#it's still sad yet it holds understanding that his friend is trying to make him feel better

[lokimobius]

"Listen. That wasn’t tactical. I lost it." LOKI S02E02 “Breaking Brad”

[amirasainz]

Can you do reader is Landos sister and she’s his whole world but she’s away at school and she surprises lando at a race?

Of course!!! I hope you like this.

Send me some requests and enjoy reading

-XoXo

Little Norris

It was no secret within the paddock that Lando Norris’ favorite person in the entire world was his younger sister, YN. No matter the context—be it interviews, casual conversations, or even playful banter with other drivers—Lando always found a way to bring her up.

The paddock had grown accustomed to hearing him wistfully complain about how much he missed her, and how unfair it was that she was stuck at school, unable to attend the races.

Sadly, this wasn’t just an exaggerated tale; YN was enrolled in St. Paul’s Girls’ School, a prestigious all-girls school in London, where students could only visit their families during weekends and holidays.

However, YN’s academic commitments were so demanding that even those weekends were usually spent buried in books, only leaving the school for holiday visits. Lando’s ever-busy Formula 1 schedule certainly didn’t make things any easier.

So, it came as no surprise to Oscar when Lando began lamenting once again about how much he missed his baby sister.

“I just don’t get why she still has to go to school. It’s miles away, and she can’t even come home on the weekends,” Lando groaned, his expression a mix of frustration and longing. “The last time I saw her was in February, Oscar. FEBRUARY. Can you believe that?”

Oscar, who had heard variations of this complaint countless times before, only raised an eyebrow and responded with a calm, “Really?” knowing full well that Lando wasn’t done yet.

“And to top it off,” Lando continued, his voice rising in exasperation, “I tried calling her yesterday. And instead of picking up, she sent me to voicemail. Voicemail, Oscar! Why would she do that? Do you think she’s mad at me? Oh no, what if Mum finally told her I was the one who ate the last cupcake at Christmas? She’ll never forgive me!”

Oscar couldn’t help but chuckle at Lando’s melodramatic worry, but the constant whining had begun to wear on him. Finally, he placed both hands on Lando’s shoulders, spinning him around to face him directly.

“Lando, relax. I’m pretty sure your mum didn’t tell her about the cupcake incident,” Oscar said, trying to suppress a smile. “She’s probably just busy studying. You know how much school means to her.”

Before Lando could cut him off with another complaint, Oscar pressed on. “Look, we all know how much you adore YN, and you’d probably move mountains to keep her by your side. But you’ve got to understand—she enjoys school. She loves hanging out with her friends, and she’s passionate about her classes. She’s smart, Lando, and she adores you just as much as you adore her. So don’t go saying silly things like this. You know it would make her feel bad.”

Lando let out a deep sigh, the usual playful glint in his eyes dulled by a hint of sadness. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, his pout still intact as he was called away by one of the McLaren mechanics.

He gave Oscar a grateful, albeit slightly sheepish, smile before walking off towards the garage.

Oscar watched his teammate disappear into the distance, and once Lando was far enough away, he exhaled deeply, the weight of the secret he’d been holding onto starting to lift. No one had ever told him that lying—even for a good cause—could be so exhausting.

Because, of course, Oscar hadn’t been entirely honest. He was well aware of just how much Lando missed his sister. In fact, he’d spent weeks meticulously planning a surprise that would, if all went smoothly, bring YN right to Lando’s side.

After countless emails, flight arrangements, and some help from McLaren’s logistics team, Oscar had managed to fly 17-year-old YN out to Azerbaijan for the next Grand Prix.

The plan was to keep her arrival under wraps until after qualifying, ensuring Lando could focus on the race without the overwhelming distraction of knowing his favorite person was already there. The last thing anyone wanted was for him to lose focus during such a crucial part of the weekend.

While Lando busied himself with free practice sessions, YN was out exploring the local markets with some of the McLaren team’s family members. She was set to return to the paddock just as Q1 began, hidden away in the garage until the perfect moment.

Oscar had envisioned Lando’s face lighting up with pure joy, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the surprise.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

But things didn’t go quite as planned.

Qualifying that day turned out to be a disaster for Lando. From the very first lap, nothing seemed to go right. He struggled with the car’s balance, fought the understeer in nearly every corner, and couldn’t extract the pace he needed. Sector after sector, frustration built. The radio was filled with agitated comments, and by the end of Q1, he had been knocked out of qualifying altogether, missing the cutoff for Q2 by mere fractions of a second.

When he climbed out of the car, his body language said it all. Lando was livid—frustrated with the car, with himself, and with the result.

His helmet visor remained down longer than usual, as if he wanted to hide his disappointment from the world.

His walk back to the garage was slow, shoulders slumped, as mechanics and engineers exchanged worried glances but kept their distance. No one dared say a word.

Once inside the team’s motorhome, Lando stormed off to his driver’s room, eager for a moment alone. The air in the narrow hallway was thick with tension, and Oscar watched him go as his teammate finally ripped of his helmet, his heart sinking.

He knew Lando was hard on himself, but he also knew what awaited him on the other side of that door.

Lando opened the door to his driver’s room with a frustrated push, expecting to collapse onto the couch and stew in his disappointment. But as soon as he stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat. Standing in the middle of the room, a small, warm smile on her face, was YN.

“Surprise,” she said softly, her eyes twinkling as she took in her brother’s shocked expression.

For a split second, Lando didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at her, as if his brain needed a moment to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. Then, suddenly, it all hit him at once—the weeks of missing her, the frustration of the race weekend, the love he felt for his little sister—and his eyes immediately filled with tears.

“YN...” His voice cracked as he whispered her name.

Without another word, Lando rushed forward and pulled YN into a tight hug, burying his face into her shoulder as if he were afraid she might vanish if he let go.

His arms wrapped around her protectively, squeezing her like a lifeline. YN, used to Lando’s emotional side, simply hugged him back, gently running a hand through his hair.

“I missed you so much,” Lando mumbled into her shoulder, his voice muffled but thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I missed you too, Lan,” YN whispered, a soft laugh escaping her. “Oscar helped organize it. He said you’ve been whining about me non-stop.”

Lando laughed, a watery chuckle escaping him as he finally pulled back to look at her, his hands still resting on her shoulders. His eyes were red and glassy, but his smile was the brightest it had been in weeks.

“You have no idea how much better this makes everything,” he said, his voice still shaky with emotion. “I had the worst qualifying. But... you're here now.”

YN smiled at him, brushing a tear from his cheek. “I’m sorry I missed qualifying, but I’m here for the race tomorrow. We’ll celebrate then, okay?”

Lando nodded, pulling her back into another tight hug, resting his chin on top of her head. “I don’t care about the race right now,” he muttered, his voice soft. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

For the next few minutes, they simply stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten.

Lando’s earlier frustrations seemed to evaporate, replaced by a warmth that only YN could bring him. He felt calmer, more grounded, like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door, and Oscar poked his head in with a cheeky grin. “You okay in here? Thought I’d check in before I’m accused of kidnapping your sister.”

Lando turned around, still holding YN close, and flashed Oscar a grateful smile. “Mate, I don’t even know what to say. You’ve made my year.”

Oscar laughed, stepping into the room. “I figured you could use a pick-me-up. I was getting tired of the constant whining.”

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Suddenly, Lando’s mood shifted entirely, the disappointment from qualifying now a distant memory.

His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Right, we need to introduce you to everyone!” He glanced down at YN, who chuckled in response.

“I’ve already met some of them,” she teased, “but I’m sure they’ll appreciate your grand tour.”

“Trust me, it’s different when I introduce you,” Lando said proudly, his arm slung around her shoulders. He led her out of the room, a new energy in his step as if the earlier qualifying session had never even

With his little sister by his side, the world already looked a lot brighter than it did that morning.

[ivyues]

Scars of the Past: Stray Kids' reactions to finding out their S/O was cheated on in the past

Bang Chan

While watching a drama together, the plot unfolds about a cheating scandal. Casually, you comment, "Ugh, I know how that feels." Chris looks over, concern immediately filling his eyes.

You smile bitterly, huffing out a small breath. "I haven’t told you I was cheated on, did I?" Chris’ face freezes for a moment before his expression softens with empathy.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice gentle, a hint of worry in his tone. When you explain, his jaw tightens, and he pulls you closer.

"I’m so sorry you went through that. You never have to doubt us, okay? I’ll make sure you never feel that way again." For the rest of the evening, he keeps you close, reassuring you with soft kisses and sweet words.

Lee Know

During a round of "Never Have I Ever" with friends, the topic of infidelity comes up. You casually admit you’ve been cheated on before. Lee Know stiffens but says nothing in front of the whole group.

Later, when you’re alone in the car, he locks eyes with you, his expression suddenly serious.

"I can’t change what happened to you, but I can promise I’ll never hurt you like that. You're too precious to me."

He gently takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, holding them tightly. It's a simple yet meaningful gesture, an unspoken promise that this moment is different.

Changbin

In the middle of a conversation about insecurities, you mention that your last partner cheated on you, and it’s the reason you sometimes struggle with trust. "They did what?" His voice rises slightly, but he catches himself, softening as he sees your discomfort.

He pulls you into a tight hug without hesitation, but there's a flicker of discomfort in the gesture, as if he's unsure whether it's the right move. He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes.

"I'm so sorry. No one deserves that, least of all you," he says, his voice full of sincerity.

After a moment of silence, he hesitates before asking, "Do you... do you still talk to this person?" His tone is careful, as if he’s afraid of the answer but knows he needs to ask.

Hyunjin

Watching a romance movie together, the protagonist discovers her partner cheating. You murmur, "Yeah, that’s all way too familiar." Hyunjin immediately pauses the movie, turning to you.

"You were cheated on?" he asks, his eyes big and full of sadness. His tone carries a mixture of shock and indignation, as if the idea is almost impossible for him to grasp.

When you nod, he pulls you into a tight hug. "I can’t believe someone could betray you like that. I hope you know you’re worth so much more. I’ll remind you every day if I have to."

Han

During a late-night chat, you mention offhandedly, "Yeah, my ex cheated on me once."

Han freezes, his eyes widening in disbelief. "You? You got cheated on?" he blurts, his tone incredulous. "How is that possible? You're amazing."

You couldn’t help but huff out an unexpected laugh by the seriousness in his voice. He shakes his head, a mix of frustration and sadness on his face. "They were an idiot," he declares, taking your hand. "I’ll never understand how anyone could treat you like that – but I’ll make sure you never feel that way again."

His smile returns, softer this time, as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. "Promise."

Felix

During a cozy night in, a TV show triggers a memory, and you casually mention, "Yeah, my ex did that to me too." Felix freezes mid-bite of his snack, his eyes wide with shock.

"They what?" His voice is a mix of disbelief and sorrow. When you avoid his gaze, focusing on the TV instead, he leans forward slightly, trying to catch your eyes. “Hey,” he says softly, his tone coaxing but serious. When you finally meet his gaze, his expression is earnest, his eyes searching yours.

He takes your hands in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles. "You deserve so much better. If you ever feel unsure or insecure, just tell me, okay? I want to be the one to heal that part of you."

Seungmin

When Seungmin casually mentions a friend he’s been talking to, you freeze, suddenly feeling uneasy. He notices the shift in your mood. "Is something wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but concerned.

You hesitate, then admit, "I know you're not like them, but… I’ve been cheated on before, and it’s hard to trust anyone after that."

Seungmin’s eyes widen in surprise. "I had no idea," he says quietly.

You look down, your voice shaky. "I want to trust you, Seungmin. But the damage is done. I don’t know how to stop feeling this way."

He gently takes your hand across the table, his touch warm. "I’m so sorry you went through that. I want you to know I’m not like them. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust."

I.N

As a song about cheating plays on the radio, you murmur, "This song really hit hard when I found out about my ex."

I.N’s face shifts from surprise to quiet concern. "Wait, you went through what?" he asks softly, his usual bright demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness.

You nod, explaining briefly about your cheating ex, and he listens intently. "That’s awful. You deserve so much better than what they gave you."

When the song ends, he flashes you a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s make some new memories with better songs, okay? You’re safe with me." 

masterlist

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ the times they cried because of you

☆ includes ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, bokuto

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he never cries. you met this guy when the two of you were young freshman in high-school, and you quickly became a good friend of his. that being said, you never saw him cry. even when the two of you began dating in your senior year, you still never did. years passed, and it was the same as the previous years. sure, he occasionally got upset, but even then, he still put on a stoic display, never really letting you in on that side of him. even at your wedding, he sure showed some emotion but he didn't cry. then came the birth of your first child.

"she's so cute, isn't she 'toshi..?" you said weakly, forehead still damp with sweat, bodu trembling with the aftershocks of your hard, long labor. your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the sight of your dear wakatoshi holding your newborn baby.

your heart fluttered at the soft image of your husband holding the tiny baby closely again his chest, his forehead mere inches away from the baby's forehead. it was barely there, barely noticeable. if it weren't for the reflection of light, then you wouldn't have been able to see the way his eyes were glazed over, corners red, tears brimming at the borderlines of his eyes.

he was so memorized, so in love with this product of you, this product of his and your love. god, you just make him the happiest guy on earth.

with a grunt, he sniffled lightly, trying to mask his emotions. "yeah.."

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..

"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"

there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.

he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.

his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."

with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.

MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.

"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.

but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"

his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.

"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.

he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.

he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"

KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.

kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.

"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.

"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.

"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.

"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.

"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."

you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..

BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.

"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.

"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?

"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.

you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.

"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.

him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..

he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..

[the-faceless-bride]

Some Of my current ideas and obsession Blurbs (if you find any of them interesting, I'm open to hearing ideas 👀👀)

Part 2 ->

Imagine being a demon...

Imagine Part of your power has to do with death, corruption, and seeing who someone was when they were alive... as a demon, the death of Rengoku Kyojuro broke you. He was such a beautiful, loving, caring man. Giving such an unfair and unfortunate death... you just couldn't accept this...

Imagine You bring him back as he springs up after your ritual. His hair was a mess, covered in dirt, his clothes ripped. He gasps for air as if it was the first he's had in centuries... "Poor unfortunate soul, so sad, in need... come allow me to give you a second chance."

Imagine His horror. Him. Now a Demon. Tethered to you. Unable to die again unless you give him permission to do so... he tired. Sat in the sun. But while he felt weak and itchy, he didn't die. He hated it. Hated himself. He hated you. You who, while yes, didn't have malicious intent. Who gave him a second chance at 'life' as you called this... you who brought him back and unlike when he was alive in his final moments felt no pain, no hunger, he hated you.

Imagine slowly helping him come to terms with his eternal life. From Enemies (one sided) to Lovers letting him stay with you in your small hidden village of other demon families that have also been brought back and tethered to you. Still fulfilling his dreams, taking down the demons who "lost their humanity and deserved their eternity to end."

Imagine the conflict you face, when His once friends and found family find him... a demon... still classic Kyojuro but yet so different... what do you do? An angry group of Hashira Pillars cursing you for what you did to their friend. Kyojuro broken and ashamed of what he is once more at the heart break of his friends being scared of him, some of them hating him all together...

Imagine him calling out to you, help him. Make them listen. Please. His Angel... his little firefly... please make them understand. He can't bare the way they look at him... help him... he needs you.

Rengoku Kyojuro × demon Reader Trope: Enemies to lovers

Now also Imagine being a demon...

Imagine being a demon who was so desperately, hopelessly, in love with Gyomei Himejima. Hopelessly devoted to a man who didn't even know you existed. You watched him at night, singing your sweet song and lulling him to a deeper sleep each night. Wishing nothing more than to one day be able to caress and memorize every inch of his mind, body, and soul. Wishing to kiss his soft looking lips...

Imagine desperately trying to deny what you know is true... you've heard it from your fellow demon 'friend' over and over again. And tonight, you were desperately trying to hold on to your dreams... "[name] just face it... he's a Demon slayer. A hashira. And to him, you're a monster... that something no amount of love is going to change. You'd be better off not thinking about him anymore. If you really love him, you'd let him go... besides a pretty human girl will probably catch his attention sooner or later..." You hang your head as tears fill your eyes, it's not true... it's not. He could love you. He could...

Imagine one day, you run into him in the Forest. The Forrest trees are so thick that the completely block out the sun, it's only a small section of the Forest. You liked to come here to lay in the flowers, and apparently Gyomei had thought the same...

Imagine He needed a quiet place, today had been a very hectic day. No peace and quiet today at all. He'd simply sat under a particularly large tree, focusing on his breath. You'd sat so unbelievably still. Not wanting to move and risk ruining this perfect moment. You were so close. You'd never been this close to him before and it made every part of your cold body ache.

Imagine accidently rustling the flowers catching his attention instantly, and he jumps to stand in a defensive position. You quickly kneel head pressing to the ground as you apologize for disturbing him, and not wanting any trouble. But oddly he doesn't attack you and instead he apologizes for startling you. At first you were confused. But then it clicked, you Had not attacked him like a demon would. He's blind. He doesn't yet realize you're a demon... this was it. Your chance. To speak to him. To hear him address you... to hear him say your name...

Imagine Pretending to be human, making it seem like you were a measly human girl who came here to sit in the flowers to relax... and this was how it went for some time... days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months. You'd been keeping this secret of yours for 3 months, your love for Gyomei stronger and flame of obsession brighter. And he'd become so open to you. Telling you almost eveeything... sure you'd felt guilty lying to him... but you just couldn't let him. Go...

Imagine one evening, the sun setting, the fireflies and the colorful flowers surrounding you... you gain the courage to confess... stilling your heart of how much you admire him, you know that he way not feel the same way... but even if he'll never belong to you... that's OK, you are happy to just dream and be his dear friend... but to your shock and joy he accepts your confession. He's gained feelings for you. You could almost cry... but then... in an instant the happiness... your happily ever after was ripped away from you in an unfortunate series of events "Dearest... your hands are so cold..." - "GYOMEI!" A his friend Mitsuri calls out her foot steps quickly approaching, more footsteps following behind. "AWAY DISGUSTING MONSTER!" she cries her sword just barley missing you as your arm is severed clean off. And instantly Gyomei's face goes through so many emotions... worry, Confusion, shock and finally realization... and he let's you go. You dash away vanishing... "Gyomei! Are you ok?! That awful creature tricked you! She must've planned to devower you then and there if I hadn't noticed your absence! Are you OK my friend!?" The sounds of other Confused voices all speaking over each other planning to find you... Gyomei thinks of her question... is he OK?... honestly... he doesn't know...

Gyomei Himejima × Demon Reader Trope: unrequited love/Forbidden love

[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2.

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

Charles:

"Wanna nap?" You asked the man as soon as he stepped into his hotel room, tired and eyes red. You knew Ferrari wasn't some winter wonderland but you didn't know why Charles put up with it.

You had been close friends with the man, since before he'd started f3 too, you knew he bled Ferrari red but this wasn't bleeding this was suicide.

Nonetheless, you were there for him, every weekend, only today there wasn't much to do, he had just come back from some meetings. He looked at you and hummed, taking off team-issued merch and throwing himself on the bed beside you.

You turned on some sad Adele song and faded into sleep, holding the boy close to you, his head resting on the curve of your neck.

Carlos:

"Wanna nap?" You asked Carlos as you both walked into his drivers' room, it was early in the morning at the Las Vegas GP and just as the year before they had messed up the timings and the drivers had to wait till four-thirty in the morning to get on with the programme.

Knowing the both of you, you were sure if you hadn't extended the offer the both of you would have ended up doom-scrolling through Netflix looking for some show to watch fighting off sleep.

"What?" He asked, shocked at the offer for a second before raising his browns and winking at you, "You finally feel my charm didn't you?" he laughed as he climbed onto the small and rickety bed next to you. "Smooth operator strikes again," he praised himself, pulling you close to him, enveloping you in his arms as the big spoon.

You groaned and kicked his shin, making him complain, "Dude you're so fucking lame!" You made fun of the older man who only replied with terrorism (tickling you,) "S-top, stop, I'm sorry," you laughed, trying to escape the death grip he had on you, eventually getting him to stop.

He let you catch your breath as he set an alarm, before trapping you in his warm arms again, both drifting into a comfortable sleep.

Lando:

It was way past midnight but you couldn't sleep, unable to get yourself out of the party high, too drunk to rest your brain. Thankfully you weren't the only one.

There was a barrage of knocks on your hotel room, a slurred voice with a British accent begging to be let in. "Y/n/nnnnn, I can't sleep," he cried once in the room, stumbling over nothing as you both made your way to your bed.

You giggled as he fell, brushing his hands over the cold blanket. You joined him, crawling onto the bed slowly as the room around you spun. You laid on your back, clinging onto the bed for dear life.

Lando noticed and piled on top of you, making you raise a question brow. "So you don't fall off," he muttered, his face buried in your chest.

"Ohhhh, that makes sense," you said, understanding his thought process as the spinning slowed down. "We should nap," you said out loud, eyes shutting due to the comforting warm weight on top of you.

Lando hummed in return, wrapping his hands around your waist, as you pulled one hand up to his and another grabbing his curls for extra support.

Oscar:

There were two things everyone knew about Oscar, he hated waking up early and he loved sleeping. So when his trainer woke him up on a perfectly cosy yet cool Monday morning to exercise, he nearly wanted to kill the man, only stopping because that would take much more effort than simply going through with the workout.

Your apartment was closer to the gym than his, so he happily invited himself in to bitch and moan about his trainer and how that man must have hated him.

Rolling at your friend's antics, you pushed away your laptop, walking from the dining table to where he was sitting on your sofa.

"Wanna nap?" You had barely finished your question when you were pulled onto the Australian.

"I thought you'd never ask," he whispered, as he shuffled on the narrow sofa to get comfortable, you still on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and your face buried in his neck.

"Are you using me as a teddy bear?" You asked incredulously, trying to get up to no avail as the man's grip on you was far too strong.

"Yes, now let me sleep," he murmured, already half gone.

George:

George had a habit of pushing himself too far, ever since he was a child. When you guys had just newly become friends, the boy had spent hours trying to find out what exactly you liked and didn't, stalking your Instagram and your family's Facebook.

You had found it endearing but also concerning how he always wanted to be perfect. So when you walked into his house at midnight (you got a key made- there's a reason the both of you got along so well,) and found him staring unblinkingly at his laptop and a large mess of papers spread across the wooden coffee table.

"Dude, what is wrong with you," You whisper-yelled at the man making him jump, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Me? What is wrong with you?" He yelled, panting as you jumped over the back of the couch, sitting right next to him, ruffling through the papers much to his chagrin.

"Shut it, Georgie boy," you smirked at him using the nick name he hated. “What are you even doing, it’s so late?” You asked looking at the taller man who started off in a rant about the car and everything he was doing wrong, making you slide down on the sofa till you head was resting on the backrest. You lifted your feet up to rest them on the coffee table, making George rush to move a stack of papers so they wouldn’t be under your feet.

Perfect. You grabbed the man’s shoulders and made his head rest on your lap.

“What on earth are you doing!” He yelled more than asked, trying to get up but you doubled down.

“George you need to sleep,” you deadpanned as he tried to make you let him go, knowing his pleas fell on deaf ears he gave up.

You raised your brow, “wanna nap?” You asked teasing the boy.

“Only for a few minutes,” he pressed, making himself comfortable, while you tangled your fingers in his hair, “maybe more then,” he sighed and let his eyes shut, slightly watering and finally fell asleep.

Lewis

Lewis had never been a friend to you, he was more like an annoying yet caring older brother or like a fun uncle of sorts. The man was fiercely protective of his friends, even those whom he saw in animosity.

But you were different, Lewis would steal your coffee, eat your food, and push you around but he'd also sneak you Red Bull (much to his disgust,) into his driver's room during late races, walk you to your hotel room after parties and get you souvenirs from races you couldn't be at. Similarly, you loved to annoy the man, stealing his expensive jackets, which looked hilarious due to the size difference, stealing his headphones and running away with them and most importantly coming to him with your problems day or night.

So no, Lewis wasn't surprised when you showed up to his driver's room in the middle of the day, even though Toto had revoked your pass for the day (for bullying George, but it was worth it,). He was ready to tease you but then he saw your eyes, red and tears flowing down your face.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He immediately came up to you, giving you a once-over to see if you were injured. "Did someone say something, are you hurt?" He asked panicking at your silence. You simply wrapped your arms around the older man, hiding your face in his chest, quietly sobbing and sniffling.

He walked you both to the sofa in his room, seating you down, trying to wipe your tears, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked as you finally calmed down, using his arm as support to sit up.

You cleared your throat, "No, I just wanna nap," you hiccuped slightly.

"Okay," he leaned back so you could rest your head on his shoulder, giving you one of his airpods to relax, which you gladly accepted.

Lance & Fernando (they aren't always gonna be together but the situations... THE SITUATIONS WRITE THEMSELVES)

"Oh honey that’s not," Lance said pointing to your coloured hair (matching with Alex) and thats how the conversation had started and had ended in a cat fight.

“At least I’m not a nepo baby,” you yelled as you threw a basket of oranges at him, which he dodged, darn those f1 reflexes. The basket itself smacked him square in the face, leaving a red indent across his nose. He glared for a second before jumping over the table you were fighting across and pulled your hair. “Owww, you bitch”

You bit his hands in defence, to which he kicked your shin, screaming you launched yourself at him, crashing the both of you to the ground, “oh my god, okay, truce, truce,” he panted, pushing you off him.

“Just so you can catch your breath,” you retorted making him mock you. In reality, you were definitely much more tired than he was. You were struggling to catch your breath, your head killing you where he grabbed a large chunk of your hair.

You turned to look at him, resting your head on his stretched arm, he was massaging his nose, the bruise turning purple now, “well that was fun,” he turned to face you.

“Sooooo fun,” you rolled your eyes, “wanna nap? My heads killing me,” you are far him in accusation but he glared right back pointing to his swollen nose.

“Sure,” he shrugged, shifting closer to you and closing his eyes. You opened your mouth to make a joke but were interrupted, “there are like a million oranges on the floor right now, I’ll throw one at you,” you accepted defeat and fell into a comfortable sleep.

That’s how Fernando found the both of you, slightly scowling but fast asleep, he took a picture for blackmail’s sake and placed a blanket over the two of you.

PT-2 w/ Max, Logan, Alex, Daniel, Yuki, Pierre, Esteban, Zhou.

[whatifitis]

♡ two people can change - LN 4 ♡

Summary: A year after your relationship went up into ashes, you're forced to make a decision on what path to follow. Do you allow yourself to fall again for your first love? or do you follow a new path on your own? Can two people change?

Author's Note: Hi lovelies!!! Here is the 4th and final part of 'i wish you would've stayed'. I wanted to say a big thank you to those who have been following the series and showing it so much love. I hope y'all enjoy this part 😋

WC: 3770

CW: angst, brief mention of cheating, I think that’s it?

How did you always end up in the same spot? Over and over again? You’re always sitting around and thinking about the same person. Maybe because you didn't want to heal. The pain you’ve been trapped in is the last bond you have with him. It’s the last part of him that you know.

It’s been almost a year since you’d found the person you loved with a woman on top of him. You’ll never forget how the auburn flames came alive, destroying your last chance at a happily ever after.

You still don’t understand any of it. You thought you and Gabe were happy. You thought it was finally your turn at something good. So how did it end? You felt how everything slipped away. How it all slipped through your hands like water. As much as you tried to hold it all together, it was no use. It felt like your soul was leaving and your dreams were deflating right before your eyes.

You still mourn your relationship after all this time. Gabe really made you feel loved. He’s tried reaching out since it happened. He asks you how you are, if you’re okay, if you two can meet and talk. You don’t respond though. You don’t think you can face him again. You’re afraid that you’ll end up crawling back to him, just because it meant you wouldn’t be alone anymore. Like maybe you can have a husband and a house and a life again. But you know you deserve better, even if you end up alone.

Lando has been kind through this process. He understands that you have had a lot on your plate already and he doesn’t want to push you when you’re not ready. He’s there for you when you need him and he gives you space when you ask for it. He frequently checks on you, even if he’s out of town for a race. He listens to your rants, even when it’s 4 am for him.

He does so much for you, even when you tell him you don’t want a relationship any time soon. When you two spoke in the cafe a year ago, you told him you’d be willing to let him into your life very slowly. You missed him a lot, mostly as a friend. Before feelings got in the way, you two were the best of friends and you truly missed that part the most.

You aren’t even sure if you want to date Lando when you’re ready to get back out there. Even though he’s here now, it doesn’t mean he will be here later. And he really hurt you all that time ago. It all feels complicated, but yet so simple.

Maybe you need to stop bed rotting and get out for a walk. You get up and stretch, walk to the bathroom of your new apartment and brush your teeth. When you walked back to the bedroom, you picked your phone off the bed and checked the time, but you’re met with a new text message from Lando, ‘Hey! I have Max’s dog for the day and wanted to know if you wanted to join us for a walk. :D’

Creepy he offered a walk when you were about to go on one…

You stop and think if you wanna see him today. Maybe you can talk to him later and possibly discuss trying again? You still love him, even after everything. So why not?

You shoot back a text to let him know that you’re joining and you change your clothes.

As you put your shoes on, Lando texted you to let you know that he was downstairs with Theo, Max’s dog.

You spot Lando and Theo outside the door of your building and Theo is eager to greet you today. When Max and Pietra first adopted Theo, you were quick to befriend the dog since he took a liking to you. Maybe it was because he sensed your sadness but it’s okay. You’re just happy you’re one of the chosen ones.

Theo is jumping and grabbing at you until you’re knelt before him, letting him give you some kisses and you pet him and give him some belly scratches.

“Damn, do I get a greeting like that? I want belly scratches as well.” Lando says, giggling to himself.

“Don’t be jealous, Norris. It’s not a good color on you.” you joke.

“Every color is good on me, actually. Do you want to grab a coffee or something before we get to the park?”

“Nah. Maybe we can get some after?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

The two of you make simple conversation as you make your way to the park. It’s nice outside today. The sun is shining and providing some warmth to those who are out in the park today. It was like being held in the sun’s arms, the kind of warmth you haven’t felt in a long time.

You and Lando arrive at the park and walk around and try to find a nice spot in the grass to relax and play with Theo. It’d be nice to sit outside and breathe in some fresh air and just chill. Most days, you find yourself either stuck in your office at work or in your bed at home rotting.

Lando spots a nice area with plenty of space to chill in so the two of you make your way there. But as you two do, you pass a bench with an old woman, likely in her 70s, sitting on the bench. She spots the two of you and tells you “You two are a cute couple.”

You almost freeze in place. Trying to get your brain and body to cooperate, to reply kindly to the woman. But what were you supposed to say? Things are still complicated with Lando and if you said ‘Thanks’ then Lando could take it the wrong way and if you said ‘Oh, we’re not together’ then Lando could still take it the wrong way. Maybe there was a middle ground answer you could think of. Maybe you’re just seriously overthinking it.

“Oh! We’re not- It’s- I mean I wouldn’t mind- I really do-” Lando stammers, trying to find an answer as well.

“Ah. I see. Young lady, would you mind keeping me company for a minute?”

You look at Lando, to let him know you’ll sit with the woman for a bit and that he can go play with Theo. He nods silently and kisses your forehead before walking onto the grass field.

Damn him and his forehead kisses. You practically melted into it.

You sit down on the bench next to the woman and introduce yourself.

“Y/n. That’s a beautiful name, darling. I’m Margareth.”

“Hi, Margareth. How are you doing today?” you ask.

“I’m quite alright. Thank you for asking. How are you on this fine day?”

“I’m doing quite okay.”

“I’m sorry if my comment made you uncomfortable, darling. I noticed you sort of freeze. I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize. It’s just a bit complicated and I wasn’t sure how to respond.” you try and laugh it off.

“I understand. Tell me what about it has got you all mixed up?”

“Oh it’s a long story and I don’t want to bore you and trauma dump on you.”

“Darling, please. I’m an old lady. I barely get any good gossip nowadays. Please give me something juicy to report to my grandchildren.”

You laugh a little and decide there’s no harm in telling her. Maybe she could help you in the end. “Well, for years, Lando, the boy with the dog over there, and I were best friends. We were literally inseparable and we honestly just had such good times together. After some time, I caught feelings and told him and he said he’d felt the same way. We didn’t start dating though, he said he wanted to take things slow and make sure we weren’t really pressured. He’s also got a very busy career so I agreed to taking things slow and seeing where it went. But after some time, he pushed me away and said he wasn’t able to maintain any relationships, especially a romantic one. So I said okay and we stopped talking.”

“I see how that would have hurt you, darling. You seem like the person who wears their heart on their sleeve so I can only imagine how you felt.”

“Oh, that wasn’t even the worst part. So a few weeks after that or something, he started dating this girl.”

Margareth’s jaw drops and she’s practically gasping at this information, “No!”

“Yes! They were “official”. So I went through this whole crisis of ‘was it all fake?’, ‘was i the problem?’. And then we ended up in the same club and he was there with his girlfriend at the time. Somehow, we ended up on a quite balcony alone and he was telling me how great she was and that she’d “stayed”. So I was like ‘bitch, what the fuck? I stayed’. I mean I didn’t say it outloud, just in my head. Outloud I said congrats and I was happy for him yada yada yada.”

“Sounds like a right prick, love. So how did you two end up here together, today? Does he still have that girlfriend?” Margareth asks while side-eyeing Lando who is running around with Theo.

“No. They ended up breaking up. And I started seeing someone who I really loved and who I thought loved me.”

“Lord, please help me. What do you mean ‘loved’?”

“Uhm, a year ago, we were engaged and preparing for the wedding when I caught him in our bed with my cousin.”

“Shut up!” Margareth nearly falls off the bench from shock.

“I’m not kidding.” you laugh, her reactions are making you laugh so much, you want her to be your best friend now.

“What is wrong with men these days? They have everything and are so ready to just drop it all for what? Pussy? That probably isn’t even that good? And with your cousin of all people, fucks sake.”

“Margareth! Language, please. There are probably children around.” you laugh as you look around to make sure no young ears are within range.

“I’m sorry but I’m right. You’ll learn that soon.” she says as she pats your leg, “So, what happened after your ex man cheated?’’

“Uhm, I moved out. He gave me his cat cause she kept shitting in his shoes. And Lando found me in a coffee shop and apologized for everything and said he fucked up and wanted another chance. I told him my side of everything. Now it’s been a year and we’re just friends.”

“Do you want to be more?”

You sit there and think for a minute. You’ve been asking yourself this question for ages but you can never seem to get an answer. You want to be more with Lando, but you just can’t seem to push forward for some reason.

“I don’t know, honestly. So much of me says yes but there’s just something in my body saying no. That one little thing is the reason I haven’t run into his arms yet.”

“Well, darling, I want you to listen to me when I say this. You’re too full of life to be someone’s maybe. I know I just met you today, but I already know you. You were me when I was younger. A sort of quiet, reserved girl. You always dreamed of a happily ever after. Dreamed of meeting the one. Then mistake after mistake, you question if it’s right for you. But let me tell you this. Love is meant for you. You deserve so much more than what this world has handed to you so far.”

You look at her and take in her words. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you need to stop falling into the same cycles over and over again. Maybe it’s time to make your decision and figure shit out.

“Did you ever find ‘the one’?” you ask, genuinely curious, sort of making sure she’s not bullshitting you.

“I’m not bullshitting you, darling. I did find her. And she was magnificent. Worth all the heartbreak I’d ever endured. Worth every moment of sadness and despair. She was the best person I’d known. She made everyday bright and warm. It was like holding the world in my arms.”

“You say ‘was’. What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She passed away a few years ago.” she says, giving you a smile.

“I’m so sorry, Margareth.”

“It’s alright. We lived everyday to the fullest. She left the world with no regrets. As much as I wish she were still alive, I know she still lives here in my heart. And I know she watches over me because on her deathbed, she threatened to haunt me if I moved on with a man.” the woman laughs. You join her in it.

“I’m glad you can laugh about it. And that you can cherish her and your memories together so nicely.”

“It took some time. I’m just glad I was allowed to have known her in this lifetime. Even if the time was short.”

You and Margareth just sit in silence. You think about everything you’d just learned and watch the view in front of you. Lando is being pushed to the ground by Theo. He’s laughing so hard as Theo is jumping all over him.

You’re smiling at the scene and imagining what a life with Lando would be like. Would things work out? Is it a life you’d always dreamed of? Would you be happy?

You’re brought out of your daydream as Lando walks over and asks you if you’re ready to go. You nod and stand, turning to say goodbye to Margareth but when you look to where she was sitting, no one was there.

Damn, where’d the bitch go? You look around but can’t seem to spot her. Maybe She’d said goodbye when you were in the middle of your daydreaming.

Lando and Theo walk you back to your apartment as Lando asks you what you spoke to Margareth about. You tell him it was just small talk and that she had the dirtiest mouth you’d ever come across.

“No fucking way. You’re saying that old woman was worse at cussing than Max V?”

“Yes! It was insane. It was like Max V in 50 years. It was hilarious.”

“I bet it was.” he lets out a soft laugh.

The two of you keep talking until you arrive at your apartment building when Lando offers to walk you up to your door. You agree and tell him that he can hang around for a bit and let Theo get some water and relax after such a nice day outside. This would also be the perfect time to talk to him about everything going on in your head.

The 3 of you make your way into your apartment and settle in with some ice cold glasses of water and some fruit. You and Lando are sitting at your dining table while Theo lies on your floor after chugging down a bowl of water.

You’re sitting there watching Lando, trying to find a way to start this conversation.

“Hey, Lan. We need to talk.”

“Oh, yeah. What’s up?” he asks hesitantly.

“I think I know what I want now. With life and everything.”

“Alright. What is it that you want?” he’s still hesitant, almost afraid of what you’re gonna say. His leg looks like it’s trying not to bounce and he’s fidgeting his hands.

“I think I need to be alone for a while.”

“Oh, I understand. So what does that mean? Exactly?” You can tell he’s disappointed.

“It means that we can’t hang out like this anymore and we can’t text every night and stuff. If we see each other when we’re out and about, then I’ll be friendly and say hi. But we can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This. Whatever ‘this’ is. So much has happened between us these past few years and I think it’s fucking us up as individuals and as a ‘couple’ or whatever it is we are. We haven’t the time or opportunity to heal from all this shit. It’s not healthy, Lan.”

“But, I don’t understand why we can’t work through it together. I’m not saying I disagree with you and that I’m forcing you to be with me or something. I just genuinely want to understand and it might make it easier for me to move forward.” he looks at you softly, genuinely lost in this whirlwind.

“I get it. I think we each need to figure out who we are without being near each other. I think we’ve sort of been trying so hard to make things work that we’re not being true to ourselves anymore. I mean, we also have baggage that we still have to work through. I’m still fucked up over the whole Gabe thing and I’m still hurt over what you did when we were younger.”

To this, he flinches. You knew he was regretful of those things and he really tried making it up to you. But you had to be honest. Lando has to figure out why he did it in the first place and how he can work to improve his mental health more. He still can let his mind get fucked up and it’s hurting him.

“I really am sorry for the things I did.” he says as tears glass over his eyes.

“I know. And I’m sorry for having led you on.” you say, getting emotional yourself. Feeling your nose itch and your eyes sting.

“It’s okay. But, do you think one day, when we’re both better, we can try again? I really do love you, Y/n. I want to make this work. If you need real space and time, then you can have it. I’ll wait for you, Y/n. I will wait for you for 500 years. For a million life times. Even if it’s for just one moment.” tears are sliding down his face.

You reach for his hands and hold them tightly in yours, “I don’t want you to wait, Lan. I want you to go out and live. I want you to get better and learn to love people. I want you to find someone who can love you nearly as much as I do. I don’t want to stop you from finding the love of your life.” tears are sliding down your own face now, painting streaks.

“You won’t stop me from finding my love. You’re my love, Y/n. I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

“Listen to me, Lan. I loved you so hard for a time and I still do. And I wish I could forget all the ways that we’re broken, but I can’t. I don’t want us to destroy each other and hurt each other. It’s not fair to either of us. I’m closing the door. But I’m never going to lock it.”

Lando is on the verge of sobbing. He can’t believe this is how it ends, “For the longest time, I thought I was gonna be the one that got to marry you. It might be stupid and mean to say but I’m afraid if I get married to someone who isn’t you, my vows will be about you and not the person standing in front of me.” his voice breaks.

“I’m afraid that if I marry someone who isn’t you, that I’ll miss you while wearing my wedding dress.” you sit there for a second in silence with Lando. You can’t believe that this is happening. You really don’t want it to happen, “Maybe, one day. I’m not saying we’re not possible. Because maybe one day, it will be us. It’ll be us living the life we’d always wanted and dreamed of. Maybe it’ll be us that gets to live happily ever after. But I can’t promise it will be.”

“So, is this it? Is this the last time I get to see you?” he asks, desperate for you to say you’ll see him again and that he won’t have to wait long.

“For now, yes. I’m sure I’ll see you around though. Max and Pietra might push us into the same room for a while.” you laugh, watching as you were able to pull a smile from the man in front of you. The man you wish you didn’t have to let go of.

“I hope so.”

The two of you weren’t able to say the actual words ‘goodbye’, so you just hugged each other and held on for a while. The best place on earth was in each other's arms, and this was the last time you were gonna feel this safe.

Eventually, you had to let go. You watched as Lando grabbed Theo’s leash and got the dog ready to go home. The three of you walked to your apartment door and you watched as the two walked down the hall, about to turn a corner.

You watched as Lando looked back at you, one last time. He just wanted to savor the moment really, knowing he didn’t know when he would see you again. He wanted to memorize your outline and every detail of your being. Looking back at the person he loves the most in the world.

The two turn the corner til they’re out of view and you close your door and take a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. The sound of soft paws running down the hall grasp your attention as Olive pops into your view. You smile at the cat and pick her up in your arms as you go to sit on the ledge of your apartment window.

You look out at the world that keeps moving despite your own world feeling like it ended. You can’t believe that he’s gone. You can’t believe you did that. But it’s for the better, right?

Olive meows and you’re pulled out of your thoughts when you spot Lando and Theo walking out of your apartment building. Lando’s head is hanging down, walking away for what feels like forever. It looks like he wants to look back, but he doesn’t give in, just turning enough for you to see his side profile a bit.

You look at Olive and give the sweet girl a kiss on the head, “I guess it’s just you and me now.”

Tags for this chapter: @f1fantasys @htpssgavi @ushygushybaby @f1girly2004x

[mindbreak]

tw: noncon, threats baby trapping, yandere gojo x reader, manipulation, satosugu mention, mentions of forced marriage, stalking, light mindbreak mention.

tags: satoru gojo x special grader sorcerer reader

I do not condone any of the acts mentioned in this drabble in real life. Minors Do Not Interact. No Age in Bio Will be Blocked.

I can't stop thinking about a needy and clingy Yandere Gojo. In the jujutsu world where everyone sees him as a weapon, you being one of the only people who sees him for who he truly is.

Of course, it wouldn't start that way, in the beginning, the two of you would just be really good friends.

You'd be a special-grade sorcerer just like him, joining their little trio during your younger years. You'd understand him when he'd talk about his clan and all the heavy pressure they placed on him and how all of it stripped him of an actual childhood. The both of you laughing together at Geto's bangs while he calls the two of you childish but also butting heads with him from time to time when he took a joke too far.

You'd be the only one to witness him in at his most vulnerable. Watching him with such sad eyes as he sobs to you about Geto leaving him behind. About how he's never felt more alone. You'd try to comfort him by telling him he still had you. It would only be meant as a way to comfort him; for him to see that he wasn't the strongest by himself, that there was still someone who cared for him. And in that moment, he'd probably calm down, and you'd ignore the desperate yet dark look he got in his eyes as he made you promise to never leave him.

Never would you imagine just how much your dynamic would change after that. From him following you around the school grounds, to him randomly popping up on missions with souvenirs. It would seem cute and harmless at first but suffocating as his visits only get to be more frequent and his demands more and more intense.

He'd isolate you from the others, not wanting you to get close to anyone else. He'd also manipulate the hire-ups into keeping you away from the others like Nanami or Haibara. Why would you need to go on missions with them? They were strong enough, and he needed you more. Afterall, special grade sorcerers had to fight the most dangerous of curses! You should be at his side!

His touching would become incessant. He'd be insatiable, greedy. In the beginning it would just be hugs, him needing you to hold onto him but it would gradually get more and more intense, from hungry kisses full of tongue and teeth to him dropping his infinity just to feel the soft skin beneath your shirt.

You'd let it slide for the most part, trying to be empathetic, taking pity on him in such a sorrowful state. But, after years passing his heavy make-outs and one-nightstands would go from stealing your breath away to just suffocating you entirely.

You would tell him you need space and he'd only get worse. Afterall why would you need space from him? Were you planning on leaving?? You couldn't leave!! He'd rather die than live without you!!

He'd get rougher with you then, holding onto you so tight that you could feel bruises forming on your skin beneath his iron clad grip. You didn't need space, if anything, he needed to be around more so that you'd see how much he needed you!

It would get so emotionally draining, until finally you'd up and leave Jujutsu entirely. Or you would try to at least...

"Gojo how did you get my address?" you'd ask him one day as he randomly popped up at your home one day at 3 in the morning with puffy eyes.

And he wouldn't answer, only forcing his way inside, and wrapping himself around you, shaking violently as he keeps you held close in his embrace. He'd be angry at you for leaving, because you promised to stay. You couldn't leave him. He wouldn't allow it. Even if that meant keeping you there by force.

And maybe you'd scream and try to get away for a while as he pushed your body into the floor, but that was okay because once you were carrying his child you'd have no choice but to stay...right? Your clan would be more than happy to marry you off to the strongest modern sorcerer, and your kids would look so cute!

He'd whisper such delusions into your ear while forcing himself inside, covering your mouth with his hands when you tried to protest all while telling you that you'd accept him soon enough and - "Oh you feel so good baby, even better than I imagined."

If you tried to push him off, it would be of no use, he'd just fuck you harder every time you tried to squirm away. Deeper when you try pushing him away. Faster when you beg him to stop.

"I love you...geto.." he'd cry into your ear, clearly in a deluded state while pounding deep into your sex.

He'd kiss you desperately, sucking out all your air as he cums inside you over and over and over again, until finally, your body is too weak to continue on resisting.

And even then, he wouldn't stop. You'd sooner pass out with exhaustion, only to wake up with his arms around you, his face buried in your tummy, as he cries and begs you not to leave him.

It'd be even more twisted when you tell him you don't love him, and the tears come to a sudden halt, and you're uncertain as to whether he's taking a mask off or putting one on in that moment, as he tells you it doesn't matter what you want, because he'll come back anyway. He'll tell you it doesn't matter where you go, or how far you try to run to get away from him, you're his and he'll keep raping you until it's drilled into your mind that you're his.

++ Added bonus if you actually do try to run, and he does in fact keep his promise. Finding you every single time and fucking you on every surface he can reach, until your brain becomes fog and you forget why you ever wanted to run from such a good feeling to begin with.

++ Additional bonus if both your clans actually find out and forces you to marry him for status and power, forcing you to be stuck with him whether you like it or not.

[temiizpalace]

★┊"THANK YOU FOR PLAYING WITH ME.”

SUMMARY: you lose the marbles game, lookig at jamil one final time.

CHARACTERS: jamil viper

GENRE: angst, squid game au

WARNINGS: mentions of death, gunshots and cursing. spoilers for squid game season 1. please read at own risk.

NOTES: my friends wanted to watch squid game together and there is material to work with. please enjoy, this idea was fun, despite not being much. (readers player number was selected randomly).

reader is g/n

★˙∘

you watched as your marble rolls across the field, only falling slightly behind jamil’s. staring at the small ball, you smiled to yourself, turning to jamil who couldn’t bear to look at you.

his head was turned, looking toward the wall. he should’ve known. of course they’d pit allies against each other, making them turn against one another all for the sake of cash, it was inevitable, you could see it from miles away.

..and yet, he still fell for the stupid trap. he clenched his fist, cursing himself. why.. why did he feel so strongly? strongly for someone he had met recently? it’s dumb, idiotic, and foolish.

so why?

“jamil.” you call out, making him flinch. failing to respond, you call out once more. “jamil,” you smile, putting the bag of marbles in his hand. “you win, you’re one game closer to traveling the world!” hearing your voice, there was a certain contempt within it, like you’re satisfied with the outcome.

that tone infuriated him, causing him to grit his teeth. “you..” he mutters, turning abruptly and grabbing your collar. jamil nearly slams you against the wall, eyes holding a certain look of pure fury. “..you tried to lose?” as he raised his voice you flinched, not expecting the outburst.

“you’re fucking serious?! you’re just giving up?!” he shouts, scowling and shaking you back and forth. you hadn’t expected such a reaction from someone as calm and composed as jamil, so seeing him like this was certainly a shock.

during every game, he had kept a straight face. you admired him for this, keeping so collected and straight faced, even in the face of death. yet, here he was.

he shoves the marbles back into your hand, glaring at you with a hardened expression. “..throw it again.” he demands, his hands shaky. you stare at the bag in your hands, void of any look of sadness. “i lost.” you shrug, holding the bag loosely in your hands. “i said throw it again.” he hissed, his grip on your collar tightening.

you chuckle, slipping the marbles into his pockets. “even if i did, id still lose.” he bit his lower lip, trying to bite back his hurl of aggressive pleads. “why..” he grunts, his voice cracking.

“why?” you repeat, moving your hand to hold his. “..you deserve to win. you had ambitions, hopes, dreams, it inspired me.” you state, holding his hand in a tight grip. “i had nothing outside of these games. nothing to win for.”

“don’t say that.. don’t you dare fucking say that,” he quivers, shaking his head. he choked back the tears threatening to spill, shutting his eyes tightly as you pat his back. “..maybe, in another universe, we’ll be able to travel the world together.” you pull him in, feeling his hands move from your collar to wrapping around you.

“we can’t be together in this universe, but perhaps in another, we’ll be able to do so much more.” you eye the guards approaching giving jamil one last squeeze.

they pull him away, his back turned from you. the guards approached you, but before they pulled the trigger, you decide to deliver your final words. “jamil!”

he freezes, as do the guards.

“thank you,” your eyes crinkle, eyes watering as you began.

“thank you, for playing with me.”

taking your final breath, the guards placed the weapon to your head. jamil flinches as he heard the gunshot, wiping his tears as he walked away. he couldn’t turn to face your lifeless body.

ah, he realizes why he liked you so much now.

you were the only person willing to understand him. the only one who saw him, to lookout for him. for once, he actually dreamed. even in these terrible games, you were a beacon of hope he could follow in these dark times.

you taught him how to dream.

PLAYER 298, ELIMINATED.

A/N: guess which death this is based on lol im not coping you are lol (tbh not exactly what i expected but it’s almost 1AM and i am writing this all on memory and caffeine) anyways how do we feel abt the angst fic

date published: 01/11/25

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[dae-chwiita]

Blood Stained Words

Pairing : Jongho x reader

Summary : Jongho hasn’t talked to you in month since you got a boyfriend, but when he see’s him getting touchy with you while you’re uncomfortable, he stops thinking and it quickly escalate, ending up on the sidewalk with you having to hold bloody tissues to his face.

Warning : insults, some arguing and fighting, really really long oops but other than that PURE FLUFF

A/N : so, this is my first long fic this might be really bad I’m so sorry y'all🙏 also my first Jongho fic?!! I’m scared this will flop because my boy seems so unpopular, i see barely any solo fic of him so i hope the three Jongho x reader enjoyer will come trough on this one😔 I’ve been spending way too much time on this so, not really proofread, sorry ‘bout that, they will be some mistake guys! hope you’ll enjoy this even if I’m scared this is BAD we’ll see ig

The club was a blur of neon lights and throbbing music, but Jongho’s mind was miles away. It wasn’t the chaos around him that consumed him—it was you. He watched as you laughed with Wooyoung and Yunho, the sound of your voice floating above the bass of the music, causing his chest to ache. There was a sadness in his heart, a quiet longing that grew stronger each time you smiled, each time you touched Mingi’s arm, each time he saw the way your attention shifted away from him.

It had been months since he had allowed his feelings for you to surface. Months of pretending, of watching from the sidelines as you moved on from him, from your friendship, as you fell for someone else and not him. And now, standing in this crowded club, he realized that pretending was no longer enough. He couldn’t stand the sight of this Beom guy pulling you closer, brushing his hand against your waist with that cocky, possessive grin. It was too much. He tried his best to focus on the conversation he was having with Wooyoung and Yunho, but his eyes didn’t seem obedient this evening.

When Beom’s hand slid down your back, the moment of contact lasting a little too long, Jongho’s blood boiled. He could see how uncomfortable you were, how you were clearly trying to shift away from him, but you didn’t have the strength to push him away. He saw your fingers twitch, your body tense as you subtly tried to remove his touch, but Beom wasn’t giving in. Jongho’s instincts flared. He couldn’t just stand here and watch this. Not when he knew how you felt—he could see it in your eyes. He didn’t know why you were avoiding your boyfriend touch -probably an argument, like you always seemed to have- by he knew that it made him lose his sanity when he saw you like that.

“Jongho?” Wooyoung’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced over, only to see Wooyoung’s concerned expression. He followed his friend’s gaze to where you were with Beom.

“Oh no.“ Wooyoung sighed.

“Did they argue again or something?“ Yunho asked after also turning his head.

“Well…“ His voice grew serious as his eyes flickered between Jongho and you. “They kinda, broke up a few days ago and he seems drunk so…“

Jongho froze, confusion clouding his thoughts. What? Beom and you had broken up?

“Yeah, don’t get too close.“ Wooyoung whispered to Jungho firmly. “She’s still sorting everything out.“ His voice was quiet, cautious, but his eyes were filled with a mix of understanding and concern.

Jongho’s chest tightened at the news. His stomach churned with a mixture of relief and guilt. You and Beom were done, and yet here he was, stuck in his own silence, unable to make his move. The thought of you, the person he cared about more than anything, being in this position—uncomfortable, vulnerable—made him sick. He couldn’t just sit and watch you get harassed.

Without another word, he pushed past his two friends, Wooyoung calling out to him to come back while Yunho smushed him quickly. Walking toward you, his fist clenched, determined to do something about it. His heart raced in his chest as he moved through the crowd. The sight of Beom’s hand still on your waist, holding you like he had a right to, made something inside Jongho snap.

“Hey, Beom.” Jongho called out, his voice sharp and steady.

He turned, eyes narrowing at the sound of Jongho’s voice. His lips curled into a smirk when he saw who it was. “What’s up, little guy?” he asked, his tone nonchalant, but there was a slight edge to it.

“You need to let go of her.“ Jongho said, his voice quiet but firm. He stepped closer, his fists trembling at his sides. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”

Beom’s eyes flickered over to you, his expression suddenly cold. His hand dropped from your waist, but his body language didn’t change.

“What’s your problem?” he sneered, his posture challenging. “What, you think you can tell me what to do with her?”

“You don’t get to touch her like that." Jongho’s gaze hardened, his pulse quickening. "Not anymore.”

The tension between them was palpable. The music from the club blared around them, but it was as though the noise faded away. Jongho’s focus was solely on Beom, on the anger building in his chest. But Beom wasn’t backing down, he rarely did. He’s taller than Jongho and looks way more intimitading. He took a step forward, his eyes blazing.

“You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own her?” Beom spat, stepping even closer. “She’s not yours. She’s mine.”

“Beom, don’t-“ You finally said, coming out of of your shock to Jongho appearance.

Before you could finish or Jongho could respond, Beom shoved him hard in the chest, and he stumbled back, barely managing to catch himself on a nearby table full of bottles. His heart raced, but he didn’t let Beom see the effect it had on him. Some people turned their heads to the sound of the table scratching on the ground, making you look around nervously.

“You’ve always been in the way!” Beom growled, and Jongho felt his stomach twist in anger. “Always hovering around her like you’re her fucking hero. You’re the reason we broke up, you know that?!”

The words hit Jongho like a punch to the gut. His mind raced, trying to process what Beom was saying. It’s my fault? The pain in his chest deepened, and before he could gather his thoughts, Beom threw a punch that landed squarely on his nose, making you gasp in horror.

The impact was sharp. Pain exploded in Jongho’s face, and for a split second, the world spun around him. Blood poured from his nose, his vision blurring as he staggered backward.

“Jongho!” You shouted, your voice panicked, but Beom was already approaching him again. “Fuck off you dick! Before security come drag your ass out of here!“

He looked at you, surprised by your sudden anger. He scoffed, leaving Jongho standing there in shock, his nose bleeding. He stumbled, disoriented, but it was you grabbed his arm, steadying him. You quickly helped him to go outside, pushing harshly through people laughing and hollering at both of you, your hands supporting him as the adrenaline surged through his veins.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

Your hands were gentle but firm, trying to stop the blood from continuing to flow. The way you touched him, so careful, so tender, only made his heart race faster. Jongho didn’t respond. He was too overwhelmed by the combination of pain and the realization that you were here, close to him, your trembling hands covered with blood holding his nose. For the first time in months, you were touching him again.

You hurried him outside of the club to the pavement, away from the noise and chaos, and helped him sit down on the side walk. The cold air hit his face, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to compose himself. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how close you were, how your fingers had brushed his skin, how your hands had steadied him. He barely registered what you were saying as you frantically wiped his face with tissues you got from your bag, trying to stop the bleeding.

All he could do was stare at you.

His mind was a blur of emotions, of everything he had kept hidden for so long. His heart hammered in his chest as you scolded him, your voice trembling with concern.

“Jongho, what the hell were you thinking?!” you ramble, your voice thick with worry as you dab at his nose. “You shouldn’t have come talk to to him at all!”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. All he could do was focus on the feeling of your hands touching him. The warmth of your fingers as they carefully dabbed at his nose, the way your hands gently cupped his face as you tilted his head up to meet your eyes. His breath hitched, his heart pounding faster, and all he could do was stare at you, too afraid to speak. You continued to scold him softly, your words a blur in his ears as his eyes traced every inch of your face. The way your hair cascaded around your shoulders, the way your eyes flickered between the bloodied tissues and his face with such tenderness. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed this—the softness of your touch, the care in your eyes, the closeness of your presence.

I’ve missed this, Jongho thought, his pulse racing. I’ve missed you so much.

His chest tightened with every passing second, and he felt like his heart was going to burst from how much he wanted you. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain how he felt. All he could do was watch you, trying to hold onto every moment. Your fingers brushed the back of his head, gently moving through his hair, and he swore his heart stopped. His breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your touch, desperate for more. He couldn’t believe this was happening. After all the months of pretending, of keeping his distance, of silently suffering as you pulled away from him… You’re here. You’re touching him again.

“Jongho…” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you do that? Why did you let Beom get to you like that?”

Jongho didn’t have the words. He couldn’t explain it. He just knew that in this moment, with your hand still gently cradling his face, he couldn’t help but feel like everything had finally come into focus.

“I didn’t want to lose you.” he confessed, his voice shaky. His heart was hammering so loudly in his chest that he wasn’t sure you could even hear him. “You seemed so uncomfortable, I didn’t even recognize you with how much your face was distorted from disgust ad anger.“

You paused, your gaze softening as you looked at him, your fingers still gently caressing the back of his neck, a quick smile appearing before you downed again. You leaned closer, your forehead almost touching his as you spoke.

“I don’t want to lose you either.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “So stop being stupid like that.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and meaningful, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. All that existed was the soft sound of your breath and the feeling of your hands on his skin, grounding him in the moment. Jongho’s heart raced faster and faster, every second making him feel more desperate for you. His entire body was screaming for your touch, for your affection, for the closeness that he had missed for so long.

“I love you.” he whispered, his voice breaking, filled with emotion.

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. But then, slowly, you smiled, your lips softening, and you kissed his forehead gently.

Jongho’s heart was racing. His confession, the words that had been trapped inside him for so long, had escaped his mouth before he could stop them. The moment the words "I love you" left his lips, he froze, wide-eyed, realizing what he had just said. His heart skipped a beat, and a heat bloomed across his chest. He cursed himself silently under his breath. His face flushed crimson as he quickly turned his head away, his heart pounding faster than ever. He reached up and wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, but he was too flustered to even make sense of the situation. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. He hadn’t even thought about how it might affect you. He didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were. He just… he just wanted you to know how he felt.

Your hands, gentle as always, slowly dropped from his face. The tissues you had been holding, now stained with blood, fell onto the pavement as he moved away, wanting to escape the moment, escape your eyes. How desperate for you he is to blur out the L word only because your touching and talking to him after not doing it for only a few months…

"Jongho." you called out softly, concern and affection still laced in your voice. "You're still bleeding, come here."

But Jongho, in his embarrassment, couldn't bear to meet your gaze. He buried his face in his knees, hiding from you as his heart hammered in his chest. The blood continued to drip, but the only thing that mattered to him in that moment was the way you had looked at him. It was too much. He wants to disappear in the old concrete and be walked on for the rest of his life.

You sighed, clearly exasperated by his antics, but there was still a tenderness in your tone. "Jongho, you're putting blood all over your jeans."

He didn't respond. The weight of his confession and his growing panic made his mind race. What if you didn’t feel the same? What if this ruined everything between us? You were clearly ignoring what he just said. trying to ignore the subject while he was acting like a stupid teenager who just got touched by. Girl for the first time in his life. He couldn’t even bear to look up. He wanted to disappear, to erase what he had just said…Why weren’t you talking anymore? Did you leave? Or couldn’t he hear your voice anymore because of how loudly his heart was hitting in his chest? He wanted to look up, but his head was glued to his knees. The silence between you both was unbearable. It felt like time was standing still, the tension thick in the air.

The silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity, until Jongho couldn’t take it anymore. He slowly, hesitantly, lifted his head, blinking rapidly as his eyes found yours. He nearly jumped in shock when he saw you squatting in front of him, your face now right in front of his. Your eyes were focused entirely on him, intense but not unkind, and it made him freeze once again. Jongho tried to look away, his cheeks still burning as bright as the smeared blood on his face, but your hand reached out and gently grasped his chin. With a firmness that made his heart race even faster, you tilted his head back, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Do you know why Beom said that?” you asked softly, your voice still calm but with an underlying seriousness. “Do you know why he said it was your fault that we broke up?”

Jongho's breath hitched, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He opened his mouth to respond, but his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, unable to form the words. He only managed to shake his head in answer, telling you that he didn’t. You didn’t seem to be upset by his silence, instead you continued to look at him with understanding, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. The way you looked at him made him feel vulnerable, like every emotion he had been hiding for so long was suddenly on display for you to see.

“You don’t know…” you said, your voice soft. “It’s because when we stopped talking, you and me… when we stopped seeing each other as much, all I did was talk about you. I talked about you all the time. About how much I missed you, about the things I wanted to say to you.”

Jongho’s heart tightened in his chest. He didn’t know what to say. He had never imagined that you would talk about him like that. His mind was swirling, trying to grasp everything you were telling him, but he couldn’t make sense of it all. He wanted to interrupt you, to tell you that he had missed you too, but your words held him captive.

“There were times when Beom got so frustrated.” you continued, your eyes darkening slightly with the memory. “He’d accuse me of being obsessed with you, of wanting to date you, and it started arguments. But I didn’t know how to stop. All I could think about was you.”

You paused for a moment, and the silence between you both deepened. Jongho’s breath caught in his throat. He could feel the weight of your confession, the rawness of the emotions you were revealing, your way of saying I love you. And even though he was still processing everything, a part of him couldn’t help but feel relieved. He wasn’t alone in his feelings. He wasn’t the only one who had been holding on to something for so long. he wasn’t the only one to be so desperate. You leaned in a little closer, your gaze steady, unwavering.

“It got to the point where I realized Beom was right.” you said, your voice a little quieter now, almost as if you were confessing something deeply personal. “I hadn’t let you go. I hadn’t stopped thinking about you, Jongho. And that’s why we broke up.”

Jongho’s eyes widened at your words, and his heart slammed against his chest for the hundredth time but sometime, with a new force. His throat was dry, and for a moment, his brain stoped working. The realization hit him like a tidal wave—You had broken up with Beom because of him- no, for him. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Everything he had been holding back, everything he had been too scared to admit, suddenly felt too real. The ache in his heart that had been gnawing at him for so long now made sense. You had been feeling the same way. He distanced himself for you for months because o how much he needed you, how he felt too much for you, only for it to be reciprocated. How stupid and happy he feels.

“Jongho, I don’t want to pretend anymore.“ You reached out, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek as you spoke again, your voice soft but steady, bringing him back to reality. “I don’t want to hide how I feel. I don’t want to hide from you.”

He swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he lifted them to his sides. His mind raced, and the sudden realization of what was happening made everything feel surreal. You were confessing too. You were telling him what he had been dying to hear for so long, but still, he couldn’t believe it.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion. “I’m so sorry for not saying anything sooner.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you finally hear his voice again.

“You don’t need to apologize. We both took too long for what was right in front of us.”

For a brief moment, everything seemed to quiet down. Jongho could barely breathe, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you, still holding his face so gently. All the doubts, the fears, the confusion—it all melted away. Finally, the truth was out there. You and Jongho, both desperate for each other, both aching for something real, something that had been buried too long. And as he looked into your eyes, he could feel the distance between you closing. It was like something in him finally clicked, and all the tension, all the pain he had carried, finally started to release.

“I love you.” Jongho whispered again, his voice trembling. “I’ve always loved you.“

Jongho’s breath hitched again, this time much more pronounced, as he struggled to form his next words. His hands were trembling, barely able to stay steady by his sides. The weight of everything he had kept inside for so long was finally pushing its way to the surface. He felt like his chest was going to collapse under the pressure of the emotions, of the longing, the desperation, the love that had been simmering beneath the surface for what felt like an eternity. He reached up, almost as if instinctually, and gripped your wrist where it rested against his cheek. His fingers were warm, shaky, desperate. His eyes were brimming with so many unsaid things, looking into yours like he was searching for some kind of reassurance. But you didn’t need to say anything. He could see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you were holding him, the way you were there, really there with him, after everything that had happened.

“I… I don’t even know where to start.“ Jongho whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, as if the words had been stuck in his chest for too long, refusing to come out. He whipped his nose with the back of sleeve quickly, feeling the blood drying.

“I’ve spent the past year trying to ignore this feeling… trying to hide it from you, from myself. I thought maybe it would go away, but it never did. I kept hoping, praying… that one day I’d be able to tell you everything. That I could find the courage. But the more I tried to push it down, the worse it got. And the more I saw you with Beom, the more I hated myself. I hated the way I couldn't tell you what I felt. Hated how you were slipping away from me, even though I knew it was my fault.”

His voice wavered as he spoke, and the words poured out in a broken stream, as if they had been waiting to escape for so long. His hands tightened on your wrist, his grip almost painful, but you didn’t pull away. You didn’t even flinch. You just let him say it all, let him feel everything he needed to feel.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you. Not for a single moment. Not even when we were so far apart, when I thought you didn’t even notice me anymore.” he continued, his eyes wet with unshed tears, the rawness in his voice cutting through the quiet air between you both. “You’ve always been there in my heart, in my mind… and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I tried to act like it wasn’t affecting me, like it didn’t matter, but it does, it matters more than anything. You matter more than anything, and I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay when I’m not. When I’m broken inside because you’re not here with me. Because I was too fucking scared to admit that I need you. That I want you in a way I can't even explain."

He took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself, but it only made the ache in his chest more unbearable. The tears that had been threatening to fall were now pooling in his eyes, his heart aching with every word.

“Do you have any idea how much it hurt?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with so much longing, so much raw, unfiltered emotion. “Every time you laughed, every time you smiled… every time I heard your voice and I couldn’t be the one to make you smile like that. Every time I saw you with him, and I couldn’t hold you like he could, couldn’t tell you how much I wanted you to be happy… but I couldn’t even give you that. I couldn’t even give you the one thing that you needed from me because… just because I was too afraid. Afraid that if I told you how I felt, I’d lose you.”

His breath hitched again, a broken sound escaping his lips. “And when you started talking to me less and less as you started talking to Beom more, I thought I was losing you for good. I thought you were slipping away, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I just stood there, watching it happen. I just… watched you go. And I knew, deep down, it was my fault. Because I couldn’t tell you that I needed you. That I loved you. That I’ve always loved you, way longer than he did.“

The words hung heavy between you both, but Jongho wasn’t finished. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. His body trembled with the force of his emotions, and his eyes, glassy and filled with a deep ache, locked onto yours with a desperate intensity.

“I love you." he repeated again, as if he couldn’t stop himself from saying it with how much he felt it, but this time it was more than just words. It was a confession of everything he had been too afraid to say.

"I’ve loved you for so long, and I didn’t know how to show it. But I can’t hide it anymore. I can’t pretend anymore, because it’s killing me. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to watch you walk away from me again. I just need you to know… that I love you, even when I didn’t have the courage to say it.”

He paused for a moment, his hands still gripping yours like a lifeline, his gaze never leaving yours. He was trembling now, his voice thick with emotion, but there was a sense of relief in his words, like he had finally let go of the weight that had been suffocating him.

"I don't know what to do without you." he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, raw and full of yearning. "I thought I could move on, I thought I could just forget you, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t ever forget you. You’re all I think about. Every damn day. I want you in my life, more than anything. I don’t care if it’s messy, I don’t care if it’s hard—I just want you, with me, in my life."

His eyes were pleading now, desperate for you to understand, to see how much he meant every single word. His entire body was tense, like a coiled spring, ready to unravel if you didn’t say something. His heart was in his throat, beating erratically, and every time you blinked, it felt like his world was crashing down.

“I know I’ve made mistakes," he said softly, his voice trembling with vulnerability. "But if you’ll let me… if you’ll just give me a chance… I swear I’ll never let you go again. I don’t care how long it takes… I’ll wait for you, I’ll fight for you, I’ll do whatever it takes to make you see that I can love you the way you deserve.”

Jongho’s voice cracked with the final words, his emotions finally spilling over. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn’t try to hide them. He let them fall freely, because they were the only honest thing left in him. He had been so afraid, so terrified to show his feelings, but now, in front of you, with all his walls broken down, he had nothing left to hide.

“Jongho…” you began, your eyes welling up with tears, but before you could say anything more, his grip on your wrist faltered. His eyes darted downward, and suddenly his face was crumpling into an almost comical grimace.

“Oh, no.” he groaned, leaning back slightly. “I think my nose is starting again.”

“What? Seriously?” you exclaimed, glancing down to see a fresh trickle of red beginning to drip. “Jongho, for the love of—hold still!”

“I thought it was done!” he whined, his voice nasally as he tilted his head back again.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you decide to give a Shakespearean love monologue in the middle of an injury!” you shot back, grabbing more tissues from your bag.

He laughed despite himself, the sound muffled as you pressed the tissues to his nose. “This is not how I pictured this going.”

“You don’t say.” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Next time, maybe confess your feelings after you’ve stopped bleeding everywhere.”

“Noted.” he sighed, his heart calming, his eyes crinkling at the corners despite the absurdity of it all. “Still… was it really that bad?”

You paused for a moment, your expression softening as you met his gaze. “No.” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It was perfect. Bloody nose and all.”

And for the first time that night, you saw the tension in his shoulders ease, replaced by something softer—something hopeful.

“You really mean all that?” You asked, looking sheepishly at him.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. “Every word.“ he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I should’ve said it sooner. But I need you to know—”

“Stop.” you interrupted gently, your thumb brushing against his cheek where the tear tracks glistened. “Just… stop beating yourself up. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

“You’re not mad…?” Jongho asked softly, his wide, wet eyes searching yours.

“Oh, I’m mad!” you said, though there was no real heat in your tone. “I’m mad you let him hit you. I’m mad you didn’t duck.”

He let out a weak chuckle, but his smile faltered as he studied your face. “I just didn’t want him to hurt you. I’d take a hundred punches if it meant keeping you safe.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away. “Jongho.” you said quietly, your voice trembling as you let your hand fall from his face, the bloody tissue being discarded to the side with the rest. “I don’t need you to take punches for me. I just need you. I need you here, safe, with me.”

His lips parted in surprise, but you pressed on, your heart pounding in your chest. “I love you, Jongho, and seeing you like this—hurt because of me—only made me realize how much.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes shimmering with tears, before a smile broke across his face. “You…“

“Yes.” you said softly, a small, teary laugh escaping. “I love you. Even with the bloody nose and all.”

He laughed, the sound filled with disbelief and relief. “Good. Because I love you too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got that with how many times you’ve said it.” you snort, pressing the tissue back to his nose with a stupid grin on your face. “Now hold still before you bleed all over me again.”

“I think I’ll bleed again when Wooyoung punches me for disappearing like that.“

You stop moving, fear shinning in your eyes. “Oh fuck.“

[triflesandparsnips]

So I understand that there are Good Omens show fans who have never read Good Omens the book, and that makes me deeply sad because--

Like, there's so much depth to the story being told about humans and humanity and the choice between good and evil -- and how that's actually a false dichotomy whoooops -- WHILE ALSO not really being about Aziraphale and Crowley at all (who are, imo, basically there as embodiments of "Impressive Failures" for the purposes of Theme and also Plot).

BUT IF you want to know why I've shipped them since the book-- here's the moment it happened for wee teenage me:

Wednesday (before the end of the world)

So it's Warlock's birthday party. And there are all these children and security guards and also an angel doing magic tricks while a demon is disguised as a caterer. This bit is basically the same as the show, so hooray.

But as wee me understood the characters up to this point, they were still basically enemies who had been in the field together for way too long and knew each other's moves well enough for the same tempting/thwarting of one another to become kind of boring and repetitive and generally pointless-- particularly once they realized that they could, for instance, just live their (separate!) lives watching humans being weird (Crowley) and seeking various sensory stuff (Aziraphale) while doing the least work necessary to keep their respective bosses off their backs.

The Arrangement was borne not out of hiding a friendship or anything, but instead the realization that sometimes covering for one another would just... cut down on their total overall workload. They were, at best, employees of two different, competitive companies-- though in same kind of department, doing the same kind of work-- who discovered they liked to have lunch at the same deli and that their jobs were sometimes distressingly more similar than either was comfortable with.

SO ANYWAY. BACK TO THAT WEDNESDAY. They're not covering for one another with this whole Antichrist thing-- they're now actively collaborating, and they've acknowledged (mostly) that it's not to cut down on their individual workloads, but rather to preserve their identical-- but not shared (not yet)-- goals of Getting To Continue The Lives On Earth They've Grown To Enjoy.

But like-- still not friends. Not really.

Until Aziraphale fucks up a bit, Warlock accidentally gets hold of a security guard's weapon and starts waving it around, and:

Then someone threw some jelly at Warlock. The boy squeaked, and pulled the trigger of the gun. It was a Magnum .32, CIA issue, gray, mean, heavy, capable of blowing a man away at thirty paces, and leaving nothing more than a red mist, a ghastly mess, and a certain amount of paperwork. Aziraphale blinked. A thin stream of water squirted from the nozzle and soaked Crowley, who had been looking out the window, trying to see if there was a huge black dog in the garden. Aziraphale looked embarrassed. Then a cream cake hit him in the face.

My teenage brain exploded at this moment.

BECAUSE: there is no reason for Aziraphale to do that.

Work-wise: If he got shot, Crowley would get discorporated, but not die-- and anyway, it would happen in such a way that both of them could explain it away easily to their respective sides (and possibly even be commended for it!).

Collaboration-wise: If Crowley had been watching Aziraphale, and if he'd seen Aziraphale have the chance to change the gun but not do it-- then yeah, probably that would've been annoying enough to have warranted some chilly conversations once he came back topside, and therefore, Aziraphale choosing to save Crowley could've been a reasonable, logical choice to keep their working relationship on an even keel until they'd sorted out this Doomsday thing.

But Crowley was looking the other way.

Work-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and secret-collaboration-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and so it is, overall, really weird that Aziraphale saved him.

But his automatic reaction-- in a blink-- is to stop Crowley from getting shot. And he knows it's weird-- he feels embarrassed that his sudden, unthinking reaction is to save his "enemy".

And the final bit is just a couple paragraphs later:

With a gesture, Aziraphale turned the rest of the guns into water pistols as well, and walked out.

SO LOOK: He changed only the pistol about to shoot Crowley. His automatic reaction had nothing to do with saving a party full of humans, many of them children-- nothing to do with Heaven or Hell-- nothing to do with preserving the coworker he needs to stop Armageddon--

It was all to do with saving Crowley. Who may be the enemy, but he's Aziraphale's enemy. And another part of his life on Earth that he's doing all of this just to preserve.

Which may also be, for the first time, the moment he lets himself realize how important Crowley in particular is to him.

...and so anyway, that's how I started shipping these two immortal idiots, and one of many reasons why everyone should read the book.

[xmintpiex]

The Bullet Point

wc: 3,721

Marriage and everything else that came with it were part of your dream. Not Sae's.

content: Sae Itoshi x fem!reader, sfw, sunshine!reader (she's def over the top), fluff, romance, childhood friends, shoujo inspired (specifically itazura na kiss), silly. AU.

The idea had sounded absolutely perfect when Mrs. Itoshi brought it up, the certainty in her voice, that twinkle in her eyes. Rin seemed to be all settled in his apartment now, and your dad had plenty of helping hands at his bakery. It was the perfect time to carry out the plan you had been dreaming about, tossing and turning and giggling with excitement late at night about for years now.

The plan, that dream that kept you going even when things got hard, when you felt sad and alone. The plan that Mrs. Itoshi fully supported you in, always coming up with the most brilliant ideas to add, Mr. Itoshi speaking up gently to maybe make them a little more realistic. The one that Rin would roll his eyes at and call you stupid over (he was just jealous! hmmph!). The one that your dad would shake his head fondly at, with amusement and that subtle pride in his smile.

Words written down in your old childhood diary, circled and doodled around, the page covered with hearts and stickers and the sign of age, yet still just as true.

So you bought that long one-way plane ticket from Japan to Spain that same day, spirits high and determination unbreakable. After all, Sae was all alone in that foreign land, left to fend for himself for so many years, you couldn't bear to leave him like that anymore! Now you finally had the chance to be there with him! Yes, that’s right, you would be there to cook his favorite meals (..the ones that fit his highly selected meal plan anyways..), make sure his luxury apartment wasn't just a house but a home (cozy pillows, photos, and matching toothbrush holders and so much more!), and cheer him on during each and every one of his games, in person now!

Your smile was still so bright as you somehow managed to hail a taxi driver at the airport with a mixture of your nonexistent Spanish and incredibly poor English (..perhaps you should have studied a little more...) and showed them the address that you had saved on your phone for months. The address that was memorized by heart, the one that you had already sent a plethora of letters and care packages to.

Your eyes were dazzling as you got out of the cab and stood in front of that sleek, beautiful apartment complex that Sae was residing in. You could hear your heart beating so fast at the thought of finally being able to see Sae after 4 months of being apart, and that this time it would be permanent, it wouldn’t be just another short visit. The apartment no longer just the photo pinned to your bedroom wall, your dreams no longer only confined to the touch of the glossy paper and magazine cutouts beneath your fingertips.

It was only when you got that panicked phone call from Mrs. Itoshi, as you were trying and failing to get the apartment complex’s security guard to let you in that your bright smile diminished a bit. Because Sae was not currently in Spain. He was in Germany, as was Rin, and would be there for at least a month due to some football event he had joined.

The twinkle in your eyes seemed to die a bit and your smile became so much smaller as you came to the sudden realization that you were in a foreign country, two large heavy suitcases at your side, with no understanding of the language and no place to stay. You sank to the ground, hugging your knees as you inhaled heavily to hold back your tears as fear clouded your thoughts.

But!

You would be okay because you had the power of a credit card! And just like that, you popped right back up, your determination burning brighter than the scorching sun above you (the young security guard might have been looking at you with a look of utmost fear, but that didn't really matter right now).

So you decided to go for a little walk around the neighborhood, taking in the fresh crisp ocean breeze, the sound of distant seagulls and crashing waves soothing your worries. Stopping for a delicious lunch at that cute little restaurant you spotted (giggling to yourself as you pictured eating there with Sae next time, oh so romantic!), noticing a cute little storefront that seemed to have been recently sold (perfect for a bakery you mused dreamily) before you managed to get another taxi to take you right back to the airport.

You miss how the security guard of Sae’s apartment complex so desperately tried to wave you back over, his black cell phone pressed to one of his ears as you excitedly looked at your trip itinerary for Germany in the back seat of the taxi.

The first thing Eita Otoya notices about you is your cute, sunny smile as he sits down next to you on the crowded plane and your excitement and relief at the realization that he also speaks Japanese. The second thing he notices is that dainty rose gold ring around your finger, twisted and dotted with little white diamonds, reminiscent of ocean waves in the sunset. It looks vaguely familiar, a small tickle in the back of his head that he can’t quite pinpoint. He assumes it must be some trendy designer jewelry piece he saw somewhere like that overly expensive bracelet that so many of his ex-girlfriends had wanted him to buy.

The third thing he notices about you is your soft, sparkly eyes, the light flush of your cheeks when he asks you if you have a boyfriend (he’s learned the hard way to always ask that question), and how you bashfully shake your head ‘no’. How cute. He assumes he’s in the clear then, to have you be his friend for a bit while he stays in Berlin, he’s already picturing taking you out to restaurants, enjoying a good meal together, having you cheer him on, and a bunch of other things with a cute girl like you at his side.

Eita Otoya does not notice the bubble of giddy laughter that is barely contained behind your bright smile, that far-off, dreamy look in your eyes after he had mentioned the term boyfriend. Because you definitely did not have a boyfriend.

Not anymore!

Rin Itoshi is already feeling a migraine forming from the grueling experience of having to sit between his two most obnoxious teammates on that 2-hour plane trip from Paris. He thinks he’s officially lost it, that he’s seeing hallucinations now because he swears he sees your dumb smiling face in the goddamn Berlin airport. Impossible. There's no way, even you aren't stupid enough to plan something like this, right?

…

Right?

…

Sae Itoshi’s manager thinks today is the day he will die. If not from the extreme levels of stress he is currently experiencing, it will be from Sae Itoshi’s cold wrath. The poor man is sweating, his normally pristine suit rumpled and drenched, sleeves rolled up, glasses sliding off his damp face as he has his phone pressed to his ear, laptop open as he desperately scrolls through credit card transactions and airline information.

Sae is still in the midst of his interview, answering bluntly and clinically in his typical manner yet his words seem even more curt than normal. Left foot subtly bouncing, hands locked together, cold teal eyes glancing back to his frantic manager between questions.

Immediately taking his phone out of his pocket the moment the cameras are turned off and everyone is packing up. Jaw clenching when the number he calls leads straight to voicemail.

It’s not until you’re at the hotel lobby (Otoya-kun's suggestion, oh he's so nice, you're so happy you made a new friend!), taking out your card to pay for your hotel room, it finally dawns on Otoya about where exactly he had seen your ring before. His eyes zeroing in on that very, very familiar name printed on the credit card in your hands.

Oh.

(Ninja Art: Strategic Exit)

You're done paying for your hotel room, excited to finally put your suitcases somewhere and then go eat at that amazing restaurant Otoya kept mentioning, turning to face him only to find him nowhere to be found. Brows furrowed and lips pouting in concern and confusion as you look around the hotel lobby, trying to figure out where your new friend could have gone.

"You."

That familiar voice, the one that you could recognize with your eyes closed, the one you sometimes fall asleep to while on facetime with. The voice engrained into your heart. Monotone and cold yet anything but (especially right now). Your smile is the brightest it's been all day, the brightest it's been in months really, suitcases and hunger and exhaustion (and Otoya-kun's mysterious disappearance) all forgotten from your mind as you rush over to him, flinging your arms around him.

"Sae!"

Your heart so warm, beating so brightly, so bubbly like your favorite fizzy candy. A feeling you've always felt with Sae.

Like when you were 6 and you dropped your ice cream cone.

You’re in absolute shock, ready to cry yet again and Sae does not want to deal with that again, he doesn't like it when you cry. You've had too many things to cry about recently, but at least this situation is something he can try to control. So he shoves his own ice cream cone into your hand, hoping that’ll be enough. It’s something he’s used to doing for his younger brother, just the most effective way to stop your nearly endless tears. Another crybaby in his life to take care of. Your small hands linked together as you walk around the neighborhood park, your shimmering eyes glued to him.

Or when you’re 8 and you and your dad and the Itoshi family go out for your weekly movie night.

An established ritual of going to see a movie together with reservations ready at that yummy restaurant later, something your families have done ever since you could remember. The movie was your choice this time, a story of a mermaid becoming a human princess and living in a seaside castle with her adorable sea creature friends and her beloved prince, fixing all their problems with the power of love and friendship.

Your eyes barely left the movie screen as they dazzled in excitement at how the mermaid princess and her human prince danced and spun around on that beautiful balcony overlooking the ocean. The warmth in your heart and the little tears of happiness that bubbled in your eyes as the prince and the mermaid got married.

You still weren’t too sure what marriage was, all you knew was that it meant you could sleep in the same bedroom like Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi did, that you would love each other forever, make each other happy forever, even if you couldn’t see each other (like how your dad visited your mama every year, a fresh flower bouquet, warm glossy eyes, and soft smiles). An endless playdate with your favorite person in the whole universe, always happy and together!

That was what you wanted, that was what you dreamed of. So you declared during dinner, a little too loudly in the quiet restaurant, that you had a dream of what you wanted to do as an adult. Clumsily standing up from your seat, nearly tipping your water cup over, face scrunched and rosy with determination and courage and too much soda.

Your declaration that you and Sae would get married when you were older and live in a seaside castle just like in the movie and live together forever and ever (and become mermaids and other such crucial details). Your small warm hand had gently grabbed Sae’s hand during your declaration and his teal colored eyes bore down at where your hands were linked. “Okay.” He had simply said in that monotone voice.

Your dad and Mr. Itoshi looked at you wide-eyed before laughing heartily, your dad reaching over to ruffle your head. Mrs. Itoshi nodded enthusiastically, overwhelmed by your absolute cuteness as she sniffled proudly, already calling you her precious, adorable daughter-in-law, already envisioning and planning a grand wedding as Mr. Itoshi gently rubbed her shoulder in hopes she wouldn't make this even more of a scene.

Rin grumbled and huffed and told you that was stupid, that something like that was impossible and even if it were, Sae wouldn’t live in some stupid seaside castle! His big brother would live in a football stadium with him, the two of them the #1 and #2 best strikers in the whole entire world!

You were pouty and your eyes full of tears, like the little crybaby you were as you bickered with Rin (h-how dare he! You were older! Hmmph! Why did he never listen to you as he did with Sae!). Sae was silent through the whole thing, still chewing on his bite of pasta, quiet as he usually was when the two of you harmlessly fought over him, his free hand still in your grasp. Until finally cutting in.

"We can do both."

Rin eventually agrees that you can have your castle across from their football stadium and that you can host your tea parties to celebrate every single game they will win. You reluctantly pout back that he can be a mermaid too and have sleepovers in your castle…if he listens to whatever you say!

Amongst the laughter and chatter and the sound of Mrs. Itoshi’s camera, as she forever immortalized this moment, Sae Itoshi added another minor detail to that small list of bullet points he kept in his head.

It’s when you’re 10 and you’ve made your first batch of homemade cookies all by yourself without the help of your dad (aside from helping you with the oven stuff).

Your fingers are a little burnt (and so are the cookies), but your eyes are sparkling, smile bright and hopeful as you rush off skipping to the neighborhood park to meet up with Sae and Rin, holding the little red cookie tin to your chest.

"They taste burnt."

Sae says matter-of-factly after a bite, chewing slowly as if that would help him make a proper critique.

"Yeah, they're burnt! Bleh! Burnt!"

Of course, Rin mimicking him before adding his own little flair.

Your lip wobbling, lashes fluttering slowly, eyes getting hot and wet with tears.

Sae reaching into the little tin for another one and then another until they're all gone, eating each one despite your tearful, pouty whines.

"They're not bad. Just keep making them, I'll eat all of them."

It's when you’re 13 and Sae is leaving.

Leaving to go live in a whole other country, away from you. Your tears are large and already seeping into Sae’s brand-new jersey as you wish and whine so badly that you could go with him. He’s quiet, and calm, telling you to stop being a big baby, saying he’ll be back for a visit in a few months probably. His hand in yours, a subtle squeeze, as his other hand gently pinches your pouty lips. You'll be good for him, right?

A little moment of hesitation before he suddenly leans in, cheeks just as red as yours, his lips clumsy and quick, a sweet little press against yours. Your eyes on him, wide and bubbly, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Your lips wobbling as you attempt to pucker them, looking up at him expectantly in hopes he will do it again.

He lets out that rare little noise you adore, that soft chuckle, the corner of his lips slightly upturned, only your silly face in his teal eyes. He leans in and you perk up excitedly, wanting to make sure your second kiss is perfect, longer, closing your eyes, hands trembling.

Only for him to pinch your lips again with his fingers.

"Crybabies don't get second kisses unless they're good."

And when you’re 14 and Sae is visiting for a few days.

It’s a cold winter day, full of fluffy white snow and you’re bundled up tight in the red scarf that Mrs. Itoshi gifted you. It’s just the two of you because Rin refuses to leave his room (he’s been in a really bad mood recently, you're still figuring out how to cheer him up..both of them up).

The two of you walk around the park as the snow falls, Sae is quiet, even more than normal, as you point things out or tell him about some of the things that have happened while he was gone. Your gloved hands are entwined, as always when the two of you walk. His hand feels different, a little bigger, a little thinner, a little more rough, just like the rest of him. His teal eyes are dull, trained on the snowy path you walk, before settling onto your obnoxious beaming smile, the flush of your cheeks, the way he looks reflected in your eyes.

Pulling him to go sit on a snowy bench before taking out that familiar old cookie tin, full to the brim of sugar cookies, sprinkled with red and blue sprinkles, edges a little cracked.

"I'm on a diet, you know."

Yet he's reaching for one, pressing the allegedly "heart-shaped" cookie to his lips and taking a slow bite. Your eyes watching every little moment of his mouth, your heart beating nervously and your gloved hands fisted with nervousness.

"Better than last time."

Your smile too bright, it could rival the sun.

He reaches for another only to be tugged down, his lips unceremoniously pressed against yours, too sudden, your nose nearly hitting his. Crumbs still on his lips, now on yours. Sweet like vanilla and butter.

So perfect.

It’s when you’re 16, having another one of your long-distance phone calls.

You babble endlessly as always, phone pressed to your ear as your legs sway back and forth as you lay on your plushie-covered bed. Sae, as usual, is mainly silent as he continues with his gym routine, responding with an occasional grunt or ‘hmm’ as you go on and on. His ears full of nothing except the clinking of gym equipment and your loud, cheery voice. You mention your new friend who you’re going to the movies with this weekend, the boy at your school who offered you his umbrella on a rainy day (so kind!), and who always wants to eat lunch with you.

"Didn't you fail your math test? Don't waste your time on stupid things like that and study instead."

"..S-Sae!!" (As usual…he was right.)

A few days later you receive a small package from Spain, sent via express mail, a little silver ring, and a simple four-word note.“Do not take off.”

You're ecstatic, showing off to everyone who will listen (and Rin of course). Spamming Sae's messages with way too many selfies. Your hand and that sparkling little ring the main focus in all of them, receiving nothing back but that little 'read' indication and a single "go study" message.

It's when you're 17, sat at the Itoshi's kitchen table.

Going through the recent sports magazine that Sae graced the cover of, your handy scissors at your side as you happily recount Sae's most recent interview to those present.

(Your smile too wide as you trace over that familiar silver ring that's hung around his neck, barely visible under his jersey, fingertips against the cold, glossy paper.)

Rin with his arms crossed and trying to look as disinterested as possible while Mrs. Itoshi happily nods from where she's typing away at her work laptop. But you give Rin that smile that always makes him huff, nervous at whatever dumb thing you're going to do now, seeing him twitch and try to hide his flustered look as you produce a second magazine of the same issue, still in its plastic wrap.

"This way you can cut out Sae's pictures and have them on your wall too! Let's make dream boards together, Rin!"

"S-shut up!"

It's right now, years later, settled in the back seat of the car as the driver drives the two of you back to where Sae is staying, your head on Sae's shoulder.

You're already fast asleep, your exhaustion, the happiness of your heart catching up with you (and the jet lag). Hands entwined. Matching wedding rings glowing under the bright passing city lights, the softness of the moon.

His phone is silenced, lighting up for a moment, the notification of his new interview being posted, before the screen fades back to darkness, tucked away in his bag next to that red cookie tin you had excitedly taken out of your suitcase. For now, the interview was irrelevant, forgotten in the midst of your peaceful snores, his soft, amused smile.

But in the morning, when Sae was already well into his morning routine, you would be cozy and warm and still so sleepy under the silky covers. He would then take the time, sat at the small hotel room patio with his kombucha, to skim over his interview.

'Sae Itoshi Confirms Marriage Rumors.'

He knew that once you woke up, once your sleepy, jet-lagged state gave way to your usual bubbly energy, you'd be over the moon. Squealing and giggling and saying how you needed to save the article in your scrapbook. Nearly jumping on him as you showered him in too much affection, messy little kisses, and cheeks pressed together. Undeniable proof of your dream coming true, solid like that ring around your finger, like the marriage certificate framed back in the apartment in Spain.

Your dream.

But not Sae's.

Because for Sae, marriage was not a dream, not some goal he would eventually achieve when he deemed it time. It had never been any of that. You and your overly burning love, your too-radiant smiles and laughter, your crybaby tears, your warm hugs, and noisy kisses, and sweet sugar cookies were just truths. Undeniable facts in his life. Your presence in his life, your relationship never a dream, never a goal, never a checkmark, but a bullet point. A bullet point on that little list of things that were fundamental to Sae Itoshi's life.

[kkayyerr]

Jealous, jealous, jealous.

Summary: Little!reader spending the whole Midsummers playing with JJ and Rafe is feeling neglected.

Warnings: Age regression, slight angst, fluff in the end:)

Rafe took you with him to Midsummers, hoping that both of you would have a great time together, but unfortunately things didn’t go as planned. He was staying aside with his friends, watching you play with JJ for the whole night. Of course Rafe could’ve prevented that by paying you a little bit more attention, but he couldn’t because of how much that event meant for his family and especially for his father. So now he was just standing there and hoping that you would notice him or at least come up to ask for something, but it seemed that you didn’t need him while JJ was there. Rafe didn’t want to be that much of an asshole and pull you away from him since you seemed like you were having a lot of fun. He decided that he would speak about it with you later, in private. 

When the party finally ended, Rafe had grabbed your hand, not even letting you say goodbye to JJ.

„Bye, little one!”

JJ shouted, waving his hand, causing Rafe to send him a warning glare. He’s going to have a little chat with your „friend” later. But for now he headed straight to his room, not even bothering to look at you. You could feel that he was disappointed with you or even angry, but you didn’t know what exactly you did wrong since you had been on your best behavior the whole evening. When he had closed the door, you were ready for him to tell the reason for his behavior, but instead he just silently turned around, probably not knowing what to say. 

 

„Daddy, what happen’?”

 

It was something new—the side that you had never seemed before. What could you possibly have done for him to be this upset with you? You approached him, not touching him yet, just staring, waiting for him to turn around and say at least something. And he did. 

 

„Did you have fun playing with JJ?”

 

His words weren’t harsh; he didn’t seem angry or furious, just... sad? It sounded like an actual question, so your little brain told you to come up with a sincere answer. 

 

„Yeah! He gave me sweets and played with me!“

 

Rafe nodded before you saw something that you thought you would never see him doing. His eyes became watery before he finally teared up. In that moment you knew that you would do whatever it takes to never see that again; it was hurting you worse than any of his punishments or harsh words that he had said to you before. 

 

„Baby, I know that I am not the best at taking care of you, so if you want to leave me, I would understand that and...”

 

He didn’t have a chance to finish. You immediately pulled him into your arms, giving him the biggest hug that you possibly could. You were trying to stay strong and not to start crying yourself, but you failed, letting out a few sniffles.

 

„I love you, Daddy, I don't want another Daddy, I pwomise.”

 

You said, and he finally hugged you back, pulling you closer in his embrace. Those words meant so much to him, especially after all the overthinking that he had going on in his head that night. 

While he was holding you in his arms, he felt you poking his side and let out a small laugh, quickly catching your hand. He titled your head up, gently grabbing your chin with his fingers. Your face still had a string of tears, just like his. 

Oh, you were both such a crybabies.

 

„No, bunny. That’s my method, and you don’t get to use it on me.”

 

He said, before quickly poking your tummy just to make you smile. Rafe then leaned down and kissed your cheeks, not able to hold himself back. He was so happy that you were still his. His sweet little girl. 

 

„Let’s get that fancy dress off of you, and then we’ll go to bed. It’s almost your bedtime.”

 

You nodded, feeling a little tired and overwhelmed from all those new people you had to meet at the Midsummers. Usually it was hard for Rafe to put you in bed, but today you were too sleepy to argue.

 

„Oh, and also...”

 

His gaze met yours, and the small, sly smile appeared on his face for a second before he would say something that he knew you wouldn’t like. 

 

„No sweets for a week.”

 

It wasn’t an actual punishment; he just wanted to have a little revenge on you. Your little pout was adorable to him, especially after everything you put him through tonight. But you didn’t argue with his decision. 

After all, you deserved that, right? 

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @aew-regression-cove @rafecameronsloverrrrr

[fashionteahouse]

which way - embry x reader

AN: part 1 is here enjoy part 2 :)

Your face was into a frown. You had high hopes. You wanted to show him off. You begged but the answer stayed the same. Sadness was starting to creep into your soul.

“Are you sure you can’t call off?” you ask him again through the phone, not wanting to take no for an answer.

“I can’t. I’m really sorry.” he says into the line.

“It’s okay. I can just pass your picture around, I guess.”

This makes you both chuckle, bringing light.

Hanging up with each other, you both sigh.

Embry entered Sam’s home, he was confused. Confused that Sam asked him to not come shirtless, instead to dress appropriately for the average human eye.

“What’s the occasion?” Embry asks as Emily placed snacks onto the table.

“A friend of ours is coming over. She doesn’t know about the pack yet.” Sam says.

“So, why are they coming?” Embry asks.

“She knows all of us. That’s the funny thing.” Quil says, he then placed the back of his hand on Embry’s chest quickly, “You can finally get a girlfriend.”

Embry rolls his eyes, “Would you quit it?”

“You will just see. You two would look good together.” Quil says back. Agrees float through the room as Embry is instantly annoyed.

Hearing a door close, Embry placed a potato chip in his mouth and crunched down.

”Y/N’s here!” Jacob says and Embry froze. His heart dropped below his stomach as he heard the familiar name, whipping his head around as you came in the home with a huge smile. He felt like his world was crashing down on him.

You were bombarded with hugs, making you laugh.

“One at a time.” you say as everyone tried to tug you in different directions at the same time.

“We can finally introduce you to Embry.” Leah says as she won the battle, able to hold onto your hand and leads you through the home.

“Embry?” you repeat the name.

“Yeah. You’ll like him. I promise.” she answers back.

You couldn’t speak as the familiar face was looking right back you. You both were frozen. Both looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Um..” Leah says as she looks at you two. She wondered why you two were just standing there, gawking at each other.

You step forward closer to him with your hands slightly up, “I thought you had work?”

“I didn’t know you were friends with them.” Embry says, still not believing that this was happening.

You shake your head and just leave the room. You regret coming. You thought you two were going so good but, he was already lying to you. This action stabbed you like a knife, you never thought the blow would come from him.

Embry does follow after you, trying to stop you from leaving.

“You didn’t have to lie to me. Just tell me that you’re ashamed of me.” you say as you’re outside with tears prickling your eyes. You didn’t let him get a word in. You were deeply hurt.

Embry sighs, not annoyed but he knew it looked so bad.

“There’s a lot to explain.” he says as he tries to rack his brain to show him the best way to explain it all without freaking you out. He wished it didn’t come down to this.

“Well, save it. I’m not interested in hearing it.” you say as your throat is closing up.

He wasn’t going to let you leave. He knew you were going to try to avoid him if he let you.

“Come on, just hear me out. If you still feel the way that you feel, I will leave you alone, I swear.” He says moving close to you, “Come on, Y/N.” he says again as your arms are crossed and you’re avoiding eye contact.

You follow him quietly to the beach, sitting on a large rock. You both are silent until you rudely tell them, “So, explain.”

He doesn’t take it to heart. He understands how you feel.

That’s when he let it all out. It felt like he was cleaning his insides out. He no longer had to carry the secret of shapeshifting, his “work” of actually protecting people of the danger that lurked to everyone’s oblivion, and how he never wanted you to be involved in it. Not because he was ashamed, but because of how dangerous the life was. He missed the life he had before devoting his life to being a shifter, you were his outlet. You reminded him that the supernatural world wasn’t his entire world.

You were silent as you processed everything. You felt sad.

“You didn’t have to hide this.”

“I did. I would’ve scared you away. I really want us to be end game.” he says as he interlaced his fingers with yours.

“No more secrets. Okay?” you say to him. He nods and agrees to this.

“I see they tried to hook us up all along.” you say with a grin. He grins as well as he shakes his head at their behavior. He should’ve known.

“So, now you have to tell me how you met all of them.” he says and this makes you laugh.

“It’s a long story.” you say.

“I have time.” he says, his words coated in double meaning. He soaked in the moment, happy that you didn’t run away or push him away. You instead smiled as you debrief each encounter with each unique individual pack member.

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

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[serejae]

SO STUPID IN LOVE | M.JH

a lonely jaehyun meets you, ask you to marry him because hes just so stupid (in love)

-

“im gonna smack that pout off your face” sungho scoffed as jaehyun slumped against the sticky diner booth. “are you seriously bullying a sad man?” he replied

“no im bullying a loser, its been a year. you really need to get over her, she dumped you and wasnt good for you. i just dont get why youre so stuck on her”

jaehyun huffed again and rested his head in his hands “she was just different, i imagined my life with her…i was ready to marry her sungho, i dont know what i did”

his friend leaned back in his seat taking in the sight and sighed “lets find you someone, youre never gonna find someone if you keep moping around like this”

“but who-“

“are you guys ready to order?”

the two men looked up at you and jaehyuns mouth opened a bit before he closed it and sat up fixing his posture, sungho looked over at jaehyun and raised his eyebrow before ordering leaving jaehyun to order next

“i…uhm, can i get more time?”

you smiled and nodded before walking away to get their waters

“would you call me crazy if i asked them to marry me?” he whispered leaning close to sungho

sungho spitted out his drink all over jaehyuns face making him shriek

“dude what the fuck” jaehyun screamed while standing up

the diner went silent making him look around

“sorry…”

you ran over to the table and saw the water all over the table as well as a wet jaehyun

“oh my gosh are you both okay? do you need anything?” you said looking around clearly panicked

“marry me, will you marry me?” jaehyun asked while staring at you making the diner gasp

“excuse me?” you tilted your head slightly smiling at the situation, a man covered in water was asking you to marry him

“i know its random but do you have a partner?” he asked grinning at you

you shook your head no before looking down at your watch

“i get off now…if you wanna get married”

jaehyuns smile grew bigger as he took your hand and walked out the diner with you as sungho yelled for jaehyun as he expected him to pay the bill

you both walked as you talked about your hopes and dreams, and as you spoke jaehyun turned to look at you as you continued to walk. dont get him wrong, he was listening, just very slowly. your words seem to come out slower, something about you made his heart rate slow down yet quicken. without a thought he reached to hold your hand, he still looked at you

you looked down at his hand with furrowed brows making jaehyun let go in fear you were uncomfortable

“no, no!” you laughed understanding why he let go

“your hands are just pretty sweaty”

he looked at his hands and saw how sweaty they were, he chuckled softly with a hint of blush on his face from embarrassment

“can i ask you something though?” you said quietly in the empty city, jaehyun thought this was so romantic, just you two in a beautiful city

“yes” he started

“yes, i want to kiss you” he smiled at you

“oh. i was just asking where are we…?”

jaehyun shook his head quickly bringing himself back onto earth. he looked around and saw the unfamiliar sight. you two have been walking for so long unbothered by your surroundings that you now dont know where or what your surrounded by

realizing how much he fucked up he groaned and let out quick apologies as he pulls out his phone to try and find a solution. hes met with your laughter that makes him turn to you

“we can just use google maps and walk, you can drop me off at my house”

he nodded immediately still feeling guilty

noticing his expression, you held his still sweaty hand and smiled at him. “i had a great day today with you. it was unexpected but i really enjoyed talking and getting to know you” he blushed again as his smile grew bigger. “you mean it?” you nodded as he let out a little giggle

-

you both continued to walk to your house but slowly

drip

drip

drip

shit it was raining.

like instinct, jaehyun took off the jacket he had as he put it over you two holding it with one hand, and not letting your hand go in the other. you both ran back to your place with a collection of laughter and banter

so when it ended and you both got to your door, jaehyun stared at you and you stared at him not wanting the night to end

you opened your mouth to speak but he opened his at the same time. you both closed your mouths to let the other speak but were not in a awkward situation

“i really wanna see you again”

“i really want to kiss you”

he immediately covered his mouth as his sentence was not as romantic as yours, but you were quicker. you moved his hand and held his face before leaning in to kiss him

and as quick as he covered his mouth, he kissed you back as he held your hand

maybe he wasn’t the only one stupid in love

“do you still wanna get married?”