#i never thought my mom would make me HAPPY cry over a matter like this. it's really the awareness for me.

[threadmonster]

My mom pausing and correcting my nephew that I'm a "good Aunt Do" instead of saying "good girl" is probably the most gender affirming moments along with a person not knowing to call me sir or ma'am.

My nephew is 2.5 and called me a good boy for getting him chocolate milk and my mom is a [redacted] year old lady so she was gonna correct him and then realized what she was gonna say and stopped herself because she knows I don't like being called a girl. My mom really did that.

[malachitezmeyka]

I know it's useless to get mad at the dog, she's just a hyperactive little thing who doesn't know how to behave yet. She's left home alone for at least 6 hours every day and she's bored, I can't blame her for tearing apart her training pads or shitting all over the place. Even if I did, she must have done it hours ago, dogs don't get that actions that happened so long ago have consequences and all me yelling at her will result in is her being scared of me. I know all that, I do

So WHY am I still so angry at her?? Why does it feel satisfying to lash out and see her scurry away??? She doesn't deserve to be treated like that, she doesn't know any better. And I don't know how to teach her to know better, I don't have the patience for it. She deserves better than me

[pucksandpower]

Borrowed Time

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you do everything in your power to make your sick son’s dream come true but what you don’t realize is that meeting his hero will change all of your lives forever

Warnings: terminal illness and death

“You know what would be the coolest, Mama?” The soft voice of your son, Luca, breaks through the silence of the hospital room.

You brush a stray hair from his forehead, trying to coax a smile onto your face despite the weight in your chest. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“To meet Charles Leclerc. Just once. To tell him he’s my hero.” Luca’s eyes, though tired, gleam with that familiar spark every time he talks about Formula 1.

Your heart aches, knowing how much this means to him. “He is pretty amazing on the track, isn’t he?” You respond, reminiscing about the countless races you’ve both watched together from this very room.

Luca nods, holding his toy race car, a replica of Charles’ Ferrari. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. He never gives up, even when things get tough. Kinda like me.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice, making you marvel at his resilience.

You pull him close, tears threatening to spill. “You’re my hero too,” you whisper, kissing his temple.

He snuggles closer, murmuring, “I just wish I could meet him, Mama. Tell him he gives me strength.”

You take a deep breath, new resolve settling in. “You never know, my love. Miracles happen.”

The determination you feel is like a roaring fire and you silently vow to make Luca’s dream come true. No matter what it takes.

***

As the evening shadows stretch across the hospital room, you find yourself deep in thought, racking your brain for any means to make Luca’s wish a reality. You think about reaching out on social media, starting a campaign, anything to catch Charles Leclerc’s attention.

You start by posting on your personal pages: a heartfelt message accompanied by a picture of Luca holding his toy race car, the walls of his room adorned with posters of Charles racing. #LucaMeetsLeclerc, you caption it, hoping against hope that the message reaches the right eyes and ears.

The following days are a whirlwind. Friends, family, and even strangers share the post, and the hashtag starts trending in your community. Messages of support flood in and local news channels express interest in Luca’s battle.

One evening, after reading Luca a bedtime story, your phone buzzes with a notification. It’s an email from a name you don’t recognize but the subject line sends your heart racing: A Special Meeting.

Opening it hastily, your eyes skim over the words:

Dear Y/N,

I represent Charles Leclerc. We were deeply moved by Luca’s story and would like to arrange a meeting ...

Tears blur your vision and you can’t help but let out a soft sob of relief and joy. Luca, hearing your cry, looks up at you with curious eyes. “Mama? What’s wrong?”

You pull him into a tight embrace, trying to convey all the love and happiness you feel. “Sweetie,” you whisper, pulling back to meet his gaze, “I think your dream might just come true.”

Luca’s eyes widen and his smile lights up the room brighter than any lamp ever could. The journey to fulfill a lifelong dream has just begun.

***

The hospital room feels heavier than usual. The rhythmic beeping of monitors fills the silence as Luca plays absent-mindedly with his race car on the bed. Just as you are about to suggest a card game, a knock interrupts the monotony.

“Come in,” you call softly.

The door opens and to your astonishment, Charles Leclerc himself steps inside, a shy smile gracing his features. He seemed different than on the TV — more human, more vulnerable.

“Ciao, Luca,” Charles greets, his voice gentle.

Luca’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping. “You ... you’re real.”

Charles chuckles, pulling a chair closer to the bed. “Last time I checked, I am. Your mom tells me you’re quite the fan.”

Luca nods vigorously. “You’re my hero. When you race, I feel like I’m flying. Free from this …” He gestures vaguely at the hospital equipment surrounding him.

Charles’ eyes soften. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. But, you know, you’re a hero too. Racing against challenges every day.”

You watch their interaction, touched by Charles’ genuine empathy. “Thank you for coming. It ... it means the world.”

Charles turns to you, a depth of understanding in his eyes. “When I read about Luca, I saw more than just a fan. I saw a fighter. Just like on the track, it’s the fights we don’t see that often matter most.”

There is a brief silence, filled with unsaid emotions.

Luca’s voice, trembling with emotion, breaks the quiet. “I have a question, Charles. How do you stay brave even when you’re scared?”

Charles takes a moment before responding. “I focus on the present. Fear often comes from thinking about what might happen. But in the moment, there’s a job to do, a race to finish.”

Luca looks thoughtful. “So, you mean I should focus on now and not think about ... later?”

Charles nods, placing a comforting hand on Luca’s. “Exactly. Live in the now and remember that every race has its challenges. It’s how we face them that defines us.”

Tears well up in your eyes, gratitude and admiration for Charles swelling within you. Here he was, not just a racing star but a beacon of strength for your son.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice choked with emotion.

Charles smiles, glancing between you and Luca. “No, thank you. Today, I met a true champion.”

***

“You know,” Charles begins, playing with the edges of the signed Ferrari cap he just gifted Luca, “I once met a kid, a bit older than you, at a race. He told me that every time he felt like giving up, he’d watch one of our races. Said it gave him hope."

Luca’s fingers trace the signature on the cap. “Is that why you race? For people like him ... and me?”

Charles leans back, gazing out the window for a moment. “Partly. But also for myself. Racing ... it’s my passion, my escape. It’s where I find my strength.”

You feel compelled to share your own perspective. “We all have our races, don’t we? For Luca, it’s here, fighting every day. For me, it's trying to be strong for him, even when I feel like falling apart.”

Charles looks at you intently. “It’s incredible the strength we find when it’s for someone we love. Your journey, your race, is just as important — is more important — than any I’ve been on.”

Touched by his words, you continue, “I watch you race. The precision, the dedication. It’s art. I want Luca to have something like that, something to pour his heart into.”

Luca chimes in, his voice soft, “I think I already have something. Watching races with Mama, it’s our thing. It helps me forget, even if just for a while.”

Charles leans forward, engaging Luca directly. “Then let’s make a promise. You keep fighting your race here and I'll keep racing out there. Deal?”

Luca’s smile is radiant. “Deal.”

There is a pause, a moment of reflection, before Charles turns to you. “You're an incredible mother. The strength you show, the love ... it’s palpable. And it reminds me so much of my own maman.”

You blink away tears. “We do what we have to for our children.”

He nods, a faraway look in his eyes. “She would always say the same thing after losing my father. And sometimes, despite all the pain and struggle, we find connections, kindred spirits, who remind us we’re not alone.”

You smile, feeling a deep bond forming, not just between Luca and Charles but between two souls who understood the depth of love, sacrifice, and hope.

***

“I have a proposition,” Charles offers, the twinkle in his eyes belying the gravity of his words.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on.”

“How would you both feel about attending a race in-person? I can make sure Luca is comfortable and you both get the full VIP experience.”

Luca’s face lights up with hope and disbelief. “Really? I ... I’d get to see you race in real life?”

Charles nods, “Right from the best seat in the paddock.”

You hesitate, considering the logistics, the health implications. “I don’t know. It’s a beyond generous offer but Luca’s health …”

Charles raise a hand, preempting your concerns. “I’ve thought about that. We have top medical facilities at the track and I’ll make sure we have everything necessary for Luca.”

“You’d do that for us?” you whisper, the weight of his offer sinking in.

Charles leans forward, sincerity evident in his gaze. “I’ve won races, stood on podiums. But the race Luca is running, the courage he’s showing ... it’s unmatched. I want him to see a race, not just as a spectator but as a fellow racer.”

Luca looks up, eyes brimming with tears. “You make it sound like I’m a hero. But I’m just trying to get by, just trying to ... to live.”

“And that’s what makes you a hero,” Charles replies gently. “Facing adversity and pushing through, not because of fame or accolades but because of love, hope, and sheer will.”

You feel a lump in your throat, deeply moved by Charles’ words. “It’s not just race wins or trophies that make you a champion, Charles. It’s moments like this. Thank you. This means more than words can say.”

He smiles, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “In the grand scheme of things, life is the most important race. And in that race, I’ve found two champions right here.”

***

In Monza, as you settle into the VIP area with Luca by your side, the excitement in the air is overwhelming in the best way possible. The roar of the engines, the sea of red flags, the bustling energy of the crowd — it is a sensory overload that fills Luca’s eyes with wonder.

“Monza is special, you know,” Charles whispers, kneeling next to Luca’s wheelchair, overlooking the historic Italian track. He slips off a red Ferrari bracelet from his wrist, its well-worn leather showing its age. “This was given to me when I first joined Ferrari. I like to think that it’s brought me luck ever since.”

Luca’s eyes widen, tracing the intricacies of the bracelet. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Charles smiles, “Today, I want you to hold onto my luck. Keep it safe for me, will you?”

Nodding fervently, Luca reverently holds the bracelet. “I promise.”

When Charles leaves to prepare for the race, Luca clutches the Ferrari bracelet to his heart. “Mama, did you see? He gave this to me. His lucky bracelet!”

You smile, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. He wants you to keep it safe. It’s a piece of his heart.”

As the race progresses, you both watch in awe as Charles’ navigates the twists and turns of the circuit. Your heart races with every lap, both as a fan and as someone who had come to know the man behind the helmet.

And then, the moment you’d never forget — a triumphant finish, Charles Leclerc taking the checkered flag. The Tifosi erupts into cheers, and during the celebration, you almost swear that Charles’ eyes find yours among the crowd.

Over the radio, his voice crackles through the airwaves, reaching not just the pits but into your very soul. “This one’s for Luca. Keep fighting, champ.”

Luca’s eyes widen, his hand clutching the bracelet even tighter. “Did you hear, Mama? He said it for me!”

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. “Yes, sweetheart. He said it for you.”

The post-race interview is a blur of emotions. Charles, sweaty and exhilarated, is asked about the race, about his victory. But then he pauses, his gaze distant yet focused, his voice trembling with emotion.

“This win ... it’s for someone very special. A young friend of mine named Luca. He’s fighting a battle much tougher than any race and his spirit, his courage — it’s what carried me through today. Luca, this is all for you.”

***

The roar of the crowd has faded but the emotional high from the race lingers. You, Luca, and Charles head back to the hotel provided by Ferrari with laughter and memories of the day filling the conversation.

However, as the night passes by, a chilling silence envelopes the room. Luca’s breathing becomes shallow, his skin clammy. Panic bubbles up within you. The medical equipment that was always close by in the hospital is absent here.

You rush to his side, your hands trembling as you try to comfort him. “Luca, honey, stay with me. Breathe.”

Charles, witnessing the scene, feels a deep pang of fear and helplessness. “I’ll call for help,” he says, fumbling for his phone.

As you count the seconds for first responders to arrive, Luca’s weak hand reaches out, clutching Charles’ wrist. His voice, barely a whisper, shares a desperate plea. “Charles, if ... if I don’t make it, promise me you’ll look after Mama. She’s strong but she'll need someone.”

Charles, tears blurring his vision, nods, squeezing Luca’s hand reassuringly. “I promise. But you’re a fighter. You have to keep racing, okay?”

Luca manages a faint smile. “Always racing, Charles. Always.”

Emergency services arrive soon, the room transforms into a flurry of medical professionals and machines. Charles wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as you both watched, praying for a miracle.

Hours feel like lifetimes. When the medical team finally manages to stabilize Luca, the emotional toll is evident in every face in the room.

You approach Luca’s bedside, gently stroking his forehead. “You gave us quite a scare, sweetheart.”

Luca, though exhausted, manages a faint smirk. “Had to keep the race interesting, right?”

Charles, his voice choked with emotion, adds, “Every race has its challenges, remember? You faced this one head-on, just like a true champion.”

Luca’s eyes meet Charles’ own, a depth of understanding passing between them. “Remember your promise,” he whispers.

Charles nods, his gaze drifting to you. “Always.”

***

“You know, I’ve seen some tough races,” Charles begins, his gaze distant, “but nothing compares to what I witnessed last night. The strength, the love, the sheer determination.”

You sigh, exhaustion stamped across your face. “Every day is a race. Some days, the finish line feels close, other days it feels miles away.”

Charles takes a deep breath, his voice wavering slightly, “I ... I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through but I want to be there, for both of you. Luca asked me to look after you and that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

You look up, surprised by the depth of his commitment. “You’ve done so much already. You’ve given Luca memories he will cherish forever.”

He moves closer, his eyes searching yours. “It’s not just about Luca. It’s about you too. Through this entire ordeal, the strength you’ve shown, the love … it’s made me see life in a different light.”

A silence envelopes the room, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring Luca.

“I’ve raced all over the world,” Charles whispers, “but I’ve never met someone who’s touched my heart the way you both have. I want to be there for you, for whatever you need.”

You blink back tears, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. “It’s been so long since someone offered to share the load. I’m not sure I know how to let someone in anymore.”

Charles gently takes your hand. “One step at a time. Just like in a race. We face each challenge as it comes, together.”

A tear escapes, trailing down your cheek. “Thank you, Charles.”

He brushes the tear away, his touch lingering. “No, thank you. For letting me be a part of your world and for showing me what real strength looks like.”

***

“Look at that,” Luca murmurs, pointing towards the sunset painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. The three of you sit atop a hill overlooking the city, a picnic blanket spread beneath you.

Charles takes a deep breath, the fresh air filling his lungs. “You know, moments like this make me appreciate life even more. The simple joys, the beauty all around.”

You nod, taking in the serene view. “It’s easy to get caught up in the chaos and forget these moments exist.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with a mix of mischief and wisdom beyond his years. “You two sound like philosophers. All I know is that this sandwich tastes amazing.”

You chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Always living in the moment, aren’t you?”

He grins. “That's the secret, Mama. We have to savor every bite, every sunset, every laugh.”

Charles, deeply moved, joins in. “You're right, Luca. In the races, I’ve learned that every second counts. It’s the same with life.”

Luca nods earnestly. “Exactly! You can’t rewind time. You can only enjoy it.”

The evening wears on with laughter, stories, and shared dreams. The three of you revel in the simplicity of the moment frozen in time.

As stars begin to sprinkle the night sky, Luca turns to Charles, a serious expression on his face. “Promise me something?”

Charles leans in, listening intently. “Anything.”

“Make more moments like this with Mama, even after ...” Luca's voice trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

Charles squeezes Luca’s hand, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise, champ. Moments full of love, laughter, and sunsets.”

Luca’s watery laugh has tears pooling in your eyes. “You know, when you look at the sunset, remember me. Remember this moment.”

You turn to him, tears now overflowing. “Luca …”

He smiles, a mixture of melancholy and contentment in his gaze. “I may not be here forever but I'll always be a part of these sunsets. A part of you.”

Charles, his voice a gentle whisper, adds, “And a part of me.”

***

“Mama?” Luca’s voice, frail and delicate like the gossamer wing of a butterfly, quivers with fear.

You lean in closer, grasping his hand between both of yours, heart heavy. “Yes, my love?”

He swallows hard, searching your eyes with his own clouded ones. “I’m scared, Mama. I don’t want to go.”

Tears blur your vision but you muster a brave smile for him. “I know, sweetheart. But remember our sunsets? Sometimes, the sun has to set to make way for a new dawn.”

Luca’s fingers weakly grip yours. “But what if it’s dark, Mama? What if it hurts? What if I’m all alone?”

Charles, unable to remain a silent spectator, interjects, his voice cracking with emotion. “You won’t be. It will be just like falling asleep. You’ll have the sunsets, the memories, and all the love we’ve shared. That light will never fade. We will always be here. I promise.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with tears but also a glimmer of hope. “Will you sing for me, Mama? The song from when I was small?”

Your heart breaks, remembering the countless nights you’d sung him to sleep. Taking a deep breath, you begin, your voice soft and lulling:

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray ...”

Luca’s breathing slows, his grip on your hand loosening.

“You’ll never know, dear,

How much I love you,

Please don’t take

My sunshine away.”

As the final note leaves your lips, Luca’s chest rises gently one last time, then stills. The room is silent, save for your heart-wrenching sobs.

Charles steps closer, wrapping his arms around you as you crumple into him, your world shattering. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, tears streaming down both your faces.

***

The somber quiet of the funeral is punctuated by the soft cries of mourners. The backdrop of gentle flowers contrast starkly with the weight of the grief in the air.

Charles stands next to you, holding a polished helmet, the vibrant colors of his Monza race-winning headgear gleaming under the sun. He turns to face you, eyes red-rimmed.

“This,” he starts, voice choked, “is my helmet from Monza. The race we won together. He was my co-driver that day, in spirit.”

You take a shaky breath, reaching out to touch the helmet, feeling its cool surface, the memories of that day flooding back. “He would’ve been so proud to have this.”

Charles nods, tears streaming down his face. “And this,” he says, taking the Ferrari bracelet off his wrist, “he held onto it for me once. I ... I want him to have it. To keep it safe.”

You clutch the bracelet, feeling its familiar weight, the leather still warm from Charles’ wrist. “It meant the world to him. And to me. Thank you.”

The two of you stand side by side, staring at the small casket adorned with flowers and memories. The embodiment of a life cut short but filled with love and unforgettable moments.

Together, you place the helmet and bracelet inside, a final tribute to a young racer whose journey had inspired so many.

“He’s free now,” Charles whispers, his voice barely audible. “Racing in the skies, no pain, no limits.”

You nod, tears flowing freely. “Our little champion, forever.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, both of you finding solace in each other’s warmth. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves, carrying with it the memories of a brave soul, forever remembered, forever missed.

***

The familiar crest of the hill looms ahead, the very spot where laughter and dreams once danced in the wind. You and Charles reach the top, the vast expanse of the horizon stretching out before you. The setting sun casts a golden hue, much like that unforgettable evening a year ago.

Charles lays down a blanket, reminiscent of that day, and the two of you sit, lost in memories. The silence isn’t empty — it’s filled with remembrance of a young boy’s laughter, his dreams, his courage. The hole he left behind in your hearts.

“Do you ever feel,” Charles hesitantly cuts through the quiet, “that Luca is still here with us, watching these sunsets?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “All the time. Every time I close my eyes under the setting sun or look up at the sky, I feel his presence.”

Charles takes a deep breath, struggling with his emotions. “I’ve been thinking about a way to honor Luca. To keep his spirit alive.”

You turn to him, eyes questioning.

“A foundation,” Charles begins, “In Luca’s name. To help children with terminal illnesses and their families. To give them hope, love, memories.”

You feel a rush of emotion, a tidal wave of love and loss. “He would have loved that. To know he’s making a difference even now.”

Charles nods, tears rolling down his cheeks. ‘It’s not just about the financial help. It’s about the moments, the memories. The sunsets and the picnics. The dreams and the hopes.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, drawing strength from the bond you’ve forged. “We’ll do it together. For Luca.”

The sun slowly dips below the horizon. As the first star appears, a sense of peace envelops the two of you. In the heart of sorrow, a new purpose is born, ensuring that Luca’s light continues to shine, guiding countless souls out of the darkness.

***

The sun sets in a blaze of colors, casting a warm glow over the hill that has become a symbolic memorial. Charles and you sit side-by-side, hand-in-hand, watching the bittersweet horizon.

A small voice breaks through the silence. “Mama, Papa, why do we come here?”

You turn to your daughter, a smile tugging at your lips. Lucia, with her curious eyes and radiant smile, is a constant reminder of love and life renewed.

“We come here to remember someone very special,” Charles explains gently, his eyes, so similar to your daughter’s, filled with tenderness.

Lucia looks at you both, a hint of understanding in her innocent gaze. “Luca?”

You nod, voice soft. “Yes, sweetheart. Your big brother. We come here to celebrate him, to tell stories about him, and to show him how much we love him.”

Lucia frowns slightly. “But I never got to meet him.”

You stroke her hair, your heart aching and swelling simultaneously. “He’s always with us, in our hearts. Just like you are.”

Charles leans down, wiping away a tear that escapes your eye. “And you’re named Lucia after him, to carry his memory forward.”

Lucia’s eyes light up, smile shining bright. “I’m like a part of him?”

“Yes,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “A part of him lives on in you. In all of us.”

As the sun dips below the horizon, bathing the world in twilight, you hold each other tightly, a family united by love, loss, and the enduring spirit of a young boy whose legacy lives on in every sunset, every star, and every beat of your hearts.

[martiansodas-blog]

Art x reader meeting the readers parents and it's an absolute mess:(

(bonus points if he finds her old room and plays with her calico critters and plushies)

ok my brain automatically went to older! art soooo…

your parents knew 2 things about your new boyfriend.

1- he’s successful.

and 2- he’s a couple years older than you.

a couple years is an understatement.

but you figured once they met him and saw how sweet he treated you it wouldn’t matter!

this did not turn out to be the case.

your mom and dad took one look at him and made a snap judgment.

they knew his type, (supposedly.)

old money. a younger girl on his arm. cold and aloof. power hungry.

it’s a shame. this couldn’t be farther from the truth.

art donaldson may be a weapon on the court, but behind closed doors he’s the little spoon who makes you heart shaped pancakes.

“so. where did the two of you meet?” your mother asks, more to be pleasant and less because she wants to know the answer.

“at work,” you said , fondly remembering the exchange, “he was-“

“heckling my daughter in the workplace?”

“mom.” you warn “no.”

“honey,” your dad reigns her in

she huffs and crosses her arms in defeat.

“i was needing some more tennis equipment, actually.” art chimes in,

“yeah he was looking for these fancy sweatbands but we didn’t carry any, we just sort of got to talking.”

your dad gave you both a soft smile

“well, you seem to make our little girl very happy.”

incoming call from: tashi

“speaking of little girl, that’s probably her saying goodnight. excuse me.”

art very politely stepped out onto the porch.

“he has a kid?” your mothers eyes looked like they could pop out of her head at any second. “honestly why on earth would you think this is a good idea?”

“yes he does and she’s very sweet. her names lily.” you said firmly.

“so what? you’re gonna be a stepmom in your early twenties? is that what you want?”

“i wanted to introduce the person i love to my parents. but obviously that was a bad idea.”

your dad ushers your mom into their bedroom. he gives you a apologetic glance before he closes the door.

you stood there, frozen in the entryway for an unknown amount of time. as long as it took for art to finish his call and rest his hands on your shoulders from behind.

“hey hey, what’s the matter? what happened?”

you didn’t realize you were crying until you started to speak. well, tried to speak anyway.

“they,” you sniffed, “she…i’m sorry,”

“oh honey,” he pulled you into a hug.

you buried your face in his toned chest.

“i should’ve known this would happen” you heaved, gripping his shirt.

“shh, shh it’s ok. this is most definitely not your fault.”

he stroked your back and pressed feather light kisses to your hairline until you calmed down. when you removed yourself there was a wet patch right in the middle of his torso.

“let’s go upstairs, yeah?” he suggested gently.

he was almost using his dad voice.

you nodded, grabbed his coarse hand and guided him up the steps.

“so this is your childhood bedroom?”

art took in the whimsy filled room. the ceiling was only about a foot taller than him.

“the one and only.” you managed to crack a smile.

it was just how you’d left it at 18. the walls were pink and green. a choice you’d made at 7 and never got around to changing.

you’re glad you never painted over it now, though. it makes you feel innocent again, like a time capsule you can walk into.

art strolled around the room. looking at drama club trophies that lined the bookshelf, the collection of calico critters and the photo booth films stuck on your mirror.

there was a good amount of dust on everything. it caused a pit in your stomach to open up.

“you ok?”

“yeah” you nodded, “just got a little carried away by nostalgia.”

art wasn’t sure if touch would be the right thing for you right now, so he opened his arms, giving you the option.

you hugged him without a second thought. like an instinct. you squeezed him with all your might, like a stress ball. art hardly felt it, though.

figures.

“meeting my family will go better. my grandmas already looking forward to it.”

you lifted your head to look at him.

“really?”

such a simple sentence gave you butterflies.

“yeah,” he chuckled, like it was obvious “i’ve told her all about you.”

you truly didn’t know what to say. so touched by the sincerity and excitement in his tone. it. it caused you to break into a smile, a real smile, for the first time since you’d got to your parents house.

“i’d like that very much.”

[nadvs]

why do i see cheerleader reader having daddy issues, so when she tells rafe she’s pregnant, she’s so emotional and scared about how he’s gonna react and if he’s gonna break up with her or something

it tracks 🥺 she always expects to be disappointed by men and it’s not just because every guy she’s dated before rafe has treated her badly…

based on this fic

when she moves in with rafe after she finishes her post-grad internship, she’s still on the pill. one day, she’s complaining about the side effects of it as she’s making herself lunch and her boyfriend says, “then stop taking it.”

she looks at him from across the kitchen.

“we’d have to use protection,” she says. “every time.”

“sure. but is it so bad if…?”

she’s shocked. they’ve been together for about two years now and they’ve never talked about kids past a mention of it’d be nice to be parents some day.

“if i get pregnant?” she says.

“yeah.”

“isn’t that fast?”

“not for me. is it fast for you?”

she shrugs. maybe it’s not so crazy. they have their future set. a child would be a nice addition. they haven’t talked about marriage, but she’s in no rush. they don’t have to be married to have a baby.

“if we both want it… i guess if it happens, it happens,” she mumbles. “but our lives would change really, really drastically.”

“i know,” rafe says comfortingly.

she continues to make herself food and he stares at her, imagining her with a baby bump and that bump turning into a little human who’s a mix of him and the person he loves most.

he knows she’d be a great mom. and he’s always wanted to be a dad. he’s always wanted to undo how his own father had raised him, making his only son have to struggle for his fleeting approval.

three months later, she misses her period. she doesn’t tell rafe. she picks up a pregnancy test. she doesn’t tell him that, either. when she sees the double lines on the test, she’s standing in the middle of their bathroom, her body trembling.

and she hates that she doesn’t feel excited. she’s scared. she thought she wanted this. she hoped for a positive. but this isn’t the feeling she thought she’d have.

she goes through the motions of ordering a custom newborn basketball jersey with cameron stitched on the back, having dreamed of telling rafe that they’re expecting that way.

a couple of days later, it comes in the mail. she has actually sort of liked keeping the secret while she waited because it meant she could pretend it wasn’t real yet.

she does what she thinks she should do. she puts the tiny shirt in a bag, sets up her phone to record, and calls him over to tell him something came for him. this is what a woman who’s excited to tell him would do, she tells herself.

at first, when rafe opens the bag, he doesn’t say anything. his jaw goes slack, he blinks a bunch of times, and then he pulls her in for a tight hug.

she’s already shaking, tears in her eyes, when she hears him sniffle. he pulls back. his hands are firm on her cheeks, gazing at her through glossy blue eyes.

“you’re happy?” she whispers.

“yeah,” he responds, saying it like it’s obvious. “we wanted this, right?”

rafe stills for a moment when he sees just how anguished she looks. she doesn’t seem happy at all.

“right?” he repeats.

“yeah,” she says, nodding and looking down. “i don’t know. it’s weird. maybe it’s the hormones already.”

“how long have you known? do you feel okay?”

“just a couple days,” she says. “i’m tired. a little nauseous. but he hasn’t made me throw up yet.”

“he?”

she meets her boyfriend’s eyes.

“i know it’s too soon to tell,” she says, “but i really hope it’s a boy. you’ll feel more connected to a boy.”

he can tell by the way she’s stuttering and crying that something’s wrong.

“baby,” he mumbles. “i’ll feel connected no matter what. it’s my kid.”

she shudders, nodding through her sobs.

“what’s up?” rafe says softly. “do you… are you regretting it?”

“no,” she replies, “but are you sure you want this?”

“yes. we talked about it,” he reminds her. “it’s not like this was an accident.”

“yeah,” she mumbles, looking down at her lap again.

rafe stares at her, slightly shaking his head in disbelief. she’s acting like this was unexpected. like she’s wishing they never started trying.

“what is it?” he says. “if you don’t want this, then just tell me.”

she curls up, slouching as she dips her head into her hands, the tears coming harder now.

“if it gets hard…” she whimpers, her voice muffled. “you can’t leave me to do it on my own. you can’t.”

he’s floored. they haven’t mentioned anything about the possibility of things not working out with them in ages. and back when they did, it was almost always rafe needing reassurance that she wasn’t planning on leaving him.

“i would never do that,” he says. “look at me.” his fingers wrap around her wrists, pulling her hands down from her face.

“where’s this coming from?” rafe mumbles. “did i do something?”

he thinks back to the past few days, trying to remember if he said something even in passing that would make her worry about him abandoning his girl and their baby.

the look in his eyes almost looks like betrayal. like he can’t believe she’s saying this.

she swallows hard, coming to terms with what’s been swimming in her head for days now. her father was absent. the only example she had of a dad was one who never really acted like he wanted a kid at all.

“i don’t know what it looks like,” she begins, “when a man actually wants to be a dad. maybe you’re excited now, but what if when it gets hard? when he’s crying or sick or keeping us awake?”

“we’ll deal with it,” he says. he pushes past his own ache to try to understand her.

his cups her hands in his, searching her face with concerned eyes. he remembers her opening up to him long ago about how she always wondered if her dad would have loved her more if she was a son instead of a daughter.

“when he or she is giving us hell, we’ll deal with it,” he says. “i love them already. there’s nothing that’ll change that.”

he puts a hand on her stomach, rubbing gently. she finally cracks a smile, softly laughing. his chest loses its tightness when he sees her look happy for the first time since he got home.

“i was reading that it’s the size of a pomegranate seed right now,” she says.

he smiles in awe, kissing her wet cheek.

“what’s next?” he asks. “what appointments do we make? what should you be eating?”

she laughs again. rafe has always been so intense, so focused on the next step.

“let me catch my breath first,” she teases. she looks over, just now remembering she filmed all this.

“my bad, baby,” he laughs. “breathe. this’ll be good, alright?”

“alright,” she says. and she believes it.

[stevie-petey]

episode four: the body

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal.  “Hey! Henderson!” “Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you.  His unexpected shouting causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you.  “Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

summary: you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

rating: general but plenty of cursing as usual.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 8k

before you swing in: hello ! happy eve of a spending time with loved ones, however ya choose to celebrate or not celebrate and all that jazz. i hope y'all are well and doing okay :) a LOT happens in this chapter, so buckle up. so many feelings and revelations my god. also this chapter is one i really loved writing purely because i got to explore more of steve and reader so ,,, ya welcome ! (hopefully i was able to clear up jonathans thoughts and how he processes, i really want it to come across as someone hurt and overwhelmed rather than just him being cranky lmao). anyways, enjoy !!

-

It’s a quiet morning.

You roll over, the sunlight streaming through your curtains, and for a moment you forget. It’s a blissful moment, sweet naivety that strokes your cheek and coaxes your eyes open. As you throw your arms over your head and stretch, last night’s events haven’t caught up to you quite yet. 

Then you feel Jonathan’s body next to yours and for a moment you’re confused. He never sleeps in your bed whenever he spends the night, being ever the gentleman. No matter how many times you offer, he always insists on respecting your mother’s wishes and sleeping on the giant beanbag chair within your room, and it always makes your heart warm. 

Your mother had specifically bought the beanbag for Jonathan when you were thirteen. He had been spending more and more nights at your home, sneaking in through your window to avoid his parents fighting. At first he would simply fall asleep on your carpet, despite your many reassurances that he could sleep in your bed, so when your mom unexpectedly barged into your room one morning and saw him lying face down on the ground, she freaked. 

Once you had explained everything to her (with Jonathan’s permission), she had shoved you guys into her car, dropped him off at his house, and then found the beanbag at a garage sale for $10. 

“This way, he’ll have a place to sleep that’s soft and cozy, away from my young daughter,” she had said during the drive home. You had covered your face in embarrassment at her implication, but you were also incredibly proud to call her your mom at that moment. She may be overbearing at times, but she was the kindest woman you’ve ever met. 

You rub your eyes and glance at the bean bag that sits between your bed and wall, its dusty blue color almost glowing in the early morning light. Then you glance at Jonathan, who has woken up before you, and notice the redness in his eyes and the dark circles now darker than ever. 

Then it all comes rushing back to you. 

Will’s body in the quarry. 

Holding your brother as he mourned his friend. 

El, so quiet and shy and sweet, running away after your cruel dismissal. 

Jonathan showing up to your window hours later, broken and devastated. 

Then, late into the night, the two of you falling asleep, side by side in your bed, both needing each other more than ever before. 

The two of you get ready without saying anything. You hand Jonathan some spare clothes of his that you keep in a drawer before giving him some space as you go and take a shower. You spend longer than usual getting ready, but you pay no attention to the clock. There’s no way you’re going to school today. You’re not leaving Jonathan alone for even a second. 

Jonathan finishes getting ready before you do and waits in your room. Neither of you have said anything yet, last night being too fresh in your memories, but words aren’t needed between the two of you. 

You take his hand and lead him into your kitchen and wordlessly hand him a banana. He stares at you, and you stare back, silently challenging him to decline the food. He needs to eat. You’ve noticed how thin he’s gotten with everything happening. 

He sighs, knowing he won’t win this fight, and takes a bite out of the banana in a mocking manner, but you’re just relieved he’s eating. 

You grab your own breakfast before writing a note for your mom, informing her that you’ll be with Jonathan today and promising to make up any missed assignments as soon as you can. Then you quietly go into Dustin’s room to check up on him, but his bed is empty. You glance at his alarm clock and note the early hour, he doesn’t normally leave for school for another thirty minutes, which makes you frown. 

Where the hell did the kid run off to?

An uneasy feeling settles over you, but you don’t have time to question anything. Knowing Dustin, he ran off to school earlier than usual to see his friends and distract himself from last night. While your mom offered you both to stay home for the rest of the week due to Will’s death, neither of you have ever been good at staying put and dealing with your emotions.

Wherever your brother is, you know he needs his space.

Once everything is settled, you join Jonathan in his car and drive to his place. While he never explicitly asked you to this morning, you know that you’re going to his house with him to help him deal with his mother and the funeral preparations. 

He doesn’t have to ask, and you don’t have to tell him that you’ll help. 

You both just know. 

About halfway to his place, Jonathan finally speaks. 

“The cops say that Will crashed his bike and fell into the quarry,”

“Jonathan, we don’t have to talk about it right now-”

“My mom doesn’t believe that he’s dead. She-she insists that he’s in the walls, that he can speak through-through… Christmas lights.”

His voice shakes as he speaks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to grief or anger. 

“Will is dead and my mom chooses to believe that there’s some monster in our walls that took him.”

“A monster?” you think about El and her powers and the fear on the boys’ faces when she pulled out the Demogorgon piece. Then you remember the other night at the Byers’ home when Joyce came running outside as the lights were flickering wildly. Her fear had been genuine. 

“A fucking monster that’s hiding in our walls. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t listen, Y/N. I tried talking to her, to calm her down, but she just…” His words fade off, and he clenches his jaw as tightens his hands around the steering wheel. 

You’re not sure what to say. It’s a tough situation, a fucking heartbreaking one, and it’s all so unfair. Jonathan needs his mom, but his mom needs Will. 

You rest your hand behind his head and allow your fingers to rub circles against his skin. He leans into your touch, and for now this is all you can do. 

The state of the Byers’ home has only gotten worse since the last time you were there. There’s now letters painted on the wall and string lights placed all throughout the house. There’s also clothes in random corners and trash thrown around. 

Jonathan had been staying in this house alone, watching his mother spiral. Your stomach twists with guilt. 

You should’ve been there more for him, but instead you allowed your petty need to help everyone distract you from what’s important. 

Joyce is passed out on the couch with an ax clutched between her hands, which breaks your heart even more. Jonathan walks over to wake her up and you give the two of them some privacy as you head into the kitchen to make Joyce some breakfast. 

Their fridge is barren, but you aren’t surprised. You make do with the few eggs you find and get to work; it isn’t much, but it’ll have to do. As you prepare breakfast, you notice a stack of Will’s drawings on the kitchen table, which causes you to gag with remorse. 

There’s still so much of Will within these walls, his entire childhood still locked inside, untouched, and yet the house lacks his presence. 

He’s gone. 

– 

You wait with Hopper in the morgue waiting room, nervously tapping your foot and frantically trying to distract yourself with a comic. The words blur together in your head and the images float around. You can’t focus on anything. For once, Spidey’s quips and banter can’t distract you from reality. 

Not only are you incredibly worried for Joyce and Jonathan, but the thought of Will’s body being a wall away from you sends chills down your spine. You can’t imagine what’s happening behind the doors, and you’re secretly relieved that you’ll never know. 

“What’s taking so long?” Hopper’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

You put your comic down and listen, figuring that it’s best if you’re caught up on everything so that you can store away any useful information for later. 

The front desk lady sighs. “Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.”

This catches Hopper’s attention. “Without Gary?”

“I thought you knew. Those men from State, they… they sent Gary home last night.”

Now this catches your attention. Why would the State replace the town’s coroner? 

“So who did the autopsy?” 

“Someone from State.” 

Hopper looks at you, almost as if to ask if you’re also hearing this, and you give him a slight nod. It’s odd, really damn odd. 

“Why would they send someone for a little boy?” You ask Hopper, but he only shakes his head in response. 

In the back of your mind, you think about what El had warned you of. The bad men, the people she has to hide from… it didn’t make sense at the time, but now…

Your thoughts are cut off as Jonathan runs out the door, his hand over his mouth, and you immediately get up to help him outside. He throws up against the wall outside, and you wince at the smell. You’ve never been good with people getting sick, but Jonathan needs you right now, so you rub soothing circles on his back as he throws up. Once he’s done, you head back inside and wait for Joyce. 

You offer Jonathan a tissue before coaxing him to rest his head on your shoulder. Having nothing else to do, yet urgently wanting to help, you begin to read him some panels from your comic. He doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a sign to keep going. Your voice is hoarse from all your crying, but you read aloud anyways. 

Hopper watches your interaction with a small interest. You don’t notice his curious eyes and the way they seem to glint with sincerity. In his eyes, the two of you will get together soon enough. 

After a couple minutes, Hopper finally asks Jonathan how Joyce is holding up. The boy straightens up, but grabs your hand to steady himself, and responds as best as he can. He explains the lights, the letters on the wall, everything. 

“She’s had anxiety problems in the past, but this…? I don’t know.” He takes a shaky breath, and you draw reassuring patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m worried it could be… god, I don’t know.”

“She’s grieving,” you remind him, and he nods. 

“Yeah, she’s grieving, but she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay; my mom, she’s tough.”

“Like Spider-Man,” you say, though you don’t really mean to. You’re tired and the words just slip out, but Jonathan begins to laugh. 

“Yeah, like Spider-Man, you’re right. Thanks, bug.” 

“Anytime, bee.” 

Jonathan smiles at you, still softly laughing, and it’s then that you realize. He hasn’t laughed in days, he’s hardly even smiled, and yet here he is, smiling at the stupid nickname you gave him and laughing at the stupid joke you didn’t even mean to say; you realize you’d do anything to get him to laugh again, to give you that smile that he’s only ever reserved for you. He squeezes your hand and his eyes shine for a moment with a familiar warmness that has always made you weak. 

It hits you like a cold, cruel wave on a harsh winter day. 

You’re in love with Jonathan. 

Fuck.

It’s horrible timing, and you feel sick with guilt for realizing that you love your best friend merely hours after his brother has died, but now it’s all you can think about. 

You love him, you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything before, but you can’t tell him. It wouldn’t be fair, and you don’t have the time. 

You’re thankful when Hopper begins to talk again, reiterating that Joyce is tough, so that you have the time to process your newfound feelings. 

Then Joyce comes crashing through the door, screaming about how whatever is in the other room isn’t Will, ignoring everyone who tells her to calm down. Both you and Jonathan stand up to calm her down, your comic dropping to the ground in the process, but she doesn’t listen and instead runs outside. 

“Mom!” Jonathan follows after her. 

You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears before picking up the comic. You know that Jonathan needs to be alone with Joyce right now, give them some privacy, it’s a personal matter. More personal than anything else, and yet you also selfishly don’t want to be near him for a few moments so you can collect yourself as well. 

As you’re gathering your things, Hopper clears his throat. 

“Do you love him?”

You freeze, having not expected such a personal question. You’ve only just realized your feelings for him, how the hell has Hopper already figured it out? “What does it matter? His brother is dead and his mom is losing it.”

Hopper rubs his hand over his face, giving you a warning look. “But do you love the kid?”

It’s the way he says it, like it means life or death, that has you respond, “I do.”

“Take care of him, then.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it, urging you to understand the weight of his words, and you do. 

You’ve heard about how his daughter had died and his wife divorced him soon after. They’d only ever been rumors to you, but now you know that they’re true. He’s telling you to take care of Jonathan, that your love for him means that you have to take care of him in a way that no one else can. 

In a way, you suppose that you and Hopper aren’t so different after all, and you gain a new sense of respect for the man. 

You swallow deeply and nod at him before excusing yourself to follow after Jonathan and Joyce. 

– 

The mother and son in question are a few blocks down the street, Joyce waving her son away as he follows her with the car. 

You sigh. 

This day definitely sucks. 

Running up to them is a pain in the ass, honestly. You get that you gave them some privacy, but damn. Did Jonathan seriously have to take the car as well? 

When you finally catch up, he’s parking. “Hey, what are you-” 

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he turns the engine off and runs after his mom. 

“Seriously?” You groan, clutching at a stitch in your side from running. Usually you’re a great runner, actually choosing to go for a run whenever you’re particularly stressed out or anxious. However with the shitshow that this week has been, you haven’t gone on your morning run in a while and you’re starting to feel the effects of being out of practice. 

Joyce, being surprisingly fast, is hard to catch up with, but you do your best as Jonathan sprints ahead of you. When he finally reaches her, he grabs at her jacket with a determined look in his eyes. 

You hang back, now regretting the fact that you left the coroner’s office in the first place. 

“Mom, stop!” 

“Just go home, Jonathan.”

“No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down.”

“Shut down… what-” The confusion in Joyce’s eyes is enough to make you feel Jonathan’s frustration as well. You feel for the woman, you really do, but she has another son to worry about. Jonathan is still here, he’s lost his own baby brother, he needs his mom now more than ever.

But Joyce, too lost in her own grief and desperation, can’t see that. 

“We have to deal with this, mom. We have to deal with the funeral!” You’ve never heard Jonathan raise his voice at his mom before, but after days of begging for her attention, you’re proud of him for defending himself.

The word “funeral” seems to snap Joyce out of her daze and once again she goes on her tangent about how Will’s body isn’t really back at the morgue, that he’s still alive, and Jonathan’s anger in his voice makes you ache. 

As he and his mom continue to yell at one another, a few nosy people in the town area stand and watch. They whisper to each other, no doubt about how Will’s death has made Joyce Byers crazy, and you kick a few rocks at them. 

“Fuck off! At least pretend that you aren’t a bunch of nosy assholes like most decent people do.” A woman sneers at you, but you wave your arms above your head, “Oh! Scary! Get fucked!” 

Eventually they do as they’re told and walk away from the screaming mother and son, which pleases you. 

You really hope that random lady wasn’t a patron of Bookstrordinary though. 

“Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, Y/N and I will be planning a funeral for Will!” Jonathan’s voice is laced with bitterness as he screams at his mother, breaking your heart even more. “I’m not letting him sit in that freezer another day!” 

Joyce storms off, but you notice that her shoulders shake with tears as she leaves. 

It’s such a devastating situation, and while you’re also frustrated with the way she’s been treating Jonathan, you also know that maybe her craziness isn’t exactly “crazy”. El is still out there, even if you’re not sure where, and you think about how she was able to control the comic book and the game pieces. The static electricity you felt in the air when she used her powers, the same static you felt at the Byers’ home a few nights ago when Joyce came running outside with the lights flashing and Will’s song playing on the radio.

But then you think about how El promised that Will was alive. 

He isn’t; you see his dead body every time you close your eyes. 

So really, what is there to believe?

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Jonathan walking towards you until he grasps at your arm and flings you along back to the car with him. He’s breathing heavily and you notice that he’s shaking. He’s in no condition to drive. 

As you near the car you quickly reach around and grab his keys from his pocket before running over to the driver’s side and throwing yourself into the seat. Jonathan hates when you drive the car, not because you’re a bad driver, but because some part of him truly believes it’s impolite to make a girl drive. 

As cute as you think his chivalry is, today you couldn’t give more of a damn. 

Jonathan stands outside your door. “Y/N-”

“Nope, no time to argue, Byers. Get in.” 

“But-” 

“In.”

He does as he’s told, albeit with some attitude, but eventually the two of you are off. Without having to ask, you drive to the local funeral home. While you and Jonathan are similar in many ways, the one thing that pulls you together is planning. You both cling onto the stability that planning provides, and right now Jonathan is clinging onto his responsibilities for Will’s funeral.

Like he told his mom earlier, you and him have a funeral to plan. 

The funeral home is closer to the edge of Hawkins, so the drive is a longer one. Along the way Jonathan slowly begins to calm down, untensing his shoulders and releasing his clenched jaw. You let him take all the time he needs, thankful that for now you have some time to yourself to reflect over today’s revelation.

You love Jonathan. 

Those three words are heavy within your chest, and you almost don’t want to think about them, but you know that sooner or later you’ll have to. You glance at Jonathan, the late fall sun casts a warm glow on his face that for a brief moment brings back the boy you knew only a week ago, before everything changed. Then he turns to face you and you see the red in his eyes, his cheeks sunken in, and you know that you don’t have the time to unravel whatever you feel for him. 

He needs his best friend right now.

Jonathan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, his voice cracking a bit from disuse. “Can we talk about yesterday?” 

You cast him a quick glance. “Yesterday?”

“Our… our fight, I guess.” 

“Oh,” you shift your hands on the steering wheel, now suddenly painfully aware of the silence within the car. “We don’t have to right now, bee. We should be focusing on the funeral arrangements.” 

Your voice catches on the word “funeral”, it still hasn’t sunk in yet that Will is really gone. 

“Bug, for the past eighteen hours all I’ve been thinking about is Will,” he takes a shaky breath and you gently place a hand on his, encouraging him to keep talking, “but when I’m not thinking about him… I’m thinking about you and what-what you said yesterday.” 

“I said a lot yesterday-” 

Jonathan gives you a pleading look. “Please just let me get this out, okay?”

You purse your lips but remain silent. 

“I will never, ever deserve you. This week and my actions have proven that. This isn’t some pathetic attempt to make you pity me, I was an asshole to you and I recognize that. You love people in a way that terrifies me, Y/N. You’re my best friend and I think I would actually die if I ever lost you.”

A snort escapes your lips, “you probably would.”

“I definitely would, but this isn’t about me. I’m so, so sorry for how I’ve been treating you lately and the fact that you’re driving me to a funeral home after watching my mom have a meltdown in the town square without even batting an eye is all the more proof that you’re too good for me.” 

“I wouldn’t say too good, but yeah. Close enough.”

“It’s more than enough, bug. That’s what terrifies me: I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you’ve done for me, even before Will disappeared; you’ve been taking care of me since we were twelve.”

His words hang in the air as you allow them to wash over you. There’s so much you want to disagree with, namely the fact that he doesn't deserve you, but you know that he wouldn’t want to hear your arguments. 

Again you think about how similar the two of you are, and while you both give your all to the people that you love, your love comes freely while Jonathan has grown up believing that it comes with conditions. It’s never been a problem in your relationship until now, but you guess with how much you’ve been overcompensating for everything, the need to return it all has caught up with him. 

Finally, you speak. “You feel that you can’t accept my help because I’ve already done enough for you. Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan takes a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid, especially because I’m asking for your help right now with the funeral preparations, but…”

“I understand, but we’ll get through it,” you pull into the funeral home parking lot and turn the car off. “We always do, right?” 

“Right,” Jonathan’s smile is a weak one, but you accept it nonetheless. 

“Now, you ready to go look at children’s coffins like real men and women do?” 

He laughs at your poor attempt at a joke, but even he can admit that objectively the entire situation is morbid. “Only real best friends go coffin shopping together.” 

“My thoughts exactly, good sir.” Then, before you forget, you reach over and whack Jonathan’s head with the back of your hand. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

You shrug your shoulders, “ask Nancy.”

And with that, you unbuckle your seatbelt and head into the funeral home, trusting that Jonathan will follow eventually enough. Things aren’t exactly the same between the two of you, especially with your newfound feelings for him, but it’s a start. 

“I deserved that,” you hear Jonathan grumble, which makes you smile. 

You’ll take whatever you can get.

– 

You spot Nancy before Jonathan does. 

It wasn’t intentional, really, but the funeral home director was droning on and on about the different wood selections for coffins and finishes that you can customize and it all makes you want to throw up; the coffins before you are so small, you weren't really paying attention in the first place. 

She stands in the doorway and motions for you to get Jonathan’s attention, who is deeply focused on everything the old man is saying. A part of you wants to ignore the girl, but the scared look on her face tells you that this is something serious. 

You nudge your shoulder against Jonathan’s and point at Nancy; he excuses the two of you as you walk towards her. 

Jonathan shoves his hands in his pockets, a bit guarded. “Hey,”

“Hey, your mom, um… said you’d be here.” 

“You talked to Mrs. Byers?” You ask, feeling a sudden possessiveness over the woman. Sure, you were kind of okay sharing Jonathan with Nancy so long as she was with Harrington, but Joyce? She’s like a second mother to you.

It made you uneasy that Joyce even talked to her in the first place. 

Nancy tilts her head at you. “Yeah, it was only for a brief moment though. She seemed pretty… distracted.” 

“No shit. Her son died, Nancy.” 

The girl flinches a bit at your tone, which causes Jonathan to yank at your sleeve and shove you behind him. “Ignore her, we’ve had… Well, it’s been a long day.” 

You feel your shoulders drop and unclench your fists. “Sorry, is everything okay? Is it the boys?”

“No, they’re fine, I just,” Nancy’s eyes shoot towards you, uncertain, before directing them towards Jonathan. “Can we talk for a second?”

The photos Nancy shows you makes your blood run cold. They start with Barb sitting alone by the pool, but slowly she pulls out more and more pieces of the torn picture to create a terrifying image with a shadow-like figure looming over her friend. 

Jonathan tries to sum the shadow up to lens distortion, but you know that he’s wrong. Nancy asks more questions, trying to figure out exactly what has happened to Barb, but all you can think about is El. 

You check the time on your watch and curse. It’s late afternoon now, you’ve been gone with Jonathan since early this morning. Dustin hadn’t been in his room when you left and you stupidly assumed that he’d gone off to school. Now, seeing the picture of Barb and that thing… Something is so goddamn wrong. 

“The cops think that she ran away,” Nancy says. 

“Just like they did with Will,” you’re whispering more to yourself than to them, but Jonathan hears you anyway. 

“Maybe she did run away-” 

Nancy shakes her head. “No, she wouldn’t do that. They don’t know Barb. When I went back to Steve’s… I thought I saw something.”

Your head shoots up. “Nancy, what did you see?”

“Some weird man,” the urgence in your voice confuses the girl, but you silently push her to keep talking, “or… I don’t know what it was.”

Both you and Jonathan are quiet afterwards for very different reasons. 

He’s quiet because he probably thinks Nancy is crazy, just like his mom. 

You’re quiet because you’re currently afraid you’ve accidentally left your idiotic brother and his friends and El alone with very real monsters and possible bad men. The figure Nancy saw… El being terrified of bad people finding and hurting her…

Well shit. 

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have come here today-”

You stop Nancy from leaving. “No, you should stay… I think,” you look at Jonathan, nervous for how he may react to what you’re about to say. “I think I might have an idea of what you saw last night. A lot has happened since Will disappeared, things that I’m still trying to understand, but I think I know where to start finding an explanation.” 

Jonathan turns to you. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Technically I did try telling you a few nights ago but then you yelled at me and threw a jacket at my face-” 

“You threw a jacket at Y/N?” Nancy asks, which you and Jonathan ignore. 

“But for now I can’t tell you anything else. I made a promise, and I’m not sure I’m right or even sane for considering it an explanation, but we need to leave. Now.”

“A promise? To who?” There’s an edge of hurt in Jonathan’s voice and you desperately wish you could explain more to him, but now isn’t the time. Not with Nancy sitting between you two and her own brother involved. You don’t want to cause any unnecessary worry for her; right now she needs to focus on Barb. You’ll wrangle in the boys, it’s your fault they’re even alone right now with El.

“I can’t exactly say who, but just trust me, okay? Again: I really hope I’m just insane and worried about nothing and that this will all be an embarrassing laugh for us later.”

“Y/N-”

“Jonathan, we need to go.” 

“‘We’?” Nancy now speaks up, seemingly fed up by your vague exchange with Jonathan.

You try to collect yourself and pretend like you have some amazing plan. “Yes, we. Jonathan will take you to the photo developing room at school and see if you can make the pictures clearer. On the way there, he’ll drop me off at home so I can grab my bike and head out.”

“And what will you be doing?” The boy asks.

“Tracking down my brother, unfortunately.” 

He gives you a doubtful look. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to just let you run off on your own without more of an explanation.” 

You know he’s right, but you just… you can’t tell him about El and the bad men yet. You can’t. Not until you know for sure what the hell is happening. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing… but just in case, I really need to find Dustin, okay?” 

I’m a really, really bad babysitter, you think. 

Jonathan opens his mouth again as if to argue, but you hold your hand up to silence him. You really don’t want to waste time fighting with him. He has to trust you on this, whether he likes it or not. 

He sighs with defeat, “Just be safe, please.”

You also really don’t want to put anyone else in danger. It’s bad enough that you allowed the boys to get dragged into this mess, but you refuse to drag your best friend in as well. But really, who knows? Maybe you’re just a regular idiot who believes in fairy tales and monsters, not some idiot who leaves three overly naive boys alone with a girl with superpowers. 

God you hope you’re just a regular idiot. 

However, if Joyce believes that Will is alive, even without the knowledge of El and her powers, then you’re sure that the boys also believe he’s alive and will inevitably go looking for him again. Alone. In the same woods Nancy saw that strange figure. 

You cast those thoughts out of your head and give Jonathan what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When am I not safe?”

You really, truly hope that you’re just an idiot, but if the photos that you just saw scare you. Before he can change his mind, you quickly reach over and snatch Jonathan’s keys from his jacket and give him a peck on the cheek before running out to his car.

“I call shotgun, Nancy!”

– 

Unsurprisingly, the drive with Nancy and Jonathan is an awkward one. Things are still a bit tense between you and him for reasons you’re not sure you can tell him about just yet, and now Nancy is in the backseat trying not to make any sound, so really it was a doomed car ride from the start. 

It’s not that you don’t like the girl, but there’s something about the way she acts around Jonathan that honestly makes you want to collapse. You know she’s with Harrington, but the tenderness Jonathan has shown her the few times they’ve interacted makes you uneasy. 

Yesterday you chalked the uneasiness to simply never sharing Jonathan before, but now you know the truth. 

You’re jealous because you’re in love with him. 

It’s a nauseating feeling. 

“So, how long have the two of you been friends?” Nancy’s question surprises you, mostly because she should already know the answer. You know she’s just trying to make conversation, but the question itself further reminds you of why the two of you had drifted apart in the first place. 

“I moved here when I was twelve, remember? Your family helped us move in.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry,” You see Nancy nervously playing with her fingers in the rearview mirror, which makes you feel bad. She’s trying, you know she is. 

“It’s fine,” you try to catch her eye, and when you do you give her a smile. “I know you probably don’t remember much from that day. It was the middle of the school year and our brothers immediately started being annoying together, so you had gone inside after only a couple minutes.” 

Nancy laughs, now remembering that day. “Didn’t Mike hold an initiation for Dustin that night?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh with her now. “That’s actually how Jonathan and I met. Remember, bee?” 

Jonathan’s smile is a soft one, a smile that makes you feel weak because you know you’re the reason it’s there. “Of course I do. We both showed up at the Wheeler’s house at the same time to pick up our brothers.” 

“And then-” 

“I answered the door.” Nancy finishes for you. 

“Yup. Ever since then, Jonathan hasn’t been able to get rid of me.” 

“It’s been horrible,” he says with a monotone voice, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s joking. 

You punch his shoulder. “You weren’t complaining when I saved you from those bullies later that week.” 

Jonathan gives you a pointed look and tries to subtly motion towards Nancy, clearly embarrassed that you've brought the bullies up in front of her. Like he wants her to think he’s someone cooler than he really is. 

Your smile vanishes. 

He wants to impress her. 

“Right, sorry,” you clear your throat and if Nancy notices your sudden mood change, she doesn’t say anything. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and remind yourself that what matters right now are the boys and El. They should be your priority, not petty boy drama. 

Luckily Jonathan pulls into your driveway not long after the abrupt conversation ending, which you’re thankful for. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face Nancy, and it takes everything in you to force a smile on your face. “Alright, well, this is my stop! Nancy, I’m trusting you to tell me whatever you and Jonathan find. I’d ask him to keep me updated, but I know he’ll inevitably forget.”

The girl nods at you. “You can trust me.” 

Can I?

Although you’re not exactly sure what it is that you don’t think you can trust her with. Then, your eyes drift to Jonathan and the way he’s staring at her from his own mirror, and you realize that maybe she’s not the one you should be worried about. 

“Good,” you turn to Jonathan now. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“And I’ll answer… probably.” 

“You’re so sweet to me.”

“I know, right?” 

You snort at the boy and wave goodbye to him and Nancy before getting out of the car. Your bike is in the shed, so you motion to Jonathan that he’s good to leave. When he’s sure you’re okay, he waves at you one last time and drives away. 

It feels like you’ve made a huge mistake as you watch Jonathan and Nancy leave, but you don’t have time to think about why. Dustin’s bike isn’t in the shed alongside yours, which you expected, and you have to find him. 

Your brother and his idiotic friends need you right now. 

– 

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal. 

“Henderson!”

“Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you. 

His unexpected shouting from the other side of the road causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you. 

“Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?” 

You glare at the boy. “You are a man, I am a woman. It’s getting dark outside. What exactly made you think it’s a good idea to yell out at me?”

“Well, I mean, I called after you.” He says, so matter of factly that it makes you want to strangle him. 

You hate him. You really do.

A strand of hair has fallen in your face, so you blow it away before bothering to answer. “My apologies, you called after me and almost killed me in the process.”

Steve winks at you. “Apology accepted.” 

You stare at him, unamused and still in the middle of the damn road, and after a couple beats of silence you cock your head at the boy. “Are you going to tell me what you need or…?”

“Oh,” Steve coughs, as if startled by your question. “Honestly I didn’t really have a plan when I called after you. I just kinda did, so…” 

“Right, well.” You clench your jaw in annoyance. Why are you even surprised that Harrington has wasted your time? “This was fun, let’s never do it again sometime!”

You ride off on your bike, trying to quickly get up the hill so that you can get to the Wheeler’s before it gets too dark to see. The hill is brutal and it’s almost embarrassing how long it’s taking you to get up it, and as you’re huffing and dripping in sweat, headlights come up from behind you. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groan. 

Steve’s car is now right next to you, the fucker having done a complete u-turn to follow after you. His window is still rolled down and he has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out his window. 

“Hello again, Henderson.” 

“I never said hello back to you.” 

“C’mon, at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

You let out another groan as you continue to struggle up the hill. “I physically cannot do that, sorry.” 

Steve, ever the comedian, responds, “It doesn’t seem like you can physically get up this hill either.” 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of laughing, but you’re a bit annoyed that his quip was funny. What a jackass, honestly. 

“Henderson,” your silence doesn’t deter the boy, “just get in the damn car already.”

Once again you almost crash into the BMW, this time because of your complete shock at his request.

“What?”

He gives you a look as if you’re the insane one in this situation. “You’re sweatier than I am after basketball, and at the rate you’re going I’d say you’ll reach your destination in about three to five business days.”

You stare at him, speechless. 

He stares back at you with a smirk on his smug little face, knowing that he’s won the argument. “Get in the car and I’ll throw your bike in the back.” 

You do as he says, your mind completely blank and still taken aback. Sweatier than him after basketball? There’s no way that’s true, and also who says that to someone they barely even know? As if you’re really that sweaty-

You see your reflection in his car mirror and wince. 

Okay, so maybe you’re a little sweaty. 

Fuck Steve Harrington. 

The boy in question tosses your bike in the trunk as you hesitantly get in the car. He watches as you sit yourself down and laughs. “It’s a car, Henderson. It won’t bite.” 

“Yeah, but you might.” You slap a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the implications of your words. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the car back on. “Careful there, last I checked you’re a taken lady.”

The embarrassment you previously felt is gone, now replaced with your usual annoyance when it comes to Steve. You think about what he did yesterday to Jonathan’s camera, the cruelty in his eyes as he watched the thing shatter onto the ground. He didn’t show any remorse, and while you understand that he had been defending his girlfriend, he had taken it too far. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that Jonathan and I are just friends?” 

“Please,” Steve huffs with amusement, “the two of you have been inseparable for years. Besides, no way a guy like Byers can just be friends with a girl like you. Not scientifically possible.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “What’s ‘a girl like you’ supposed to mean?” Then another thought occurs to you, “Also, you didn’t even know my name until this week, so don’t go acting like you know my relationship with Jonathan.”

“Relax, Henderson. It was a compliment. All I meant is that you’re decently pretty, all things considered, so I wouldn’t blame Byers if he was in love with you. It’s human nature.”

“Okay, that’s just really sexist-”

“As for knowing your name only this week, you’re wrong.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused. 

Steve places a hand over his chest, almost as if he’s reaching for his heart. “Apology accepted, it means a lot to me.”

“Ugh,” you scoff at him. “That wasn’t an apology and you know it. Can you just take me to the Wheeler’s, please?”

“Woah, slow down there. First I need you to tell me why you thought I didn’t know your name, then I’ll take you to my girlfriend’s house. Free of charge.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you see some offense in Steve’s eyes for thinking he only recently learned your name, but why would he care? Besides, you know he’s never paid any attention to you before this week.

“It was literally this week that I had to tell you my name after you almost hit me with your car, Harrington.”

“Okay, hey,” the boy holds a finger up. “Actually, you almost hit me with your bike because you were too busy hysterically sobbing.”

He’s right, but you won’t tell him that. Minor details, honestly. You’re about to tell him as much before you realize what he’s said. “Wait, you knew I had been crying?”

Steve gives you a well, duh look. “Yeah, that’s why I pretended not to know your name. Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And viola, I did.” 

He had willingly tried to make you laugh?

His words make you flush, which seems to only amuse him further as he chuckles at you. You wave your hand at him, now more annoyed than ever. “Okay, fine. Whatever, so you knew my name before this week, big whoop. Can you just drive now?”

“I’ll take that as an ‘I’m sorry Steve for assuming you’re an asshole who hadn’t noticed a girl you’ve known since you were thirteen’, then.” Steve takes the car out of park and begins to drive to the Wheeler’s which you’re relieved by. 

You feel uncomfortably warm after that conversation, regardless of the fact that you’re still overheated from your biking. There’s no way that Steve has seriously known about you since you were twelve and he was thirteen. No, you decide that he must be lying, playing up his usual boyish charm. He’s been this untouchable entity ever since you moved to Hawkins, so why would he have paid any attention to you?

Then your mind floats to his compliment, calling you “decently pretty”, but then again not even five minutes earlier he stated that you sweat more than he does after basketball, so really his words should mean nothing.  

And yet, after the week you’ve had and your fight with Jonathan and Will’s death and El’s mysterious powers… 

Steve’s words make you a bit giddy, embarrassingly enough. You hate that they do, because he’s Steve Harrington and he’s with Nancy who is beautiful and kind and everything you’re not. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you. 

You pick at your nails as he drives, the car silent, and you accidentally graze against the cut on your finger from yesterday. It’s scabbed over by now, but the pain is still fresh. 

“I know that what Jonathan did was wrong, I won’t excuse his actions. Standing up for Nancy was the right thing to do and I admire you for it, really,” Steve spares you a glance as he drives, nodding his head slightly to indicate that he’s listening. “But breaking Jonathan’s camera wasn’t.” 

He groans. “Nancy said the same thing, but what’s the big deal? The creep shouldn’t have access to a camera if he can’t use it properly.”

The slight warmth that Steve had somehow put in your chest dissipates at his words. “Jonathan isn’t a creep, but regardless of the situation, the big deal is this: not everyone can afford a fancy BMW and Raybans. Not everyone in Hawkins lives in a giant mansion with a pool. He worked so hard to afford that camera, it’s not something that he can just buy again on a whim.” 

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Henderson, you know I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I know, but it was still a shitty thing to do.”

The silence that settles in the car is a heavy one, and you almost feel bad for Steve. You know he hadn’t thought about the repercussions of his actions, but you suppose that the fact that he hadn’t considered the price of a camera was proof enough of his naivety. 

When you get to the Wheeler’s, Steve gets out of the car to help you with your bike. He doesn’t let you do a thing, so you stand there and awkwardly watch. You can tell that he’s trying to make up for his actions from yesterday, which you appreciate. 

“Thank you,” you say once he places the bike down. 

“All in a day’s work.” Steve responds, wiping his hands off on his jeans. 

As he turns to leave, you stop him. “And thank you for earlier this week, ya know, for making me laugh after falling off my bike. I, uh, appreciate it.” 

He seems surprised by your sincerity, but he smiles. “Again: all in a day’s work. And listen, I’m sorry about Byers’ camera,” Then he quickly adds, as if afraid he won’t have the nerve to later, “I’m sorry about Will, too. I figure you were close with him and now he’s…”

His words trail off, not wanting to say the word “dead”, which you can’t blame him for. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Steve turns to face you now, your words catching his undivided attention. “You just have the worst taste in friends, but when you aren’t around them… I guess you’re alright.” 

He laughs a bit, but there’s a certain emotion in his eyes that you can’t quite name; you have to stop yourself from leaning in closer to him. Suddenly the space between you feels too close and you take a step back, but as you move you feel Steve’s hand ruffle your hair. “I guess you’re ‘alright’ too, Henderson.” 

You watch as he leaves, standing in the Wheeler’s driveway for longer than necessary. You place your hand on your head and find yourself smiling, the warmth of his touch still faintly there.

-

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[funnyjb]

I’m Having His Baby

Joe and I have been married for two months now. We just got back from our honeymoon in The Maldives. It was like something out of a postcard. It was beautiful and calm. Joe and I had the best time. Just being in his presence makes me happy so getting a week of him all to myself self was the most wonderful thing ever! He made me laugh my face off every minute, He made dinner when we weren’t going out to explore new food, and when we got in the pool or in the ocean he would pick me up and I would wrap my legs around his waist and we would just stay there admiring each other and laughing until we couldn’t breathe.

It had been two days since we got back from our trip. It is the offseason but Joe still needs to go into the facility for some meetings and QB work. I on the other hand have not been feeling well. I’ve been nauseous and tired. I can’t even drink my coffee with out gagging.

I was in the kitchen trying to drink my coffee when my phone rang.

“Y/n!”- Brooke

“Hey, Brooke.”- you

“Hey…is everything ok?”- Brooke

“Not really. I’ve been nauseous and tired ever since we got back.”- You

“Oh. Maybe you got a little something. Or are you about to get your period?”- Brooke

“No, I was supposed to get it three days ago. I don’t know why- OH MY GOD.”- you put your hand over your mouth.

“WHAT? Y/N?!”- Brooke

“IM LATE BROOKE! Three days late! Im never late. It all makes sense.”- you

“What makes sense?!”- Brooke

“Brooke, I’m pregnant.”- you

“WHAT! OMG, Y/N!”- Brooke

“Well, I don’t know for sure but it lines up.”- You

“Yeah, it’s does! Omg, y/n. I’m so happy for you! Have you taken a test yet?”- Brooke

“No.”- You

“Maybe you should just in case.”- Brooke

“Yeah, let me see if CVS will deliver.”- you

“Omg! I’m freaking out!”- Brooke

I tried to stay calm. Because what if I wasn’t and we are just making a big deal out of nothing? Could I be pregnant? It lines up. I’m late on my period. I’ve been nauseous. I’ve been feeling so tired. Gosh, what if I am? How will Joe react? He’s not ready. I’m not ready. I’ve always wanted to be a mom but not yet. Not now. But if I am, I will love this baby no matter what. And knowing I have an amazing husband by my side I know I will get through it.

“Okay, it should come in the next hour.”- you

I took a deep breath.

“You ok?”- Brooke

“I don’t know, Brooke.”- you

“Hey, what ever happens I’m here for you. I will be there for the baby and you and Joe. Don’t worry. It will be ok.”- Brooke

“Thanks, Brooke. Means a lot. Do you mind if you could come over? I don’t want to be alone.”- You

“Of course! Be there in a few.”- Brooke

“Thanks, B.”- You

I hung up.

I started to get a little emotional. Who knows what I’m going to find out in the next hour.

———————————————————————-

(An hour later)

“Ready to flip it over?”- Brooke

We were in my bathroom. I had the test faced down on the counter near Joes side.

I took a deep breath.

“Yeah.”- you

My heart started to race.

I picked it up and flipped it over. There it was two blue lines. I’m pregnant.

I covered my mouth. Tears started to roll down my cheeks.

“Your..your pregnant?”- Brooke

She got up and came over to me. She saw the lines and covered her mouth. She was so happy. I looked at her.

“You’re pregnant, Y/n!”- Brooke

I started to laugh a little. It’s really happing. I’m having his baby. Joe’s baby. Our baby.

Brooke hugged me tight. We started to laugh and cry together. We couldn’t believe it. We had my phone recording. I showed the camera.

“I can’t believe it.”- you

“Same! You will be an amazing mother.”- Brooke

She hugged me again.

“And you will be an amazing aunt.”- You

We looked at each other for a second. Then started bursting out laughing again. Me a mom? Brooke an aunt? Who would have thought. The two best friends who said in middle school that they will die old together and hop through bars in there 90s will be a mom and an aunt. With a husband and a boyfriend.

Brooke stopped the video. She started looking through it. Tears still flowing.

“Brooke?”- You

Tears started to stream again.

“Yeah?”- you

“What about Joe? He’s not ready to be a dad. He said it.”- you

“Awe, y/n. He’s going to be an amazing dad. He loves you so deeply, y/n. He will text me and call me and talks about you for hours. I usually just text or call him to tell him to tell you to pick up your phone. But he will go on and on about how amazing and beautiful his wife is. He called me today actually asking if you have been acting weird lately. Saying that you don’t feel well and you have never been this weak or tired before. He was so worried, y/n. He loves you. And doesn’t he always talk about how he will love to have a family with you?”- Brooke

“Yeah.. he does.”- You

“See? He will be there for you and the baby.”- Brooke

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”- you

“What time does he come back?”- Brooke

“Around 6ish.”- You

“Ok, how about I go to target and get a onesie or something to tell him. So nobody sees you.”- Brooke

“That would be great! Thanks, B.”- you

“Of course. I will be back.”- Brooke

She hugs me one last time then goes and gets in her car.

——————————————————-

(A few hours later)

Brooke came back with a number nine bengals onesie and some flowers and chocolate for me! I couldn’t ask for a better best friend. She then later left and I was left alone until Joe comes home.

I decided to lay out the onesie on the counter along with the test.

Any minute Joe will be home. Just as I was about to look out the window to see him pulling in he came. I ran quickly to the kitchen. I heard the door connecting from the garage open.

“Babe?”- Joe

“I’m in the kitchen!”- You

I heard his footsteps along the floor.

He turned the corner and there I was.

“Hey, baby!”- Joe

I ran up and hugged him.

“Hi! How was your day?”- You

“Long. I couldn’t wait to come home to you.”- Joe winked

I playfully rolled my eyes

“How was your day?”- Joe

“Um well, how about I show you what I found out about today?”- you

Joe was a little confused.

“Um, ok!”- Joe

“Just…close your eyes.”- you

“Alright…”- Joe

He closed his eyes shut. I took his hand and brought him around the counter. I let go of his hand and took a deep breath.

“Ok, you can look.”- you

He open his eyes and he instantly landed on me. I smiled then shot my eyes towards the layout on the counter.

His eyes then was drawn to where I was looking.

His face shot up!

“I’m…I’m going to be a dad?”- Joe

I nodded my head

He looked at me with tears welling in his eyes and a huge smile.

He picked me up.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so happy, baby!”- Joe

I squealed.

He then put me down with his arms still around me.

My eyes started to get teary.

“come here.”- Joe

He pulled me into his embrace.

“It’s going to be ok. Everything will be ok.”- Joe

His voice calmed me down.

He knew I was nervous to become a mom. We talked about having kids before. I was excited no doubt, but scared also.

I looked up at him.

“You are going to be an amazing mom to our baby, y/n. You are strong and kind. Smart and brave. I believe in you. And I love you, so much.”- Joe

He gave me a kiss on the forehead.

We just stood there for what felt like forever. Just taking it all in.

I filled his reaction and later edited it.

———————————————————-

(Two days later)

“Joey!”- Robin

“Hey, mom.”- Joe wrapped his mom in a hug

“Hey, y/n!”- Jimmy

“Hi, Jimmy!”- You

I wrapped him in a hug.

Robin later came over to me and gave me a hug to.

Joes family is in town. They came down for the summer. Both of his brothers and their family. Joe’s brother Jamie and his wife and three kids are staying with Robin and Jimmy. His other brother Daniel and his wife are staying at a friend’s house nearby. Tonight is a little family get together along with some of his cousins.

We ate dinner and all decided to sit in the living room enjoying each others company.

Joe pulled me more into him as I was just sitting next to him.

He whispered In my ear.

“I think we should tell them, baby.”- Joe smiled

I smiled back.

“Okay!”- Joe

Joe cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention

“So, y/n and I have something we want to tell you.”- Joe smiled

“I’m pregnant!”- You

The whole family shot up. Robin and jimmy were in tears as well as some of his family members.

They all came over to us and hugged us.

“Congratulations! So happy for you two!”-Jamie

“Thanks, Jamie!”- You

Jamie the moved over and Robin came up to me. Already sending me into some tears.

She hugged me tight but being careful of my stomach.

“I’m so happy for you two. Joe loves you so much y/n. He has always been talking about how he wanted a family with you.”- Robin

“Awe.”- you

“How far along are you?”- Codi (jamies wife)

“Two weeks.”- you

Everyone awed and smiled.

I’m having his baby. I thought to myself. The love of my life’s baby.

Joe then came over to me and kissed me passionately.

“I can’t wait till our baby is here.”- Joe smiled

—————————————————————

[dorkydiaz]

i made a short post here referring to my own experiences and wanted to expand on it, you can reblog both of these posts btw. I am only writing this all down because the way some of you have spoken about chris and his decision very much bothers me. trust when i tell you i do not want to completely lay out my trauma on the internet for all of you to read, but if it makes one of you understand why this works, why it is important, then it will have been worth it to me.

When I was 12 my father was diagnosed with frontal temporal dementia. the adults in my family and his doctors decided that it was best for him to be moved to a a full time care facility. The next year, and after hearing, seeing, and understanding my father's condition and where it would go, I, at thirteen years old, made the decision to say goodbye to him, that I did not want to hear about what levels of deterioration he had reached. I wanted to remember him as he was when he remembered me, and all the adventures and fun things we did together.

I made that decision. I made it because it was easier than watching him deteriorate, forget who his sister, his brother, my brother, my mother, and me. And I knew that at twelve and thirteen. It was never a decision I ever thought I would have to make, it wasn't a decision I should've had to make.

Now, the important part, over the next few years my decision was questioned and ignored by the adults in my life and even my brother, some of the questioning I can understand now that I am older, but it should have never reached the level it did. My aunt and uncle would openly discuss his condition over dinner when he came to visit, and I would run away to the restaurant bathroom and cry my eyes out until my mom came to get me. I was forced into visiting him in his care home, which ended with it causing far more harm than good. Only then was my decision somewhat respected, it took me being retraumatized for it to be taken seriously.

Despite all of that, I do not regret that decision.

I can't know how I would be different if none of that happened. But at this point in my live, eleven years and some therapy later, I am fairly certain I would be less traumatized, carry less resentment and anger, if maybe my mom had spoken up at those dinners and made arrangements to get updates without me next to her trying to enjoy my pizza. Had I not had to see my own father forget my name and then have some sort of mini medical emergency. Had my brother heard me in a way only a sibling could.

So, yes, Christopher at thirteen made a indefinite and truly most likely temporary decision to remove himself from an environment where he doesn't fully trust his sole and primary caregiver. He knows his dad loves him, Eddie made that so clear. And it could really be 5 minutes, 5 days, 5 weeks, and so on and so forth until Christopher is ready to come home. And him knowing that Eddie respected his decision and loves him no matter what is what is going to make that time shorter. If he had walked out with his father begging him to stay, to forgive him before he was ready, the chances of him coming back would in my opinion would be far slimmer than the circumstances under which he did leave.

with that i leave you this, "yeah people go away. and it's sad. and it hurts. but you know, not everyone goes away forever. sometimes they come back. and as much as we miss them, that's how happy we are to see them again."

[ralibo14]

TPN Brainrots part 1:

Another TPN manga panel redraw, but this time everyone goes down with me (because it's sad).

Also part one of my 'wonderful' tpn theories and head canons. It'll be long😅. There will be manga spoilers so please, read at your own risk😊.

First character I go through is... Ray.

He is one of the most complicated characters I ever saw (all tpn characters are, tbh). I always thought that people who have photographic memory are so lucky. Ray showed me that it's both a blessing and the curse.

Like in the picture above. You can clearly see that the first 2 kid waving at his direction. It's strange to know that there was a time when the Trio were one of the young kids and not the older ones. My first head canon is that Ray tried to save more kids, not just Emma and Norman when he was younger. When the blond haired boy leaves (first panel) he looks like he is about to cry (also the Trio is around 4 or 6) but when the other kids get 'adopted' Ray keeps his head low most of the frames (I'm convinced that when the second kid left he was already working as Isabella's spy.)

Ray coloration explained:

Purple eyes are self explanatory to me. I started draw him with purple eyes as soon as I found out he is Isabella's son. Purple in the hair and freckles? Well... I'm still very, very convinced that Leslie didn't die (at least not when he left the House). I always think about his situation, like what Norman got into with Lambda. The Ratri-clan is big but they need outsiders, to be soldiers, scientists, etc. And since girls from the Houses can only become Sisters and Moms... maybe some boys can become scientists and soldiers. (I can't believe I'm writing this but think about Andrew🤢... he was 100% not Ratri yet he could become an adult). So by this logic I believe Leslie could grow up too and (because I'm a sucker for happiness) he met Isabella again at some point.

Ray turning away:

On the second frame he is not looking at the girl who is leaving, but to the opposite direction. Why? Notice something else? Yes, Norman is missing too. Gilda has her winter jumper on so I figure Norman got sick again. Ray priorities his friends safety over everything else.

Also notice how Emma and Norman slowly get into the middle of the frame while Mom/Isabella get out of it? Pretty strong metaphor. It's the perfect example of 'Blood related family ≠ real family'. And while I'm a RayEmma shipper (obviously aged up version) I would never forget about Norman. He is as important to Ray as Emma. This Trio sticks together no matter what.

(older manga colouring ⬇️)

Now onto the hearth breaking stuff:

Ray's relationship with Isabella:

This deleted scene with Ray and Ayshe lives rent free in my head. Like there are two people with similar family situations and the one who lived int the middle of nowhere with a demon parent thinks positively about their parent, while the other, who grew up in a comfortable home like space with a human parent, thinks the opposite.

"But to me, she was always a monster"– Ray.

Like ufff... This sentence hits real hard. And it's low-key true from Ray perspective. He studied and read all the books in the House, not because he was interested, but because he had to. Norman is a genius, Emma learns real fast, Ray does everything he can to always get max points on his tests. But he also secretly planning his friends excape. Collects scraps of technology to build the device which makes them able to excape, plans his own 💀 carefully, so no one else will get hurt and on a top of that he is 'spying' for Isabella. Sacrifices people he wanted to protect. I can't imagine that inside panic when he didn't get max scores to that one test. I'm sure he was happy because Norman and Emma got their regular scores, but deep down he felt like he failed.

My head canon here is that Ray always gets nightmares if he is alone or in an unsafe place. And 'thanks' to his perfect memory his nightmares build up from actual memories (like we see that in the Seven Wall Arc). Also he doesn't get sick often but when he does... it's like a memory fuelled fever dream, with hallucinations and etc.

Ray's healing journey starts after the Jailbreak Arc. As soon as Mom is not around anymore, he ever so slowly starts to let down his guard and starts to show more and more emotions. His relationship with Yuugo/Mister is like a greatest archivment in his case. The playful, sarcastic 'arguments' and the way he openly said his opinion on things in front of Yuugo and Lucas. Shows how much he changed and opened up.

Isabella on the other hand... her change of heart and feelings were a mistery almost to the very end. To be honest I hated her most of the time, until the Back to Grace Field Arc. (Older manga colouring again⬇️😅)

Two things in this page which are very important.

1: Ray's guard is up again in no time, when he sees Isabella, while her emotionless mask is cracking. This is the first time we get a little inside of how she really feels about Ray.

2: Flashback of the two most important things that connects them. The song and the way they were forced to sacrifice others to stay alive.

The lullaby is very important, because it's calming and feels very intimate (like a normal parent-child relationship should be).

You also can't convince me otherwise that Ray didn't hummed this lullaby at least once in the B06-32 shelter to help the youngest kids fall asleep.

And now... onto the last picture. Their goodbye.

Saddest part ever! Never forgiving for this decision.

Ray and Isabella were never allowed to talk even two short sentences with each other without any consequences. In the House they had to play their assigned roles. Then they didn't see each other for almost 2 years. Finally they had to save half of the team from getting unalived... And they moment they would have time the last twist happens... leaving us with a sad ending.

Epilogue and Human World Arc...does little to compensate. Although I can't get over the fact that Yuugo's, Conny's and Isabella's 'ghosts' helped Ray found Emma in the Human World.

Speaking of finding Emma. My last head canon for Ray is the following;

When they found out that Emma lost all of her memories from the Demon World. Ray couldn't help himself but whisper a "I wish this happened to me". And everyone looks at him with an understanding smile thinking he blames himself for this... But in reality he really just selfishly thought (only for seconds) that he could forget everything happened on the other side.

Okay. That's all. Sorry for the supper long post and I'm forever thankful if you read through my brainrots 🥰😘. Also let me know if I should cover more characters like this. I'll obviously do Emma and Norman but if there any other characters you want to see please let me know🥰🤩💖.

[mins-fins]

I WISH YOU WOULD (P.WB)

SUMMARY . . . there's so much more he could've done, so much he could've said. he hates what a stupid mistake he made, and how ashamed he was. what does scrutiny matter if he couldn't even get his feelings out in the first place?

PAIRING . . . park wonbin x male!reader

GENRE . . . angst

WARNINGS . . . internalized homophobia, homophobia in general

WORD COUNT . . . 0.9k

NOTES . . . HAPPY FRIDAY!!! 1989 tv comes out today and i wish you would has always been my favorite song on 1989 so um this is what spawned because of it 👍 i'll be back in half an hour im gonna go watch that scary robot movie lol‼️

. . . lomls @partiallyderived and @jinkiseason asked to be tagged (they wanna make me cry so bad thats so crazy 🤣) (im listening to cherry bomb)

"i love you".

if wonbin could go back, trust he would.

there's something disappointing about falling in love with your fellow trainee, your fellow trainee who is also your best friend, your fellow trainee who is also a boy. he wishes he could rewrite time and not convince his mom to change his class at school, because then he would never have met him.

and now that sounds downright ridiculous, it can't possibly be that bad can it? i mean— falling in love with your best friend as a whole is an entire kind of situation that happens in books and usually has a happy ending. what's wrong with his best friend?

nothing, there's nothing wrong with him.

it's wonbin that's wrong.

having conflicting feelings is normal, obviously, everyone experiences it when they have a crush, but wonbin didn't want to have feelings for his best friend, wonbin didn't want to have a crush on a boy.

y/n was probably one of the best people he's ever met. he's kind, and understanding, and beautiful, and humorous and pretty much attractive to anyone with two pairs of eyes, he's the perfect boyfriend material, he's just perfect.

and maybe that's what felt so wrong about having feelings for his best friend, intimidation.

well, wonbin liked to lie to himself.

yeah, that's the reason your afraid of having feelings for your best friend, your "intimidated" by his perfection, not because your scared of what others would think, other trainees, management, your parents, the world, that's not the reason your afraid of having feelings for him.

wonbin had never really spent a lot of time thinking about it, and he hates how he can practically hear the responses from people the moment he realizes his feelings for y/n.

they're staring at him like he's disgusting.

and what's worse than having people judge you? judge you for something you yourself can't control?

it's what keeps him up at night, those worries used to be planted at the back of his mind, because how would it even become something of relevance in his life? it'd never actually become real.

and maybe he's wrong for thinking such a way; after all, he can't just let others dictate who he loves or doesn't love.

but it's the thoughts in his mind slowly eating away at him that make him feel like everything's spiraling out of control. he can't date y/n, in a company like sm, in a country like korea, where if someone ever saw them together he'd be scrutinized and black-listed from the idol industry despite how hard he's worked?

it all makes him feel sick to his stomach.

how was he even supposed to tell y/n? he knew y/n wasn't homophobic but.. then there's the fear of rejection, he can't even imagine the kind of look y/n would give him if he found out. not out of disgust, but out of surprise, shock.

somehow, his mind thinks of every bad possibility as an outcome.

and just staring at y/n, sweet beautiful y/n who has no idea what he's fighting in his head, makes him fear confessing even more.

the two of them are already what i guess you'd dub "over affectionate". they do a lot of couple-y things like have matching rings, cook for each other, help run errands together, cuddle, steal each other's sweaters, cling onto each other like they were lifelines.

if everything stayed like that, wonbin would be just fine.

but of course, when has life ever been nice to him?

wonbin can't really stare at y/n without feeling like he wants to break down into tears and sob, they could be having the best time ever and he'll still have this overwhelming wave of sadness wash over him when he remembers his feelings.

it disappoints him in a way that it shouldn't..

and y/n clearly picks up on his sudden change. his flushed cheeks, mutters, and the way he seems to enjoy avoiding eye contact with him these days.

is his unusual clinginess noticeable?

wonbin usually isn't self conscious about things that like, but he guesses falling in love with your best friend makes you begin seeing things in a whole different light. he can't help but notice the uncomfortable shift in the air between him and y/n.

nothing has even been said.. so why is his anxiety through the roof?

wonbin finally snaps out of whatever dream he was having when he feels nails dig into his shoulder, squeeze them like his life depends on it. that's all it takes for wonbin to flinch, and he hates the way his reaction is so immediate, it's just more obvious that way.

y/n blinks, startled by the way he suddenly flinches. "you okay?" he inquires, and wonbin wants to kiss him so bad it infuriates him.

he shouldn't want to kiss him.

he feels like he's being pinched, and somehow he forces out a response; "yeah i'm just tired".

y/n doesn't buy his lie, it's evident in the way he stares at him for a specifically long time. "you should be fine".

wonbin pauses. "what?"

"your gonna debut, i wouldn't worry about it" y/n mutters, and he brings his knees to his chest as he rocks back and forth.

wonbin stares, hopefully not for too long, because then he'd just be looking too obvious and then y/n would ask more questions.

he really wants to punch himself at the moment.

he shouldn't feel so disgusted about being in love with y/n.

but he does.

[cherienymphe]

When The Party’s Over XVIII (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, forced pregnancy, mentions of abortion, forbidden relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

~

You laid in bed, fingers clutching your pillow as you tearfully stared at your window. It was locked, as it always was these days, but that didn’t matter much when Rafe had already cemented himself in your life. Your throat hurt, and your eyes were tight from how much crying you’d done, and as your parents’ voices traveled through the wall, you felt your eyes water again.

They’d been arguing all afternoon and all night.

About you.

Your dad was too disappointed and too angry to even look for a silver lining in this while your mom, who’d always spoke of grandkids for as long as you could remember, was trying to find some positive in this. Her hurt and disappointment were still palpable too. After all, what parent dreamed of their eighteen-year-old kid getting knocked up before they even went off to college or had some semblance of a life?

You closed your eyes, thinking of how Rafe ruined everything.

As much as you hadn’t even wanted to the first time, you were resigning yourself to getting another abortion. Before, where you’d at least had some semblance of hope that a baby would put things into perspective for Rafe, now you knew just what he was capable of. As much as it didn’t sit right with you, you were much surer this time around.

…but then Rafe happened…again.

Your mind took you back to earlier in the day when you’d slapped him in the bathroom. You were sure that you’d never hit him before. In all the madness of what he put you through, you’d never tried to hurt him in any way that wasn’t self-defense. When the slap barely did anything, you’d hit him again and again.

While your parents were talking to Ward about your future, you were trying to hurt Rafe as badly as he’d hurt you.

“I can’t believe you,” you’d choked out, vision blurry from your tears. “I can’t believe you.”

That was all you’d been able to say for a while, so in shock and disbelief at what he’d done. Not even just with telling your parents, but getting you pregnant on purpose in the first place. You knew that he did. Everything was too coincidental. Not to mention, his words from that last night were still plain as day in your head.

He’d promised that everyone would know you were his.

“If you think-.”

“If I think what?” he’d wondered, stepping towards you and crowding you against the wall. “Hmm?”

You had swallowed, tearful gaze holding his cold one as he stared you down.

“If you thought I was going to let you get away from me, get rid of my child,” you flinched at the emphasis there. “…move on and run off to college like we never happened, maybe you are dumb.”

Your lips trembled, nails digging into your palms.

“If you’re even thinking there’s some way you can get out of this, I’m all too happy to tell you you’re wrong,” he spat. “My father will fight whatever legal battle you try to throw our way, and you know it.”

Rafe’s nose brushed yours, and the only sound you could really register was your heavy breathing.

“That baby is a Cameron. It belongs to me,” he quietly told you. “…and so does its mother.”

You had furiously blinked, more tears falling, and Rafe had reached up to wipe them away. His hands rested on your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your damp skin, and you had watched his face fall some, evening out.

“Don’t make this hard on yourself when it doesn’t need to be,” he’d whispered, almost begging. “You love kids. I know you do, and it’s how I know you hated getting rid of the first one.”

You’d looked away.

“You didn’t even give me a chance.”

“You didn’t give me a choice.”

Your eyes had met his again, more tears falling.

“I can take care of you both—I will take care of you both,” Rafe had darkly promised, and if it weren’t for the fact that your pregnancy had been intentional, you would’ve thought it sweet. “You’ll want for nothing-.”

“Except for someone who doesn’t hurt me and rape me, right?”

He’d pressed his lips together at that, and you shook your head, fighting back more tears.

“Rafe, you can’t do this,” you’d shakily whispered, tone pleading.

His brows drew together, and he tilted his head.

“…and what are you going to do to stop me? Hmm?”

You hadn’t had an answer for him.

“You can try and press charges, but we both know that won’t end well.”

You’d looked down at that.

“You can try and run from me, but I will always find you,” he’d promised. “…and if you think you can sneak off to Charlotte again, I’d like to see you try.”

You’d closed your eyes, hating the truth in his words more than anything.

“…and beautiful…”

You’d reluctantly opened your eyes at the nickname, trembling as Rafe pressed his hands to the wall on either side of your head. His dark blond hair kissed his forehead, and his blue eyes gleamed dangerously.

“If you try to keep this baby from me, I’ll ruin your fucking life.”

You released a shaky breath as he looked between your eyes.

“I’ll show you just how bad things can really get.”

You couldn’t imagine how things could get worse, but if Rafe was consistent with one thing, it was proving that particular thought wrong. When he reached up to touch your face, you shivered, and you could see that he was looking to where the faint bruise on your cheek would be if it weren’t for your makeup.

“It doesn’t make sense to try and do things the hard way each and every time when you’re just going to get the same result—right back to me.”

Rafe’s words rang true, even now as you laid in bed, but it didn’t mean you had to like them. God, you knew that coming up with anything to fight Rafe wouldn’t end well for you. You knew that it would only prolong the inevitable, but you had to at least try. You wanted to look back and at least say you tried. It was the right thing to do…right?

Sleep barely found you, and you tossed and turned most of the night.

As precarious as you wanted to claim your future was, it really wasn’t. There was really only one clear path, and you hated it. The events of yesterday didn’t even feel real, and yet, they were. Your parents knew about your relationship with Rafe, and they knew you were pregnant, and instead of the horrifying truth, Rafe had painted you both out to be some lovesick teenagers who just got too caught up in the whirlwind of it all.

Your dad hadn’t even said a word to you since yesterday, only your mom asking how you slept and if you’d eaten. It wasn’t unusual for her to ask those things, but you both knew there was a hidden meaning behind it. You hated the way she gazed at you, like you were precious, in a delicate position.

Like you were eating for two, now.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she finally asked long after breakfast was over.

You both were sitting on the couch, and you stared at the wall as her gaze rested on you. You wanted to tell her it was because you’d only just found out yourself, but even revealing just how partially sinister Rafe was would come back to bite. If your parents knew the truth, they’d try to kill Rafe or throw him under the jail in a heartbeat, and Rafe was right about a lot of things lately, but especially when he’d said that Ward wasn’t going to let you smear the Cameron name.

Even if it was all true.

“I was scared, I guess.”

It wasn’t a lie.

You were scared. You never wanted your parents to know about any of this, to look at you with the disappointment they’d worn yesterday. You went to the fancy private school. You had the grades for scholarships and to get into any college you wanted. You didn’t stay in trouble like Pope. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen to you.

“Rafe sure does seem to care about you, a lot…” you closed your eyes at that. “…and he seems to really care about this baby too.”

You didn’t know what Rafe was.

He claimed to love you, but that hadn’t stopped him from hurting you in more ways than one. He claimed to care about this baby, but already he’d brought it up as an excuse to hurt you if need be. Rafe just didn’t like losing. At least, that’s what you thought, but even the sorest of losers wouldn’t go so far as to propose marriage. You really didn’t know what Rafe was, but determined to keep you was evident more than anything else.

…and you didn’t even know why.

“He’s so young, just like you, but he seemed very sincere when he talked about wanting to marry you.”

You swallowed at that.

“Do you want to marry him?”

That question didn’t require any thought.

Of course, you didn’t want to marry Rafe. You didn’t even want to be near him, but you kept that to yourself, merely shrugging. Your mom sighed, and you could see that she was trying to be gentle about all of this as opposed to your dad who could barely look at you.

“You do want this baby…right? Rafe definitely made it seem like you did, but I realized that I never got the chance to ask you.”

“I don’t know,” you quietly told her.

Deep down, that was the truth.

Like before, you didn’t want to get rid of it, but also like before, you knew that you needed to. If you ever wanted a chance at a life away from Rafe, you needed to, but you knew there was no chance of you getting to Charlotte without Rafe stopping you before you even made it on the Ferry.

“Well…that’s okay,” she relented, patting your leg. “You still have some time to think about it and talk it over with Rafe.”

You resisted the urge to huff at that, hating that your mom was so privy to this part of your life that you didn’t want anyone to know about. Hearing her talk about you and Rafe like some couple made your stomach turn, and you licked your lips as she continued.

“Just in case you’re…worried about what your dad and I might think, I want you to know that I’ll be happy with whatever you decide…”

You looked at her at that, and your shoulders dropped. The smile she sent you was comforting, but tight.

“…so, you should do what you feel is right, regardless of how you think it’ll make us feel.”

You could see the glimmer in her eyes, the hope on her face. Your mom was saying all the right things, but anyone could tell that she wanted you to keep this baby, no matter how much she tried to hide it. You didn’t even have the strength to tell her that because of Rafe, she’d probably get exactly what she wanted.

“Maybe…maybe we can get you to Charlotte again. Or maybe there’s someone on Outer Banks who…”

Pope trailed off as you lifted your head, looking at him with a blank face. It had been days since you’d been ambushed by Rafe and his dad, your dad still wasn’t talking to you, and Pope… Pope was desperately trying to come up with anything to get you out of this situation. You were still waiting for the other shoe to drop where he realized just how you became pregnant again.

After all, it happened after the day Pope learned the truth, and in this whole madness, his mind wasn’t letting him linger on the elephant in the room.

“You have to do something.”

“For what? For Rafe to stop me? Get mad at me again? Take it out on you again—or dad?”

You shrugged, finally feeling…defeated, and you could tell that it was written all over your face. Rafe had gotten to you because he was right. The only chance you had was to get off this island and never come back, and that just wasn’t practical. You were eighteen and pregnant with no credit, no savings, and no means of surviving away from your family. Even if they helped you out, it was just another way Rafe could find you and drag you back, and you didn’t need your family feeling any worse than they already did.

Especially Pope.

Besides, you hated Rafe, but you loved your family more than you could ever hate him, and you’d miss them too much. Even just the thought of trying to make it without them and with minimal contact was enough to make your throat tight. Rafe had you well and truly stuck, and as much as you didn’t want him to be right, he was.

Anything you did would just prolong the inevitable.

…and that’s how you found yourself in Bunny’s car on the way to the Cameron residence. You’d told your parents where you were going, and your mom had swallowed down her obvious curiosity while your dad had simply nodded. He still hadn’t spoken a word to you, and you tried not to take it personal, knowing how much this was to process even without the details only you knew about.

You found your hatred of Rafe bubbling to the surface at that.

Rafe’s inability to keep your relationship perils between you two was infuriating. First, he brought Pope into it, and now his dad and your parents. Maybe that was why he kept getting the upper hand because between the two of you, you were the only one who felt you had something to hide. Rafe had wanted the relationship out and in the open from the beginning, and you never foresaw your desire for secrecy being used against you one day.

Bunny was definitely curious as she dropped you off, and you ignored the questions in her eyes, only telling her you needed to talk to Rafe about something. It definitely wasn’t a lie, but the something in question was a pretty big something that you were choosing to leave out. You sighed to yourself as she drove off, thankful that Pope hadn’t been home when you left. Your brother would’ve happily tied you down to keep you from going to see Rafe alone.

The smile that Rose gave you when she opened the door told you that she knew.

You swallowed.

“Is Rafe home?”

His truck was in the yard, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” she sweetly said, gently rubbing your back as she ushered you inside. “He’s just upstairs but let me go and get him.”

As she made her way upstairs, you decided that you hated this already. She’d looked at you like you were some miracle sent from God to tame her demented stepson. She’d looked at you like some saving grace, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know she viewed you as an extension of Rafe in some way. Now that you were carrying his child, you belonged to him in their eyes, and the thought made you sick…because it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Movement at the top of the stairs drew your attention, and you absentmindedly took a step back at the sight of Rafe. You kept your eyes on him as he descended, and that smug curve of his lips was almost enough to make you flip him off and leave with no intentions of ever coming back. You faintly took note of Ward standing near the stairs as Rafe approached, but it was hard to focus on him.

Rafe had a way of stealing all of your attention, both the good and the bad.

Neither of you said a word as he walked outside, you following close behind. You were somewhat nervous as you followed him to the dock, recalling the last time you were with him near water. Rafe seemed to read our thoughts as he eyed the way you lingered on the grass, and you took a deep breath, glancing away.

“I don’t want to be with you,” you finally said. “I figured I’d make that clear up front.”

That obviously wasn’t what Rafe wanted to hear if the way he frowned indicated anything.

“You’re not good for me, and you’ve done too much to even consider moving past it all, and you know what else?” you licked your lips. “I don’t want you around this baby.”

Rafe shifted at that, glancing away, and you watched the sunlight glint off of his blue eyes.

“It’s not fair that you can do everything you’ve done, and still get it all. Everything you want. I hate it,” you choked out. “It sucks that you can hurt me over and over again and still have the right to call this baby yours, raise it with me, be in it’s life…and all because of who your dad is.”

He wouldn’t look at you, and you blinked back tears, struggling to swallow.

“It really fucking sucks…but there isn’t anything I can do about it,” you whispered, folding your arms over your chest just as he looked at you. “So, tell me what you want…”

“Besides you?”

“You’re not getting me,” you sneered. “I can’t keep you away from this baby, and so I can’t keep you out of my life, but we are nothing.”

Rafe smirked at that, and you glared at him, stepping closer.

“I’m serious, Rafe. You got what you wanted—me pregnant and tied to you forever, but that doesn’t mean anything when it comes to us. You’re it’s father, and that’s it,” you explained with a shrug.

Rafe slowly nodded, softly chuckling to himself, and it made you grind your teeth.

“We’ll see,” was all he said, and you didn’t know why that made you angrier than anything else, right now.

You pressed your lips together, angrily shaking your head at him.

“Fuck you,” you breathed. “You did a shitty thing, you know that?”

He didn’t respond, and you continued.

“My own dad can’t even look at me,” you tearfully confessed. “They never expected this from me, so does that make you feel good? Huh? Do you like that you just completely screwed me over?”

“Well,” he slowly started. “Maybe it’s a good thing you won’t be there much, anyway.”

You frowned at that, pausing as you blinked at him.

“What…what are you talking about?”

Rafe moved towards you, and you were frozen with confusion, studying his face as he reached up to brush his fingers across his mouth. His blue eyes drank you in with a small smile.

“You’re pregnant, beautiful,” he said as if that explained it all. “You need the right foods, the right vitamins, the proper care.”

You swallowed.

“You’ll need regular check-ups and constant looking after that your parents can’t give you because they both work, and I’d die before I trust your brother to make sure this baby is born healthy.”

Your lips parted, and you sharply inhaled. Rafe swiped his tongue between his lips, reaching up to gently touch your face.

“I’m a lot of things, but I won’t be a deadbeat. I’m going to be there for every moment of this pregnancy, and it’s either I come live with you, or you come live with me. Everyone involved knows what the obvious answer is,” he paused, letting out a breath. “Everyone except you apparently.”

You slapped his hand away, feeling like you’d been sucker punched.

“Rose and I don’t work…not yet, anyway,” he chuckled, and you didn’t linger on what that meant. “…and we have so much space here. You need to be in a place where you can be comfortable, and once my dad is finished with your parents, they’ll see it that way too.”

Tears finally spilled over, and you stumbled away from him.

“…and as for us,” his fingers grazed your neck. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

His soft voice reached your ears, and Rafe pressed his nose to your hair, deeply inhaling.

“I hear those pregnancy hormones can be a bitch to cope with without some…help.”

You pushed him away, and the sound of his laugh filled your ears as you stumbled back to the house.

[shadowdaddies]

I love your writing so so so much!! If you’re taking requests, can I please request a modern Cassian x reader where they were dating but broke up for whatever reason? Maybe something where they’re still very much in love but it’s obvious to literally everyone except for them so there’s just a heap of built up sexual tension and teasing/flirting and everyone’s like guys come on!

Hey lovey, thank you so much! This came out more fluffy than I'd anticipated but I can't help it, I'm a romantic. This is my first modern au so I hope I do it justice. Thanks for the request💜

It's Never Over

Cassian x Reader Fluff

Warnings: drinking, they play truth or strip but there's nothing saucy happening

Your breakup with Cassian was the worst of your life. It was more painful than any other, because he didn’t hurt you. There was no solace in the fact that you were better off without him, because you weren’t. The two of you were tired of disagreements and different goals for your lives, so you decided that you would be better off as friends. 

You’d broken up two years ago now, but Cass remained one of your best friends. He was your shoulder to cry on, the one person who could always make you laugh. But you’d made your decision, you were just friends. 

~~~

It was Cassian’s birthday, and you and Feyre were unloading the decorations and supplies from your car to prepare your apartment for the surprise party you’d planned for him. “Remind me again why Cassian’s girlfriend isn’t the one planning this party?” Feyre questioned you. Knowing where she was going with this, you sighed. “We’re good friends, Fey. They haven’t been dating long, so I wouldn’t expect her to plan a party for him. I texted her to invite her but I didn’t get a response so I’m guessing she has something of her own planned.” Feyre just gave you a noncommittal hum as she unbagged the decorations and set to work. 

You were prepping the food in the kitchen when the door opened. You didn’t need to turn around to see who it was, because you heard Az’s frustrated groan as he made his way into the living room to Feyre. He called at you, “what were you thinking letting Feyre decorate? For an artist, your decorating skills are shit, Fey.” Feyre lightly hit him in the arm, laughing as she sipped her drink and watched Azriel “fix” the decorations she’d put up.

Feyre’s husband Rhys arrived soon with the cake, and other friends filed in. You got Cassian’s message on your phone letting you know he was arriving at your apartment to pick you up for what he thought was just a small birthday dinner. Everyone took their places in hiding, and when Cassian strolled through your front door, everyone yelled out “SURPRISE!” 

Your friend Mor arrived late, running up to you and Cassian, yelling “mom and dad!” (as you two had come to be known among your friends) as she grouped you both into a hug before heading for the drinks table. The party got increasingly rowdy throughout the evening, and hours later you were sitting around the living room with Feyre, Mor, Rhys, Az, and Cassian playing truth or strip. Mor gave Cassian a sly look as she asked him what special plans he had to celebrate with his girlfriend. He turned bright red, fumbling for an answer and in that moment, your heart beat so hard you thought it would explode. You were happy for Cassian, he was your friend and deserved a great birthday, so why were you sweating at the thought of his girlfriend? Feyre piped in just then, “I must have missed her coming by tonight. I didn’t see her.” Cassian took a deep breath, “she broke up with me yesterday.” Mor, nosey as ever, pushed Cass further asking why. You moved to pinch her as a silent warning, but Cassian glanced where you sat beside him and you froze. “Cass, did I do something?” you asked nervously. No matter what your past was with him or how you felt thinking about him with her, you would never want to hurt him by coming between them. 

Cassian glanced back towards the group before grabbing your hand to lead you outside. You didn’t miss Az’s smirk and wink at you as you followed Cass. “Sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong. She broke up with me because she can tell I still have feelings for you. I didn’t even realize it until she gave me an ultimatum: she wanted me to cut you out of my life, or she would end things with me. And I didn’t hesitate to break up with her. I would never choose another woman over you. You’re my best friend, and the reason I am excited to get out of bed in the mornings. I couldn’t be with her, I don’t think I could be with anyone as long as you’re in my life.”

Your head swam as you processed Cassian’s confession. Deep down, you knew you felt the same, but it was scary. “We broke up for a reason, Cass. We want different things, remember?”

Cassian brought his hands up to cup your face and whispered, “you are all I want. We can work together through any hardships. All I know is I want you by my side, through the hardships, through the lazy mornings, through the celebrations, I want it all.” 

Your eyes welled up with tears of joy as you leaned up to kiss him. The kiss was quickly interrupted by cheering noises, which you both turned to see your friends all watching you from the couch, Mor chanting “mom and dad” as they all toasted to you both, celebrating your enduring love for each other.

[tessenpai]

Kono Oto Tomare! Chapter 132 Scans and Rough TL

Disclaimer: Please DO NOT use this translation to make your own TL of the chapter!! The KOT TL group works very hard to give you the most accurate translation, that does as much justice to the original script as possible. This is a ROUGH translation. That means is faulty and there must be mistakes in certain places. This is just for impatient people like myself to get a grasp on what is going on in the chapter! You can REFERENCE my TL if you want to discuss the chapter but never USE it as it was your own.

Scans: Kono Oto Tomare! - Raw Chapter 132 - KL (klz9.com)

Page 1

Imari [memory]: Of course we are frustrated!!!

Imari [memory]: Everybody's holding in some emotion or another!! Have you ever thought about that!?

Side text: The words no one had said to Miran, until now.

Chapter Title: #132 A story: Ours.

Imari [memory]: What you are lacking, is imagination!

Miran [thoughts]: Wha-

Page 2

Miran [internal breakdown]: I made her cry. I hurt her. I did it. What do I do? I haven't gotten a single solo, have I!!? Do you think we don't feel anything about that! You haven't realized that, have you!? What do I do? I made her cry. I hurt her. I hurt her. What do I do? I did it. A performance is not something you do alone. Of course we are frustrated! I made her cry. I hurt her. I made her cry. I hurt her. It's imagination!

Miran[sfx]: Ba-dump.

Page 3

Miran[sfx]: Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

Miran's mom [memory]: Hurting others to get what you want is a cowardly and awful thing to do.

Miran's mom [memory]: Never do this again. Never!

Miran [thoughts]: Again, I... I-

Imari: hic

Miran: Ah

Page 4

Imari [sfx]: hic

Imari [memory]: Are you this self-centered?

Miran: ...

Luka: !

Page 5

Miran [sfx]: Wipe, wipe.

Imari: Wha-

Imari: Whaaaaaaaaaat----??

Miran [sfx]: Wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe.

Imari: Wai- That's enough, already. Your necktie is gonna get dirty--

Page 6

Imari: ----

Imari: I'm going to wipe my face, give me a minute.

Miran: Ah, wai...

Tougo: I'll go after Imari. You should cool your head a bit too, Miran.

Page 7

Kio: The person who knows Imari-san the best is probably Tougo-kun. It should be fine.

Kio: Those two are childhood friends, apparently.

Miran: ...

Luka: Hey, Miran. When those two come back...

Luka: Why don't we all take it easy and talk, just once?

Miran: ----....

Imari: ---So

Page 8

Imari: Why did you insist on doing this outside?

Luka: The weather is so nice, I just thought it would give us some sense of freedom.

Kio: We could've sat on that bench over there.

Luka: But this feels more informal, doesn't it?

Imari: Well, I don't really care. Whatever.

Luka: Fu

Luka: I've always thought that music is a way to communicate even if you don't understand the language or don't know another person.

Luka: I figured I didn't need to ask more than I had to about everyone else either. I don't like to pry, you see.

Page 9

Luka: ...But just now, Imari... She let us listen to the voice of her heart, even though she probably never meant for us to ever hear it.

Luka: And even though it was shocking, it made me really happy.

Luka: "Aaah, so that is what we are lacking!", it opened my eyes.

Luka: If you'd like, I would love to hear more about you.

Page 10

Imari: What do you even want me to tell you...

Luka: Anything is fine! Your upbringing, the things you like, the things you hate, even something you are not happy about. It doesn't matter as long as you feel comfortable talking about it.

Luka: If we got to know more about each other, I bet our performance would also change.

Imari: If you say that... Then you should go first about telling us about yourself.

Luka: ! I see! You are absolutely right!

Page 11

Luka: Well then. My parents adopted me when I was one year old, and then---

Imari: Waitwaitwait.

Imari: Eh? Wha-? Ehh!!? Is that something you feel comfortable sharing with us!?

Luka: What? Yeah, of course.

Luka: Meeting my adoptive parents is the luckiest and most joyful thing that ever happened to me.

Luka: It is my greatest pride.

Imari: The- Then it's fine, I guess...

Page 12

Luka: My parents are very big music lovers.

Luka: So ever since I was little I've been exposed to all kinds of music. Thanks to that, I met the koto.

Tougo: How exactly did you meet the koto?

Luka: What?

Tougo: I'm curious. What drove you to begin playing the koto? Did you listen to someone's performance, or something like that?

Luka: Oh... umm... It's nothing like tha...

Imari: What is it? Don't be coy now, say it!

Luka: You... you won't laugh?

Imari: What?

Luka: You gotta promise you absolutely won't laugh. Promise!!

Imari: I won't laugh, what is it!?

Page 13

Luka: Hmm...

Luka: When I heard the koto was an instrument resembling a dragon... I just thought "That's the coolest thing ever!!!!" and wanted to play it...

Kio: ...Eh? That's all..?

Luka: ...Yes...

Imari: Ahahahahahahahah!!!! Are you for real!? And here I was expecting some noble reason!!

Luka: You- you said you wouldn't laugh!! That's just how children get hooked on things!!

Imari: You are even studying abroad for it, so I'd say it worked alright.

Tougo: Did your parents ever oppose the idea of you studying abroad?

Page 14

Luka: They were super supportive.

Luka: It's just that when it was decided that I would be studying abroad my dad was diagnosed with an uncommon illness...

Imari: What?

Luka: Ah, he had surgery to treat it, so he's alright now!

Imari: Dude, you've been bad for my heart ever since you started talking!!

Luka: Sorry.

Luka: In any case, with my father's condition, I decided not to study abroad and stay in my hometown. And they fervently opposed to that.

Luka: I wanted to be by my father's side... But then he said, "I refuse to be the reason my child is dragged down!"... He just wouldn't hear it. I got into a huge fight with my parents for the first time.

Page 15

Luka: We worried a lot. We talked it through, a lot. Both of them consider my future to be the most important thing. And so, here I am today.

Tougo: You have great parents.

Luka: Right!?

Tougo: Are they coming to listen to us at Nationals?

Luka: Yeah. It will depend on how my father feels then, but that's the plan.

Luka: ...I would love to give them a great performance.

Page 16

Miran [memory]: It's because you are here! It's your fault!

Imari: What about you, Kio? You are just as much of a mystery to me as Luka.

Kio: Me?

Kio: I'm just a normal guy. Your average "Failure" born into a prestigious family.

Imari: Failure?

Kio: I hate it when people tell me what to do. The more someone tells me to do something, the more I want to do the opposite.

Imari: You are such a pain in the ass...

Kio: Haha Isn't that the truth?

Page 17

Kio: My relationship with my house is terrible because of that.

Kio: …It's the kind of house where your path is already decided even before you're born, and where you grow surrounded by pride and traditions.

Kio: And so, I rebelled against my house. I was pretty naughty at times. I was almost excommunicated on several occasions.

Imari: What in the world did you do?

Kio: Do you want me to tell you?

Imari: On second thought, no...

Luka: The way you speak is so polite that it's hard for me to picture you being naughty, Kio.

Kio: Ah--... I'm a bit of a jerk when I speak plainly.

Luka: I see!

Luka: But if it's like that, why did you decide to still inherit your house and take over it?

Page 18

Kio: Ahhh. Because I thought I would be able to destroy the "Akane Group" once and for all. Clap

Imari/Luka: What...???

Kio: Please, do not share what I just said with anyone.

Kio: I have not been officially appointed as the next heir yet. I will get debarred for real this time if they find out.

Imari: I didn't sign up to hear such a terrifying story!

Luka: When you say destroy, do you mean to dismantle it?

Kio: Hmmm... If it comes down to that, I may do it.

Kio: When I say I want to destroy it, I mean "The way things are done in the Group".

Page 19

Kio: For my parents, everything should be inside a pattern. That's the way they were taught, and that is the way they teach.

Kio: New ways are absolutely forbidden.

Kio: They believe that's what "Preserving and passing on tradition" means.

Kio: They are not mistaken in thinking that. If that's what the person who entrusted it to them wished, then that's how it should be.

Kio: However

Kio: If I were to entrust something precious to me to someone else.

Kio: I don't want that person to whom I entrust my work to be "just another entity who will pass it on to the next one."

Page 20

Kio: The life of that person.

Kio: Their thoughts and feelings.

Kio: I want them to pass on the proof of their lives.

Kio: That's how I want "Passing on tradition" to be.

Imari: What the heck? You have given this a lot of thought, haven't you?

Kio: Haha Did your opinion of me get a little better?

Page 21

Kio: Well, I may say all that but

Kio: After the entrance ceremony, when we introduced ourselves... When it was Miran-san's turn my sarcastic side came spitting out at her. I'm sorry.

Kio: "Got in through connections", I said?

Kio: That was very cruel.

Kio: I know that. I regret saying it.

Kio: Miran-san, you are completely free and unbound by anything.

Kio: I was envious of you.

Page 22

Tougo: Well, hearing your stories made me realize I'm the most normal out of all of us here.

Tougo: I was born into a normal family, and can't think of any remarkable thing to say about me---

Imari: No. What the heck are you even saying?

Imari: This dude over here!!! He is my stalker!!! Ever since we were children up till now!!!

??: Eh!!?

Imari: He lived in the house next door.

Imari: He's been following me around since we were three years old.

Imari: Whatever I did, he would follow my lead!!

Page 23

Imari: From beginning to play the koto, entering competitions, even applying to this school. He aaaalways follows me in what I do!!!!

Kio: We- well, it could be a coincidence...

Tougo: No, I'm following Imari. Because I love her.

Kio: You can't be serious...

Kio: I'm sorry, Tougo-kun, but I'm very creeped out right now

Tougo: That's fine, I don't care what anyone other than Imari thinks.

Imari: I was always creeped out!

Imari: It's not only that. The scariest part of this guy is that he had no musical sense to begin with! But because he wanted to be next to me, he practiced like an absolute idiot, won a prize at a competition, and got into Ichiei..! Isn't that freaking insane!?

Page 24

Luka: Tougo, I didn't know you were such a passionate man!! You must be head over heels for Imari!!

Imari: That is not what I said!!

Tougo: I am in love with you, though.

Imari: Shut. Up.

Kio: So you were that kind person, Tougo-kun... Why haven't we seen you act like this before?

Tougo: Because I promised Imari.

Imari's rules: Don't stick to me. Don't stare at me. Don't talk to me unless it's necessary.

Tougo: She said, follow the rules or die.

Kio: Woaaah...

Kio: We've been working together for a little over a year, so I thought I knew you reasonably well, but…

Kio: You really never know. People...

Luka: That is true! It's so interesting.

Page 25

Luka: I wish I had asked about you from the beginning. Such a pity I didn't.

Imari: What are you saying? It's not like I would talk about these things with a complete stranger.

Kio: Exactly. It is now that we can talk about them.

Luka: !

Luka: I see!

Luka: What about you, Imari? Your mom is a koto teacher, isn't she?

Imari: That's right.

Imari: Ah, but not from a prestigious family, like Kio's. Just a normal koto class teacher.

Imari: I've been playing the koto as far as I can remember. When I was five, I entered a small competition for the first time, and won it.

Imari: From then on, I started participating in prefectural and regional contests.

Page 26

Imari: Because of the amount of awards I was winning, they began to call me a prodigy child.

Tougo: She even appeared on TV.

Luka: Amazing!

Imari: But when I got to my third year of primary school, I entered a national competition for the first time

Imari: And there, I lost to Luka's beloved Hozuki Satowa.

Luka: !!

Imari: At the time, I felt like I was at the top of my game. I didn't bother to listen to Hozuki Satowa's performance, or the other kids' for that matter.

Imari's mom(?) [memory]: Imari, aren't you coming to the venue?

Imari[memory]: I'm not interested.

Announcer [memory]: Winner: Entry number 5. Hozuki Satowa.

Page 27

Imari: After that, I heard that she was to be the next head of a very famous koto school. "I'm sure her family used their power to win her the competition", I thought. I felt like an idiot for trying so hard, if things were like that. I started skip off in practice.

Imari: But after that, we both participated in another competition, and I got to hear her performance for the first time.

Imari: And then, I realized just how small my world was.

Page 28

Imari: The fact that when you hear someone perform, you can hear all of what that person has accumulated until then.

Imari: That's what I learned that day.

Imari: From then on, I started to take the koto seriously again, but everyone around me also got better and better, to the point I never got first place again.

Imari: To tell you the truth, there were a few times I thought about quitting. Still.

Imari: I just end up realizing "There is nothing else for me but this".

Page 29

Imari: And that's how it's been until now. Super lame, isn't it?

Luka: That's not true!

Luka: You are super cool.

Imari: ...

Imari: Speaking of, that's why I blew up saying pretty conceited things to you. I also---

Page 30

Miran [memory]: What you need to do is prop me up like all the rest.

Miran [memory]: When I'm the main star of the song...

Miran [memory]: You always get in my way...!

Page 31

Miran [memory]: Know that I would never give you the slightest consideration!

Miran [memory]: Being called a rival of yours makes me sick in the stomach!!!

Miran [memory]: It's because you're here.

Miran [memory]: Shut up, shut up, shut up!!

Miran [memory]: I'll do the solo!

Page 32

Miran: I'm so sorry.

Page 33

Miran: For all the hurtful things

Miran: That I've done because of my selfishness

Miran: For all the things I've said

Miran: I'm very sorry.

Page 34

Luka: Hey, Miran...

Luka: Now

Luka: Why don't you let us hear your story?

Luka: It's okay if you take your time.

Page 35

Kifune-sensei[thoughts]: ---Finally.

Kifune-sensei[thoughts]: Their worlds are now beggining to connect.

Side text: Taking it to the next level----....

---Kono Oto Tomare! will continue next month!---

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Was I the asshole for burning the bridge w my half brother last xmas?

(pls read to the end, tw for drug use mentioned and death mentioned, r slur mentioned)

So I (23, agender) am the youngest of 4 siblings, all my older siblings are from my mom's first marriage and I'm from her second. I grew up with my 3 siblings as my siblings, no half sibling language bc it doesn't matter. However, the one who was born before me, S (31, m) has never particularly liked me, he was kind when I was very small, we played hockey together briefly in the gym of my old church, he showed me miniclip games, etc. but at one point due to my oldest brother's (would be 35 this yr, rip) drug problem S was sent to live w my grandparents, my grandfather is very against hugging or crying for men and just caused S to bottle everything. Plus, my mom suspects that S felt abandoned understandably by the family. But my mom had a bipolar husband, a son w undiagnosed BPD and a c-ke addiction, my sister was, iirc, either in another province with her bio dad and I was under 6 years old. She was going through it and just physically couldn't handle any more than she already had. She had a nervous breakdown a few years after the whole older brother thing. After my oldest brother died, and I came out as agender I just kinda became bitter, I was raised in a very conservative christian environment so I wasn't encouraged to be queer and my initial coming out caused a lot of pain. A few years later I got into a relationship with my fiance and just overall started wanting to run away, something I'd been thinking for years, but it was even stronger. Even my sister ran away in her way. My brother too. My dad passed away last year in March, and that was just...the last straw for me. My dad, despite all his flaws was always there for me, and now he was gone. Throughout all this time (the 13 years sibce we were last a happy family), anytime I'd express interest in something, S would call it r-t--ded, he'd put down anything and everything I liked, I'll admit I always was a cringey kid, but it's no excuse to call me that. Over this time, he'd make little comments and things and my dad would also make small mentions that led me to believe that some of the gifts he'd given me were stuff he didn't want anymore, so he just handed them to me. One bday he gave me his old gameboy and a few games. No wrapping or anything, just my mom reminding him it was my bday and him calling me over and handing it over. I loved that gameboy mind you.

Cut to last xmas! I was bitter and feeling petty. S at this point had never bothered building a relationship despite my attempts. Relationships, family or otherwise, are a 2-way thing imho.

So, I gave him some candies, this reindeer dog thing he had given me when I was like 10, and wrapped it up w a card I wrote that said "I burn this bridge" and a few other things. He was disappointed with the plush, I thought it was bc he had actually put thought in that one. He said "no it's just the principal of things!"

So, Tumblr, am I the Asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[simplydannie]

What if it was Velvet who told the truth in the end? What if fame caused her EVERYTHING…. Including her brother…

My first ever fanfic that started my adventure. Originally posted on tiktok. Enjoy!!

Velvet and Veneer stood silent and in awe at what was going on around them. Big voices for such small Trolls. Singing their tiny hearts out. Like that’ll do any good, Velvet thought to herself. She was too distracted to feel that the diamond containing Floyd began to glow and move. Within a moment it popped right out of her chest.

“No, no!” She desperately reached out to try and grab it.

“Vels!” Veneer reached out to grab his sister just in time.

“The Troll!” She screamed, her eyes glowing pink with greed.

“Sis, it’s not worth it!” Veneer held her back. At the moment something began to happen… the Trolls harmonized. The diamond holding Floyd began glowing brighter and brighter. Veneer saw and knew what was going to happen….. the diamond exploded sending a wave of light.

“Vels!” He jumped on top of her right at the moment of the explosion, shielding her from the burst of light, knocking him off instead.

“VENEER!” She cried out. As the explosion diminished, she crawled towards the edge looking below. “VENEER!” She called out again…… she saw him. He lay motionless in his side facing away from her.

“….no….” She quickly ran to a lever that allowed the risen platform to lower.

The Trolls were paying no attention. Branch attempted to talk to his brother, hoping Floyd would wake up.

“I built it Floyd, I built the bunker… except for the waterfall.” Branch whispered, tears starting to fill his face.

“Then… how will we shower..” Floyd said softly. At that moment a wave of happiness spread through the Trolls. The brothers were the first to embrace, Viva and Poppy joining right after. They were interrupted by the sound of the platform lowering. Branch and his brothers grew a defensive circle around Floyd, waiting for Velvet to make her move…. But she ran past them. That’s when Floyd turned to see who she was running to.

“…oh no..” he said softly making his way to the giant Mount Rageoun.

“Veneer!” She held her brother in her arms…blood coming from his head and nose. “Veneer…Vennie come on wake up.” She said shaking him softly. Tears began filling her eyes. The star shaped cameras began to hover around them. “CAMERAS OFF!” She demanded. They powered down.

At that moment Floyd ran up to them followed by the other trolls. Floyd placed his tiny hand on Veneers cheek… checking for warmth… nothing. He looked at Velvet.

“Hey Vennie! Remember those chocolates we ate as kids. I never told you, but I found them! Let’s go get some right now!” She exclaimed trying to sound happy. Branch walked past Floyd and up to Veneers chest, laying his tiny head on it….no heart beat. Branch looked solemnly at Floyd, then to Velvet.

“Oh! How about we get another goldfish!!” She began to say things she knew would catch his interest… something that would wake him up.

“Velvet..” Floyd said softly.

“Remember all the dances we would make up together? Remember how we would show mom and dad?” Tears began streaming down her face as she saw he wasn’t waking up. “Remember how you said that we would both get married, be next door neighbors, our kids would grow up together…. That no matter what we’d always be… we’d always… be brother and sister…” She began to cry uncontrollably. She buried her head on his chest… he wasn’t waking up… he wasn’t going to.

“Not my little brother please.” She cried. Poppy held her hands over her face, she walked up to Velvet, placing her tiny little hand on her arm. Viva followed and did the same. One by one until they all surrounded her. Velvet felt the warmth of their tiny hands. She looked up at them, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m…. I’m so sorry.” she said looking at them, then to Floyd. The little Troll placed his hand over his heart, tears beginning to fill his eyes. Velvet stood up.

“Cameras on me.” She said. The star shaped cameras hovered around her. “Cameras on.”

Her face filled the screens around them. A gasp of the crowd as they saw her tear filled face.

“Listen up people. And listen good….we…” she corrected herself, “I am a fraud!” A wave of gasps and murmurs filled the air. “I have no talent. I’ve been using a small little Troll to give me talent. Everything was a lie! I brought my baby brother into this,” tears falling down her face again, “I changed him. I made him change into something he wasn’t. And he let himself…for me…I’m not who you guys think I am… I’m a nobody… and I’m ready to face those consequences.” She said. The crowd was stunned and silent.

“Cameras off.” She said. She turned to Crimp who was crying a distance away. “Call the cops…. Please… just… just give me a moment first though.” She returned to Veneer who still lay motionless. Grabbing his body she held him… she held him the way she did when she first met him… when he was just born. She placed her head on top of his, and began rocking back and forth slowly, humming a small tune their mother use to sing to both of them. She could still smell his cologne.

“……..I love you Vennie…” she said softly as the tears came back.

The Trolls stood back to let her have her final moments with her brother…. They couldn’t let her go to jail… not like this..THIS what they were witnessing… was already torture enough.

[candycandy00]

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 8

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! I’m posting the first chapter just to check for interest. Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

“Are you in love with Terrian?"

The words slipped out of your mouth carelessly, and you regretted asking the question the instant Anna looked up at you with a horrified, tear streaked face. The answer was right there, no words needed to convey it, and hearing it out loud only seemed to pain Anna more.

You sat down beside her. "You could've told me."

Anna stared toward the bottom of the stairs. "I didn't want to admit it. I don't think I even admitted it to myself until I saw him holding that half-breed's hand."

"Maybe they're not a couple," you offered. "Maybe he's just taking care of her. We don't know what their relationship is yet."

Anna put her face in her hands. "It's obvious! You saw the way he looked at her! She's beautiful and looks good in the outfits he likes and they've lived together for two years!"

You had no response to that. Terrian and Nariah had certainly looked like a happy couple. You sighed and threw an arm around Anna, feeling the other girl's body tremble as she cried.

Several minutes later, Anna stopped crying and dried her eyes. "Sorry," she said, still sniffling. "I know it's a stupid thing to cry over. But it just feels like half-breeds keep taking things away from me. They took my mom, and my brother, and my body. But for the past few years, I've been thinking, 'At least I have you and Terrian'. Now it's like you're turning to Vartan and Terrian has that... woman upstairs."

Your immediate reaction was to go on the defense, to loudly proclaim that you were not turning to Vartan, that there was no way Vartan would ever take you away from Anna, but stop stopped yourself before you could open your mouth. If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that you were being drawn more and more to the mysterious half-breed who slept on your couch.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way," you finally said. "But I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens with Vartan. He can't replace you. No one can."

Anna's eyes were wet again, but she smiled. "I made the best decision of my life when I agreed to share that blanket with you on Second Street."

You laughed. "When I saw you, all I could think was, 'She's small, so there would be more blanket for me'."

"You were so devious back then!"

"Hey, it's how I survived,” you said with a shrug. 

Footsteps sounded from the stairs behind you, and you turned to watch Terrian approach with a worried expression. He looked at you and Anna, then lowered his head. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have kept Nariah from you. I just didn't want to worry you two. I promise I'll never keep secrets from you again, okay?"

You looked at Anna, who slowly nodded. You turned back to Terrian. "We forgive you."

Terrian exhaled, and you wondered if he'd been holding his breath since he came down stairs. He smiled weakly. "Thanks."

"But you don't seriously keep her up in that dusty room all day, do you?" you asked.

"No, no," he answered. "She has her own room down here but I moved her today because you girls were coming. I guess that plan didn't work though." He laughed nervously and looked at Anna, who wouldn't meet his eyes.

You gave him a look you hoped he would interpret as "Don't ask. Not now."

He must have gotten the message. He gave another weak smile and said, "You're free to leave for today. If you didn't get everything done, that's fine. Be sure to come back tomorrow, okay?"

He looked at Anna as he spoke the question, but she stood up without a word and walked down the stairs to the first floor. You heard one of the bedroom doors shut and figured Anna was changing out of the maid costume before heading home.

"She's still angry with me," Terrian said sadly.

"She'll get over it eventually," you assured him. "Just give her a little time."

"You're not angry with me, are you?"

You shrugged. "I have a half-breed at my place too. I can't really say much about it, can I?"

"Thanks," he told you again, and you nodded to him before heading down the stairs.

Anna was already gone when you finished changing, so you walked home alone. It was dusk, which meant the city was a gross color of orangey-maroon as you reached your apartment. You wondered if Vartan would still be sitting motionlessly on the couch, or if he'd even be there at all. You had no idea how long his exile from the tower would last, and he hadn't bothered to tell you. 

When you opened the door, you immediately scanned the room. You almost laughed when you realized that Vartan was indeed still sitting on your couch. You slipped off your shoes, dropped your duffel bag on the floor, and walked into the living room.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed that Vartan was asleep, slightly slumped over. You leaned down to look at him, thinking for the second time that he almost looked human while sleeping. He breathed the same as you did, his chest rising and falling slightly as his breaths made little wheezing sounds.

His eyes snapped open suddenly and you took a quick step back. "I'm home," you said, trying to start a conversation before he had time to question your closeness. "What did you do all day? Don't tell me you sat there staring at the wall."

He sat up straight and raised his arms above his head, stretching in a way that reminded you of a cat. He rubbed his eyes, one at a time, and looked at you. "I slept most of the day," he said. "I read your books as well."

You saw all five of your old trashy romance novels strewn across the couch beside him and blanched. They had belonged to your mother, and they were full of exactly the sort of scenes you really did not want a half-breed in your home thinking about. You gathered them up in your hands and said, "Where did you even find these?"

"They were on a shelf over there," he answered, pointing to a rickety book case that was completely empty.

You replaced them on the shelf and headed for the kitchen. "I guess you're hungry. I don't have much but I'll try to fix something."

A loud knock at the door startled you, and you looked swiftly to Vartan. "Hide!" you whispered, pointing to the darkened hall that led to your bedroom. He obeyed and slipped into the shadows as you walked over to the door. "Who is it?" you asked.

"My son is hurt," a male voice called back. "You're a nurse, right?"

You felt something stir in your heart. It had only been a day, but you realized at that moment that you truly missed being a nurse. "Well, sort of," you said through the door, "but all my supplies at are the doctor's house now. We had to close the clinic."

The voice on the other side hesitated for a moment, then said, "Can you at least look at him? He's bleeding."

You unlocked the door and began pulling it open. The door suddenly shoved against you hard enough to knock you down, and three men rushed into your apartment.

"Look for food and medicine first!" one of them shouted to the others, who split up and began digging through your refrigerator and drawers.

"Hey, stop it!" you yelled. "I told you I don't have any supplies here!"

The man in the kitchen was filling a plastic bag with fruit, butter, and everything else he could get his hands on. "You have plenty of food though!"

You ran over to him and tried to pull the bag from his hand. "Stop! Get out of here!" you screamed, jerking with all your strength until the bag split and the contents spilled out.

"Damn it!" the man said, shoving you away and stooping down to gather back up the food.

The man who had been giving orders made his way to the kitchen and grabbed you by the hair. "Shut up and back off, you little bitch, or I'll slit your throat!"

"Let me go!" you cried, trying to jerk free. The man released you, then immediately punched you in the stomach. You groaned and dropped to the floor, holding your sides. You looked up at the sneering man. "You're... making a big... mistake," you said.

The man laughed. "What are you gonna do? Report us to the half-breeds? Good luck with that!" He kicked you in the gut and laughed again while the other two continued grabbing your food.

You rolled over onto your stomach and tried to crawl to your feet, but one of the men kicked you again and you collapsed. You looked back to see which one had attacked you, but in that same instant a dark blur moved by you at such speed you could barely make out what it was.

Vartan now stood over you, facing the man behind you. Without a word he reached out and ripped the man's head right off his shoulders. Blood sprayed your apartment like a fire hydrant and you shrieked, more from surprise than horror.

The other two men, upon realizing just what had been hiding in your apartment, made a run for the door, but they didn't even make it out of the kitchen. Vartan swooped in like an angel of death, clad in black, ripping the burglars limb from bloody limb as you sat watching, frozen in shock.

The man who had initially punched you was the last to go, lying face up in a pool of his blood, both his arms torn off. Vartan lingered with him, bi-colored eyes narrowed into an expression you had never seen a half-breed wear, as if he had a personal vendetta against the man. He lifted the man up into the air and squeezed the man's neck until there was a terrible cracking sound. Vartan dropped the now limp body onto the floor and turned around.

You stared up at him blankly. He was covered in blood, like red brush strokes on white canvas. He was a ruthless angel of death, but somehow he had become your savior. "Are you alright?" he asked, holding out a hand to you. Even though it made no sense, even though it was totally crazy to even think it, you could've sworn right then that Vartan looked worried.

"I'm okay," you answered, taking his hand and standing up. You looked around the kitchen, suddenly more thankful than ever for your time at the clinic. You had seen so much blood and gore that it hardly fazed you any more.

"I am sorry," Vartan said in his usual monotone voice. "I have broken one of your rules. I will leave if you want."

You had nearly forgotten making the rule at all. He had agreed to punish no one while he was staying with you, but how could you enforce that rule when he had broken it only to save you?

"I don't want you to leave," you told him, surprised by your own frankness. "You protected me, so how can I blame you for that?"

He looked at you silently for a moment, and for the first time you were struck by a sudden desperation to know what he was thinking. If you asked, he probably would have told you, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

"I will clean up the mess I made then,” he said. 

You nodded and gathered up the food the men were trying to steal. Some of it was splattered with blood, but most of it was in plastic bags, safe from the bloodshed. You replaced what could still be used in the refrigerator and handed the now empty bags to Vartan, who began placing the various severed limbs in them.

The two of you cleaned the kitchen in silence, the only sounds coming from the squish of body parts being crammed into the bags or the squeak of a mop across the floor. You wondered if you should thank Vartan for what he did. How did things get this far? You had started out fearful of speaking to him, because he was a half-breed. Now you were afraid for entirely different reasons.

You felt like you were balancing on a wire, caught between being fascinated by him - strangely attracted to his otherness and grateful for his bizarre kindness - and being disgusted by his violence.

When they were finished, they took turns in the shower and met again in the kitchen. Vartan had a dark towel wrapped around his waist, apparently remembering the conversation that took place before you left for work. You threw his uniform into the washing machine and sat down at the table.

"Are you hungry?" you asked him casually, your own appetite completely dissolved from the moment Vartan ripped the first head off.

"Somewhat," he answered, his voice as even as ever.

"What do you like?"

"Meat. Cheese. Carrots. Oranges." He read them off like a grocery list.

You stood up and opened the fridge. "I have bologna."

"That will be fine," he said.

You pulled out the things you needed to make a sandwich and avoided his eyes while you fixed his food. He was watching you, staring at you with those alien eyes, yet somehow it felt... normal? Like he had been watching you for years? You shook your head and finished his sandwich, then sat down at the table beside him.

He ate the food, slowly but otherwise the same way anyone would eat. You remembered Terrian's words, that Nariah had become "so much more human than Pagoda". You wondered if you could ever say the same for Vartan.

"Hey," you said, and he stopped mid bite to look at you curiously. You hesitated for another moment, then smiled at him. "Thank you."

The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he reflexively wanted to return the smile, but his expression remained the same. "You're welcome," he replied.

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