Hopper asks as he settles back further in his chair, his eyes moving back to the file folder he’s holding up in front of him.

“How about a job?” Steve asks, his eyes roving around the small office.

“Ha, good one,” Hopper chuckles, pulling out a camel from his breast pocket.

“I’m serious, Hop.” 

Hopper narrows his eyes as he lights his cigarette. “What’s gotten into you, kid? Having regrets about not leaving with Nancy a few weeks ago?”

“No. Nothing like that. It was never gonna work out,” Steve says, shaking his head. He said goodbye to Nancy the morning she found him outside her house. He loved her, but they weren’t right for each other. It would have left them both broken if they’d forced their lives to fit together. So, he let her go like you had let him go with affection and without regrets. Another chapter closed. 

“I’m ready to figure out what to do with my life.”

Hopper stays quiet, taking another drag from his smoke.

“I figure I’m pretty good at helping people, so that’s what I want to do,” Steve shrugs.

“This isn’t just helping old ladies across the street, Harrington,” Hopper says, sitting up in his chair and blowing out a steady stream of smoke, “It’s hard work.”

“Yeah, I can eat donuts and read Car and Driver, too, Chief,” Steve says, waving a hand toward Hopper.

“Watch it, kid,” Hopper says, slamming the magazine on his desk and stubbing out his cigarette, “What happened with the girl?”

“The girl?” Steve questions

“You went to see her, right?” Hopper asks, leaning forward on his elbows. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Steve says, looking away.

Hopper’s jaw tightens as his eyes turn to slits under thick eyebrows.

“What do you want me to say?” Steve asks, crossing one leg over the other. “She wasn’t interested.”

“Let me get this straight. You went there?”

“Yup.”

“Knocked on her door?”

“Waited for her to get home half the day.”

“Then you told her you weren’t going with Nancy?”

“Well–“

“And that you’re in love with her.”

“Not exactly.”

“You are in love with her?”

“I–”

“What’s wrong with you, Harrington?” Hopper asks, gripping the edge of his desk, “Are you stupid or something?”

“Jesus, Hop,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Have you seen them out there?” Hopper’s uniform-covered elbow slams down on the desk as he points to the closed door, “I’m full up on stupid. Now,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, “I might have something for someone who’s got their shit together, but right now that aint you, Harrington. So, come back and talk to me when you do.” 

“Hop, I–“

“I don’t want to hear it, Harrington. You might be able to do some real good someday, but right now, I’m busy. Important police business to take care of,” Hopper says, propping his feet back up on the desk and burying his face in the magazine.

Steve isn’t sure if it’s sentimentality or sheer curiosity that drew him here, but he did know as soon as he saw the stack of folded afghans being placed in a box at the shelter that this is where he’d end up. On first approach, the cottage doesn’t appear much different than the one in the Upside-down. The tiny home still remained obscured by tall sugar maples and eastern white pines. White curls of paint still clinging to the old timber walls next to sturdy black shutters. But the well-tended beds of colorful flowers that line the walkways and front of the cottage give it a more inviting feel. 

His shoes scrape up the stone steps, where he stops to take a fortifying breath preparing to see the woman that used to haunt his bad dreams. His knuckles wrap against the door while flashes of himself cutting away vines play in his mind.

“Mrs. Willard,” he calls after hearing a series of loud coughs on the other side of the door. 

“Just a minute. Just a minute,” Her voice gets closer as he hears the locks being worked before the door swings open, “Jesum crow, give an old lady a minute to get to the door.” 

Anne Willard’s full height barely put her at the center of Steve’s chest. Her poof of white curls gave her an extra few inches, as well as the sensible black shoes that adorned her feet. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any,” she huffs, ready to slam the door.

“I’m not selling anything, ma’am,” Steve says, giving her one of his best smiles, “I’m Steve Harrington, a volunteer from the shelter over at the middle school. I don’t think anyone thanked you for donating all those blankets, so I wanted to stop by and ask if there was anything I could help you with around your property.”

“Help me?” She takes a step forward, her balled hands landing on her hips, head tipped up to look Steve in the eye, “Do you think I’m senile? Can’t take care of myself?”

“No, ma’am. I know you’re alone out here, and I thought I could be useful.”

“Humph. Well, I guess we’ll have just to wait and see about that,” she says, her clear blue eyes as sharp as a woman half her age, “You better come inside then.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the door open, and Steve with no choice but to follow her. His eyes roam the familiar space. She must not have changed a thing in her home since time stopped in the Upside-down. He feels like he’s lived a lifetime here instead of only a few days. 

“Tea,” Mrs. Willard says, raising her finger as she starts down the hall leading to the kitchen. Steve follows her, ghosts echoing in his heart as he passes the closed door of the bedroom where he made love to you. 

The kitchen is the same, with brighter sunlight pouring through the windows and backdoor. Fresh flowers stuffed in pitchers dot surfaces between the knit-covered crockery. The older woman stops in front of the butcher block countertop, pushing up on her toes to reach for two mugs from the open shelving. 

“Let me do that, Mrs. Willard,” Steve says, reaching beside her and retrieving the mugs.

“Enough with the Missus stuff. Anyone who makes tea in my kitchen calls me Anne,” she says, shuffling to the table and sitting, “The kettle is right there on the–” 

But Steve already has the kettle filling. The knited cozy folded neatly near the stove.

“Well, you certainly know your way around a kitchen,” she says, looking at him with a curious eye as he starts the kettle boiling and drops the teabags into the cups. 

“I remember you,” she says when he turns and leans against the counter, “I know your mother. You used to run around town with your little gang like you were the Prince of Hawkins. So tell me, have you done any growing up since then?”

“I’d like to think so,” he says as the kettle starts to sing. He pulls it from the stove, pouring water into each mug, and brings both cups to the table.

“Now,” she says, folding her hands in her lap while waiting for the tea to steep, “Is there anything I need doin’? Let’s see, I had the gutters cleaned a few months back. I mow my own lawn and tend to the garden. Besides that, there’s not much else to do. My Jacob built this whole place himself, and it’s just as sturdy as the day we moved in.”

“You have a beautiful home, Anne,” he comments, trying out her first name. “You don’t see places built this solid.” The cottage was the only house they came across in the Upside-Down that was mainly untouched by the decay.

“He built it as a wedding gift. He knew I loved the lake. I just wish we had more years here together. So much wasted time.”

“How long were you married?”

“Forty-three wonderful years. Not enough,” she smiles sadly, sorting through her memories. “We got married at nineteen, but that was considered late at the time. We met when I was sixteen, and everyone knew Jacob was sweet on me right from the start. Walking me home, and bringing me flowers, but every time he asked to take me out, I turned him down flat. I thought he was too good for me. You see, Jacob was from a very well-to-do family. Things like that mattered so much more back then. I told him he shoulda been courting Ellen-Mae Sattler. Her family owned the quarry and half the town. It was no secret she had her sights set on him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Every time I sent him away, he’d just come right back.”

“How did he finally convince you,” Steve asks, completely wrapped up in her story.

“Well, one day he just showed up with a ring and said, ‘I love you, Annie, and if you turn me down, it’s not going to make one lick of difference cause I’m just gonna keep on loving you anyway.’ We got married three days later." Her lip quivers as her eyes turn glossy. "The Lord knows I miss that man every day. Suppose I’ll be joining him soon enough.”

“I know he’ll be waiting, Anne,” Steve says, covering her hand with his.

“Oh well, now I’ve gotten all weepy,” she says, picking up a napkin to dab at her eyes. “Now, what about you, young man? Do you got a girl out there that you love like that?”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile ghosting his lips, “I definitely do.”

A bright flash lights up your small living room, follows a round of thunder rattling the rain-streaked windows. Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself as you sit on your worn couch with your knees pulled up, tucked under your oversized Perdue sweatshirt, you take deep soothing breaths. There have been storms since you’ve returned, but not like this. Not the kind that has the entire sky dark and purple with near-constant thunder. Not the kind with so much lighting, the hair on your arms stands up straight, and you can feel electricity buzzing in the air. It’s taken you right back there, and this time you’re alone. 

With another loud boom, the lamp in the corner of the room cuts out, and the room falls into near darkness. “One-two-three,” you count, trying to keep your voice steady and breathing even. As suddenly as it turned off, the light flares on, and the display on your VCR flashes zeros. A deep sigh escapes your chest just as the door buzzer sounds.

Your muscles are stiff with tension as you stand up, moving towards the intercom, “Who is it?”

“It’s Steve.” The sound of his voice is barely audible over the pouring rain. One hand moves to your mouth while your thumb punches the button, unlocking the door. Here he is, saving you again.

Your fingers shake as you work the locks as quickly as you can, opening the door to him standing there half-drenched, hair dripping onto the collar of his soaked gray jacket, a wet crumpled bag in his right hand. He hasn’t taken a full step over the threshold when you are crushing yourself into his chest, your arms going around his middle. Stiffening, he swallows hard before dropping the bag, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He’s freezing but somehow still filling you with warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you say against his chest, “The storm.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, pulling you closer, letting his hands trail up and down your back, “you’re alright.”

The feel of his lips ghosting at your temple brings you back to awareness, and you step away from him, heat rising from your chest to your cheeks. “Sorry,” you say again, yanking on the cuffs of your sweatshirt, “You picked a good time to drop by,” you chuckle, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Yeah?” he laughs with you, “Would you mind if I come in then?”

“Ohmygod,” you cover your face with your hands, “Of course.” 

Your eyes shift around your kitchen, trying to remember what you might have left out as he picks up his bag and follows you through your apartment into your living room. A small one-bedroom subsidized by the university, is a step up from the dorms you were lucky to get. The galley kitchen leads into the small living room, big enough for a sofa and a desk, that surface overflows with books and papers. 

“Nice place,” he says, concern filling him as he watches you flinch with the next flash of lightning.

“Thanks.” You stand in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do now, watching as he unzips his wet jacket revealing a crisp Polo. He carefully folds it, trying to avoid tracking more water through your apartment, and looks around for somewhere he can put it down.

“Let me get you a towel,” you say, rushing from the room down the narrow hallway, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. The wind picks up outside. The storm is right over you now. Branches of the tree outside your bedroom sway back and forth, scraping against your windows. The bi-fold doors of the overstuffed closet stick when you try to pull them open. 

“Shit,” you cry when they won’t budge more than an inch.

“Everything okay?” Steve’s worried voice calls from the living room.

The lights flicker as quick snaps of lightning flash like a strobe while you tug harder on the handles. Thunderclaps roar loud enough to shake the entire building as the doors burst open with one last tug that sends you falling backward onto your butt as half your closet empties onto the floor. 

“No,” you press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed as panic and frustration claw their way up inside you. Ignoring how your head swims, you move to your knees, chasing loose geodes scattered across the floor, when you feel his hands on your shoulders. 

“Leave it for now,” he says, his warm hands covering your shaking ones as he helps you to your feet. “It’s not important. We’ll get it cleaned up in a minute.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you nod, trying to slow your breathing.

“It’s okay.” He cups your jaw, tipping your head back so you’re focused on him. The deep hazel of his eyes pulls you in. “Stay with me. I’ve got you, okay? It’s you and me.” 

Your hands move to his chest, bunching the fabric into your fists, bringing him closer. Despite the questions that swirl lost somewhere in your mind, you can’t deny yourself the comfort he offers. 

“I won’t leave you.” His chest tightens, hoping this is a promise he’s allowed to keep. 

“Why aren’t you in Boston?” you ask as a tear spills over your lash line.

“Honey,” his eyes soften as his thumb strokes your cheek, “I was never going to Boston.”

As his arms move around you, bringing you close, you let out a breath that you feel you’ve been holding since you woke up in the hospital. One that has been keeping you from falling to pieces because now you can—he’s holding you together. 

Without leaving the safety of his arms, you let him lead you to the couch. Your head finds a home on his chest, and you bring your legs up, curling into him. Something warm gets tucked around you. He holds you close as the storm rages outside, his heartbeat lulling you into calm. At some point, your eyes must have closed because the sound of light rain is the next thing you remember.

“It passed,” Steve says, tightening his hold on you when he feels you stirring, hoping he doesn’t have to let you go yet. Content to stay, you snuggle in deeper, tugging the afghan tighter around you both. The familiar softness of the downy yarn catches your attention. 

“Wait, where did you get this?” you ask, sitting up, the scalloped edges running between your fingers, give way to a pattern of multicolored flowers. 

“I went to the cottage. Mrs. Willard gave it to me, but I knew right away that it belonged with you.” His arm slides from your shoulder, traveling the length of your back.

“You went there?” An ache runs rampant through your chest. As the sensible voice inside you begs you not to let him climb through the cracks into your heart.

“I needed to see it,” he takes your hand, eager to keep the connection, “it was exactly the same. She hasn’t changed a thing. I asked if she needed any help, but as it turned out, the only thing she needed was someone to listen.”

"And what did she say?"

“She just talked,” he shrugs. “She told me about her husband and their life together. It made me realize how much time I’ve wasted,” he lifts his eyes to yours, “You were right, I know what I want. I want you. You’re the one I can’t live without.”

After all these weeks, the words you didn't dare dream of fall easily from his lips. Leaving what was left of your battered armor to shatter and fall away.  

“I should never have left you in the hospital, and I should never have said goodbye. I should have fought for you like I did there. I know you don’t think we belong together, but you loved me. Is there any part of you that still does?”

“I never stopped.” The tears run down your face faster than you can wipe them away. “I can’t. I love you, Steve.”

His eyes light up at your confession. His lips pull tight into a smile as he leans forward, dipping his head, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“I love you,” you start again, choking on the words, “But there are things you don’t know about. Things that could change your mind.”

The secret you’ve been keeping is a band on your heart, constricting its beats. One that you know will change everything.

“Honey, whatever it is…I love you. We survived the world burning down around us. We can make it through anything.” 

His hand moves to your neck, but you push him away, “No, Steve, you don’t understand,” you hiccup as the tears blur your vision. “I should have told you.”

“It’s okay. I promise,” His thumbs wipe away your tears, “Let me get you some water, and you can tell me.” He stands, leaving you for the kitchen while you try to find a way to tell him. 

There’s no doubt in your mind that Steve would do the right thing, and that’s exactly why you couldn’t tell him. He would stay with you out of obligation, and one morning you’d wake up to resentment written all over his face as he trudges through the day instead of living out his dreams. You won’t take that from him. So you’ll tell him, and then you’ll let him go for the last time taking your heart with him. The cabinet bumping closed reminds you of what's pinned on your fridge.

“Steve, wait!” you scramble toward the kitchen, but you're too late. He turns the corner, his eyes lowered to the ultrasound photos he’s carrying in his hands.

You stand still, quiet sobs wracking your chest, like a chess piece on a board waiting to see if his next move will knock you down. 

His eyes finally rise, full of hurt and shock. "You're having my baby."

You owe him so much more than the nod of your head, but the words stay lodged in your throat. The sound of soft rain hitting the windows fills the silence between you. He carefully sets the strip of scans on your desk, making sure they have their own spot like they’re something precious. He staggers toward you, moving slowly like he’s afraid to frighten you, his face still in a daze.

“I’m sorry,” you manage as he stops before you. He shakes his head from side to side, keeping his eyes lowered. 

“You don’t have to…”

Your words trail off as he sinks to his knees. Placing a gentle hand on your belly, he leans forward until his forehead rests softly beside it.

“Hi,” he whispers, “I’m your dad.”

His fingers stroke feather light where his child is growing inside you. He’s never imagined anything more beautiful.

“You want us?” you ask in whispered tones, “Are you sure?”

“Honey, you’re giving me family. It’s all I have ever wanted.” His lips press softly against your belly.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a whoosh taking your fears with it. The love you feel for him—him and the part of him inside you, cracks open your heart until it’s filling every part of you with such a force you’re surprised you can’t see it glowing under your skin.

“Are they okay?” he asks, lifting his head, keeping his hand where it is, his eyes glossy as he looks up at you, “Is the baby okay? The Upside-down..”

“Yes,” you say, interrupting, not wanting him to worry for a second, “The baby’s fine. Developing normally. I had the ultrasound early, to be sure.” You cover his hand with yours, and he sighs in clear relief, his other hand grabbing your hip.

“You're my reason. Both of you,” he says, pulling you closer, “I’ve never been more sure.”

“You’re mine too,” you say, dropping to the floor to join him, your hand moving to his stubbled cheek, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore,” his hand cradles the back of your head, “I love you, and I’m going to take care of you if you’ll let me?”

“How about we take care of each other?”

His lips stretch into a smile before he leans forward, and they close over yours. "Deal," he agrees, going back for another kiss. 

Your arms wind around his neck as he pulls you tightly against him. The plush of his lips working lazily around yours. Steve was right. He had held you like this while the world burned around you, expecting your last act to be loving each other. A love that is rare and true and written in the stars. A love that will survive the test of time. Time that neither one of you will take for granted. Living fully in each minute, watching your love grow into a family. You can feel all this in the press of his lips. The stories of your future are printed there. 

"I love you," he says again because he wants you to know loving you was never a choice. His fingers move under the edge of your sweatshirt lighting trails of fire along your skin as his kiss changes from slow to hungry. 

"Can I touch you?" He asks. Even though his hands are already on you, he wants your permission to go further. 

"Please," you pant, already on the edge of being consumed with want, "I need you, Steve."

"I need you too, honey. Need to know you're mine." His hands lift the edge of your sweatshirt, and you raise your arms, helping him rid you of it. He barely glimpses what he's uncovered before you pull at his Polo, stretching the fabric in your greed to feel his skin against yours. He takes you back in his arms, and it feels like home. Your soft skin a contrast to the thatch of hair on his chest as you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own. The wet slide of his kiss only makes you want more. Want all of him. 

Your whimpers drive his urgency as he lets you go to retrieve a pillow from the couch and carefully lays you back on it. His fingers grip the waistband of shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs. 

"You look so pretty all laid out for me," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before sitting back on his heels, his big hand landing where your knees are pushed together, "but I want to see all of you."

Your fingers trace your kiss-bitten lips, feeling the ghost of his as your thighs fall open, revealing the glossy evidence of exactly what he does to you. His fingers run absently up and down your inner thigh as he looks his fill wearing the expression of a man about to take what's his. 

"Steve," you whine, feeling impatient while your hands move to your breasts adding a graceful slow roll of your hips to remind him he can do more than just look. 

"Fuck, honey. How did I ever stay away from you?" he asks, crawling over to place a kiss just above your belly button, the first in a slow trail ending at the top of your pussy. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you open for his first slow lick up your center that sends your back arching off the floor.

“You taste so good. I’m already addicted,” he says, eyes catching yours before his mouth closes over you in a wet assault, tongue swirling through your folds, drawing circles around your clit.

“No one,” you gasp, clawing at the carpet while your hips fight against the press of his hands, “No one has ever made me feel this way.”

You can feel him smile against you as he slides two fingers inside your velvety heat moving in and out of you steadily, curling upward to brush against the spot that adds a new layer of euphoria radiating through you.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making you feel like this,” he pauses to kiss the plush of your thigh. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he returns his attention back to your pleasure. He groans with your gentle tugs, the vibrations rippling against your core. 

“Need to get you ready for me, honey,” he says, adding a third finger. Biting down on your lip, you hiss through your teeth at the slight sting of the stretch. He gives you time to adjust, waiting until your slick soaks his fingers.

His pace quickens, changing those quick jolts of lighting into a blur of rapture. Your walls tighten as your body tenses. Your chorus of desperate moans his new favorite tune. 

"That's it, give it all to me. Cum for me, beautiful." His lips close over your clit, sucking in short bursts. Your blood sings with the new sensations rushing through you, turning molten as you rise like a fiery star.

Calling his name, you fall over the edge into bliss, the world ceasing to exist beyond your connection. He helps you float down with gentle touches and light kisses placed on your belly. He can’t fight back his smile as he looks down at you. A face that he memorized every detail of, now glowing with his love and his child. He didn’t have to die to become the man he wanted to be. He just had to open his heart.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s there, deep moss swirling with amber and gold filled with love. From the first moment you met, you placed your faith in him, and fate has led you to a love you never thought you’d find. After the uncertainty, the struggles, and the fears have fallen away, love is all that is left between you.

He’s chosen you, and you, him. Once in another world and again in this one. A life together that was fought for and hard-won. As the page turns, you’re no longer fearful of what's next, knowing you’ll be together. Whatever lies ahead, you’ll take his hand and welcome the adventure.

Epilogue 

"And that's why you don’t take life for granite."

A chorus of groans erupts as the students gather their books and papers when the shrill bell sounds over the loudspeaker.

"Hey, I better start getting some more laughs out of you all, or I'll be forced to assign more homework," you call out over your shoulder as you erase the formulas you had written on the blackboard.

"Will we see you later, Mrs. Harrington?" says the ringleader of a group of four boys lingering around your desk. 

"Sorry, guys. No AV club tonight," you tell them as you settle into the creaking chair behind your wooden desk, "I've got plans. Next week, alright?"

"I bet you're going to be busy getting set up to watch the Perseid meteor shower?" questions Travis, the overly enthusiastic one. With a mouth full of braces and a head full of curls, he reminds you of someone else you know. 

"Something like that," you smile, thinking about your plans as you tidy the papers on your desk, adjusting the large geode next to your nameplate. 

"Alright, see you tomorrow," they concede, shuffling out, their disappointment already forgotten by the time they make it to the door. 

"See you tomorrow," you call after them as Tina, an 8th grader with hearts in her eyes, squeezes past them into the doorway.

"A policeman in the office is asking to see you, Mrs. Harrington."

"Thank you, Tina. Can you please tell him I'll meet him outside?" you can barely hide your smile, knowing exactly why he’s here.

"Sure," she says, leaning her head against the edge of the door frame, "He's really dreamy."

“Alright, Tina,” your eyes roll, “Get to where you're supposed to be.”

She’s quick to follow instruction as you finish preparing for your next class. Leaving your room, you walk through the quiet halls and across the empty gym, the sound of your heels clicking against polished floors. Pushing open the set of double doors at the far end, a warm hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you outside into the shade of the building and maneuvers you up against the hard brick wall.

“Mmm,” you whine as Steve pulls away the collar of your blouse and attaches his lips to the spot where your pulse is speeding up, “You're going to get me in trouble,” your voice already breathless, as your hands move to his head holding him there.

“I can’t help it,” he says, running his hands along your sides, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. You’ve got me so distracted.”

“Is that so?” you ask as his lips brush over yours.

“That’s so.” His thumb tugs at your chin, coaxing you to open so he can take the kiss deeper. “I can’t even concentrate..” His words trail off as his mouth takes yours, kissing you like he did that very first time. Like you’re the only woman in the world. Like he adores you.

“Steve,” you mumble against his lip as your hands smooth up the front of the crisp tight-fitting blue button-up. Seeing him in uniform never fails to make you ache with need. The top two buttons are always undone, revealing the white shirt he wears underneath with just a glimpse of the hair on his chest showing and a shiny silver badge pinned just left of his heart. Your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck that he still wears too long to be regulation.

“What did the doctor say this morning?” He asks as one of his hands slides lower on your hip, down the side of your skirt, dipping just under the hem.

“He gave me the all clear,” you breathe out, pulling his mouth back to yours as his hand continues to climb until it finds the lacy edge of your stocking and the garter it’s attached to. 

"Are you wearing lingerie?" His fingers get bolder seeking out more of the lace. 

"It's new," you answer, grinding yourself against his hardening length, “I thought you deserved it. You’ve been taking such good care of everything since the baby.”

“Jesus, honey,” he groans, tipping his head back and slapping his hand against the rough wall of the building, “How am I going to wait until the kids are in bed?”

“You won’t have to. Hopper is picking up the boys after hockey, and Joyce already has the baby,”  two of your fingers start walking down the front of his shirt, brushing against the leather of his belt, heading lower to the flat front of his tight black pants. “We’ll have the house to ourselves until tomorrow.” 

“What about Fate?” He asks, his eyebrows pulling together, always the protector of his other favorite girl.

“She’s having a girl's night with El and Max.” you smile, knowing he would ask about your oldest. You set up this plan weeks ago. Waiting to be together after the birth of your babies is just as hard on you as it is on him.

“You’re sneaky.” His hand reaches around you to give your ass a little squeeze.

“You love it,” you admit pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” he says as the bell rings again, projected through the speaker over your heads. 

“I’ve got to go,” you swat his hand away so you can straighten your skirt.

“Not yet,” he pouts, using a finger to trace your neckline, pulling it away from your body, “Just let me have a little peek,” he tries looking down the front of your blouse.

“Get out of here,” you laugh, giving him a gentle push.

“Fine,” he grumbles with a smile, turning to walk back to where his cruiser is parked. 

“Tonight,” you call, making him turn and look back at you.

“Tonight,” he says, raising the fingers of his left hand to his lips, the sun glinting off the gold band on his fourth finger, “and forever.”

The End

AN: Thank you so much for sticking with this little series. It challenged me in ways that I never expected, but I learned a lot writing it.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #if tomorrow never comes #steve harrington x fem #stranger things smut

[sprucesports]

#MTB Shorts #Mountain Bike Shorts #Padded Bike Shorts #Cycling Shorts #Rain Jackets #Cycling Jackets #Cycling Jersey #Triathlon Trisuit #Karate Uniform

[sockonaleash]

Can i ask for Hajime, Makoto, Nagito and K1-B0 x reader that’s the Ultimate Unlucky Student? If this isn’t too much ^^ take your time because four characters can be a lot sometimes

hajime, makoto, nagito and k1-b0 with an s/o who's the ultimate unlucky student

type : headcanon, gn!reader

note : i'm assuming this is supposed to be in a headcanon format (sorry if not,,), this is overall just cute stuff :} i got a lil carried away, hope you don't mind! i apologize for the wait, i've been getting into fnaf lately,,,, springtrap,,,

requested : yes! greetings simp :D

Hajime Hinata

hajime would be very confused at first, he'd ask if it's similar to nagito's ultimate and if it's a cycle of good and bad luck. when you told him it wasn't and shit was just constantly hitting the fan, he got a little worried.

it's usually small things like you falling face first on the ground because you forgot to tie your shoes, every animal known to man constantly attacking you or the coins falling out of your wallet whenever you tried to buy anything from a vending machine to be never seen again. yet sometimes, it would ruin dates the two of you wanted to have.

one time - when the two of you started dating - you decided to go to the beach to have a date. it was the middle summer and there weren't any clouds in the sky, yet the moment the two of you finished setting everything up it started raining. the worst part is as soon as both of you went home the sky cleared. hajime would be the type to awkwardly show up at your doorstep right after the failed date, soaking wet, asking if "you had room for two in your house".

overall, i don't think he'd take it too hard. even if some hangouts fail there's always room for more. he'd worry, of course, but not to the point where he'd restrict your movement and choices (only if you have the risk of getting ran over or something).

Makoto Naegi

he's definitely the type to be constantly worried. although he is the ultimate lucky student he can only hope that his ultimate is enough to balance yours out (which usually just ends up the two of you sharing lucky and unlucky experiences).

before going out he'd tie your shoes extra tight, make sure you have a jacket if it's cold out or an umbrella if it's raining - with a smaller, spare umbrella inside your backpack if the first one broke. bought by the man himself! he'd be the type to grab your hand before crossing the road but not let you cross unless everything was right. by this i mean, no cars in the street, shoes tied, hand held, nothing in the way.

at the start of your relationship makoto thought he was being a bit too much but when you almost got ran over as you crossed the seemingly empty road he decided he could never be too sure.

altogether, he's worrying a lot. not in an annoying way, more of a "you're my troublesome child and i'll never let you out of my sight" type of way.

Nagito Komaeda

oh no. the good luck? still there. not a lot though. the bad luck? double. the cycle is still there, it's just that now whenever something bad happens it's two times worse.

nagito would be very nonchalant over both your talents and not let it get in the way of your dates. for example, if it started raining heavily during a walk and he noticed it was starting to flood the streets he'd try to convince you to go buy floaties to float down the street together. hopefully his good luck comes around quickly! you don't feel like getting stuck somewhere or drowning.

if you did get hurt he'd degrade himself - even if why or how you got hurt had nothing to do with him - and pay for your hospital bills. i feel like nagito would be the type to pamper his partner a lot with little gifts and try to carry you up the stairs if you broke your leg(s). And fail miserably at doing so.

he'd get into shit with you to just go "haha, my bad. how could i let this happen?"

K1-B0

kiibo. my sweet baby. like hajime, he'd ask a lot of questions when first meeting you! throughout time he'd get used to it and do his best to help you out. your gloves got ripped up by unknown causes and it's snowing? he'll use his hairdryer function to "breathe" onto your hands to quickly warm them up and when the two of you get home he'll sew them back up.

if you get hurt he wouldn't be able to carry you or anything (he's not particularly the strongest and his back pain doesn't help) but he'd take care of you afterwards! be it cooking meals, or cleaning the house.

everytime you get home he'll stop you at the door while concentrating reallyyy hard to use his zooming function to see if you're alright. doesn't do much, but you let it slide if it helps calm his worry.

so even if he's not able to support you during your spikes of your bad luck, he'll gladly lend you a hand afterwards!

#xxosock.writes #kiibo x reader #kiibo x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #danganronpa x reader #danganronpav3 x reader #drv3 x reader #hajime hinata x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #makoto naegi x reader #dr2 goodbye despair #dr thh #drv3