#I’m pretty sure my 30s will be the best years of my life but maybe it’ll be my 40s or 50s

[dykonradish]

Really thinking about death and aging today because it’s my mom’s birthday but she died when she was 53 so its only me who is recognizing her birthday and only me who is aging. Really unfortunate that she was barely here for my brain being fully formed years and won’t be here for the best years of my life. But it is what it is.

[disneyprincemuke]

ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

you and charles stare at one another, eyes wide as you freeze in your respective spots of the kitchen: you with a whisk in hand and him with a bowl and an egg.

“what did you just say?” charles asks slowly, afraid to move any muscle in his body. maybe if he stayed this still, he could go back to 30 seconds ago when you hadn’t said what you said.

you tilt your head to the side and furrow your eyebrows. “did i say something?”

knowing damn well you did. he had been threatening to hurl the raw egg at you when you started rambling and listing out reasons why he should not. in a fit of pleads, the first reason you had come up with is: ‘because i love you’. which, in hindsight, is a pretty damning reason not to throw a raw egg at your head.

but with the way charles has reacted to your statement, it seems like that that is not the route you should have taken. you should have said something along the lines of you being best friends; it’s also a good reason not to throw an egg across the room.

“you said something.”

“i really don’t recall.”

charles moves his head back a little, blinking rapidly at you. “i’m pretty sure you said that–“

“okay, okay!” you cry, putting the whisk down on the island of his kitchen. “i did! i said what i said. but i don’t know why i said that!”

you would think that being friends half your life would give you a pass to say ‘i love you’. apparently not. charles still stands where he is with his bowl and egg, gaping wordlessly at you out of shock.

perhaps saying ‘i love you’ to one of your longest friends isn’t acceptable when your feelings reflect the phrase in a way you haven’t been able to understand your whole life. or just maybe it’s absurd to say when he’s got a girlfriend — a girlfriend sleeping in a bedroom not further than 20 metres from both of you.

feelings that have festered and developed since you were 17; that you cannot act on because charles has not gone long enough without a girlfriend for you to make a move on him and feel morally right about it. just when you think that enough time has passed after his breakup, charles comes forward to introduce you to a new girlfriend — one that he’s picked up while trying to collect himself somewhere far from home.

“you do not know why you said that? you just say things without thinking?” charles asks in a hushed whisper, looking over his shoulder to where the room door is closed. “seriously?”

“yes!” you shriek in disbelief. it’s not too long ago that you’ve had to bear the consequence of your running mouth. “remember when i said that george looks cute? in front of his girlfriend?”

charles smiles slightly, giggling softly at the memory. “ah, she didn’t talk to you for how long?”

“3. up to now, she does not want to answer my messages,” you grin slightly, though there’s a bitter taste if your mouth at the fact that carmen is still ignoring you. but that’s besides the point. “quite sad. i miss her.”

“oh my gosh,” charles says, puts the egg into the bowl and puts it down on the table. “you…” he blinks. “you… have feelings for me?”

it’s your turn to gape wordlessly at him. there could be 2 ways this situation goes: he would be appalled and… you can’t even imagine it going your way.

it was one thing to spend the past couple of years pining and hopelessly thinking of being together with a friend, but it’s another to admit it outright and not be embarrassed about it. what if he asks you when you started feeling like this? how are you supposed to explain that you’ve had feelings for him since you were 17? that was almost ten years ago.

“what? no,” you scoff, furrowing your eyebrows. “why would you even think that?”

“why are you asking me that? you literally said it?” charles asks, putting a hand up, directed at you in disbelief.

“you were gonna throw an egg at me!” you scoff, pointing at the egg.

“yeah, but you wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t thinking it,” he rolls his eyes, “you have feelings for me?”

you blink blankly at him with your palm now against the marble of the island. “no, you must have misinterpreted it.” you laugh nervously, clutching your stomach and then looking away to avoid his judgemental gaze. “i mean it in a friendly way.”

“a friendly way?” he scoffs back at you. “what does that even mean?”

you take a breath. there is only so many ways you can try and steer the conversation away from what you’ve just said.

“like… we’ve been friends for 11 years! i’m sure i can say ‘i love you’ platonically, right?” you look into his eyes, anticipating and wishing that he will eventually buy your lie.

because realistically, you would rather have and keep him as a friend than lose him entirely.

you watch as he takes steady breaths, looking at you with hesitation clearly written in his eyes. “it doesn’t mean anything, charles. don’t overthink it.”

but you would pray to god that he would overthink it. maybe then he will realise that he also has feelings for you, or that he’s had feelings for you all along. maybe he will finally see that you’ve been here all along instead of putting him through the torment of another failed relationship?

but you watch as the gears turn in his head. his gaze softens as a more genuine smile stretches his lips. “oh, okay,” he laughs airily, picking up his bowl. “for a moment there… you had me!”

you laugh with him, scowling slightly as you turn away from him. “yeah, i got you there.”

“you scared me — i always told carlos he was wrong about the way he claims you would look at me,” charles laughs, appearing by your side. he beams at you when you turn to him before briefly walking away. “you’d never like me like that anyway. you’re too good for me.”

it feels like he’s thrown a knife that went directly straight through your heart. it’s also another type of pain to hear that from the guy you’ve been wishing for.

and while you’ve gone out there, explored choices and let yourself be with other guys, there’s simply nobody as good as charles in your eyes.

it’s almost to the point where it’s pathetic.

you laugh. “i guess.”

“besides, i think we’re better off friends. don’t you think so?”

you clench your jaw, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “of course. i’d never date you.”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification

[scoops-aboy86]

Realize You’re Living (Secret Admirer pt 5)

Steddie Week 2024, July 5: Reunion / exes to lovers or getting back together / Wasted Years by Iron Maiden

Sorry. Not for the delay in posting, I just think I'm gonna get yelled at for reasons.

wc: 2815 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

There isn’t time to send Steve another letter before Friday. 

There isn’t time, not through the mail, and there’s no way Eddie is risking physically putting something in the Harrington’s mailbox himself. That would mean running the risk of someone finding out, and that still ignites an old fear in the most primal part of his brain that screams at him to run. No matter who it is. 

On the other hand, standing Steve up for their phone date is not an option. The very idea makes his insides freeze over. They’ve both had to reassure each other that they want to continue this epistolary romance, Jesus H. Christ—there’s been too much hot and cold already to pull something like that. 

Eddie rolls over on his bed to lay face down and screams into his pillow. It's like they’re in a relationship, except Steve doesn’t even know who he is. It's absurd. An absolute clown town of his own making.

Okay. Okay, no, he can do this. (Can he?) All he has to do is relax and stay calm until tomorrow night. He’ll call at 10:30 on the dot and play Steve some Iron Maiden or something, maybe a little Dio, a smidge of Black Sabbath, throw in a dash of Judas Priest… Basically play the guy a mix tape, live. 

He whips his head up and all but dives for his side table, looking for the tin where he keeps his weed. It’ll help him chill out enough to come up with a song list. And he needs all the chill he can get. He’s lost his mom to cancer, his dad to addiction and prison, and his childhood home with them—he refuses to lose Steve if he has even half a chance of actually having Steve. Because if this whole secret admirer thing is going where he hardly dares to hope it is, this could be the most important mix tape of his entire goddamn life. 

Steve spends all of Friday so on edge that Robin starts threatening to drop banana peels in the circuit he keeps pacing behind the counter. 

“What is with you today, dingus?”

He stops, tapping his foot restlessly and removing his hat so he can rake a hand through his hair. “Nothing, nothing, I… have an important call tonight, is all. I think.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oooh, is it a pretty girl?” she teases.

“Maybe,” he mutters with a halfhearted shrug. He really still doesn’t know, and it doesn’t seem likely he’ll find out tonight. “I’m not even sure they’ll call. It’s… kind of a blind date sort of thing.”

“A blind phone date?” Robin looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that, which. Fair. “Is that a thing?”

Steve shrugs again. He goes back to pacing. “It might be. I’ll find out tonight I guess.”

She gives him a minute before butting in again, spraying more Windex on the display case to get the lunch rush’s grubby child fingerprints off the cool glass. “...Is this because of the board?”

Again, Steve stops. “What?”

“The You Rule / You Suck board. Have I accidentally degraded your confidence in yourself so much that you’ve turned to blind dates as an alternative to trying to seduce any and every girl who walks in here?” 

Her tone is flippant, but because they’ve been on better terms recently—especially since Steve started offering her rides (and let her take control of the tape deck after that time she threatened to throw all of his Wham! tapes out the window)—he decides to take it as a genuine question. 

“No. Well—No, it’s more the hat than that. It messes up my best feature, you know?” He runs a hand through his hair again, fluffing it up more, then slumps against the back counter next to the milkshake blenders with a sigh. “It’s kind of a pen pal thing. We’ve been talking for a while but we haven’t met, but… I think it might be going somewhere good.”

Robin stops her bored polishing of the display case, only half of the afternoon rush’s smudges and fingerprints wiped away, to laugh with a slight shake of her head. “Oh wow, King Steve is a romantic. Who knew?”

“Not me before junior year, that’s for sure,” he scoffs honestly. 

She studies him thoughtfully for a moment. “Makes sense. Kind of lines up with something I heard the other day, when—”

But then they’re interrupted by a couple strolling in for some ice cream. Robin rushes through cleaning the rest of the glass so as to get out of their way, and Steve scoops and rings them up while she moves on to wiping down tables, conversation forgotten. 

Eddie’s finished his playlist and his plan is to call early. Not too early, just… a minute, five minutes tops. His uncle leaves for work before 10, so he has plenty of time and he’s buzzing with nervous energy. 

Way too much nervous energy to carry into the Big Call tonight. 

By the time Wayne is out the door, Eddie’s already started on rolling a joint and rereading Steve’s letters from start to current. If he’d been smart he would’ve written out copies of his own for a more complete read, that in depth analysis his English teachers never shut up about… but alas. 

Usually his memory is pretty good, especially when it comes to his own work. He also hadn’t expected this to go on as long as it had; not really. But now he can hardly imagine what it would be like to know Steve only from a distance anymore and that… colors things. Fuck only knows what he’s remembering wrong because of a simple difference in perspective. 

Because Steve has let him in, Eddie acknowledges as he lines the weed up on the paper. He’s written things about his home life, about his old friends, and definitely about his injuries over the past couple years (though oddly enough never much about what actually caused them) that Eddie would bet good money that no one else knows, if only because Steve doesn’t seem to have anyone else to tell. Maybe those kids he babysits (begrudgingly but genuinely dotes on, Eddie’s seen it from a distance). But really, how much can you realistically talk to a thirteen year old? Eddie remembers being thirteen; he hadn’t listened to anyone for shit. It was a miracle Wayne hadn’t just released him into the woods like a wild animal. 

And all Eddie’s been doing is pulling Steve close, while steadfastly keeping him out. God. 

He licks the joint to seal it, lights up, and keeps rereading. 

Steve is standing by the phone in his kitchen watching the second hand on the clock. How it sneaks around the clock face, slow but steady, until it laps the 12 line and it’s 10:31. 

He slumps back against the kitchen island with a groan. That had been an absolutely excruciating minute, and he’s staring down the barrel of another fifty-nine more until he can reasonably give up hope. Because anything under an hour is just running late, right? Something could have come up, something unavoidable like… family coming home unexpectedly, making a private conversation impossible. 

… Okay, maybe that was a stress dream he’d had last night about his parents, but something like it could happen to anyone.

10:32. The second hand barely makes it past fifteen this time before the silence is split by the shriek of ringing in the otherwise silent house. Steve multitasks, jumping out of his skin and lunging to answer the phone at the same time.

“HelloHarringtonresidence, thisisStevehowcanIhelpyou?” he rushes out. 

There’s no response except breathing on the other end of the line, which would be creepy if it weren’t exactly what he was hoping for. 

(Eddie is pressing a hand over his mouth, keeping in an equal parts amused and disbelieving laugh at how Steve had answered the phone, all flustered and cute and overly formal in an automatic sort of way that suggests an ingrained habit. From what he knows about Steve’s parents, he’s not terribly surprised, but it’s still such a delightfully dorky greeting.

And it seems like Steve really was waiting by the phone for his call, which makes Eddie want to fucking dance.)

“Is that you?” After a second, a light bulb goes off in Steve’s head and he adds, “Oh. Uh, tap once for yes, twice for no?”

It takes a few seconds, but then he hears a single tap against the plastic of the other receiver. 

(Smart, Eddie would tell him if he could. If he dared. He sucks hard on the last of his joint before letting the smoke billow from his nose like a dragon and putting it out in the ashtray by his bed. Maybe he mashes it in a little harder than necessary, blaming it for being late even though that’s really just another one of his bad habits at this point.)

Relief breaks over Steve like a wave. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the, um, my secret admirer?”

Tap. 

(Yeah sweetheart, it’s me.)

Steve does a little bounce on the balls of his feet and pumps his fist, too giddy to feel stupid about it with no one watching. “Holy shit. I mean, t-thanks for calling. Sorry, my parents make me answer the phone like that.” 

Nothing. 

(Eddie is smiling. Beaming, really. I figured, he imagines saying. At first it makes his heart feel full just thinking about it, but then has to stop that line of thought before his anxiety conjures up all the ways Steve Harrington, until recently Hawkins High’s resident ladies man, might react to the surprise of being on a phone date with a guy. Jesus, how is he high and still so nervous?)

“Right, you can’t answer. I mean, you can, if you want, but you don’t have to. This is, this is to see how I like your music.” Steve rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Did you want to play something for me now, or…”

Tap. 

(All the tapes are on standby, spread out in chaotic order around the second-hand player he got last year after Wayne’s old one crapped out on him. Eddie cranks up the volume as high as it’ll go; he’s used to it, the neighbors are resigned to it, and Steve won’t be able to hear it well enough to count through the phone otherwise.)

The first song starts, and Steve twists the phone cord between his fingers as he stands in his kitchen and listens. There’s a heavy beat and a noticeable bass line, even over the phone, nothing like the pop rock he usually listens to. But…

“… I definitely didn’t hate it,” he says once the last notes fade out. 

(Eddie is vibrating as he hits pause and ejects the tape, elated, a few of his worries already soothed. Steve doesn’t hate metal. That doesn’t necessarily mean Steve will like him, but it’s got to make the odds at least a little better, right? He wants to say fuck yeah or I love you or, fucking… shriek wordlessly or something, but presses his hand over his cotton-dry mouth instead, hard enough that his gums ache a little.)

“It kind of reminded me of AC/DC? Like Back in Black, or Hells Bells.”

(They’re not one of Eddie’s favorites, didn’t even make the playlist. But they’re harder rock than he expected Steve to be familiar with, and suddenly he has a wild urge to know what the guy thinks of You Shook Me All Night Long.)

“One time, the radio played Big Balls in the car and my mom literally clutched her pearls and said, ‘I don’t think he’s talking about ballroom dancing, Richard!’” 

(Eddie grins as the funny little falsetto Steve put on for the impression fades into a rich laugh, like he’s so tickled by the memory that he can’t help it. There was probably some appalled, classic white-anglo-saxon-protestant-sucking-on-a-lemon expression on her face that he’s picturing, while Eddie can only imagine. It’s okay, Eddie is too busy wanting to pour Steve’s laugh into a bathtub and soak in it.)

Tap. 

“Yeah, really not,” Steve agrees, his cheeks almost aching from smiling so wide. He feels lighter than air just knowing he’s on the phone with the person who’s been writing to him the past couple months, knowing he’s proving that they’re genuinely at least a little bit compatible. “So, what’s the next song?”

It goes on like that. Steve doesn’t know the artists or albums or track titles, but figures that Secret Admirer will fill him in with the next letter. There are a couple of songs that are more shouting than singing for his taste—“I like songs I can sing along to once I know the words, you know? Really belt out in the car after a long day, or something,” he explains, and gets a yes tap in response. 

(Eddie has to improvise. Instead of another WASP song, he reaches for an Iron Maiden tape he’d put aside as a half-assed backup and scours the track list, trying to decide… Ah, that one. He pops it in and turns the volume down for a second so he can check that he’s fast forwarding to the right spot on the tape.

This one’s for you, sweetheart, he thinks, lighting a second joint—not for nerves this time, but just for fun. He leans back and lets the smoke fill his lungs, fill his mind, send him floating off to whatever time of that big house Steve is curled up in so he can spiritually throw an arm around the other guy’s shoulders.)

Steve likes the instrumentals in the intro of this one. He doesn’t really track the words at first once they start—usually doesn’t, on a first listen-through, with so much new to take in. But he starts catching on to the shape of them by the first of what turns out to be the chorus. 

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind Can't ease this pain so easily When you can't find the words to say, hard to make it through another day And it makes me wanna cry, throw my hands up to the sky

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years, hey!

He listens, slowly untangling himself from the long phone cord and taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. When the song finally fades out and he hears the far-off click of the tape being stopped and taken out, he asks hopefully, “It’s about seizing the day, right?”

Maybe they’re building up to telling him who they are, or at least giving him a little more. 

(Eddie freezes, not expecting Steve—who had told him he didn’t get things on the first try—to venture any insights. Especially on a song that hadn’t been on his list, a last minute change-up that he’d picked with the transformation from King Steve to just normal guy Steve in mind and how Steve seems so hung up on apologizing for the douchebag he used to be. 

Or at least, used to be on the outside. Every day, Eddie gets a little less sure that persona went much further than skin-deep.

A tiny sound curls out of Eddie’s throat, a barely audible, inquisitive hum. Something that says please, keep going. He knows Steve has heard it because of the quick intake of breath over the line.)

Steve clutches the handset so hard that his knuckles go white. It’s the first sound, the first crumb that Secret Admirer has given him that’s really them, not a tap on plastic or other people’s music. Too quiet to make out any distinguishing features, but it’s something. 

It feels like everything. 

“You could, you know,” Steve says softly. “You could… make a stand? If you told me who you are, or just anything more about you, I… I really like you. I know for sure that I want to know you. Maybe that makes me a romantic sap, but it’s true. What if we find out we could have our golden years right now?”

(Eddie is freaking out. The mellow of his high isn’t helping anymore, all the floaty syrupy hopefulness of it stripped away. Oh fuck oh balls oh shit, shit, shit!

He’s hyperventilating, knows Steve can probably hear it, and he’s nothing but a goddamn coward in the end.

He can't do this.)

There’s a single clunk, and then all Steve hears is dial tone.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs

[sluttysturn]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖠 𝖥𝖫𝖨𝖱𝖳˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

pairing: bsf/dealer!chris x bsf/buyer!reader

in which chris is your best friend and dealer, but he has a crush on you and isn’t afraid to show it.

TW: smoking, kissing, swearing, idk what else

requested?: yes! by @sturniolotrophywife (it won’t let me tag you but if you see this, here ya go!)

notes: (color of who’s speaking: chris | y/n)

a/n: i rly rly liked this idea!! i hope you guys did too!! if you do like this be sure to follow/ reblog and leave requests!! love youuuu!

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

i was currently sitting in bed bored as hell. i wouldn’t mind being high right now. actually i really wanna be.

so much is going on and i wanna get my mind off of everything.

i hit up my dealer, which is also my best friend, chris. sometimes, he wants to be a dick and tell me no and that he doesn’t want me doing it. but i know he just wants what’s best for me.

i texted him anyways, hoping he’d say yes, and maybe even smoke with me.

thank god.

i waited for about 20 minutes when i heard a knock at my door.

finally.

i headed down stairs and opened the door to see chris standing on the other side.

the way his hair fell perfectly against his forehead, the way his hoodie fit perfectly around his body, the way his eyes sparkled while looking into mine.

no stop he’s my best friend.

“hi pretty girl” chris said winking at my with a goofy smile.

i rolled my eyes and laughed lightly, “you know you have a key right?”

“i left it home since you insisted i get here fast”

he rolled his eyes and he handed me the blunt.

“thanks. how much do you need?”

“don’t worry about it.”

“no chris. how much?”

“i’m not taking your money y/n.”

“whatever- come smoke with me?” i paused, “unless you gotta go to other people.”

“they can wait. sure.”

“ok cmon.”

i grabbed his hand and took him upstairs. i was happy he wanted to smoke with me. i loved hanging out with him.

i open my bedroom window and we crawled out and onto the roof.

my house had a roof connected to my window, so it was an easy spot to smoke so my room didn’t reek of weed.

we sat down next to each other.

“y/n, you know i hate when you smoke right?”

“yeah but why?”

“because i actually care about you and i don’t want you to end up like me.”

“i’m fine chris. i just need a break from life, you know?”

he put his arm around my shoulder and rested his head on top of mine.

“yeah i get that.. im sorry you feel that way,” he paused, “but you know you can always talk to me, right?”

“you know i don’t like talking about my problems, but, i know.”

i unwrapped the blunt and took it out. i pulled out my lighter and rolled my thumb against the metal thingy (i don’t know what it’s called).

i grazed the bottom of the blunt with the fire and took a drag of it.

i inhaled the smoke, and exhaled passing it to chris.

we talked and smoke for around 30 minutes before the blunt was gone.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

“fuck, i needed this” i said with droopy, red eyes.

i looked over at chris, he was so pretty. being high always made him look even more attractive.

chris looked back over at me. little did i know he was thinking the same thing. he smile at me and grabbed my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine.

“y/n can i tell you something?”

“go for it.”

he took a deep breath before speaking again.

“i love you. like really fucking love you. i know its kinda crazy b’cause we’ve been best friends for so long, but im truly in love with you. that’s why i don’t like when you smoke. i don’t want you to be a crack head, like me.”

i was speechless. my best friend of almost 18 years was in love with me?

that handsome man. in love with someone like me?

“chris your not a crack head. you still care about people and you don’t make being high your entire personality. and, i love you too. i really fucking love you too.”

i looked into his beautiful blue eyes and smiled.

he smile back and leaned his face close to mine, but stopped before his lips connected with mine.

“can i kiss you?”

(CONSENTT IS KEYY)

“please”

he finally connect his lips with mine.

our lips were moving in a rhythm and harmony. he was such a good kisser. holy shit.

being high really increased the way i felt like i was sinking into him. it felt as if our body were actually morphing into one.

he pulled away soon after and began to speak.

“y/n y/l/n, will you please give me the honor of being your boyfriend.”

“yes chris.”

he pecked my lips once more.

“also i will be asking you again when we’re sober, so it’ll be more real, you know?”

“thank you, i love you chris.”

“i love you y/n.”

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

a/n: I KINDA LOVE DEALER!CHRIS. BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS, AND IF YOU DID PLEASE FOLLOW/ REBLOG AND REQUESTTTT!! LOVE YOUUUU!!

[the-modern-typewriter]

The Art of Turning 30

“So, am I allowed to talk?” Annabelle gave an awkward little laugh, that she immediately wanted to stuff back into her mouth. “I’ve never done this before!”

“You can talk.” Julian flashed her a quick, reassuring smile. “At least until I tell you not to.”

They both laughed, then. Julian’s laugh was not awkward.

It was six months until her thirtieth birthday.

She had met him at her girlfriend Camille’s twenty-ninth birthday party, a few weeks ago, only to be surprised that they’d somehow never crossed paths before. London was big, but it wasn’t that big surely, and Julian was an artist.

Annabelle felt like she spent half her free time at artsy bohemian parties and amateur gallery openings, though maybe that was why. He wasn’t an amateur, was he?

She’d looked him up online after and seen several shining reviews of his first exhibition, and a rosy buzz of anticipation at what he’d do next.

She remembered that buzz. People used to get that buzz when they talked about her. Apparently, his work was ‘visceral’ and ‘felt startlingly alive’.

It seemed impossible that he wanted to paint her, of all people.

Annabelle shifted on the stool, glancing around Julian’s studio space as he finished setting up his easel and paints. Oils. He’d said he was using oils. That mattered in painting, didn’t it?

The studio was everything she’d always imagined a professional artist’s studio to be. It was quite large, with clean wooden floors and white walls crowded with stacks of sheet-covered canvases in progress.

There was only one that was ready and visible; a painting of a beautiful blond man, probably nearing thirty too, lounging on the same stool that Annabelle was perched upon. He gazed out at the viewer with a hungry sort of hope. Like they were the best thing he had ever seen.

The studio smelled like drying paint and the sandalwood diffuser wafting its calming scent from the window sill. Sunlight coated the room like honey, or gold.

“You’re not going to make me look ugly, are you?” she asked.

He smiled again, meeting her eyes. “I couldn’t possibly.”

He probably flirted with all of his models, but she still felt a blush of heat rise to her face.

He looked like he could be in a painting, or one of those classical sculptures still concerned with archetypal ideals of beauty. Of course, she was with Camille, so nothing would happen…but still. The attention made her heart pound. Camille was usually too tired from work to flirt with her anymore.

Annabelle wasn’t sure how good she’d be at seeing a painting of herself that she hated, and not letting it show on her face. She’d probably tear up. It would be embarrassing for both of them. She shifted on the stool once more, and tugged at the hem of her summer dress.

“This is for your next exhibition?”

“I think I’m going to call it ‘The Art of Turning 30’.”

“Explains why I’m your muse instead of some gorgeous twenty two year old ingenue.” She laughed again. He did not. She continued, even as she willed herself to stop babbling, because he wasn’t looking at her with the expectation that she do anything. He plucked up a pencil, beginning his work. “It’s like, when you’re a woman, after you turn thirty your life is over, right? It’s like with my acting. And then by the time you’re forty all of a sudden all you can possibly be is, like, a mother or a witch. Or, you know, the dead wife. It’s all downhill.”

“You wouldn’t want to be a witch?” He raised a brow. “They always seemed pretty powerful to me. I could see you as a witch.”

“But do you know what I mean?”

“Can you turn your head a little the left, please?”

“What? Oh. Yes.”

She turned her head to the side, towards the window, and hoped the sunshine made her seem younger rather than highlighting every growing crag and wrinkle.

She could only watch him out of her periphery vision now; a wistful muse, seemingly unaware that she was being observed. She tried to look deep and mysterious.

“Perfect,” he said. “Thanks. You’re just perfect.”

The canvas of the blond man fell to the floor with a soft thump.

Annabelle jumped.

“Sorry.” Julian shook his head, another easy laugh on his breath. “The landlord never lets me put proper hangings on the wall here. Says it wrecks them. I guess so long as they don’t do that at the exhibition?”

“I don’t know, you could probably play it off as a stunt…lean into the photorealism.”

“Now, there’s an idea. Genius.” 

She probably didn’t look deep and mysterious. She probably just looked smitten.

***

She sat for Julian three times a week for the next several months.

It became a pocket of peace in her life, the hours when it was okay to finally stop and be for a while, because everything else seemed to be hurtling through her fingers faster than she could clutch hold of it.

She’d always imagined that she would be a successful, or at least up-and-coming, actress and screenwriter by the time she turned thirty.

Sure, women only made up around 30% of the directors or writers behind the camera, but back in school everyone always said that maybe she’d be the one to change that. She wasn’t entirely sure when they stopped saying it, but they had.

It was three months until her thirtieth birthday.

“Here.” Julian caught hold of her chin, featherlight, angling her back towards the sun. The days were getting shorter. Time was running out for them both. “You were like this.”

She had got in the habit of always sitting a little wrong, because he’d always adjust her, oh so careful and attentive, like she was his masterpiece.

She would have probably preferred to be her own masterpiece, but being his seemed like the second best option. She could practically feel the ghosts of forgotten, underappreciated female muses-past screaming at her that no, it was always better to be somebody than someone’s, but frankly she wasn’t sure she could be picky.

She’d been getting less and less call backs, and was starting to feel more like she was a part-time waitress dabbling at film than a part-time actress-filmmaker working hours in hospitality to make ends meet.

It was like a window was closing. Her window. That morning she’d found an honest to the devil grey hair on her head!

Camille told her that she was being ridiculous – that she’d become increasingly vain since Julian started painting her.

Annabelle had snapped back that vanity wasn’t vanity for an actress. Her looks were her currency.

It hadn’t always been so hard, had it?

All in all, it didn’t seem like a sin to let him touch her. It was nice to be touched. There was nothing untoward in that.

She peeked up at Julian, standing over her, his star ever on the rise. Their stares met again. He smiled that quick, reassuring smile of his.

“You look tired,” he said softly.

“Sorry.”

“No, no.” He widened his eyes. “I didn’t mean—” he huffed gently, and let go of her. “I haven’t got to your mouth yet. If you want to talk about it.”

Annabelle grinned back before she could stop herself.

It had become a standing joke. She sometimes felt she spent their whole time together talking about herself, but he always said it was interesting and made the hours fly. He was a very good listener.

More privately, she sometimes suspected that he was leaving her mouth for last just so they could continue chatting, but she wasn’t allowed to see the painting to check. The thought was thrilling though.

 “It’s nothing,” she said, even if she already knew she’d probably tell him everything on her mind. “I don’t know.”

What would she do when the painting was done? She’d see him at his exhibition opening, probably, but there would hardly be a reason for them spend time together like they did when she was sitting for her portrait.

Maybe it was silly to consider him one of her friends. She’d miss it, though. She’d miss him.

Maybe he’d want to do another one of her, but who was she kidding? Maybe in ten years, when he did a gimmicky but charming follow up. The Art of Turning 40: Where Are They Now?

What did he know about turning thirty anyway? He couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He had loads of time.

“There’s an intimacy,” he murmured, “to painting someone. Especially like this, in the old fashioned way. A lot of people use photographs and quick studies because they’re more convenient and you don’t have to catch the right light, you know? But I love it.” The air filled with their breathing, and the soothing dab of his paint brushes on his palette, mixing up the colours of her. “You really get to know people this way. It adds soul to the work. It’s magic.”

She felt, more than saw, his gaze cut over her again.  Her blood was electric beneath his scrutiny.

He continued, softly.

“I knew from the moment we met that I wanted you to be my centrepiece for this one.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true!” He laughed. “You have this great energy. I knew you were going to be interesting, and I was right. And you know how to model well. Because you’re an actress, right? You’re used to people looking at you.”

An actress, no ‘wannabe’ or ‘aspiring’ or ‘failed’ tacked on front. She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him as best she could without turning her head.

“My boss always says I should have more energy, then I’d wait tables faster.”

“What does Camille say?”

“Camille—” Annabelle blinked in surprise, then swallowed. Her hands curled in her lap. She resisted the urge to sigh.

“Uh-oh.”

“No, no,” she said. “It’s fine. I just – she thinks if I’m not happy I should do something about it. She’s always telling me about other things I’d be really good at that have better pay, or more sociable hours.”

“So, give up on your dreams already.”

“Yeah.”

Annabelle deflated. She knew that Camille didn’t mean anything bad by it, but that was what it implied, right? She was never going to be a famous and successful actress or screenwriter, so she should settle for something manageable.

“Well, she’s not a creative, like us,” Julian said. “She doesn’t get it.”

Like us. Annabelle was a horrible girlfriend for feeling a swell of pleasure at that. It was true, though. Still.

“We’ve been together for a really long time, and she’s been really supportive. I think she’s just finding the whole ‘me turning thirty’ thing annoying. Mainly because I won’t shut up about it. Which I’m sure you sympathise with!”

Camille said that anyone who claimed life stopped at thirty was an idiot. There was no limit for potential, no one age where everyone had to have their life together and perfect by.

She was probably right, but Annabelle could still feel the panic of it clawing at her the closer her birthday got. Even if she was successful after thirty, she wouldn’t be one of those young geniuses that everyone had expected her to be. She wouldn’t be exceptional.

She would just be Annabelle. It didn’t feel like enough. Maybe if she could see herself like Julian apparently saw her, it would be better.

“Chin up,” Julian said.

Annabelle cleared her throat again. “Right, yeah.”

“No, I mean.” His voice was deadpan. “Your head. You’ve moved. Drooped.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. The melancholy shoved itself down again in the pit of her stomach.

He tossed her a wink from behind the easel, to indicate he was joking. Only trying to cheer her up and lighten the mood.

“So, I still don’t get to see what else you’re working on, huh?” she asked.

“I’d have to kill you.” He switched to another, smaller brush in her periphery vision.

She snorted.

“It would be very inconvenient all around,” he said. “Rigor mortis sets in fast. I’d never get the painting done in time.”

“Well we can’t have that. After you’re finished with me then, I suppose.”

“Our art is a part of us, Annabelle.” He shot her another glance in turn, brush poised above his image of her, considering. “So how, then, could I ever truly be finished with you?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. She debated possible responses to that, and how he could have meant it. Her body felt warm and flushed.

He gestured that she angle her head left once more, not looking away for a second himself.

Annabelle turned.

The summer waned outside the window, but in the painting she would still be in her sundress, legs tanned and toes painted sky blue.

Thank god he kept his studio warm. The minutes ticked by, the air between them settling tranquil once more.

“Sometimes,” she said, softly, “I wish we could stay like this forever. Freeze the moment. Is that stupid?” It felt a confessional thing to say. Bold.

“No.” She could hear the equally soft smile in his voice. “It’s not stupid. Isn’t that how I got you to agree to do me this favour?”

She remembered the party; an adult version of what they all used to do, even if it still felt like they were all pretending to be grown-ups. Or at least, Annabelle felt like she was pretending. She didn’t feel twenty-nine.

She’d clutched her glass of wine and hovered near a somewhat strained conversation about mortgages and the state of the housing market, and how none of them were going to be on the property ladder before they were fifty, before she caught sight of Julian coming in. 

She echoed his words, and didn’t have to fake her wistfulness that time.

“To be remembered in art is the closest any humans’ get to immortality.”

He echoed the next line back at her. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

And she’d said yes.

***

“I’ve got a date for the exhibition,” Julian said, from behind his easel. “A few weeks after your birthday. Short notice, I know. Soz.”

“Ugh, don’t mention the B word. But that’s exciting! Can I come?”

“Of course you can come,” he said. “It’s why I’m telling you. This wouldn’t be possible without you.”

“I mean, while sitting here is terribly difficult,” she said, “I do feel like you should get some of the credit. Just some.”

She heard him laugh.

She’d grown to love Julian’s laugh; he was so ready to do it, at least in their sessions.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Camille laugh at something she said. Then again, she wasn’t sure the last time she and Camille had spent all that much time together.

By the time Camille got back from a day of teaching, Annabelle was usually already out for the night shift at the pub she waited in. Yet another thing in her life that wasn’t working like it was supposed to!

Camille said that could be worked on if, hey, Annabelle was willing to actually prioritise their relationship.

It had been one of their worst arguments to date.

“There’ll be thirty paintings in total, I think,” he mused, more talkative than normal. “Yours being the main one, like I said.”

“I’m sure you will perfectly capture the raw turmoil of turning thirty.”

He laughed again. It had been one of the most notable reviews of his first exhibition – except the exact wording had been that his work perfectly captured ‘the raw turmoil of adolescence, as an emotional and nostalgic period of change and growth’.

He’d finally caved and showed her some of his previous pieces, other than the ones she’d managed to find online, as a compromise of his refusal to show her how his painting of her was coming along.

Most of the individual pieces from his first exhibit had been sold off, but he’d kept the main one.

His main piece – Girl On Swing – got the most praise, so it had apparently been a bit of a scandal that he hadn’t sold it. He’d had offers.

It was a triptych (Julian’s word) of a girl, unsurprisingly, on a swing.

In the first of three paintings she was a child, carefree and giggling. In the second, a young teenager, her face a storm of emotion. In the final one, she was a young adult, caught mid-leap flying off the swing she’d been sitting on for seemingly eighteen years. Her arms were painted halfway to transitioning to a bird’s wings. She was no longer looking back at the viewer but forward, to all that life had to offer.

Annabelle wondered what people would say about Julian’s version of her.

People liked to fantasise about how amazing being a teenager was when they were an adult, but she hadn’t met anyone who fantasied about turning thirty. It wasn’t nearly as glamorous.

She hoped he made her glamorous.

“Of course,” he was continuing, “with the date so near, we might need a few more sessions to get finished on time.”

She looked over at him again, then, even if she wasn’t supposed to be moving.

The golden light danced across his handsome features, and caught the edges of the canvases behind him. There were twenty nine of them waiting.

“I make a pretty good lasagne,” he said, biting his lip. “If I say so myself. Compensation. If you don’t mind finishing late. There’s also a nice wine I got for Christmas that I really couldn’t drink alone.”

“I don’t mind,” she heard herself saying, before she’d even thought about it. “I don’t mind at all.”

“It’s a good venue,” he said. “A really good venue. Everyone’s going to love you.”

With him, maybe, the window wouldn’t close.

***

“I’m done, except for the varnish.”

The words sent a bolt through her, stirring away the sleepy content that came with posing for an extended period of time. She felt seen. Now, though, she wanted to see. Finally.

It was the day before her thirtieth birthday, and Camille had a massive surprise party planned, that Annabelle was both pretending that she didn’t know about, and dreading like a punch to the gut.

It was sweet that Camille was doing it. But also, maybe, if she didn’t celebrate the date she could still, somehow, be in her twenties for another year. That was how it worked, right?

“You are?” She leapt off the stool, and felt her joints click. “Can I see? I feel like I should have a right to see before everyone else. I won’t tell anyone.”

“It is top secret.” He pretended to consider.

She took the opportunity to relish actually looking at him for once; there was a kiss of red on the cuff of his painting shirt that hadn’t yet dried. It was the exact colour of her lipstick. She smiled.

He really had left her mouth for last.

“Fine,” he said, and gestured her over, eyes bright with amusement. “But only because I know you won’t tell.”

In the short space of walking over, Annabelle had time to feel her stomach clench. Her old fears boiled nauseously to the surface.

What if it was awful?

What if it wasn’t what she wanted, as if that had ever been the point?

What if her immortality looked like the part-time waitress she didn’t want to be?

She would have to keep a straight face, and not hurt his feelings. He’d been working on it for so long. It would ruin everything if he knew she hated it. It would no doubt be technically very skilled. She should have researched painting techniques she could comment on.

She rounded the easel, a little dizzy.

His hand fell on the small of her back, thumb tracing the curve of her hip, idly almost.  

She stared.

Her painted self was lovely. So alive, as if thirty couldn’t possibly contain her.

It was not as realistic as ‘Girl On Swing’ though.

She was caught in the motion of talking, hands gesturing animatedly in the air despite her best efforts of posing, and though her face was turned towards the light of the window it was as clear as confession that her eyes were always turning towards him, trying to steal a glimpse.

She looked at him, at the viewer, like he was the best thing she had ever seen.

Camille would see the painting too.

She had already said that she had to come to the opening, especially ‘after all the time her girlfriend had spent with this Julian fellow instead of her.’

Annabelle swallowed.

The perfect bubble burst.

She released a shaky breath, abruptly more aware of his hand through the thin material of her dress.

They hadn’t done anything.

Even the night when she ended up staying over at his, after lasagne and wine, they hadn’t done anything.

The painting made it look like they had, though. She wasn’t even sure she could accuse Julian of exactly making it up, either.

He had painted the truth. Raw. Even when it would have been politer to hide it.

“Oh,” she said. “Wow. Um. Julian—”

“Happy Birthday,” he murmured. “For tomorrow.”

His hand moved up to the back of her neck and all of the colours of the painting swirled and rushed forward to meet her.

“Oh, and Annabelle?” His voice sounded very far away. “This is the bit where you stop talking.”

***

Annabelle had been thirty for nearly a month. Well, not exactly.

They all said that she looked amazing. So realistic.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her body. But, she could watch, from her frame.

She’d watched as Julian approached her with a paintbrush dipped in varnish – to seal the work – and she’d watched with her world turned sideways as they carried her canvas from the studio to the gallery.

She’d watched as they hung her up on the wall and made comments about her like she wasn’t there at all.

She’d screamed, too, or tried to. They hadn’t been able to hear her.

Julian had approached her again when they were alone, hands in his pockets, perfectly relaxed and pleased with himself.

“It’s a good trick, isn’t it? I’ve always had the knack of turning people into portraits.” He’d flashed her the same quick, reassuring smile he always did as he peered up at her. “As I said, it’s all about getting to know the person. Getting them to pour their soul out to you.”

He’d laughed, like he so often did, only this time it was at his own joke instead of hers. Or maybe she had always been the joke. 

“I did worry for a moment that I wouldn’t be finished in time. But, don’t worry. We made it. You’re twenty-nine forever! Just like you wanted. Just like I promised. I’m not that cruel.”

She’d wanted to tell him that this was not what she’d wanted. She wanted to ask a million questions. She wanted to punch him.

Instead, Annabelle watched as Camille stepped into the exhibition room, on opening night.

She watched Camille scan the crowd, feverishly, expecting her to be there.

She watched as Camille’s attention snagged on the vast painting of her across the room.

God, Camille.

Her girlfriend made a beeline over. It had been an age since Annabelle had last looked at her, properly looked at her, hadn’t it?

Camille’s face crumpled a little as she studied the portrait; a myriad of regret and fear and confusion. Hurt. Her eyes were red and swollen like she’d been crying. She raised one hand towards Annabelle’s life-sized face, as if to touch, but didn’t. Her fists curled at her sides instead.

Guilt twisted in Annabelle’s gut. Camille looked exactly like how one might when learning that their girlfriend had cheated on them.

She felt an absurd surge of hope, despite everything, that Camille might see her where no one other than Julian had. The portrait, for all of its intimacies, suggested a grand love affair. People didn’t vanish fairly from grand love affairs, they just didn’t! It was suspicious, right? He was the last person to see her. The proof was in the painting!

Camille stared at her for a moment longer, her jaw set with grim determination. Then she scrubbed a hand over her face. Her shoulders hunched against some unbearable, undefinable weight. Her dark hair was greasy with worry.

“I’ll find you,” Camille still whispered. “I swear, I’ll find you.”

Annabelle’s stomach sank.

“No, Camille—” Of course, the words didn't come out. Nothing did.

She’d had been such an idiot, hadn’t she?

She felt a fresh stab of longing for that surprise birthday party.

How long had they waited for her to arrive? Waited for her.

Had Camille reported her missing? There would be no body to find, no evidence. The painting, the wanting limited eyes she looked out of, felt like a mockery.

Maybe the life she had with Camille hadn’t been perfect, not by a long shot, but at least they’d been alive. At least they’d been real.

Camille began to turn away.

“Please.” Annabelle’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I’m here, please. Don’t leave me! Camille!”

More attendees bustled to claim prime spot in front of the painting, murmuring about how talented Julian was, speculating on if Annabelle was his lover. Camille flinched.

“It makes me feel,” one of gallery attendees said, “like I’m interrupting them in a private moment, you know? Of course, it’s so Julian that she’s not actually a nude—”

She couldn’t see Camille anymore.

She was never going to see Camille again, was she?

CAMILLE. CAMILLE. CAMILLE.

Annabelle screamed it with everything she had, every atom of her, with the absolute certainty that if her girlfriend walked out the gallery door that Annabelle would never escape the painting.

She would never get to say sorry, or kiss Camille, or tell her properly that nothing had happened or would ever have happened, despite what she may have let her foolish heart feel.

She’d just liked the way he looked at her.

She didn’t want to stop the clock.

She wanted her life back, to live.

The painting hit the floor of the exhibition with an almighty crash.

Everyone scattered back. Red wine spilled like a crime scene against the polished floor.

Camille whirled back around too, alone a few metres away, her eyes wide and startled.

Julian appeared, clutching a glass of champagne in one hand.

“Goddamn these hooks. Who set this up? It’s a hazard. Everyone alright?” He looked around at his adoring fans, and summoned up a rueful smile. “I should have just got eyes to follow you all around the room instead, huh?” He looked down at her, where she stared up, in the same narrow periphery vision he’d painted her with. “Really leaned into the photorealism.”

Past him, past his taunts, Camille looked between the two of them. Uncertain misery flashed across her features once more. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, before closing it.

Annabelle willed her painted self to move again too, to speak, to do anything. She willed Camille to question, to press, to not give up on them and on her. Not now.

“Camille!” Julian had caught sight of her too, and straightened. He gestured for one of the gallery employees to get Annabelle back into position. “I’m so glad you could make it! Is Annabelle not with you? She was so excited for the exhibition…”

“You haven’t seen her?” Camille’s voice broke. “I – I thought she’d be here, at least. With you.”

“With me?” Julian spoke mildly. Innocently. “No, no. I haven’t seen her. I thought she was with you. Is something wrong?” His tone gentled, as he walked towards Camille. “She mentioned you’d been having some problems…”

“No – it wasn’t like that – Camille—”

Crowds swarmed Annabelle’s painted self once more. She was lifted back on the wall, as if nothing had happened.

"Let me get you a drink," Julian said. "You can tell me everything."

She caught a glimpse of Julian's arm wrapped around Camille's waist. The way she leaned into him, looked up at him. His lips by her ear.

"Camille—"

By the time the room cleared, they were already gone.

[plutoccult]

NO ME QUEDA MAS

pairing: hajime iwaizumi x female reader

description: iwaizumi’s wedding day was a day you dreaded for many years. now that the day had finally come, you regret never telling him how you feel.

word count: 1.6k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: finally, a new theme! i’m on an angst GRIND, you guys. been feeling really unhinged lately thanks to my girl @intorder for giving me fuel for angst, who also beta read this hurt piece. oddly enough, my life has been pretty good lately, so idk why i thought to write this. i’ve never written for iwaizumi before, but he came to mind first when i thought of this idea. this was definitely inspired by that one scene in 13 going on 30, but i made it hurt even more. i hope i did iwaizumi justice, and i hope you all enjoy without crying?

tags: @toorubobatea @intorder @dragon-slayer5 @jeanboyjean @femme-lune @darthferbert @kob3nie @thelazyhuevito @multi-fandom-fanfic @sterieshinso @kiiyomei @chrybdcsm @alienlatteinspace @abonbonblr @luverofutoshi @p3ritwinkle @juuzou13

taglist form here

“well? how do i look?”

iwaizumi turned around to face you as he showed off his suit. you couldn’t believe he was actually getting married today, and that the person he was marrying wasn’t you. it was hellish to shove your feelings down your throat for decades, especially when your friendship suffered god knows how many miles apart.

a part of you died the day he returned from california. you were so thrilled to see him, missing him so, but your heart shattered the second you saw he brought a girl with him. it was even worse when iwaizumi spoke to you about her, saying he felt like he knew she was the girl he would marry the second he saw her. you wanted to be that girl, and maybe you could’ve if you simply spoke up. after all, everyone always teased you two about ending up together growing up.

“you look great, iwa.” you force a smile. it wasn’t a lie, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen, standing so proud and tall in his suit. not a single scratch or crease on his shoes nor any signs of wear in his jacket. as much as it pained you to see it, iwaizumi had grown up.

“you think so?” he asked, checking himself out in the mirror, scanning for any flaws in his outfit. “i could’ve sworn i saw lint on the back of my jacket.”

“oh, i can get it.” you offer. iwaizumi immediately said “yes, please” and “thank you” before you stood up to help him. his back faced you, shoulders as strong as ever, making this all the more difficult for you. if you were his bride, you probably wouldn’t be seeing him like this right now. it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, after all.

“how come your groomsmen aren’t up here helping you?” you ask, cursing yourself in your head for being so nosy.

“i’m sure you can understand i didn’t want oikawa up my ass before i go down there.” iwaizumi chuckled. you force yourself to copy his laughter, pretending as if you found this so hilarious. if oikawa were here, you wouldn’t be ridden with temptation right now. only he could stop you from saying things you knew you’d regret.

“i guess i should feel special then, huh?” you question. “be the first to see you like this…”

“mhm.” he replied, you see him nod in the mirror. “special privileges for my best friend.”

you felt your stomach tie up in knots as he said that. best friend. that’s all you were, that’s all you ever allowed yourself to be. it could’ve been you waiting for him at the altar, but instead you’re helping him get prepared to marry another woman, ready to beg him to run away with you.

you pretend to inspect the back of his jacket, knowing there wasn’t any lint anyway. it was absolutely flawless, just like him. this was torture for you, and you couldn’t stand another second longer.

“listen, iwa…” you begin to say. “i should tell you something before you go down there.”

“oh?” iwaizumi turned around to face you. you felt as if his eyes were piercing through your soul, making your heart race faster than it was before. “what is it?”

“i, um…” you hesitate. was it too late to go back? yes, yes it was. “i think you’re marrying the wrong girl today.”

“huh?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“i mean, i think you should be marrying me instead.” you blurt out.

“y/n, what are you talking about?” iwaizumi questioned. this couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening right as he was about to get married.

“i’m in love with you, iwa. i love you.” you admit, your heart racing upon your confession. you should feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders, but something heavy still lingered on top of you.

“no…” he shook his head. iwaizumi had rejected the possibility a long time ago. even if he loved you just as long as you loved him, you were just too late.

“yes. i am.” you say.

“you’re saying this now?” he asked you. it almost made him want to laugh. life was just so funny, he thought to himself. why couldn’t you have said this before? why did you wait until he was about to get married? if things were different, iwaizumi would be reacting to this much differently right now.

“i know i should’ve told you before you went to california—“

“should’ve? i wanted you to!” iwaizumi interrupted you, much to your shock. “everyone said you were going to before i left! i just figured they were just messing with me afterwards…”

you remember telling oikawa how you felt about iwaizumi, it was his idea to tell him before iwaizumi left for california. you had it all planned out in your head, but as you stood there at the airport, you couldn’t find the words anymore. you chickened out, cursing yourself on the way home and the days that would come. it only made you feel worse when iwaizumi found someone.

what you didn’t know was that he expected your confession that day. you should’ve known oikawa would run his mouth. he always meant well, always hoping you’d end up with iwaizumi, but look at you now, a delusional fool.

“i was going to, iwa. i just got scared…” you confess to him. “if i could go back to that day, i’d do it differently.”

“well, you can’t turn back time, y/n. it’s too late.” he said coldly, almost like a stab to the heart.

“why not?” you ask, desperately clinging onto your delusions.

“i moved on.” iwaizumi replied. he might as well be twisting a knife, even if he was merely speaking the truth. “we've both gone down different paths, we both made choices, and this is what i’m choosing.”

“i just thought…” you began to say, but fall silent.

“just thought what?” he asked, raising his voice. “that i’d give up everything i’ve built for a last minute confession? one that i gave up on waiting for years ago?”

you don’t say anything. what was there to say? it was exactly what that sick part of you deep down expected. how stupid of you to think he would drop everything just because you finally had the courage to confess your feelings. if there wasn’t a whole wedding waiting to happen, maybe iwaizumi would change his mind.

you look away in shame. even if you didn’t speak your thoughts aloud, you still felt disgusted now that the reality of your confession hit you. you were terrible to think this way. not just a terrible person, but a terrible friend too. it was unfair to expect such a tall order out of him, especially now.

“my family’s down there, my soon-to-be in-law’s are down there.” iwaizumi said. “we care about each other, you know?”

“i know.” you say quietly as you bite your lip.

“y/n, you…” he let out a sigh. “you don't always get the dream house… but you get awfully close.”

you look up to meet his eyes, tears streaming down your face. to him, you were always the dream house. if only you had known that before, you thought. iwaizumi felt ridden with guilt rejecting you like this, and it didn’t help that you were crying your eyes out.

“please don't cry, y/n.” he begged you.

“what? no, i'll be fine, i promise.” you force out a laugh, no matter how much it killed you. you saw the look in iwaizumi’s eyes. he knew you weren’t truly okay, but he also knew that you were letting him go. it was the right thing to do.

“y/n…”

“it’s okay. i'm fine.” you wipe away your tears, trying your best to be strong. “i'm just crying because i'm happy. i want you to be so, so happy.”

you did, you wanted him to be happy. even if it wasn’t with you, you owed him the ability to be happy. it was the least you could do while you still had some of your dignity left.

“i love you, iwa.” you barely get the words out. “you… you're my best friend.”

you see iwaizumi’s eyes well up with tears, a rare sight to see. only you could produce such a reaction out of him. only you would truly have his heart forever, but life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to. it was just the way things go.

“i should go. everybody’s waiting for you.” you say, on your way out the door.

“y/n, i...” you stop in your tracks, waiting for what he’d say next, and it only crushed you even more. “i've always loved you.”

overwhelmed, you walk out of the room in tears, ready to bolt out of the venue without another thought. oikawa found you on your way out, asking what was wrong and where you were going, but when he saw mascara running down your face, he knew exactly what happened, and he knew he should’ve been there to stop it.

you insist to oikawa that he tell iwaizumi you were sorry before you finally left the venue. you couldn’t stand to be there a second longer, you just had to get out of here. as you head to your car, you hear the beginning of the wedding march play. the sound brought you to your knees as you violently sobbed. if this was rock bottom, then you finally reached it.

as much as you wanted to cry there forever, you force yourself to get up, finally finding the strength to get into your car. you didn’t know where you were headed, but you knew you had to drive off somewhere far away from here. if only you could just turn back time.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[blingblong55]

Eternal Sleep- John Price

F!Reader, loss of a child, stillbirth (I'm not sure if this is the correct term), angst, some fluff

This super short one is dedicated to all those mothers whose babies are in eternal sleep.

Inspired by: Sign Of The Times- Harry Styles

R/N and John, are a happy couple in their early to late 30s. They met when John was a lieutenant. Met each other's parents and decided to not get married simply because they weren’t ready to elevate their relationship to a legal one.  Or that's what John says. In reality, he's afraid of giving in and failing, but he really does love her. They've been together for over 7 years, Some may say it's been the best 7 years of these two love birds' lives, but we’ll leave that up to you. 

And nearly about 8 months ago they found out they were pregnant. John got a promotion as a captain and R/N got a promotion at her office. She's now a manager of a small but important team. They’ve saved up for their baby’s life, it's not much, but it's something! Jolene is now on maternity leave and John in about 3 weeks will be on leave too.

He decided to not get any vacations since the announcement of her pregnancy just so he could save the days for their baby’s arrival, he even works extra hours too.  R/N is now at their baby’s nursery, she's placing everything they might need for when the baby arrives. She holds her stomach and looks at the reflection in the window, She feels the baby kick her belly,

  “Just a little longer my sweet angel” she smiles. John arrives, he leaves his bags at the door and walks upstairs. “How is my pretty girl doing?” He walks behind her and hugs her. She never understood how a girl like her could be with a man like him, but she was lucky nonetheless. “Pretty good for a chilly October” She looks down and watches as the kids go by, running in costumes and candy in their bags.

“Soon our little angel will be running down the streets with a bag of candy,” he says, he walks back to the hallway and turns the heat on, “I don’t want the both of you to get sick darling.” he loudly says as he walks back down the stairs. “Promise we won't!” She answers back and walks downstairs too.

“How was work? Any new drama I can hear about?” she asks, sitting down on the sofa and smiling. He laughs knowing she lives for all the gossip he’s about to give her. “C’mere, my sweet sweet r/n” 

And for the remainder of the evening, he watched her as she gasped, laughed and even added comments to all the gossip he had for her. Once he finished his rant he leaned in and kissed her, Do her lips taste like heaven, pure heaven and I’m the one who gets this glory he thought.

“Marry me, R/N, marry me darling, please” he almost whispered his words. His face got warm. And when he thought she’d say no her smile creeped in and she looked him in the eyes, “The answer is yes, but are you sure? I know you have that issue and-”

“Can I kiss you? and give you this ring?” he furrowed his eyebrows, afraid of her response. “John? You don’t have to ask me silly” She placed her hand on his chest.

“Consent above all my darling”

She nodded her head. 

He was never the one people would think he'd settle down and start a family, but the dates and many days he spent with R/N he slowly and hopelessly fell in love with her. He never thought of another woman. In fact, when another woman would tell him they bought new perfume he’d ask which one they wore because maybe his lady would like the smell of it, anything that he would see or hear about he would immediately think of her and wonder if she'd like it. If she talked about a new makeup, jewelry or any sort of product he would write it down and take her to the stores that weekend. But she always felt bad and would only get one thing, just one. 

-3 weeks later- 

R/N slept on her side and John slept on a chair beside her, patiently waiting for her to get any sort of signal their baby was ready to be delivered. At around 2 a.m. she woke up and he jumped to her side, “You think it's time doll?”She nodded and he ran to the nursery and grabbed the bags they had prepared a few days before tonight, he rushed to the car and back to her, she was already sitting on the bedside. 

The entire way to the hospital he kept checking on her, he held her hand and would often kiss it. 

Once they got there a nurse rushed outside and took her inside in a wheelchair. He waited out in the hallway and paced back and forth. He had promised her he wanted her to feel free when delivering their baby. But curiosity kicked in, and he made his way inside her room. There she was, smiling through the pain. She reached her hand for him to take, and he walked to her side and held her hand in his, “You got this, you’re so strong” he kept whispering in her ear. The nurse gave him a towel so he would dry the sweat off his forehead. When he thought everything was going right he heard alarms going off and more doctors rushing in. They pushed him aside and took her elsewhere.

A nurse told him it was so they could focus on R/N and the baby. He stayed in the room alone. Walking through the room, he called his parents, and they called hers. He cried and even prayed. He hadn’t done that since he was nearly 6 years old. A kid praying for his brother's return now praying for his girl and baby’s life. He remembered all those moments of him and her dancing in the kitchen while they baked some food for Easter and running down streets drunk and messing around.

“I think I love you!” he said as she took her hand and kept running from their friends and she kissed him, and at that moment he knew there was no other girl for him. No one could replace her, she filled up his heart, and memories. To him, she had become his gold memories, the ones he went back to when he felt sad. 

A doctor walked in, his face told what his voice couldn’t say. 

“Doctor?” he walked up to him, “She is fine, you can come in now.” John still had doubts, why didn’t he mention the baby? “And our baby?”

“Looks healthy” 

Once he walked inside of her new room for at least the next day or three, he saw them. He felt all that weight gone from him. A tear threatened to fall down, but he played strong. “Hi handsome” she whispered, her voice sounded weak, like she was sick. But he understood that she went through too much pain to even mention this. “Hey, beautiful” his voice cracked. His hands felt sweaty, but when his eyes laid on his baby all that fear and nervousness left his mind. 

“Is this angel really ours?” a nurse walked back in, ready to poke another needle on the baby’s foot. R/N nodded. “You want to hold it?” He looked at her and nodded, his smile widened. “Please,” he answered. Thankfully her bed was pretty wide and he sat right next to her. She handed her their baby. He was afraid of hurting it, “W-wow, darling….you created this, thank you. Truly thank you. Now I have these two angels with me.” he kissed the baby’s forehead and smiled. “Thank you R/N for making me a father. I respect how strong you are, seriously babe.” 

But tragedy struck. The baby stopped breathing. The nurse rushed to their side and called for backup. She took the baby off his arms and rushed elsewhere. John walked into the hallway. A security guard kept him out there. About ten minutes later a doctor came up to him. A few nurses followed behind. “I’m sorry” he paused and looked down, “we did our best, Your baby fought for every breath left in their little chest, but it wasn’t enough.” 

John took a few steps back and shook his head, the tears now became a river stream. “Please tell me this isn’t true, Our baby can’t be dead, please.” he cried and at moments his voice would give up on him. “Can I see her?” was all he was left to say. “Please, I need to see my r/n” his voice felt weak, almost like a breaking point.

“My baby, where is it? I held it but they took it away, do you have it, John?” His eyes water and his skin shivers, how is he supposed to tell her this news? “Darling, our baby” he inhales and looks at her, Her eyes are filled with joy, but when she takes another look at him it all vanishes. “They did everything they could, they even gave us this.” he hands her a teddy bear, the weight of their baby. R/N held tight and cried. She shook her head and cried for so long that he walked out and into the hallway once more, he cried out there. Holding himself. Holding the pieces of a memory, the memory of a forever sleeping baby.

[rrenzwrld]

mama’s baby, daddy’s maybe

in which connie is a famous basketball player who has a secret baby with his best friend

the eren fic is coming! i just went ahead a posted this bc it was highly recommended + it was already written.. enjoy! <3

“Leavin so soon?” Layla and I turned around to see Armin standing with Connie. There were still lots of people around so I was surprised paparazzi wasn’t bombarding him or anything. But they probably weren’t allowed in. Layla looked at me and I looked at her.

“I’ll take Celest to the car, c’mon CeeCee!” Layla reached out her hands and Celest went into them, allowing her to pick her up and sit her on her hip.

Connie’s eyes watched as Layla tried to find a way out, leaving me with Armin and Connie.

“You look good, by the way,” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Thank you…” I looked down.

“Hey~ Connie.” Some girls with his jersey on wales past and waved at him. he sent them a wink in return and redirected his attention to me. Armin looked like he was in an awkward place and I felt like I was too.

“I’m gonna… go to the car,” He began to walk out. “Don’t take too long.” He smirked as he whispered in my ear before leaving.

After Armin had left, Connie and I sat down in the stands and just started talking. It was as if we’d been talking all along and didn’t just ghost each other for 2 years. It felt natural. But all I could think about was my baby. Everytime he laughed or even looked at me with those honey hazel eyes, I thought about Celest.

“So that baby… she yours?”

“She is.” I smiled as I thought about her. He looked down, laughing to himself.

“You been busy, huh?”

“A one time thing… we all make stupid decisions. Not all of them we regret.” I partially lied.

He shook his head. “Didn’t say you had to. Just unexpected, that’s all.”

I furrrowed my eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because when we were in school, you were like, you’ve always wanted to do something with yourself and you had things planned out. You told me that you didn’t even want kids until you were 30 because you wanted to make sure all your school was finished.”

“Well things change, life happens.” I stood up, getting a bit offended by what he was saying. It’s like I disappointed him or something.

He stood up and followed me down the stands and outside the arena.

“Tryna run out on me again?”

“Nope, just trying to go home.”

“Well,” He stopped. “At least let me get your number or something. So we can keep in contact.” I looked at him for a few seconds before exchanging phone numbers with him.

“Thank you, Chy. And thanks for coming to my game too, really meant a lot to see you there.”

“You recognized me?”

“I recognize that pretty face anywhere.” Connie smiled. He was probably trying to flatter me to make up for what he said earlier but for some reason I felt like his smile made his comment genuine.

I scoffed. “Don’t do that.”

“I mean it. I’ve always meant it.” I playfully rolled my eyes before crossing my arms and looking down at my feet.

“If you say so…”

He laughed. “I do. Lemme walk you to your car?”

After we left the arena, everyone was pretty much beat so Armin went home and Layla said she would sleep over once we got Celest to bed. And of course we discussed the events of the day.

“Sooo how you feelin?”

“Bout?”

“Seeing him again.” I got quiet. I didn’t know how to feel. I wanted to feel excited because I’ve only imagined what it’d be like to see him again after the 2 years, but I was also nervous out of my mind because I had to tell him about Celest. And now that he’s borderline back into my life, that had to come real soon.

“I enjoyed it. Got to talk to him and stuff.”

“Did he ask you about Celest?”

I nodded slowly. “He did but..”

“You told him??” Layla yelled.

“If you wake up my child—“

“Sorry, sorry.” She whispered. “But did you tell him?”

“No, Layla. I didn’t tell him.”

“When are you going to?” I shrugged.

“I don’t know..” I rubbed random shapes into the surface of the blue velvet couch. I wanted to tell him but I was scared. Scared he’d hate me and he really doesn’t wanna see me again. And scared that he abandons Celest. That would crush my soul and just thinking about it makes me so anxious, like nauseatingly anxious.

“Well, yall can talk for real now. You got his number right?” I nodded.

“Try to build everything back up and then it’ll be easier to know when. The time will be right.” That made sense but Layla was saying this as if he wasn’t a big time athlete with big time money and big time things to do, with not one of those things involve wasting time with me.

“He not gonna have time for that, Layla. He makes money playin ball, not talking to girls that hide babies from him for 2 years.”

“Well that’s your fault. Fix it.” She shrugged.

I groaned. “It’s not gonna be that easy.” Layla began to make her way to the guest bedroom.

“We’ll make it easy, friend.”

[hunieday]

Momo i-HAKE! Rabbit TV - Part 3: Gentle Closeness

Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 3

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Drum beats, don,don, don! KA-!

Momo: Sei!

Town People: Haa!

Nanase Riku & Yaotome Gaku: Sei!!

Town People: Haaaa...!!!

Momo: Ahaha! You’re all perfect! Thanks for joining in with the shout!

Nanase Riku: Next, let's raise our fists together!

Yaotome Gaku: Come on, keep it up...! You guys can shout louder...!

Town People: Waaaah...!!

Elderly Board Member: Haha, it's the first time we’re shouting along with the drums. It's so much fun.

High School Boy: It's like shouting at a live concert!

Female Office Worker: ...No way!? A backflip…!?

Little Boy: Wow...! Amazing...!!

Middle-Aged Man: What incredible power... I've seen a lot of performances, but this is completely new! 

Don, don, don, kakakaka...!!!

Town People: Waaaaah...!!!

Momo: Huff, huff…Thank you everyone…!!!

Momo: Our Japanese drum performance was a bit different from usual... How was it?

Town People: Waaaah...!

Middle-Aged Man: It was great!!

Momo: Ahaha! I'm glad...!

Yaotome Gaku: We consulted with the drums teacher and the youth group to add our own flair!

Nanase Riku: We wanted to bring a unique performance since we were invited to perform on this special day, it’s something only we as idols could offer. So we hope you enjoyed it!

Momo: The town's drum performance is so cool! We made sure to respect the tradition while adding our own touch!

Momo: This performance is for all the people who have cherished the Autumn Leaves Festival throughout generations...!

Town People: Waaaah...!

Momo: Thank you so much for letting us participate in the Autumn Leaves Festival...!  We'll be performing with the youth group next! Let's keep the excitement going until the very end!!

---

Yuki: Momo of Re:vale, you're the best.

Yuki: I felt not just the quality of your performance, but the respect you showed for the Autumn Leaves Festival.

Yuki: The townspeople must have been delighted to have their beloved festival cherished by you.

Momo: Ehehe! Thanks! I feel like I could grow wings anytime you praise me, Yuki...!

Momo: Maybe I should open a bottle in my secret wine stash to celebrate? The delivery should arrive later.

Yuki: Sounds good. Let's do it.

Momo: Yippee!

Yuki: By the way, I haven’t been to your place in a while, it’s properly tidy.

Momo: I cleaned like my life depended on it! You said you were coming over out of nowhere!

Yuki: I felt like it. It’s been a while since we both had the day off.

Momo: I stuffed all the laundry and luggage into the closet... It was hell.

Yuki: ...Is that considered cleaning? Maybe I should visit more often if it gives you a reason to tidy up.

Momo: Ugh... I'm torn between being happy you’re here and annoyed at having to clean...

Yuki: Half and half?

Momo: ...70/30.

Yuki: And the happiness is 70, right?

Momo: ...I'll just keep visiting your place from now on!

Yuki: I knew it.

Momo: W-Wait! Having Yuki over is extremely special to me...!

Yuki: Hmm. So I'm like your personal Autumn Leaves Festival?

Yuki: Once a year is enough?

Momo: Ahhh, even sulky Yuki is handsome...! ...I mean!

Momo: Any time I spend with you is always special to me!

Yuki: Then that’s fine by me ...Hehe. Momo, you're really good at making me happy.

Momo: That's my number one best skill!

Yuki: You're good at making other people happy as well. You understand what people value and show subtle consideration for them.

Yuki: I thought it was amazing to witness in the Aihake VTR too.

Momo: ...Huh? What’s this about?

Yuki: During the drums practice. You noticed our juniors were overworking themselves and took them outside for a break because you were concerned, right?

Momo: ...No, no! I just wanted to take a little break for myself.

Yuki: But it must’ve also been refreshing for Riku and Gaku themselves. I’m pretty sure they noticed how much you cared for them.

Momo: Ahaha... Yuki sees right through me. I doubt those two noticed, though—

Ding!

Momo: ...Speak of the devil. I got a message!

Yuki: From Riku and Gaku?

Momo: Yeah. We made a group chat for the three of us during Aihake.

Momo: ...Just as you said… They said "Thank you for your consideration!”...

Yuki: Hehe. See?

Momo: Ugh! That’s embarrassing...! I thought I was subtle and cool, but our juniors noticed…!

Yuki: It's not embarrassing, it's cool.

Momo: You think so...?

Yuki: You’re cool even when you’re rough.

Momo: Yuki...! 

Ding-dong

Momo: Ah! Delivery's here! I'll go get it.

Momo: I ordered a ton of organic vegetable dishes! Eat as much as you like!

Yuki: You think I can eat this much?

Momo: It's fine, it’s fine! Let's have an especially fun time tonight!

End of Episode 3.

[oddlylongtelephonecord]

I wanna dump my list of skk fic recs so I have a list of all my favorite ones and I can finally close out of some of my 30 ao3 tabs.

1. (I’m sure you all saw this one coming so I’m going to get it out of the way first) I will admit, I didn’t love the last chapter or two. But the rest of this is an absolute masterpiece. It’s one of the best characterizations of skk I’ve seen in these really popular fics.

2. Kyoka pov, ft. chuuya’s breakdown after dazai left. It’s been a while since I read it, but I didn’t keep it open in a tab for over a year for no reason.

3. This is by far my favorite one tbh. Dazai and Chuuya at 15, 16, 17, and 18, and how they grew into and out of each other. It crushed my soul. Let it crush yours too.

4. I’ll be so honest it’s need forever since I read this one BUT I remember it being one that felt like it changed the trajectory of my life and flipped my worldview upside down. Like maybe I’m being dramatic, but again, there’s a reason I refused to close the tab.

5. this one easily ties with 3 for my favorite actually. Shows every time Chuuya uses corruption and how Dazai handles Chuuya’s near-death experiences (spoiler alert: dazai doesn’t take it well)

6. this is the only unfinished one on here I think, but it’s pretty much exactly what it says in the title. Follows Dazai and Chuuya as they try to deal with the fact that Dazai does in fact feel emotions

7. By the same author as above, outsider pov fic (kunikida) dazai has a minor breakdown + dazai and chuuya arguing in french, this one is also unfinished but it doesn’t end on a cliffhanger so that’s nice

I’ll def keep adding to this as I find new fics that I enjoy enough to save (a very rare occurrence, my standards are about as far from low as you can get. It’s kind of obnoxious, but you know what they say, c’est la vie)

[chloeangelic]

Line cook Joel origin story drabble

Here’s what I think line cook Joel’s origin story is, some info about him and Sarah, his general personality and interests, relationship history etc that might explain what he’s like in my series Belong to me

This is my most self indulgent series and Joel iteration, be warned lmao

Warnings: SPOILERS for ch 1-3, mentions of child abandonment

Word count: 1.2k

Joel is 40 in this AU, and I feel like it takes place in 2005ish, which doesn’t really come through in the chapters but it’s how I see the whole situation in my head.

Joel had Sarah at 24, with a sort of low commitment on and off girlfriend at the time who was somewhere in the 22-24 range. I’m not sure why she decided to go through with the pregnancy (pressure from her parents, maybe?) but she did, and Joel figured he would be involved as a typical baby daddy, having the kid live with their mom and seeing them as often as possible. However, her mom likely decided she was gonna put Sarah up for adoption, which was obviously an immediate fuck no from Joel, who basically swooped in and got custody of her. The mom moved to another city, and I don’t think Sarah or Joel ever heard from her again. 

Out of all my fics, this is the one in which Sarah’s mom has been involved the least. In my other tales (Joel is always a dad in my works haha), her mom usually is mentioned to have been involved for 1-5 years, but in this one she was not involved at all, and I think Joel’s sole responsibility for her from such a young age has made their bond very strong. I definitely see them being best friends and having a very good line of communication. 

He worked in construction for many years until his early 30s (hence why he still has a truck instead of a regular car), then when he’d gotten to a pretty high level with cooking at home, Sarah pushed him to apply for a cooking job. He was tired of the long hours working in construction and thought it would be a nice change to have some free time. He’s pretty grumpy at work because he prefers working individually and doesn’t care to get involved in anyone’s disputes in a high pressure environment like that, doesn’t like to excessively share about his life etc. He’s very observant and definitely cares about the people around him, but he likes being left alone to do his work efficiently so he doesn't have to get stressed or fall behind.

Speaking of work; Jermaine, who they stole cigs from and is also a cook at the restaurant, is one of his closest friends, and they like to hang out from time to time. If Sarah is out doing things on the weekend or at a sleepover, I can see Joel and Jermaine playing GTA San Andreas and eating at his house, maybe he also plays on his basketball team. Jermaine is like 37 or something and more outgoing than Joel. He's definitely around if Sarah needs something and Joel isn't available, sort of like an uncle next to Tommy. His relationship to Tommy is fine, though he says in an upcoming chapter that he's "done enough for that jackass" in what is, presumably, a loving way but probably has some truth behind it.

This whole basketball thing is very funny to me for some reason, but here’s the story: 

Joel played basketball in middle and high school (purely because he ended up being 6’6” and his parents put him in sports very quickly), and continued to play on different teams in his 20s/30s at a competitive level. At this point, I see him playing on a long term recreational team and DON’T @ me if this sounds insane, cause I know very little about basketball, but I think he’s a power forward on his team. 

If he wants Sarah to do him a favor, he definitely tells her that he “passed up an opportunity to play in the NBA to raise her instead” which is a massive lie. He has dragged Sarah along to many basketball games throughout the years, and she gets kinda bored but knows it means a lot to him that she’s there. She prefers watching pro/college basketball with him, though, and they do that often. 

Other than that, in his free time, he works out at the gym pretty often, and for two reasons. One is to be a better player, the second is that he wants to give Sarah some space and not have her feel like he’s breathing down her neck all the time. So he gives her the house to herself for a few hours to decompress after being around people at school all day, while he goes to work out, then he comes home and makes her dinner. 

Entertainment wise, I see him liking a lot of 90s hip hop (Radio Los Santos anyone?) and he definitely is a Sopranos enjoyer. He probably does a really shitty Tony impression.

At work, he wears black pants, black t-shirts, and black high top converse shoes. At home I see him wearing a pretty typical combo of jeans, basketball shorts (obvi haha), sweatpants, t-shirts, long sleeved shirts, hoodies etc. This is likely my only non-flannel shirt wearing Joel. He of course wears a jersey and shorts while playing ball. 

As I mentioned, he doesn’t talk much about his life at work but he sometimes talks about Sarah, I think. They went on vacation together to Jamaica or something once and, when he came back, the waitress was like oooh, you’re so tan, look at you, and he was kinda flattered by her being touchy so he showed her vacation photos on his phone hahahaha

I obviously have to address his relationship to the waitress girly, so here:

As mentioned in ch 1, he has a very long term “crush” on her that started when she began working at the restaurant. I think they started talking more when she jokingly asked him to make her dinner cause she forgot to eat and then he actually did it, and she kept “forgetting” to eat so he kept cooking for her, and then she started bugging him on his breaks and he secretly liked it so then he started waiting for her to come out and keep him company. Also I say “crush” cause he’s obviously in love with her but hasn’t wanted to admit it to himself or anyone else haha, and she’s the same way back - which is why the narration is the way it is, with her actions showing her feelings but her not really conceptualizing them for herself, if that makes sense  

I think he said yes to her request to get her pregnant because, deep down, he does have a desire to have more kids, to be in a long term relationship etc. And sure, it’s a very unconventional way of going about it, but there’s obviously something in him that knows that he and this girl have a real chance at a relationship, so that confidence made him go okay, fuck it, let’s just do this completely out of order haha 

Prior to this, though, dating wise, I think he was in some relationships here and there, had some hookups but none of them really lasted all too long. Some of that might’ve been because he had full custody of Sarah and was never really by himself, he worked a lot, and always put Sarah first. Essentially he would need someone to fit into that puzzle, he wasn’t gonna try to make someone fit, they had to know and understand his situation and want to be a part of it.  

Let me know what you think or if you have any questions about this Joel of ours hahahah

[supergirl000983]

The Rancher and the Pilot PT. 3 (maybe final)

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Dutton!Reader

Warning: Language, fighting, Beth being a bad bitch, talk of past trauma.

Also in this Lee didn’t die because I said so!

Y/n looked at Jake with angry sad eyes “There is so much more to life than that Hell Jake.” She said as she began putting her clothes back on Jake following her actions. “What do you mean? I thought things on the ranch were getting better.” He questioned as he finished buckling his jeans. “They are, but now that daddy is governor we are under a heavy watchful eye. I mean Rip and I can’t even take someone to the fucking train station without being followed.” Y/n said frustrated pulling her boots back on. “Come on let’s head back inside before they realize we disappeared.” She said grabbing Jake’s hand and pulling him out of the truck. “Plus I already talked to daddy and he agreed it was time for me to get out of Montana for awhile. He also said that being with you in fighter-town would definitely be best.” Y/n said smiling causing Jake to smile knowing that this meant her father wasn’t going to kill him now that he knew. Jake laughed spinning her around. “Ok so does this mean you are coming back with us once leave is over?” Jake asked smiling his million dollar smile. “Yeah I already have some bags packed and I was given permission to take my ranch truck, I know how y’all feel about flying in planes y’all can’t control.” Y/n responded as she leaned up kissing Jake happily. They separated when they heard a fighting commotion come from inside right as Beth burst through the door holding a blonde woman by her hair. “Hey baby sister a little help in here?” Beth said before slamming the blonde’s face into the door then leaving her there and walking back in. The two followed and were surprised to see people trying to break up the fight going on in the middle. They weren’t still long as one woman ran up to attack Jake, but before she could Y/n grabbed her arm spinning her around and slamming her on her back and commenced to beating to fuck out of her. That was all she really remembered while she and Beth were both being put into the back of the police Tahoe. “So…what happened Bethie?” She questioned her big sister that practically raised her. “Some California bitch put her hands on Rip and then came over and told me that they were gonna leave and have some fun with or without me.” Beth said in a straight voice before looking at her sister and both of them laughing hysterically. “Nice hits by the way. Those girls didn’t know what to think when you started beating the shit out of their friend.” Beth said as they both finally calmed down. “Hey Bethie? How are we gonna explain this to Daddy?” Y/n said as she looked at her sister with all seriousness. “You don’t worry your pretty little head about that ok? I’ll take care of it and I’m sure Jaimie is already working on making this all disappear.” Beth said looking at her baby sister who wasn’t a baby anymore she was now a 30 year old woman that had seen a lot of shit in her time on earth. From being kidnapped, shot at, stabbed, and blown up. Beth really didn’t know how her sister was still alive. All she did know was that her sister was one strong motherfucker

After booking they were both put in a cell and made small talk with another woman in there. After a bit they were both bailed out and on their way back to the ranch. “I still can’t believe that happened and that bitch didn’t get arrested.” Beth said walking into the house meeting the eyes of several people including: the Aviators, some of the ranch hands, her other siblings, and their father. “Well why does everyone look so surprised to see us?” Y/n said as she took Jaimie’s whiskey out of his hand. She then walked back over to Beth. “If I remember correctly I made you both promise to stay out of trouble tonight.” John Dutton finally spoke he stood and walked over and stopped in-front of his daughters. Before smiling and walking away to his bedroom. Kayce then stood and walked to Y/N. “You had to date one of my best friends?” He said smiling at his younger sister. “What can I say? He’s the one for me Kayce.” She said looking up at her big brother. “Ok as long as you’re happy than I’m happy.” He said wrapping her in a hug.

“Actually before everyone goes to bed Jake and I have an announcement.” Y/n said as she held her hand out for Jake to hold as he came to stand beside her. “After tonight I will be stepping down as head cowboy. Rip congrats you get to boss these ass hats around.” She said as she smiled at her group of close friends and family that were all family at this point. “ What do you mean your stepping down?” Ryan asked sharing a confused look with Colby. “I mean I will no longer be able to run things for the ranch from fighter-town. I am going to take a least a year off and start my new life with Jake. Yes we will pop in for the Holidays, but I really need to get out of here for awhile.” Y/n said looking at one of her best friends. “I love you all. You guys will be fine without me. Rip is just as much of a hard-ass as I am if not more.” She said laughing poking fun at her brother-in-law who smiled at the comment.

————————Time Skip———————

The next morning they had everything packed into the truck. Everyone was saying their goodbyes. Y/n looked around knowing she was gonna miss her home in Montana. She also knew that it was time to move on. “Hey you ok?” Her father asked coming to lean on the truck beside her. “Yeah I’m just thinking about how nice it’s gonna be not to hear Lee snoring from the other side of the hallway, how I won’t have to hear Jaime bitch about everything, how I won’t accidentally walk in on Beth and Rip anymore, or Kayce and Monica for that matter.” She said looking looking at her father. John laughed and pulled his youngest child his absolute pride and joy into a bear hug. As they pulled back he handed her something. It was her mother’s necklace that her father had given their mother a few days before her death. “Dad…are you sure?” She asked looking up into her fathers eyes. “She would want you to have just as much as I want you to have it.” He said leaving no room to argue. She handed it to him and turned so he could clasp it for her. It was a simple necklace a thin gold chain with a ruby in the middle and tiny white diamonds surrounding it. After it was on she turned around and bear hugged her father again “Thank you for everything. There were times when you could have given up on all of us kids and you didn’t. So thank you daddy thank you so much.” Y/n said with tears in her eyes. All of the other Dutton children stood in a group watching the interaction knowing that after the youngest Dutton was gone he wouldn’t want to talk about it. Everyone finished their goodbyes and the group of aviators loaded into the truck and waited for Y/n to finish her group hug and goodbye with her siblings. After she was done she loaded up and looked at her boyfriend and his friends and smiled. “Alright…let’s head out. Goodbye Yellowstone, Hello Fighter-Town.” She said as they started the drive.

Trying to decide if I want to continue the story, or start a new one.

[leejenowrld]

questions!

for jeno, do you miss your previous life before yn?

for yn, what’s the best gift jenos ever given you?

for yn, does he still rip of all of your lingerie?

for jeno, what do you do when yn gets stressed and snappy at you?

for jeno, has anyone ever watched you both in bed or wanted to join in?

jeno - fuck no, my life has upgraded so much. i’ve never been happier

yn - maybe the promise ring he brought me for our three years anniversary <3 it made me sob. i also love when he paid for us to get matching tattoos 🥹

yn - yes. [frowns and sighs] he’s wasted so much money… i simply don’t understand why he can’t just take it off my body gently

jeno - i just ignore her

jeno - all of our friends have walked in on us. i know hyuck watches and wants to join in. one time though, heejin was pissing me off because she was on the other side of the bed next to yn and they were both just giggling and yn was ignoring me so i just got my cock out and told heejin to get out cus i was gonna put it into yns pussy and yn, like the good girl that she is, immediately took her panties off and smiled at me and we fucked right there and then. i didn’t wait for heejin to leave the room cus i was already hard. me and yn were too turned on by each other and in the moment to actually realise when heejin left, and even though she denies it, i’m pretty sure she was still in the bed when i put my cock inside of my girl. and i’m pretty sure i caught her standing for like 30 seconds, eyes like O_O as she just looked at us

yn - [covers her face with her hands] i have something to tell you, heejin was still in the bed when we fucked. she left as soon as you started thrusting but you’re right to say that she stood there in awe for half a minute 😭 baby… she literally said she was shocked by the size of your, in her words, “monster cock” and she always asks me how i can take all of that

jeno - [grins, rubbing his bulge and pulling yn into his lap, tugging off her leggings]

[zehecatl]

happy steam sale to all, here’s a 'little’ rec list for (primarily) indie games that, in my opinion, isn’t as popular as they deserve to be!

Ghostwire: Tokyo -60% the only triple a game you’ll see on this list, and my own all time personal favourite. if you like anime, japanese history and folklore, and bromance, you will very likely love this game. it also lets you explore Tokyo and pet the dogs! and cats! literally perfect game!!

Iconoclasts -70% i have been shilling this game, at every major steam sale, for pretty much four-five years. before Ghostwire, it was my all time favourite video game. it was in development, by one person, for around eight years. it is still, in my opinion, one of the most gorgeous pieces of pixel art in the whole damn medium. just. please check it out i beg

Angels of Death -40% rpgmaker game that absolutely excels at being a character driven story. it also got an anime adaptation? which i’ve actually never seen?? but if you grew up playing horror rpgmaker games, please do yourself a favour, and check this out. and if you didn’t- check it out anyway! it’s not super scary or anything, with a more psychological horror focus

Owlboy -65% tiny owl boy does his very best and will worm his way into your heart and then crush it because life is maybe a bit too cruel to him. also you can fly! did i mention you can fly??

Pony Island + The Hex -80% did you adore Inscryption? did you like the meta element? then oh boy, should you check out Daniel Mullins’ two former games! they’re good! probably has the same vibe as Inscryption! could not tell you i still have not played that thing! but these are both very good, and absolutely worth every cent

Underhero -70% it’s a bit rough around the edges, but man, this game has so much love put into it, and i think it deserves way more love than it got

My Friend Pedro -75% the action is definitely the high point here, but i have a personal soft spot for the lil’ bit of lore we do get. like, there is something there, and i want to dig my fingers in. also wacky banana is funny

Sayonara Wild Hearts -40% queer girls on motorcycles? in my rhythm game?? it’s more likely than you think!! (also, if you suck at rhythm games: me too, this is still worth picking up)

MO:Astray -50% the fact that seemingly no one on tumblr has played this... despite the fact that it feels like it’d be a right shoe in... criminal. there is a little CREACHUR! LOOK AT IT. IT IS A SLIME!!

The Messenger -75% i legit thought this game was way more popular than it, apparently, is, which i think just speaks volume of my opinion on it. it’s genuinely right up there with Shovel Knight as iconic retro throwbacks- plus! the devs are making THE most gorgeous indie rpgs, apparently set in the same universe. so that is another reason to check it out

This Strange Realm of Mine -90% an extremely weird little game that will likely not be for everyone, or even most people, but that i really liked. considering the price, i don’t really think there’s much to lose on buying this little gem

Darkside Detective -70% funny point & click game with very shipable protagonists! there’s also a ‘second season’ that i have not played (yet), but is very likely absolutely worth getting

Haiku, the Robot -33% it is, rather obviously, not as good as Hollow Knight, but if you’re suffering from ‘waiting for Silksong’, perhaps this little gem will tide you over

Transiruby -30% another small metroidvania! has really pretty pixel art, and is just a fun little time

Flynn, Son of Crimson -50% not what it was promised, but it’s a fun platformer with gorgeous pixel art, and a dog. it’s a good time, and isn’t that what we all want :]

Yomawari: Midnight Shadows -70% a cute horror game, with excellent enemy designs, and a whole town to explore. also the story is so good. i am still absolutely enamoured with this title. this is, technically, the 2nd in a series, but you can play the games standalone, and while i’m sure the 1st is just as good, i’ve only played this one. because priorities (also keep in mind!! that this is a horror game!!! i’d recommend looking up some trigger warnings, because, uh. horror game!)

A Short Hike -35% just an extremely cozy and fun little game. exploring every inch of this island was just such a good time, i still think extremely fondly of this title

Webbed -30% i am gently laying an hand on the shoulder of every bug enthusiastic on this website. you play as a spider. who is trying to get back her boyfriend from a bird. and there’s a really fun swinging mechanic. do you really need anything more?

Garden Story -60% i am once again shocked this game isn’t more popular. what do you mean a cozy adventure game with community restoration, foraging, and some fun combat with a grape protagonist isn’t one of the biggest sellers in cozy gaming spheres. there’s a frog. you can put on different hats. what else do you want!!

Donut County -70% funny little game about making holes and being a chaotic racoon. i have an extremely soft spot for the characters in this, i could not explain it <3

also Oxenfree is not on sale, but it’s cheap, and the sequel is dropping very soon! and you should absolutely check it out! because it’s really REALLY good!!

[drpoisonoaky]

Who let them drink?

As soon as she entered what was supposed to be a party at which she nicely declined the invitation, the explanations from Aang weren't necessary anymore.

“LOOK, EVERYONE! THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND! LOOK AT HER. ARE YOU LOOKING?! LOOK. AT. HER,” yelled Katara as she climbed her like she was a tree. Having your drunked girlfriend shouting next to your ear isn’t a pleasant experience, but she has had a lot of worse experiences.

“How much has she drunk?”

“I lost the count a while ago.” Aang was trying to catch Sokka who was on the chandelier. Having in mind that they’re still in the royal palace and how high it was, Azula was kind of impressed.

"NO! MY GIRLFRIEND IS PRETTIER AND WAY NICER. LOOK AT HER," he exclaimed, pointing at a very drunk Suki sleeping on the floor.

“Good grief.”

“NO! MY GIRLFRIEND IS THE BEST. SHE ALWAYS HAS SOME KNIVES WITH HER. ALWAYS. YOU KNOW HOW USEFUL THAT IS” Looking at the scene Azula had forgotten about Mai’s knives. The last time Mai got drunk, Ty Lee almost lost an eye.

“They decided to mix something with something and it seems it was easy to drink but pretty strong”

As soon as Aang said that, Mai began to throw up through the window. “Well, at least we don’t need to worry about someone being hurt by her” Azula thought.

“Are you the only one who hasn’t had a drink?” As she pronounced that last word a very drunk Ty Lee revived from the floor next to Suki.

“WELL YOU ALL HAVE GORGEOUS GIRLFRIENDS BUT GUESS WHAT I MADE OUT WITH ALL OF THEM AT SOME POINT SO VICTORY IS ON ME.”

“Wait Katara too?” Azula did not want to be that person, but there’s something uncomfortable about your ex-girlfriend making out with your current girlfriend. “Maybe if I wasn’t dating either a good couple could have been born. I’m pretty sure someday someone would be in that situation.”

“I don’t know where Toph is, but yeah.” If, at that moment, you looked into his eyes you would see how those people right now were taking away years of his life.

“Azzzulaaa, why aren’t you paying attention to me?!” said Katara with her face buried in Azula’s neck.

“That’s a lot of Z’s and A’s for a single word.” said Azula while bringing back her attention to Katara “How much did this woman drink.”

“Don’t cry.” Katara unburied her face from Azula’s neck “How am I not going to cry like in your face?!”

“What about my face?”

Katara began to sob while she said “IT IS PERFECT. HOW ARE YOU EVEN REAL.”

“So I guess emotional drunk Katara is here.”

Suddenly Azula felt how someone had climbed up her body to perch on her shoulders. “Shhh. You also are perfect.” said Ty lee trying to not to fall having 0 balance.

But with that Katara’s change her demeanor and pretends to be serious and sober, only for a second.

“I am not making out with you so you can say you made out with every girl in this room Ty lee.”

“So Katara didn’t do it after all” though Azula with a little bit of relief that she never ever would recognize.

“I girl have to try.” As she said that Ty Lee was down on her feet and Katara face was back on Azula’s neck.

“Zzzzulaaaa she’s trying to get into my pants. But I don’t want her. I only want you into my pants because you are really good in-“ Without letting her end that sentence she decided it was enough.

“Avatar, I'm taking her and I’m sending some servants to help you because Ty Lee is 30 seconds away from throwing up. And then Zuzu will do it after her.”

Aang gave her a confused look but 30 seconds after there was a gross noise coming from Ty Lee

“Whao, do you know their vomit schedule?”

“I usually don’t drink either. And they don’t know how to drink. So I have to develop a plan to proceed every time they say “I have this bottle.””.

The first time she began planning, she was holding Zuko and Ty Lee at the same time while they emptied their stomachs. Also, she developed a sweet revenge plan to enact when they woke up hungover. It changed depending on what instrument was available in the palace. Or if she wanted to be extra evil, she-

“‘Zzzulaa”

“It seems we lost some z's and a's,” Azula said while she dropped her gaze to Katara’s.

“I love you.”

“Wait when did they reach drunk loveliness Katara…Oh shit.”

“WAIT THE BATHROOM IS NEA-“

Too late, it was Katara's turn. “The fucking vomit schedule.”

As Katara kept throwing up a victory shout resonates in the room. “I WON I WAS THE LAST PERSON STANDI-“ Sokka shouted. Then he pass out.

So everyone, except the former princess of the Fire Nation and the last airbender, was down. Thank Agni the Avatar state it's pretty useful to clean vomit.

[geographerdose]

Synastry of my best friend of nearly 30 years & I 👭

I’m blue, she’s red in the chart below

Kind of literally cause she’s all fire and I’m all water 😆😭

I circled the two major things that stuck out to me this morning:

1. Up in Aquarius we have my north node literally conjunct her Saturn (6 degrees, and within like 15 feet)

2. Then down in Cancer/Leo, we have her Venus conjunct my Venus within 7 degrees. In Cancer, her Chiron is conjunct my Chiron within 4 degrees (but it’s pretty slow moving.)

🌻She is the only friend that has stood the test of time. A true friend.

🌻The Venus/Venus conjunction is very telling to the reciprocal ways of making each other feel loved and heard. This is rare and definitely something to hold onto. I sometimes wonder if I will only ever have long term platonic love. Part of me is sad and the other part is happy because like friends last forever. If you’re ever even remotely lovers with someone, going back to friends is…. Idk. So then even if the connection was good, you can’t really “trade” it in for the friendship version. It doesn’t work like that.

🌻But no even in different signs, maybe even because they’re in different signs, there is just a natural emotional fulfillment around one another. Surely that comes from decades of knowing each other but sometimes people walk out of our lives when we tell them what we need. The real ones stay and adjust their behavior because they love us, and want us to feel loved and have our needs met. And we do the same.

🌻I think my Moon-like, watery way of showing love gives her a feeling of security and being seen, whereas her fierce loyalty and sharing her zeal for life with me gives me a feeling of security and just fun I don’t get from anyone else.

🌻Also I noticed that her Venus is further away from the opposing rays of my Saturn than mine — it’s like she can see the good and light in me when I can’t, and reflects it back in a way that I am able to actually hear and receive.

🌻Her Saturn conjuncts my north node and I think this speaks for our longevity. She’s probably going to be in my life forever and even if not, I know we will never forget each other. No one could ever replace her either—those memories and experiences we’ve shared, the way we just know each other. Yet still got love for each other and still get along just as good as we did when we were 6.

🌻With her Sun and Mercury in my 12th house, I feel like she’s able to see my blind spots in regards to my thinking. So many times she will share something with me and it’s insane how it would have never come into my awareness and how important that perspective ends up being. Also she will unexpectedly gas me up with the most meaningful compliments that I didn’t even know I needed to hear 🥹🥹😍

🌻Our Mercury square Mercury allows us to have the best, longest conversations. Sometimes it feels like we’re so different in our preferences and thinking and emotions but also the same person deep down. We don’t really have to explain things to each other, we kind of just know. Her mercury also squares my moon.

🌻With my Venus and Jupiter in her 12th house, I am able to help her see beauty and appreciation where she did not see it before, as well as untapped abundance around her. I can’t think of a specific example but I just remember pointing out good things to her that she hadn’t been taking advantage of due to not being aware of it.

🌻