#this is why they’re all perfect for each other

[goldfades]

joe burrow x popstar

watching edits together and getting so surprised by how freaky ppl are

warnings: nothing but fluff!!!

It starts with Joe’s arm slung lazily over the back of the couch, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the bare skin of your shoulder. The TV flickers in front of you, some forgettable show playing in the background, its dialogue drowned out by the comfortable silence you’ve both perfected over time. It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling.

Your phone is in your lap, screen dim until curiosity—or maybe boredom—gets the best of you. A harmless scroll through social media, a pit stop at the tagged photos section, and suddenly you’re spiraling.

“Oh my God,” you blurt out, sitting up straighter, your thumb jabbing the screen with newfound urgency. “Joe. Joe, look at this.”

He leans in without hesitation, chin practically resting on your shoulder, his body radiating that signature warmth. His eyes squint a little, adjusting to the smaller screen, before widening in real time as the video plays—a fan edit, dramatic music swelling, quick cuts of the two of you like you’re the lead roles in some forbidden romance movie. Except it’s not just stolen glances and soft smiles. No, these people are bold.

Very bold.

Joe’s brow arches, mouth falling open slightly. “Is that—did they just—”

“They did.”

You don’t even finish the sentence because the next clip is somehow worse—or better, depending on how you look at it. And honestly, you’re not sure if you want to laugh, cry, or throw your phone across the room.

“Why is it in slow motion?” Joe asks, genuinely perplexed, his voice low and warm against your ear.

“Because that makes it dramatic,” you deadpan, thumb hovering over the screen like it might self-destruct. “Obviously.”

Joe snorts, the sound bursting out of him, and that’s what does it—you both dissolve into laughter, the kind that leaves you breathless and aching. He leans back, his head hitting the cushion with a soft thud, one hand clutching his chest like the sheer absurdity physically hurts.

“Play it again,” he gasps between laughs.

You oblige, because how could you not? The video is somehow funnier the second time around, now that you’re prepared for the dramatic zooms and questionable song choice (yes, False God by Taylor Swift). Joe wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, shaking his head.

“Do people really think we look at each other like that?” he asks, trying to catch his breath.

You glance at him, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the faint flush on his cheeks, the curve of his smile.

“I mean,” you tease, nudging his knee with yours, “they’re not completely wrong.”

His laughter softens into something quieter, something warmer. He shifts, leaning in again, his hand finding yours without thinking, fingers threading together like they always do. The TV is still on, the fan edit paused mid-dramatic frame, but none of that matters now.

“Yeah,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Guess they’re not.”

And just like that, the absurdity of fan edits fades into the background, leaving only the warmth of his gaze, the comfort of his touch, and the quiet realization that maybe the fans see something you’ve both known all along.

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[foreveia]

take two ⤨ iwaizumi hajime

⨭ genre; fluff, idiots to lovers but like they're actually so dumb

⨭ pairing; iwaizumi x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 5.7k

⨭ descriptions; your boss has been trying to set you up with her son for months, but as it turns out at the holiday party... you've already met him before.

⨭ warnings; explicit language and dialogue, no graphic content tho, alcohol

⨭ a/n; fun little short fic to fill the fix to publish something lolol enjoy this iwa love dump as i work on my next long fic (tell me in the comments if y'all like these better)

one.

There are exactly three things you know to be true about Iwaizumi Emi:

She is the best divorce attorney in Tohoku, possibly the country.

She is the kind of woman who could negotiate her way out of murder charges and secure the victim’s house in the settlement.

She is, without a doubt, trying to set you up with her son.

You respect her. You admire her. You are, on occasion, lowkey terrified of her.

Which is why you’re currently sitting at your desk, nodding at all the appropriate intervals while she breezes through yet another pitch about why her son and you are, in her professional opinion, a perfect match.

“He’s back from Irvine for the summer,” she says, skimming a property settlement document like it personally offended her. She tosses it onto your pile nonchalantly, and you let out a short sigh because it’s just more backend filing to do and, despite your adoration for your career path and real passion towards legal work, entry jobs in the firm are mostly busy work. “I really think you’ll like him. He’s—”

You tune out. Not in an obvious way, of course—no, you’re a professional. You sprinkle in the occasional mmhmm and sounds great so she doesn’t catch on, but this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve heard this pitch before—multiple times. Hajime is intelligent, responsible, not an idiot like some of these men out here, blah blah blah.

It’s not that you have anything against him, really. It’s just that you’ve spent months perfecting the art of dodging your boss’s matchmaking attempts, and frankly, you don’t have the energy to entertain her latest scheme.

“You’re finally going to meet him at the firm’s ball this weekend,” Emi continues, finally looking up from her paperwork, her smile entirely too satisfied.

You blink. “Oh.”

“He’s excited to meet you too.”

Now that is new. Usually, these monologues are strictly one-sided—I told him about you! and You two will get along so well! But he’s excited to meet you too? That’s an escalation. That’s a game-changer. That means he knows about you. He has an opinion about you.

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you summon a polite, professional smile—the same one you use when dealing with particularly insufferable clients. “Looking forward to it,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the woman who could single-handedly end your career if she wanted to?

In reality, the only thing you’re looking forward to about the ball is the open bar. Being in your early twenties means being woefully broke, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of unlimited free alcohol wasn’t a strong motivator.

So, you strike a deal with yourself: you’ll put on a fancy dress, endure painful heels, and let Emi parade you in front of her son like a prize show poodle—all in exchange for an endless supply of pinot noir, cocktail shrimp, and, if you play your cards right, an entire bottle of champagne to sneak home in your purse.

It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make.

two.

Because you’re an adult with an absolutely thriving social life (read: you have two friends who are willing to tolerate your bullshit after 6 PM), you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are now seated at your favorite little izakaya, wedged into a corner booth with plates of karaage and a pitcher of beer between you. 

Kiyoko is talking about wedding venues. Because she’s engaged. To Tanaka. Which is objectively insane because in your head, they’re still in that “grossly obsessed with each other but pretending they’re just friends” phase, even though they’ve been together for years. The whole thing is a crime against single people everywhere, but you are supportive because your already jaw-dropping friend is somehow glowing even brighter now that she has a fat rock on her ring finger. She looks lighter, happier. She deserves it.

Yachi, meanwhile, is explaining—between delicate sips of her beer—that she’s too swamped with work to even think about dating. Which, yeah. Fair. The woman works harder than most people you know, so you respect it.

Then, as the conversation naturally shifts to your love life (as it always does, because you’re the group’s designated mess), you sigh, sinking into your seat dramatically.

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoko and Yachi both roll their eyes in unison, like they rehearsed it.

“Oh my God,” Yachi mutters.

“You cannot still be caught up on GDD,” Kiyoko says flatly, pouring herself another drink.

“Okay, first of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “it is not about him. It’s just a general fact about my current state of being.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyoko hums, entirely unconvinced.

“Second of all,” you continue, undeterred, “GDD was life-changing, and I feel like I should be allowed to mourn the lack of that level of—of excellence in my life.”

“Life-changing,” Yachi repeats, deadpan. “You hooked up with him once.”

“Yeah, and my life was changed.”

GDD—Good Dick Dude, as he has been dubbed by your dear, unsupportive friends—was a guy you hooked up with in January after a truly legendary New Year’s Eve party.

The night itself had been pure chaos. Hinata had somehow scored an invite to this insane rooftop party—one of those bougie, exclusive, if-you-know-you-know events where you absolutely do not belong but somehow manage to fake it enough to get through the door. He’d gotten a few plus-ones, which is how you ended up there, sipping champagne you definitely couldn’t afford and making out with a guy who, to this day, remains one of the most mind-blowing hookups of your entire life.

Gorgeous, buff, and dangerous with his hands. The kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, which, honestly? A rarity these days. You barely remember his name—something short, easy to moan—but you do remember his stupidly perfect smirk and the way he all but ruined you against the nearest flat surface.

But then the party ended, the night faded into a haze, and you never saw him again.

Which is fine. It’s fine. Really.

You’re definitely not still thinking about it.

Kiyoko takes a sip of her beer, unimpressed. “You’ve been on, what? Five Hinge dates since then? Six?”

“Seven,” Yachi corrects.

You point at her. “Exactly.”

Kiyoko gives you a long, slow blink.

“I mean that as proof that I am not hung up on him!” you clarify. “I’ve been trying, okay? But the bar is in hell. Do you know how many ‘we should get drinks’ texts I get from guys who put crypto investor in their bios?”

Kiyoko sighs. “Okay, but let’s be real—are you actually giving any of these guys a chance?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Frown. “I mean… like… conceptually?”

“Right.”

Yachi, forever gentle but devastatingly perceptive, tilts her head at you. “Is it possible,” she says carefully, “that maybe none of these guys are measuring up because you’re subconsciously comparing them to him?”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

Is it ridiculous?

Because, okay, maybe—just maybe—no one has quite lived up to that night. And maybe you’re being a little unfair to the dating pool by expecting every single guy to have that same kind of chemistry with you. And maybe you do occasionally find yourself staring at random ceilings, wondering where GDD is now and if he even remembers you.

But still. That doesn’t mean anything.

You’re pretty sure.

“I hate you guys,” you grumble, stabbing aggressively at a piece of karaage.

Yachi pats your hand sympathetically. “We know.”

Kiyoko, ever the queen of smooth topic transitions, nudges the conversation in a new direction. “Speaking of your questionable taste in men, your boss is still trying to set you up with her son, correct?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the booth. “Unfortunately, yes. And now, apparently, he’s excited to meet me.”

Yachi perks up. “Wait, so you are meeting him?”

“At the firm’s ball this weekend,” you say, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get a little wine drunk, take advantage of the seafood bar.”

Kiyoko raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not going to entertain the idea of this Hajime guy at all?”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Yachi hums, tilting her head in that way she does when she’s about to say something devastatingly reasonable. “I mean… what if Emi’s right?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if this is it?” she says, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. “Like, what if you meet him and he’s actually your soulmate? Imagine if this whole time, your boss has been playing the long game, orchestrating your love story like some kind of corporate fairy godmother.”

You snort. Loudly. “Right. Because that’s totally my luck.”

Kiyoko and Yachi exchange a knowing look, but they let it go.

You take another sip of your beer, shaking your head. Hajime Iwaizumi—whoever he is—is not the love of your life.

That would be insane.

three.

You had to pull out your graduate school formal gown from the back of your closet for this, but wow, you really forgot just how good you look in red.

Your day-to-day work attire consists of pantsuits and button-ups, neatly tucked into cautiously ironed trousers, so you’ve honestly forgotten how nice it is to get dressed up once in a while. There’s something about slipping into a gown that fits like a dream, sweeping your hair up just right, and swiping on that perfect shade of lipstick that makes you feel invincible. Like you could negotiate a million-dollar deal, steal the firm’s best clients, and seduce someone’s husband all in the same breath.

Not that you would, obviously.

Probably.

The venue is ridiculous in the way all law firm events are ridiculous—held in a ballroom large enough to house a small country, chandeliers dripping in gold, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne and fancy bruschetta topped with fucking caviar of all things. All this just to celebrate another year of making money off people’s divorces. Incredible the way capitalism works.

You’ve barely made it through your first glass of wine before Emi finds you.

“There she is,” she croons, linking her arm through yours. She looks positively radiant in an emerald gown, diamonds at her ears, and the kind of effortless elegance that comes from winning. You’d respect it more if she weren’t actively dragging you toward your inevitable doom. “Come on, sweetheart. Hajime’s here, and I cannot wait for you two to finally meet.”

You bite back a sigh, because of course. No warm-up period, no buffer—just straight to the matchmaking. “Can’t I get a few more drinks in me first?”

She waves a hand, utterly dismissing your complaints. “You’ll like him. I know you will.”

You doubt it. But you let her lead you anyway, mostly because you know resisting is pointless: your boss has the world’s most spell-blinding smile and enough charm to always get her way. Emi always wins.

She stops near the bar, where a man stands with his back to you, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp black suit, one hand resting on the counter as he talks with someone just out of view.

Emi squeezes your hand. “Hajime,” she calls, her voice warm.

The man turns.

And every thought in your head immediately ceases to exist.

Because standing before you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit and sipping from a glass of whiskey like he isn’t single-handedly ruining your life, is GDD.

Good Dick Dude.

Hajime Iwaizumi is Good Dick Dude.

Your brain short-circuits. This is not happening. This is some kind of fever dream, a cruel trick played by the universe to punish you for your sins.

Hajime’s sharp green eyes land on you, recognition flickering behind them, and then—oh no. 

He smirks. Like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind right now. Like he remembers everything.

Emi, completely unaware of your crisis, beams. “Hajime, this is the associate I’ve been telling you about.”

His mischievous, more than just amused smile widens. “Oh, I know who she is.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Because that voice? That voice is the same one that had whispered filth against your neck four months ago. The same voice that had laughed when you moaned his name. The same voice that had ruined you in ways you still haven’t fully recovered from.

You are going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of this godforsaken gala.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he says smoothly, offering a hand. His palm is rough when you take it—calloused, strong, a stark reminder of exactly where those hands have been. His grip is firm, steady, and entirely too knowing.

You swallow, pasting on the best Oh wow, I am totally not spiraling internally smile you can manage. “Yeah,” you say weakly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emi beams, clasping her hands together like she’s just delighted by this new revelation. “That’s wonderful! I knew you two would get along.”

You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a strangled choke. Hajime is still watching you, head tilted slightly, like he’s enjoying this: like he can see the exact moment you realize how deeply, horrifically screwed you are. Because there is no way Emi knows. She’s too composed, too pleased. If she had any inkling that her son and her associate had met four months ago in a completely inappropriate context, she’d have you both buried in litigation faster than you could say conflict of interest.

Which means Hajime is choosing to be a menace.

God, you’re going to kill him.

“Hajime just got back from Irvine a few days ago, for the start of his summer break,” Emi continues, completely oblivious to the absolute war waging behind your polite smile. “I’ve been telling him all about you, of course.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You have?”

“Of course I have!” Emi nods enthusiastically. “She’s one of the brightest associates we have, Hajime. Sharp, diligent, absolutely ruthless in negotiations—she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

Your lips twitch. You do enjoy being compared to the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met, so it’s really too bad that this entire situation has you currently dying inside.

Hajime hums, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “She’s definitely memorable.”

Your entire body lights on fire.

Memorable.

Oh, he’s being insufferable on purpose.

Emi sighs happily, taking a sip of her champagne. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your drink in Hajime’s face. You want to rewind time and never step foot into that rooftop party.

Instead, you just smile tightly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hajime grins at your suffering. “So,” he says, tilting his glass in your direction, “how have you been?”

You resist the urge to kick him in the shins. “Busy,” you say, voice clipped. “Working.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

You stiffen. Hajime, you realize, is having the time of his life watching you squirm. And it’s only going to get worse.

Because Emi suddenly claps her hands together, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh! I should leave you two to chat,” she says. “Get to know each other properly.”

Oh. Oh no. Emi. Emi, please.

But before you can protest, she winks at you—winks, like she’s a fairy godmother orchestrating the perfect romance—and disappears back into the crowd.

And just like that, you are alone with him.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” he says, smirking, “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

Your jaw clenches. “You smug little—”

“You look good,” he interrupts smoothly, scanning you from head to toe. His gaze lingers, appreciative but blatantly teasing. “Red suits you.”

God, you want to strangle him. You cross your arms, willing yourself to stay calm. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

He tilts his head, as if contemplating. “Well,” he says, “it wasn’t confirmed until I saw you.”

You glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that reaction?” He grins. “Not a chance.”

You hate him. You hate that he looks so effortlessly good in a suit. You hate that his voice is still just as devastating as you remember. You hate that even now, months later, you can still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin, the way he had murmured just like that, baby against your ear—

You inhale sharply. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not thinking about that right now.

Hajime, unfortunately, definitely knows what you’re thinking about. His smirk is downright criminal. “So,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

He laughs, warm and amused, and you are horribly aware that this night is only just beginning.

four.

Hajime happens to actually be a pretty intelligent and funny person, which is making it much, much harder to dodge his attempts at flirting and his mother’s attempts at forced-proximity matchmaking.

It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to sip your wine, endure some polite small talk, and then fade into the crowd before Emi could corner you into any serious you’d make such a beautiful couple talk. But instead, you’re somehow still here, talking to him, because Hajime Iwaizumi is annoyingly easy to talk to.

Which is not fair. It’s not fair at all, actually.

He makes it look effortless, like this isn’t completely unhinged, like it’s not absolutely deranged that your boss has spent months trying to set you up with a man who has already—

You take a sip of your wine. You are not going to finish that thought.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, looking entirely too entertained by this whole situation. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Hey, could be worse,” he says. “At least my mom has good taste.”

You choke on your sip, feeling the bubbles tingle in your nose and really regretting every life decision you’ve made in the last six months. “Oh, my God.”

He laughs, tilting his glass in a mock toast.

You squint at him, wary and slightly annoyed, unable to fathom how he’s not also dying at this situation. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, all easy amusement. “I’m just saying—this could be a lot worse. Imagine if she was trying to set you up with someone actually terrible.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, swirling your wine. “You’re already pretty high on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

“See, now that hurts.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live.”

Before Hajime can respond—before you can regain any sense of control over this conversation—Emi appears out of nowhere, her eyes shining.

“There you two are!” she says, absolutely beaming. “It’s time for the first dance!”

You freeze.

Hajime—the absolute traitor—just raises an eyebrow. “First dance?”

“Yes! It’s tradition,” Emi says, already ushering you toward the ballroom floor. “Senior partners and their dates open the dance floor—it’s been that way for years.”

You dig your heels into the floor. “But I’m not—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Emi interrupts, entirely ignoring your panic, “you wouldn’t want to break tradition, would you?”

You stare at her, betrayed.

She smiles.

Oh, she planned this.

Hajime, standing beside you, lets out a quiet, amused sigh before draining the last of his whiskey. “Well,” he says, offering you a hand, “guess we should give the people what they want.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s why you’re still holding my hand.”

You drop it immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from leading you on to the dance floor. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently to the center of the ballroom; you’re struggling to ignore the far too many pairs of eyes on you two as he rearranges your arms around his neck.

And—oh, hell.

You forgot how solid he is.

His grip is firm but steady, his palm warm where it rests against your back. He moves easily, like this isn’t completely ridiculous, like your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears.

“Relax,” Hajime murmurs.

You scowl. “I am relaxed.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, totally.”

You hate him. You hate the way he’s looking at you—amused, interested, entirely too smug for someone who has already ruined your life once.

He leads you into a slow, easy step, and goddamn it, of course he’s good at this, too. His movements are effortless, confident. He keeps the rhythm perfectly, and you hate that you match him so well.

He tilts his head, watching you. “You’re thinking really hard about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. So you’re definitely not thinking about how good I am at this.”

You promptly step on his foot. He laughs, and it ignites your hatefire even more.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I was going to say you look good tonight,” he muses, unfazed. “But now I don’t know if you deserve the compliment.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Hajime smirks. “Touchy.”

He spins you as the music hits a crescendo, dropping you abruptly into a dip that catches you heavily off-guard. It makes you lock your fingers tighter around his neck, and when he lifts you back up, you nearly slam right into his very, very firm chest (what the hell, is this man made entirely of protein?), face first.

“What the fuck?” you huff, a little winded. “You are actually a horrible human being.”

Hajime hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something too smug, too entertained. “You keep saying that,” he muses, voice low enough that it barely carries past the space between you, “but I think you just like having someone to complain about.”

Before you can deliver a scathing reply, he tugs you a fraction closer. It’s subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but you feel it—the shift of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, the way your body slots against his just enough for warmth to pass between you.

Your breath catches, and it’s infuriating how he notices. How his hold tightens, like he can read every single thought running through your head and is thrilled by it.

“You’re such a dick,” you frown, shifting slightly, trying to put some space between you.

Hajime chuckles, and the sound is entirely too satisfied. His mouth is right by your ear, so you practically feel it more than you really hear it, when he murmurs, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because that—that—is not fair.

That is the kind of thing a man should not be allowed to say in that voice, in that low, teasing rumble, into your ear, while holding you against him like this.

It happens before you can even think about it.

Before you can register that you are, in fact, in the middle of a ballroom at your company’s annual gala. Before you can process the reality that Emi is somewhere in this crowd, and she has already been insufferable about this whole ordeal.

Before any of that can hit you, you grab the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted suit, tilt your chin up, and kiss him.

It’s instant, sharp, devastating. Your hands tighten against his chest as you crash into him, and Hajime—because he is the worst person alive—immediately reacts.

One hand presses firm into your back, the other finding its way to your jaw, fingers curling just slightly as he deepens the kiss without hesitation. His lips are warm, just the right mix of soft and steady, and when he angles his head just so—his nose brushing against yours, his thumb skimming your cheek—you feel yourself sink, like he’s pulling you under and you don’t even mind drowning.

It should not be this good.

It should not set your pulse racing like this, make you forget for a single, damning second that this is the worst possible thing you could be doing right now.

But it does. And for just a moment, nothing else exists. Not the party. Not the music. Not the fact that literally everyone is watching you right now. Just the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his fingers at your back, the way he exhales sharply like he wasn’t expecting this either, but he’s not about to stop it, not for anything in the world. 

And then you remember where you are.

You rip yourself away, blinking rapidly, your brain racing to catch up with what you just did.

And that is the moment you hear it: the loudest, most delighted squeal of your entire existence.

Your stomach plummets.

Because standing at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped together in sheer glee, is none other than Emi Iwaizumi herself. And she is positively vibrating with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes, and the way she looks at you is the exact way someone would look at their child who just announced they were getting married. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect together!”

Your soul leaves your body. You stare at her, horrified. You slowly turn back to Hajime—who, because he is an absolute menace, is still standing entirely too close, still holding you just slightly like he isn’t ready to let go.

And he is smiling.

The kind of smile that says I win. The kind of smile that says he is absolutely going to remind you of this for the rest of your natural life.

You physically have to stop yourself from shoving him away.

Instead, you inhale, sharp and deep, and will yourself to stay calm. Emi is still talking. She is still gushing. And you cannot deal with whatever she’s about to say next, so before she can so much as breathe, you turn back to Hajime, seize his wrist, and drag him off the dance floor, because if you don’t get away from this immediately, you are actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

five.

This is because of your dry spell.

Your dry spell is the reason why your entire sense of self-control and awareness have gone out the window, and the reason why, now that you and Hajime have successfully escaped the ballroom onto the balcony, he is doubled over laughing and you are actually freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, pressing your hands to your face. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the absolute catastrophe unfolding inside your brain. “I kissed you. I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Hajime straightens, still grinning like an asshole. “Yeah,” he says, entirely too pleased. “You did.”

You drop your hands, glaring. “Fuck you, dude. You’re not helping.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t aware I needed to.”

You let out an incoherent noise of distress.

Hajime, because he is insufferable, just leans against the balcony railing, watching you unravel like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all night. His tie is slightly loosened now, his jacket unbuttoned, and somehow, he looks even better like this—a little rumpled, a little amused, looking at you like he already knows how this is going to end. 

That is actually unacceptable.

“This is your fault,” you snap, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You goaded me into it.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made you kiss me?”

“Yes,” you declare, with full conviction, even though you definitely grabbed him first. “You set me up.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really can’t handle taking the L, huh?”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “I just don’t want to.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying very hard not to laugh again. “So you kissed me against your will?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tilts his head, amused. “Interesting. Because you seemed pretty into it.”

Your jaw drops. “I—you—shut up.”

He chuckles, and God, his voice is all warm and low and pleased with himself, and you really need to get it together before you do something stupid again.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms and shifting your focus to the city skyline instead. Sendai stretches out before you in a sea of golden lights, a stark contrast to the absolute nightmare happening in your head. 

This is fine. You can recover from this. You just have to never, ever acknowledge it again.

You square your shoulders, turning back to him. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to go back inside, pretend this never happened, and move on with our lives.”

Hajime hums, considering. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

You squint. “What do you mean that’s not gonna work?”

He pushes off the railing, taking a step closer—too close, enough that you feel it again, that ridiculous, stupid warmth that shouldn’t still be there after all this time. “I mean,” he says, slow, deliberate, “you’re acting like that kiss was a mistake.”

You blink. “Because it was.”

He lifts a single eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, but it comes out way too defensive, and Hajime knows it.

He grins. You decide that you hate him.

“I’m sure,” you insist, crossing your arms tighter, like that will somehow make this whole situation less insufferable. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing. A lapse in judgment. That’s it.”

Hajime tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. So if I kissed you again right now, you wouldn’t like it.”

Your entire brain short-circuits. The audacity. The unbelievable nerve.

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t.”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t I?”

You hate how smug he looks. You hate that your stomach flips at the idea of it. You hate that you don’t immediately shut it down.

He watches your expression carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, like he won’t actually do it unless you give him some kind of sign. Which is so much worse, because it means he’s giving you the chance to say no, to walk away, to end this before it can spiral any further.

But you don’t.

And that—more than the kiss itself, more than Emi’s squealing, more than the public spectacle you just made—is what finally sends you into full-blown panic mode.

You do want him to kiss you again.

You stare at him, pulse thrumming, brain caught in a violent tug-of-war between denial and desire. And Hajime? Hajime is watching you with the patience of someone who knows he’s already won.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

You scowl. “Say what?”

“That you want me to kiss you again.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s baiting you, letting you choose, waiting for you to meet him halfway. You exhale sharply, tilting your chin up. “You’re so full of yourself.”

His mouth twitches. “Not an answer.”

“Fine,” you snap. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Hajime grins. “That’s all I needed.”

And then, he does.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, not rushed by the heat of the moment. He takes his time, like he’s savoring it, like he’s memorizing the way you melt into him. And you? You let him. Because, goddamn it, you were never winning this battle.

When you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks down at you. “See? Not a mistake.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead that feels far more intimate than a casual pair of friends-with-benefits should. You, scandalized, shove him away, but Hajime just grins, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your forehead, like that will somehow stop the ridiculous heat crawling up your neck.

Hajime hums, smug. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You are still standing here. You could have left, could have walked back into that ballroom and pretended this entire thing never happened. But instead, you’re here. On this balcony. With him.

You shift, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So… what now?”

Hajime leans back against the railing. “Dunno. Guess that depends on you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like you already have an answer?”

“Because I do,” he says plainly, in a way so nonchalant and effortless it could only be said like that by him. 

You exhale sharply, tilting your head up to the sky, like the stars might have some kind of solution for this. “You know this is gonna be a thing now, right?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” you say, making a vague gesture between the two of you. “A thing. Emi’s gonna lose her mind. She’s probably already telling the senior partners that her matchmaking career is a success.”

Hajime laughs, the sound easy, effortless. “Yeah. She probably is.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “I am never going to live this down.”

“Probably not.”

You squint at him. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

Hajime shrugs, then reaches for your hand, tugging you forward so suddenly that you nearly stumble into him. His hands slide down to your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress. “I could,” he murmurs, close, too close, “but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

You scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he says, smug, “you still kissed me. Twice, actually.”

You glare. “Stop counting.”

“No promises.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to his chest in sheer exasperation. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime just laughs, wrapping his arms fully around you, and you hate—hate—that it feels nice, that it feels right.

“Hajime,” you say, voice muffled against his suit jacket.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we’re doing this, you are legally required to make it up to me with at least two fancy dates. Minimum.”

Hajime smirks, like he was already planning on it. “Deal.”

“And no getting too smug about this, either,” you squint.

He tilts his head. “Define ‘too smug.’”

You groan, shoving at his chest. “God, I hate you.”

Hajime just catches your wrist and grins, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your knuckles. “Sure you do.”

You really don’t. And both of you know that very well, because he has his mother’s spell-blinding smile and you have always been a sucker for them both.

⨭ closing; churned this out over one 3 hour writing sesh bc i got this idea in my head and had to see it through. not proofread and very very hastily written, but i like her anyway. #comment #reblog #lemme know ur thoughts mwah xoxo

[deadpcnned]

you're so vain (jj.m)

coming soon!

general masterlist | join the taglist

pairing: jj maybank x reader (au)

synopsis: for as long as anyone can remember, jj maybank has been a ladies’ man—willing to charm any girl with a pulse. you, on the other hand, have never been easily won over, shutting down unwanted advances without a second thought in the name of higher pursuits.

so when his friends bet he can’t get with you, he sees it as just another challenge. what he doesn’t know is that you have a bet of your own—act like the worst girlfriend possible, and prove that guys don't just stick around for looks.

at first, it’s just a game. your weird quirks and stubborn attitude are nothing he can’t handle, and his flirtations are nothing more than motivation for you. but with every passing day, it all seems less like a game and more... real. what happens when winning the bet means losing each other?

* this series is inspired by 'how to lose a guy in 10 days' *

content warning(s): au, drugs, alcohol, language

author's note: uh oh, another series... like most girls, i am such a big fan of this movie and i couldn't resist adding my own spin to the plot. this series won't be starting until probably the end of february, but i wanted to go ahead and post it!

“I seriously doubt a guy would stick around if he were fishing out spinach from my mouth every time we kissed,” You mumble, rolling your eyes at Ruthie as you return to tightly winding Sarah’s hair around the curling iron. Your grip tightens around the pink handle, more from exasperation than focus. Topper seriously needs to reconsider his recent taste in women.

Ruthie pushes herself up from the bed and saunters over to the two of you, a spark of mischief shining in her eyes that catches your attention in the mirror. Without warning, she scoops the ottoman from under your knee, ignoring your annoyed huff as she plops down. “You don’t get it, do you?” she says, shaking her head as if she’s explaining something painfully obvious. “Boys are simple. They’ll do anything for a good fuck.” 

“Ruthie!” 

“Sarah!” You exclaim, pulling away the curling wand hovering dangerously close to her turned cheek. “Stop moving! I almost burned you!” You cautiously rest your curling wand on the vanity, crossing your arms as you address Ruthie’s tireless campaign. “Ruthie, that’s just not true. Men suck, but they’re not that desperate.” 

“Care to test it?” The look she gives you, so full of unwarranted confidence, makes it tempting to agree blindly to whatever nonsense she’s about to spew. But in the short time you’ve known her, you’ve gathered jumping headfirst into whatever she plans is maybe not the smartest thing to do. 

“How would we do that?” You arch a brow, playing it cool, the picture of nonchalance. Girls like Ruthie want you to bark when you should be biting back. The best way to handle them is to beat them at their own game. It doesn’t matter how uneasy her grin makes you. You have to look like the picture of perfect insouciance. 

“Easy. You reel in some sucker and make him regret it. Clingy, loud, jealous – I’m talking full nightmare fuel.” 

“Me?” You scoff, reaching for the iron. “Sarah, I swear, if you move–”

 Sarah hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t angle her face towards the circular mirror like you need her to. She’s too busy watching Ruthie, waiting for her following words. 

“Yes, you.” 

“Why do I have to be the guinea pig?” You fuss, shifting your position to continue working on Sarah’s hair. You twist Sarah’s blond hair around the silver rod as you suggest, “You test it out with Topper. You’re the one with something to prove.”

“I’m actually serious about Topper,” Ruthie counters and you have to physically bite your tongue from making a snarky comment. “And you’re perfect for this. You’re objectively hot and leaving at the end of the summer. No strings with a hot chick? Guys eat that up.” 

“Ruthie, remind me again why you’re with Topper if you have such a low opinion of the entire male species,” Sarah asks. Sarah eyes Ruthie with a mix of genuine curiosity and plain judgment. Ruthie doesn’t dignify Sarah with a response, upholding the same catty attitude she’s maintained with her since the start of the evening. “Or not.” 

You and Sarah share a long look, not hiding your indignation, but you can’t deny that beneath you’re irritation, you’re a little interested. You would be in the Outer Banks for three months; you might as well find a way to kill time. 

“Done,” You announce, pulling back and smiling at your handiwork. As Sarah fluffs through her hair, you ask, “So, I just pick any guy and make him miserable?” 

Sarah spins around at a dizzying speed, her jaw dropping open. “You’re considering it? Like, actually?”  

You give her a sheepish shrug and look to Ruthie for confirmation. 

“No, I get to choose.”

“What, why?” You scoff. 

“Cause you’d choose someone you already know, and those guys have been harboring unrequited crushes on you since you were, like, twelve.” You try not to betray your surprise. Somehow, Ruthie knows more about your life than you want her to. You weren't sure how Ruthie knew this about you, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. 

“Fine,” You huff, flopping down onto your bed. “Who, then?”

Ruthie’s smile is one you could only describe as downright devilish as she leans in, lowering her voice to a lethal whisper. “Who else but Kildare’s biggest fuckboy? JJ Maybank.”

taglist: @rinaarii @kaisgirlie @loophole3 @flourelle @xobeautifulfaith @brooklyn789 @jjscoquette

*if you would like to be removed, pls lmk!

[oh-phoenixx]

"Vow" - Jegulus microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 452 words

-

Regulus woke up on Christmas morning with James shaking him excitedly. He groaned and pushed his boyfriend away.

“Just go downstairs without me,” Regulus mumbled.

“What? No, I’m not leaving you,” James said with a frown, still trying to coax Regulus out of bed.

Regulus didn’t know why it was such a big deal; Christmas had never been something to look forward to for him and Sirius. But James was practically bouncing with anticipation, smiling down at Regulus brightly, and so, with a sigh, Regulus sat up and let James lead him downstairs.

When they got down there, Sirius, Euphemia, and Fleamont were already sitting around in the living room.

“There you two are!” Euphemia exclaimed.

“Regulus sleeps like the dead,” James teased, to which Regulus shoved him lightly.

James sat down on the sofa, picking up the hot chocolate his parents had made. Regulus followed suit and curled up into James’s side.

As Euphemia started to pass around presents, Regulus watched James. His face was lit up, the arm around Regulus tightening unconsciously. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, just having gotten out of bed. It stuck up in all directions, making him look somewhat crazy, but mostly adorable, in Regulus’s humble opinion.

“I love you,” Regulus whispered, seemingly out of nowhere, but he couldn’t stop himself when his boy was so perfect, so beautiful.

“I love you, too,” James said back with a wide grin, hand starting to rub comforting circles into Regulus’s side.

When Euphemia passed Regulus his first present, James untangled himself from the younger boy and turned so his body was fully facing him.

“This might be stupid,” James muttered, uncharacteristically nervous as he put his hands over Regulus’s. “If you don’t like it, it’s okay.”

Regulus’s eyebrows furrowed, both from concern and confusion. He delicately unwrapped the present, finding a small box inside. Opening it up, he saw a beautiful ring, silver as all of Regulus’s other jewellery was, with a small sun etched into it. Regulus looked back up at James with wide eyes.

“It’s, um, it’s a promise ring,” James told him, gently grabbing the box and pulling out the ring. “It’s- It’s like a vow to each other. Do you hate it?”

But Regulus was smiling brightly as the sun, looking between his boyfriend and the ring. He held his hand out for James to slip the ring onto his finger, admiring it.

“I have one, too,” James said, no longer anxious. He grabbed an identical box to the one Regulus’s ring had been in, and opened it to show him a golden ring, with a star on it.

“They’re perfect,” Regulus whispered, kissing his boyfriend. “You’re perfect."

“Merry Christmas, love.”

[andre-and-cal]

IK IT'S A A WEEK ISH AWAY BUT CALDRE VALENTINE'S HCS⁉️😘

YESSS I wanted to do Caldre Valentine’s Day headcanons so bad !! Hope you enjoy! :3

Caldre Valentine’s Day Headcanons

At first, Andre thought that the whole concept of Valentine’s Day was stupid. Something he never understood was why some couples only showed appreciation for someone they cared about on one unnecessarily flamboyant day rather than doing so every day. While he stands by an unintentionally tender message, he never really did anything for Valentine’s Day. And neither did Cal. However, during their sophomore year, the teen wanted to make something for Andre, wanted to express his appreciation toward him. Calvin ended up giving him a small photo collage— which he and his parents had designed— of the Army of Two, from their middle school years up until then. With Andre having nothing prepared for him, it left him feeling guilty. As a last-minute gift, Andre decided to lend Cal one of his old switchblades, which he’d painted on. He wanted Calvin to keep it permanently.

The first time Cal asked Andre to be his Valentine, Andre’s heart jumped out of his chest. He’d choked out a simple, “Sure,” and tried to act all nonchalant and casual about it. But his leg kept bouncing up and down— they were in Cal’s bedroom at the time, sitting together and watching Beavis and Butthead. Luckily, Cal didn’t even really notice his overly-conscious behavior.

Ever since, Cal will ask Andre if he wants to be his Valentine, with a witty grin spread across his face. For which, Andre will accept the invitation seriously, but then snicker— he attempts to act like it isn’t serious, as if being Cal’s Valentine is just such a silly thing. But clearly, it is not, with how Andre now indulges himself in some Valentine’s Day traditions.

Following, when Valentine’s Day came around during their junior year, Andre and Cal did start to be a little more receptive toward each other in terms of gift-giving. Andre buys Calvin items that he’s heard him talk about or mention before— like maybe a Misfits album on CD, or a cool poster from a TV show Cal likes. Often, Calvin creates cards and handmade trinkets for Andre, since Andre doesn’t usually ask for much aside from snacks and a bag of chocolate caramel candy bars. Andre is an absolute sucker for chocolate caramel, and Calvin knows this, so when he has no money, he’ll ask his parents to purchase a bag of them for the teen. In addition, when he does have some cash in his pocket, he’ll buy them for Andre. One year, Cal had his little sister make matching bead bracelets for him and Andre— although, the two teenagers don’t wear them in public. Instead, they keep them protectively stored in their bedrooms.

Calvin will stay up late working on little makeshift Valentine’s Day cards for Andre, often putting off dinner so he can work on the cards. He writes poems for him, too !! With Cal being a bit of a teenage poet, his poems aren’t perfect, but they’re lovely enough for Andre. Cal wants to impress Andre so badly, and even though his writing is generally more on the dark and moody side, with sappy topics not necessarily being Cal’s forte, he tries hard to make sure his poems for Andre are lovey-dovey. He wants the other boy to feel good while reading them.

But most of all, they go out together... as usual, really. But when they do, it feels a little different; the atmosphere feels less “needed” and more “wanted”. To elaborate, both boys feel relaxed when they go out together. It feels more like an actual date, less like a mission— which, their private outings do essentially serve as unspoken dates. Especially during “Valentine’s season” as Cal calls it. And by the end of the day, Cal ends up in Andre’s arms, whether at his own house or at Andre’s house.

[tacitusk1llwhore]

Can you talk more about your opinion on Mary and Arthur’s relationship? I genuinely don’t think that they could have ever worked, with Arthur being an outlaw or not, it seems more like they loved the idea of each other and even if they had ran away, that they would end up resenting one another (something that is sadly quite common in high school sweethearts who end up married)

Absolutely!!!

So before I get started, I just want to say that I don’t necessarily like Mary. Okay, I said it. It’s off my chest. Guys, don’t come for me yet. I’m not saying I don’t like Mary because she’s a woman or anything like that. It is entirely a personal opinion on why I just don’t enjoy her, and it’s absolutely debatable on the reasons I’ll be giving as to why I don’t enjoy her or their relationship.

A few things that sort of rubbed me the wrong way are the way that Mary talks about the gang and the people in it. They’re bad people, they’re murderers and outlaws, and she doesn’t have to have a high opinion of them. However, she knows that these are people who are dear to Arthur that he loves and cares for, and speaking of them to him in such a demeaning manner has to sting. In her letter to him the first time, she says something along the lines of not knowing the polite term for the women that ran with them, as if those women are beneath her or not deserving of the title of just being women because of where they are in life or what she assumes they do (this assumption of them being SWs is fair, but being uppity about it is not). She makes a few other off-comments that rub me the wrong way about the people themselves, which leads into my first point of why I don’t like their relationship.

Mary doesn’t see herself and Arthur on the same level. Again, that’s fine; she doesn’t have to, but that to me brings their relationship down a peg. If you don’t see your partner as an equal, then it won’t ever work; you won’t ever have a healthy relationship, and we can see that by how quickly they argue with one another. I mean, Arthur yells at her in the middle of the street, and she just takes it because she has said some stuff too—they aren’t this perfect lovey-couple, and I don’t think they ever were. You don’t feel that comfortable being that nasty with one another if it isn’t a staple in your relationship. They both felt fine doing that and acting like it never happened after.

This one is overdone, and it can go either way, but their relationship on her end, in the game, is completely transactional. I know, I know, but before you come after me with the “it’s a video game! That’s the point,” hear me out first. Other members of the gang, even in stranger missions, will have missions or scenes where you’re not doing anything for them: Charlotte making Arthur dinner as a thank you, Albert inviting Arthur to the gallery and hanging a picture of him, same with Charles (painter), The Nun sits and talks to Arthur, comforts him as he confides in her, even Rains Fall takes Arthur to get some herbs for his cough. In camp, you can interact with people like normal; there are even times where you can sit down and talk with the women in camp about everything, have heart-to-hearts. The only time they see one another was when she needed something, and the only way they go out on a date is if Arthur agrees to it. This is after the mission where you help her get her brooch back. I feel like this is intentional. There are no fun letters sent back and forth, no additional interactions of them just being (other than the date, which again, only was out of convenience). The only time they see one another is for transaction. Which I feel was intentional.

Them running away together could’ve never worked. Mary even says so herself. She has this wonderful idea of Arthur in her head when they’re together, but as soon as they’re apart, all of the flaws and demons he has come rushing back in. I can’t imagine how maddening it would be for her to be with someone who she knows deep down is someone she loves the idea of, the prospect of what they CAN be, not what they are. For him, it would be maddening to know that the person you’re with looks down on you, that they don’t see you as an equal, that you’re beneath them. Pushing this notion in their head, you can be better than what you are while never truly accepting you as you are, flaws and all. Not to mention that irresistible pull for him to go back to that life eventually. Those demons he does face would always be right around the corner, and giving into them even in the slightest would strain the relationship more.

There was a reason their engagement didn’t work, and Mary has every right in the world to not want to be with Arthur or be involved in the life he leads, no woman who has had the experiences and life she has would. We can see how that works out with Molly. Their relationship is built on idealistic versions of the other and transactions. They miss the nostalgia, that first love. Not to say they don’t have love for one another because it’s very clear they do, but not the love that’s going to weather any storm. Mary and Arthur have such a complex relationship, and I love to talk about it, but I don’t like them together as much as I may get flamed for that. They would, as you said, absolutely end up resenting one another because of these issues. They would never have truly worked out as much as I wished for the both of them.

Loved this ask!

[smilesrobotlover]

Thoughts on Tetra and Link?

Oh HECK yeah

I ship it cuz it’s FUN. I love the idea of a blunt, spunky, and rough pirate captain falling in love with a more mellow and sweet sailor is everything to me. I think it’s so cute and I love the two soooo so so much. I also love how Link very clearly cares deeply for tetra. In phantom hourglass he was so worried about her and cared so much for her and UGH I LOVE THEMMMMMM they’re cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

I think the dynamic they have is my favorite part of them. They complement each other well. Link is a good fighter and all but he’s definitely Tetra’s softer side, and they work so well together and UFH RHSBSJEBWKWBAKW I like them a lot. I love the idea of Tetra bring so tough and cool and confident until Link shows up, then she completely melts. It’s so cute

And unpopular opinion… hm… idk. I think the two searching for new land makes sense, idk why it’s so unpopular but them looking for new Hyrule makes perfect sense for me with the two. Also I prefer them as Tetra and Link, not Zelda and Link.

[sunshinesickies]

Feveruary Day 3— Caught in the Rain— Arcane Caitlyn x Vi

Yes, I know getting sick from being in the rain is somewhat of a myth but I’m pretty sure us sickfic writers don’t care 🤷‍♀️

Post-War, Violyn established relationship, mostly fluff because they deserve it

Warnings: swearing, slightly suggestive if you squint

“You almost ready, Cupcake?” Vi calls out gently to Caitlyn, dawning her signature red jacket while her girlfriend puts the finishing touches on her ‘casual’ makeup look for the evening. Violet smiles to herself as she recalls the conversation they’d had earlier where the two of them agreed that neither half of their shared date night required anything too fancy, yet Caitlyn has still been in the bathroom for the last 45 minutes doing heck knows what.

“Just a second!” Caitlyn’s accented voice travels through the rooms, and true to her word, she emerges only seconds later, looking so gorgeously stunning that Vi may or may not have forgotten how to breathe for a hot second. Vi can’t believe she finally gets to call her, hers. Although she loves when Cait does something a little extra, she thinks she looks perfect all the time.

It’s been about 6 months since the war with Noxus and the tragic losses that came with it, and the two of them have worked hard to adjust themselves into a new way of life, and a life with each other. Even though it’s been tough at times, Vi will never get over how much she loves being in Caitlyn’s life, and how lucky she feels to have her. Her blessings throughout life have been few and far in between, so Vi makes sure to savor every last ounce she has now, and she makes it her daily mission to make sure Cait knows she’s her top one.

“Violet, are you speechless?” Caitlyn muses with a half smirk-half smile as she approaches her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around the shorter girl’s waist. Violet can feel her face blushing, one hand nervously rubbing the back of her neck. “W-what? Speechless…noooo…” she rolls her eyes playfully and Caitlyn chuckles.

“Well, if you have nothing to say, our night awaits.” Caitlyn’s hand finds Vi and she starts leading her towards the door before Vi can answer. A knowing smile spreads on Caitlyn’s lips when she feels Vi tug her hand gently, signaling for her to stop. “Cait…” She turns around to face Vi. “…you really do look beautiful tonight.” Vi hums softly, pulling her girlfriend close and pressing a warm loving kiss to the lips that now feel like home.

“And you, my darling Violet, charming as ever, are looking very hot tonight.” The end of her sentence comes out almost in a purr as they pull away. “Oh?” Vi quirks an eyebrow, smirking. “You better show me why later.”

She tugs on Caitlyn’s hand this time, and they finally make their way out the door, into the hall, then out into the quiet streets of the Kiramman’s neighborhood, strolling together in the golden rays of the last sunlight of the day peaking around the buildings.

The two of them had been planning this date night for weeks now. A joint date night, where they each choose a part of it, Caitlyn wanting to show Vi her favorite restaurant in Piltover, and Vi wanting to show Caitlyn around the Lanes—now that it’s becoming a less rough place to be.

Piltover’s Finest walk hand in hand as they make their way towards the first part of their evening, Caitlyn leading Vi through the city streets, conversation flowing with ease. They walk longer than Vi expected and by the time Caitlyn finally pulls Vi to a gentle halt, they’re no longer in extremely high end part of Piltover.

The street they’re standing on appears to be a working class one, with dozens of stores for shopping, restaurants with outdoor seating areas, and little kids running through the crowd of people chatting happily away, their families close on their heels. Vi couldn’t help but smile at the scene before her. The energy was chaotic, but infectious in a good way, making her want to run around like the kids and press her nose against shop windows. Caitlyn watches her take it all in, a soft smile on her own face as she finally gets to show Vi a place that means so much to her.

“Cait, where are we? Gotta be honest this isn’t what I expected when you said you were taking me out to dinner.” Vi chuckled for instead of answering, Caitlyn just smiled wider, gripping her hand tighter as she began to pull Vi through the crowded street. Even with her street skills, Vi struggled to keep up with her girlfriend as they jogged, dodging kids and dogs left and right until Caitlyn skidded to a stop.

They both pause a moment, slightly out of breath and Vi gaped at the storefront before her. “Pizza?” She inquires, looking up at the bright neon sign that pointed down to a small, bustling joint, a strong smell of yeast and various cooked toppings wafting out from the propped open door. “Best in the city.” Caitlyn pulls her inside.

They ended up each getting a few slices to go, Caitlyn insisting they needed to walk around so Vi could see the street lit up at night. “I’ve gotta say Kiramman, this is the best pizza I’ve ever had—not that I’ve had a lot, but still.” Vi spoke through a mouthful of hot cheese as she started wolfing down on her second slice. Caitlyn laughed and handed her a few more napkins.

“My dad brought me here once when I was really young. Only the one time. It was because I begged to join him on a last minute business meeting. It ended up being way too boring and ran much longer than expected. By the time we were on the way home, it was getting dark, and I was a wreck. I gave him every reason to just pick me up and continue marching home, but instead he bought me this pizza and we walked around a while. It was one of the first times I saw so many families together, so many fun looking shops, it was my first time in this part of the city, my parents didn’t often let me leave the few surrounding neighborhoods in our area.” She explained and Vi listened to every word.

“I never told my parents this, but often, when I could, I would sneak here after school, buy a slice and just sit in the window and watch people go by. Even convinced Jayce to accompany me a few times at night so I could see everything lit up like this again. I spent most of my days alone, no siblings, private tutors for school, so I cherished these moments when I could tuck myself into the crowds, be a part of so much light.” She finished and Vi was gazing at her now, the reflection of thousands of twinkling lights reflecting in her soft blue eyes.

“I see what you mean. There’s so much life here, you can feel it. Everyone’s in their own world, but somehow we all fit perfectly into the chaos, creating this atmosphere together.” Vi replies as they keep walking, strolling at a leisurely pace now. “Exactly.” Caitlyn nods, finishing her food and taking Vi’s hand back in her’s.

They walk in a comfortable silence for a bit, letting the energy of everyone around them fill their sense. “We should bring him here next time.” Vi leans over to speak in Caitlyn’s ear to make sure she hears her over the noise. “Huh?” Her brows twist in slight confusion. “Your dad. I bet he’d like to come with us next time.” Vi clarifies.

“On our date?” Caitlyn jokes and Vi bumps their hips together, rolling her eyes. “You know what I mean.” She laughs as they reach the end of the street where the crowd starts to thin and the various bright lights fade to just street lamps. “Ready for round two?” Vi questions and Caitlyn agrees. “We can’t have dinner without dessert.” Vi winks up at Cait as she begins to pull her towards the river, the barrier between Zaun and Piltover.

Once they reach Zaun, still hand in hand, it’s Caitlyn’s turn to follow Vi as she leads her through an intricate dance of twists and turns. They don’t see many others along the way, as Vi had planned out. Luckily for her, some things are still the same and her backwards ways of getting through the streets still simultaneously efficient and much safer than traveling through the main streets.

Even though both cities have been hard at work to make Zaun a more peaceful place, Vi’s not taking any chances since Caitlyn’s with her. She knows without a doubt the Piltie can handle herself if necessary, but she’d rather not them get anywhere close to that point, plus if she’s being honest, Vi likes running around through the Lanes like this. It reminds her of being a kid when she would work her way through the maze of streets, mapping out every route in her head, creating new ones and secret ones each day.

Not much later, Vi leads Caitlyn to a more central street, not as busy as the one in Piltover, and no where near as nice, but it’s special in its own right, and to Vi, it’s absolutely perfect. She’s actually really relieved to see this street stayed the same. So many got destroyed and so many businesses shut down over the years, but as fate would have it, the one place she wanted to bring Cait was still running, as gloriously tacky as ever.

“This isn’t going to be like when we first met right?” Caitlyn asks as she eyes the many strange looking establishments the line the dim street. “If you mean Jericho’s, no don’t worry. Dessert will be perfectly normal and non-fish related.” Vi chortles, amused by how hard Caitlyn is trying to be polite. It’s clear as day to Vi that she still isn’t used to environments like this.

Vi pulls her closer into her side. “Ease up Kiramman, it’s time to embrace the Lanes.” Her voice holds no ridicule, the softness of her tone easing the slight unease in Caitlyn’s shoulders. She relaxes under Vi’s comforting touch and smiles, a slight blush rising in her pale cheeks. They walk until it appears the shops have been left behind them, but Vi keeps going a little further until they reach a small staircase jutting out into the street, the uneven steps leading down to a surprisingly brightly colored door.

Vi leads Caitlyn confidently inside, holding the door for her as she unveils her part of date. “It’s…a candy shop.” Caitlyn takes in the warm tones from the lamps, a stark contrast to the darkness of the street, and she her senses are immediately overwhelmed by a sweet sugary scent that makes her mouth water. Vi smiles at her girlfriend’s surprise.

“Best in all the Lanes.” She mimics Caitlyn’s earlier statement, hands spread out in front of her as if she owned the place. “Get whatever you want, Cupcake. Though if you need help deciding I’ve got some favorites I can steer ya towards.” Vi smiles wide as Caitlyn starts slowly strolling through the large room, taking in all the colors. Candies of all kinds, some she recognizes and some she doesn’t covers ever surface in the place, all circling back around towards the entrance where a small case of larger, finer desserts are displayed by the register.

“Whenever Vander was able to scrape up enough for a special treat, he’d bring us all here. Claggor, Mylo, Powder, Ekko, all of us.” Vi starts explaining her own reason for the chosen spot as she follows Caitlyn around. “When we got older, he let Mylo and Claggor take us when he had to work, but sometimes he’d close up a little early to join. Some of my best, only, good memories are here.”

“It’s wonderful, Violet. I didn’t know there was such a place here. Well to be fair, I really don’t know much about the Lanes anyways.” Caitlyn stops to pick up a small bag of her favorite chocolates and Vi smiles at her choice, reaching to grab another bag of something Caitlyn doesn’t recognize.

“Well good thing you’ve got me to show you where all the best sweets are.” Vi leans in close, wrapping her arms around Caitlyn as she lowers her voice. “Though I can think of something much sweeter, Cupcake.” Her warm breath tickles Caitlyn’s neck and she laughs, pushing Vi away playfully.

After a little more perusing, they pay for their chosen treats and sit down in a little corner of the shop that has sprinkling of tables and chairs, similar to a cafe, though there’s nothing to be served, its simply a spot for people to enjoy their sweets.

They stay here for a long while, talking and munching on chocolate, watching as customers wade in and out, until the owner comes over and alerts them its almost closing time. Wrapping up the rest of their candy, Piltover’s Finest thank the owner and make their way back up the stairs and out to the street where they’re taken by surprise by the heavy rain that’s now falling from dark puffy clouds. They can see others running into stores to get out of the storm.

“Shit.” Vi murmurs as they linger under the awning of the store. “We don’t happen to have any emergency umbrellas do we?” She jokes, knowing the answer even before Caitlyn shakes her head. “Well, we can’t wait it out here. It shouldn’t last too long. I don’t know what normal weather is for you guys up in Piltover, but down here, sudden storms like this are common.” Caitlyn watches as Vi shrugs off her red jacket.

“Here, love.” She motions for Caitlyn to take it and put it over her head to shield her as best as they can from the rain. Caitlyn frowns. “What about you? You’ll get soaked then.” She tries handing it back but Vi only smiles and shakes her head. “Like I said, it’s common. I’m used to it. Spent many hours in the rain by choice as a kid, I’ll be fine. Rather not have you catch a cold or something.” She reassures and steps out into the downpour.

Caitlyn chuckles with a shrug. “If you say so, darling.” She follows, the thick leather jacket actually doing a pretty good job of keeping her dry. She looks at Vi as they start hurrying through the streets, her bright red hair is already glued to her face which is practically dripping with as much water as any one of the clouds. Vi hears her girlfriend murmur something about her being ‘too stubborn for her own good’ as they make their way back home.

By the time they reach their bedroom, Vi is absolutely soaked through to the bone and Caitlyn hums softly, watching Vi shivering as she stands, a puddle of water quickly gathering by her feet. “Hot shower and bed?” Caitlyn tosses Vi’s jacket aside and quickly finds a soft towel to shove into Vi’s hands. “Only if you join me.” Vi smirks through chattering teeth and Caitlyn raises an eyebrow before turning around, knowing Vi is watching and following as she makes her way towards the adjoining bathroom.

After a long hot shower, it was evident they were both tired from the day and decided to just go to bed, so no sooner was Caitlyn helping Vi into some sweatpants and a t shirt was she wrapping her in her arms and pulling the blankets tightly around them as they sink into their cushy bed. The shower had helped and she was no longer uncontrollably shivering, but Vi still help cold, like the chill of the rain had settled its way into every cell in her body.

“Are you warm enough, darling?” Caitlyn murmurs sweetly as Vi tucks her face further into Cait’s neck, throws her leg over her waist, and tries to get as close to her girlfriend as possible. “Not really, I don’t know how I’m still this fucking cold.” Vi complains against her skin. Caitlyn kisses her pink hair with a small chuckle.

Caitlyn get up for just a second, much to Vi’s dismay, but returns with two more blankets to wrap her up in, so Vi doesn’t grumble too much about her momentary absence. “Here, Violet.” Caitlyn tucks them both in again and they cling lovingly to each other, Caitlyn reveling in the comforting feeling of her girlfriend’s body against hers, and Vi doing her best to retain as much heat from Caitlyn as possible.

“Tonight was really fun.” Vi whispers after a while, unable to fall asleep. Caitlyn, often taking much longer than Vi to fall asleep, is still awake too. “It was, love. Thank you for letting me share more of myself to you, and thank you for doing the same.” She murmurs and Vi smiles at the sound of Cait’s sleepy sounding voice. “Anytime, Cupcake. Let’s do it more often, because you know I’m still thinking about that pizza…” Vi presses a kiss to Caitlyn’s collar bone, and the last thing she hears before falling asleep is Vi chuckling at her own musings.

Although she had fallen asleep cold, it was only a few hours later that Vi’s body takes a turn, becoming a radiator of heat. Turns out the rain got one of them sick after all. Still asleep, deep in a fevered slumber, Vi subconsciously curls away from Caitlyn, the shift in position and movement of the blankets causing the latter to stir awake.

At first she just attempts to go back to sleep, used to Vi moving around a lot in her sleep, but Caitlyn soon notices an uncomfortable heat lingering under the blankets. She rolls over to find Vi, curled into herself, clutching the blankets tightly to her chest, a restless furrow etched into her brows. Even in the dark, Caitlyn can see a thin sheen of sweat coating the Zaunite’s face and a deep pink flush strewn across her cheeks.

She frowns, her own brows knitting together as worry bubbles in her chest. She sits up slightly, reaching to place the back of her hand gently to Vi’s forehead, she gasps slightly at the amount of heat she feels. “Oh darling.” She sighs, cupping her cool hand to Vi’s cheek, momentarily unsure of what to do. Should she let Vi sleep? Or wake her get some medicine in her?

The decision is made for her when Vi stirs and lets out a sleepy groan. The soothingly cool sensation of Caitlyn’s hand against her face pulling her from her slumber. “huh…wha?” Vi slurs feverishly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment or two before growing too heavy and closing again.

“Violet? Vi honey, you’re sick, love.” Caitlyn murmurs gently to help orient her, her thumb softly stroking Vi’s cheek, her hand having never left its position. “oh, well, go back to ‘sleep, ‘m okay.” Is all Vi mumbles with a heavy sigh.

“So stubborn.” Caitlyn whispers so softly that Vi doesn’t seem to hear. “No way, darling. I’m going to take care of you, okay? You gave me your jacket and now look at you.” Caitlyn fusses, a bit of guilt rising in her even though Vi had made her decision and one of them was going to get soaked either way. “Better me than you.” Vi murmurs back and Caitlyn can’t believe her ridiculous girlfriend.

With a sympathetic hum, Caitlyn makes her way out of bed, hearing Vi let out a single groan, but doesn’t hear any more protests as the sick girl is too out of it to really notice her absence.

“Open your mouth.” Vi hears the words distantly, but she does and Caitlyn gently places the thermometer under her tongue. “Close and hold for a moment.” She instructs softly, one hand holding the thermometer steady, the other returning to Vi’s cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against her hot skin.

Vi’s silver eyes flutter open and she gazes hazily up at her girlfriend as they both wait for the small beep. “When I said you looked hot earlier, this is not what I meant.” Caitlyn frowns deeply at the high number shown on the tool.

Vi groans softly as she moves to sit up, Caitlyn immediately helping to ease her up against the plush pillows. She brushes Vi’s sweaty hair away from her face so she can see her more clearly. Vi offers Cait a small smile, trying to ease the worry she can see in her ocean eyes. “Don’ worry, cupcake, I always run hot, ‘member?” She reassures and Caitlyn’s face softens a little, though her worry stays.

“I know, Violet. I just hate that you feel so miserable…here drink some water, it’ll help.” She remembers that she’d grabbed a fresh cup of cool water and holds it gently to Vi’s plump lips. She drinks more than half, surprising both of them at how thirsty she is. But Caitlyn doesn’t set the cup down, instead, offering Vi a couple small fever-reducing pills which she begrudgingly takes with another gulp of water.

“Let’s get you back to bed, hmm? You look exhausted, love.” Caitlyn hums and Vi nods, the two of them finding their way back to laying cozily under the blankets, though Caitlyn made sure to toss a couple of the extra ones off. She doesn’t want Vi overheating any more than she already is. Vi clings to Caitlyn, burying her face in her chest with a noise somewhere between a whine and a groan.

“Cait?” She whispers a moment later, her voice uncharacteristically small as she feels her girlfriend’s gentle touch, soothing hands running along her back. “Yes, darling?” Caitlyn murmurs in return. “I-I don’t feel good.” Vi grumbles with a whine.

“I know, Vi. Just try and rest. I’ll be here.” She promises, one hand remaining on her back, the other moving to run through her damp hair. She holds her a touch closer and Vi hums contentedly. “mmkay.” She presses a featherlight kiss to the closest bit of bare skin she can reach on her girlfriend, and moments later her fevered mind is drifting off to sleep, knowing she’ll probably wake up feeling even crappier, but that she’ll be okay, because she has Caitlyn.

“Sleep well, my darling Violet.” Caitlyn whispers with a kiss to her forehead before promptly following her to sleep, making a promise to herself that from now on, anytime they leave the house, especially if they’re going to Zaun, Caitlyn will make sure to have an umbrella tucked away somewhere in her pockets or bags, just in case.

[ender-cloud]

Hyde and Lanyon are so silly guys i love them so much

Tgs spoilers under cut

Wooo another “sick” day with a TGS update this is my medicine

These two are so perfect for each other oh my god(im also a sucker for relationships where they make fun of each other sooo)

Lanyon knew that if he taunted Hyde he would be able to reach him and convince him because of how Hydes mind and Reputation works.

He has always said he’s the spirit of london at night, at the end of chapter 3 he claims that because he’s the spirit of London at night he has nothing to fear, Lanyon was playing those words so Hyde confidence back.

Lanyon and Hyde’s personalities are able to bounce off of each other which is what Hyde used to Piss Lanyon off initially, but now it’s used to help each other in this trying time.

But just because Lanyon is teasing him he isnt not caring, he’s just making a bad time a little lighter. “I’ll be right here when you get back” He cares so much for Hyde and Jekyll and he wants them both back and safe because he loves both sides, now he realizes that. He doesn’t want to chose one or the other, he might’ve felt in love with Hydes side first but he cares for both.

Even if Lanyon seems to care more about Hyde in this chapter it’s because Hyde is the part he’s talking to and it’s because he’s finding out all of this new information. He cares for both but when put with it he has one mind set currently which is making sure they’re ok.

At first, i was shocked that Hyde could just go into the mind scape but after thinking about it, it makes sense.

In a way this is what Jekyll did, or what Hyde and Jekyll do when they force the other to swap with them, but the reason why Hyde just went into it this time is because there was no one to swap with (supposedly)

Hyde isn’t positive if Jekyll has gone down the stair case but if him and Jekyll are as similar as he thinks then he did, we saw of course Jekyll floating down so we know but Hyde doesn’t.

He is relying in his own intuition and what he would do to get into the mind of Jekyll. He knows that Jekyll is more like him than Jekyll wants to think, the potion didn’t separate them in many ways.

Living in eachothers minds meant that at some point they shared thoughts, like how they both have a reputation they want to keep up.

Hyde is using his knowledge of how similar they are to scope out where he may be and he is going to use it in an attempt to save Jekyll as well.

[11queensupreme11]

Okay so I’m currently writing for my next chapter when it suddenly came to me! I totally forgot to ask and idk if you’ve answered this before.

But how would the yan kids react to watching their mom fall in love with Anthonius?

Like that has to be weird, right?! Watching ur mom fall in love with someone who isn’t ur dad or stepfathers?

Especially the girls since they’re kept away from boys and aren’t allowed to have boyfriends!

yaaaaay, can't wait for the new chapter! 🥰

as for ur question, i'll only answer eudorios and axiandros' reactions in more detail cuz i only have their personalities down so far 😅 everyone else will get a more general reaction, sorry 😢

eudorios is like a more unhinged version of his mommy so it won't kick in right away that his mommy's falling in love with another guy (he's just a lil dense guys, sorry, he inherited it from percy 🥺). ngl, he's probably gonna be the last kid to figure it out 😭😭

(just like how percy was the last person to realize anthonius liked her and that she actually liked him back 💀)

but when it finally clicks, he'll go:

eudorios: Oh! :)

and then he internally flips his shit 😭😭😭 he'll continue to watch it all happen with a ":)" on his face while crying, screaming, and shitting tears on the inside. the more he watches, the more he realizes that his TRUE enemy wasn't his father, or brothers, or half-siblings, or his mother's other husbands. no, it's ANTHONIUS. because he recognizes that soft look in her eyes, the genuinely happy grin on her face every time she's with anthonius. it's a look that's supposed to be reserved only for HIM, not some ugly mortal boy! and he's seething at the thought that ANTHONIUS was the first person to ever bring out that smile from her, and not him 💀💀💀

after watching, he'd probably rush to his room to scream into his pillow and everything like a dramatic teenage girl 😭😭😭😭 he'd sulk a bit and then rush out to go find his mother to demand more love from her 💀

for axiandros, he's gonna mentally pull up his shit list, place eudorios from #1 to #2, and put anthonius at the very top 💀💀💀💀💀💀 he's now genuinely concerned for his mother's taste in men because seriously???? did she just have a thing for losers???? first eudorios, and now a literal mortal boy???????

he cannot, for the life of him, understand WHY his mother would ever fall for anthonius. he acts like he knows better, he lets his emotions get in the way, he's rude and ill-mannered, he's a son of athena, he's pitifully WEAK, the list goes on and on.... 💀💀💀

then in comes the jealousy 💀💀💀💀💀 while eudorios is just like their mommy (but more crazy), axiandros is just like his daddy. his jealousy is icy-cold and seething, a sort of icy fury that everyone in the room can immediately sense. expect a lot of biting words and insults spoken in a ruthlessly cold tone, just like poseidon would. like father, like son after all!

as for the other sons, the incesty ones are, ofc, jealous af. but regardless of whether they're freaks or not, most are genuinely in disbelief that their mother had actually fallen in love with a mortal boy before, but there's also a lightbulb moment that goes in their head where they all think "ohhhhhh, so THAT'S why some of us have names related to wisdom!!!! 🤯"

they gotta admit tho, their mom had BALLS OF STEEL to name a child from each of her husbands after anthonius 😂😂

anyway, the more they watch her life, the more they finally start to understand why mother's so kind and loving towards humans. they knew that she was once a mortal (which is still hard for them to wrap their head around, cuz they always saw her as the perfect goddess and mortals are just so... not), but actually SEEING her live her life as one is a whole different thing entirely!

as for the daughters, many of them are wide-eyed and silently side-eying each other cuz ooooooh the DRAMA 😂😂😂😂 but aside from that, they're very curious. most of these girls are either super sheltered (percades and sécy kids), or they're just too used to godly culture (which is all the kids). would their mother marry this boy?? was he mother's first husband? why is she so close to someone that she's not married to? why does she let him touch her, get close to her, why are they ALWAYS together?? isn't that improper????

lmao, so while some of the sons are seething with jealousy, the daughters are getting a culture shock basically 😂

[regulationhottie7905]

Back on my bullshit analysis, now from Will’s pov!

From a young age, Will knew he was Different in some way. I think a lot of his pain comes from the fact that it’s something about himself he couldn’t figure out, at least for the first 13/14ish years of life. There’s something about the way he is inherently, something about the very state of his own existence, that makes other kids, his own FATHER call him a fag.

Honestly, for a long time, I don’t think Will even had a concrete idea of what he was actually being accused of. And when he met Mike in kindergarten, he had made one good friend, and that was really all he needed. Then, he made more friends in Dustin and Lucas, and everything was perfect for awhile. He could get through the bullies and everyday little insults with his friends. (This goes for all the group and ties into ST’s overall theme of friendship).

Him and Mike were a team. They always were. Mike rescued him from the Upside Down, and Mike slept by his bed to protect him from nightmares, and if Will went crazy, Mike said he would go crazy with him. They’re a package deal. They’re Best Friends.

But in s3, Mike begins spending more time with El and Will barely sees him anymore. Dustin goes away to summer camp. Little by little, his friends begin drifting apart. After all, Mike is the one who introduced them. He was the DM. S3 is the first time in the last year-ish that Will has been in commission, able to engage with the world around him and play with his friends. He just wants to play D&D. He just wants some normalcy. Dustin is back from summer camp, why don’t they just play like they used to? And there’s a part of him that’s angry. So angry.

Mike is busy. He won’t stop leaving with El, but when they’re not together, when he’s with the guys, he COMPLAINS about her (as evidenced by Mike’s bitching post breakup with El in s3). El’s fine, but she causes a lot of drama, and Mike doesn’t seem to like her that much anyways. They should just play a game together. Like they used to.

So he does. Will spends the time and effort to get everything ready, and he knows it won’t be as good as Mike’s. But Mike is even more annoyed, and god-fucking-dammit, Will just wanted some normalcy with Mike, but if he can’t have that, he’ll just go home. So he tries. He tries to leave, but Mike chases after him, and he doesn’t know what Mike wants. Mike tries to get him to stay, but for what? So he can scoff at Will’s every word? Every movement? Every breath?

So Will is honest, just like he’s always been. Mike’s been being an asshole anyways, and usually he sees sense. Back and forth and back and forth, and then Mike says it.

“It’s not MY fault YOU don’t like girls.” As if this is Will’s fault. As if HE’S the one who’s been being a dickhead all summer. As if it’s Will’s fault that him and El are fighting, and Will was just trying to help. As if Will has an issue with El. But there’s no point in fighting, and Will’s never been a fighter anyways. It was Mike who usually defended him anyways. There’s no point in having this conversation.

When Mike asks him if he thought they were just gonna play video games for the rest of his life, Will just shrugs. “Yeah, I did. I guess I really did.” Because they’d talked about it, hadn’t they? While Dustin mooned after Nancy and Phoebe Cates and Lucas mooned after Max, it’d been the two of them. It had been the two of them first and it was going to be the two of them forever… or so Will had thought. And so Mike had said.

He thought Mike understood that they were a party first. Him, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. And Max. They’d survived the Upside Down together. They’d barely seen each other all summer. They had been a team, and Mike was ripping it apart.

He wants to play D&D and have fun and enjoy himself for just a little while. He wants the old Mike back. The old Mike who ran D&D campaigns like it was nothing, and was getting into trouble in middle school for cussing out teachers, and slept by his bedside when he was sick, and helped him on Halloween.

He smashes Castle Byers. Where he’d hidden in the Upside Down from the Demogorgan. Where this all started.

“FUCK!”

He misses Mike.

Is this the part of him that’s so repulsive?

Is this the reason his dad called him a fag?

Mike and Will don’t talk about the fight. The Mindflayer comes too quickly, and the Byers moved to Cali soon after that.

During these 6 months between s3 and s4 is when Will sorts through everything and figures everything out. He is not repulsive. He knows what he is. He knows who he is. Now, it’s just a matter of how people will respond to the information.

And Mike. He knows he’s in love with Mike. But El and Mike are still together, and he can’t ignore the twist in him every time he sees a letter for El and not him. There’s probably a perfectly logical explanation that Mike give him when he visits on spring break. Him and Mike were friends, weren’t they? Weren’t they?

So he makes him a painting. He pours all his time and effort into it, trying to remind Mike of his roots. Trying to remind Mike who. he. is. He’s done hiding anyways. He rolls up the painting and brings it to the airport, and he can’t help the way he smiles when he sees him for the first time in what feels like years.

But Mike can’t even look at him. He pats his back awkwardly and moves to El without a second glance.

Will doesn’t even bother to hide how upset he is this time around.

MISCELLANEOUS THINGS

I think Will’s longing gazes in s4 are on purpose. I don’t think he cares enough to hide anymore now that he’s figured himself out. Mike’s already been a Grade-A Asswipe (a sympathetic asswipe, but an asswipe nonetheless) and I think this is Will’s reaction.

Will is many things, but he is not a liar (“friends don’t lie”). He is a genuine, sincere person. It’s only an escalation of his s3 actions.

So fine. Treat me like this. But this is how I feel, and I’ll say it regardless of your discomfort with emotion. Take it or leave it.

I think the scene while they’re digging the grave in s4 really exemplifies this- everyone can see that Will is just standing there, staring directly at Mike. If Will was shy, or genuinely trying to hide it, wouldn’t he look away the first time Mike noticed? But he keeps looking. Even once Mike does a triple take, then begins digging again, he keeps looking.

The rink-o-mania fight is also a great example of this! It’s Will who brings up genuinely how he feels about the way Mike’s acted. “We’re friends! We’re friends!” Mike insists, but he’s defensive, the same way he was in the garage last summer. Will brings up the contradiction in all of El’s letters, and only a few for him. And for just a minute, you can see Mike falter. “I don’t know. Maybe you should have reached out more.”

When I first watched ST, Mike’s, “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” immediately struck me as him projecting. Like anyone, I’ve read a lot of analysis and I’ve seen a lot of takes, but let me explain mine.

In my opinion, until s4, there’s more evidence to support the idea that MIKE is the one who doesn’t like girls, rather than Will. He only has 3 close (guy) friends. He never remarks on girls he finds pretty, he shows zero interest in any girl but El (which I honestly think is just him trying to hold on to a veneer of heterosexuality). In s2, Will, Lucas, and Dustin wants to be friends with Max- it’s Mike who dislikes her.

I think Mike and Will have always had a different kind of friendship. Even if they don’t have the right words for it, it’s kind of like the codependent homoerotic teenage friendships people make memes about. I mean, honestly, Mike won’t properly apologize to his own girlfriend but he runs with his tail between his legs to apologize to his ‘best friend’. Mike has always known he was Different, but he didn’t have the support system Will has, or the time to try and figure it out.

In s3, Mike is going headfirst into his relationship with El. He’s copying everyone around him and doing what he thinks he should do, which (imo) is why he spends SO much time making out with El (living up to the red blooded American male fantasy) than establishing a genuine relationship with her. Something about it is Off, but I don’t know if he’s even admitted that to himself. And Will made him stop (with the “day without girls”). Will made him hang out with him, and Will made Something Happen.

They’ve always had Something between them, but verbalizing it is too dangerous in a town like Hawkins in the 80s. They just knew that they were… different. Best friends in a way Lucas and Dustin weren’t. But Mike crossed the line during the fight (“it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”) and after he says it, you can see him pull back. He felt guilty and weird and he didn’t know why, and he felt defensive and felt like he was backed into a corner so he said it. Will was being earnest and honest in a way he wasn’t ready for- but he doesn’t know that. He just knows that he felt sick and needed Will to stop. So he blamed Will. Because it’s Will’s being weird, right? Will is the one who’s making him feel weird, because HE’S the one being weird about it.

“It’s not MY fault YOU don’t like girls!” As much as we like to joke about it (Mike accusing Will of being gay whenever they argue) a lot of byler fights make a lot of sense in this vein, and I think it’s a really interesting insight into his character imo. Will is being honest and genuine in a way Mike isn’t ready for. Pushing Will away and attacking him in such a vitriolic ways really ensures that Mike’s masculinity is protected while Will is shamed (in Mike’s mind, at least.) The Byers moved to Cali so soon that the events of the rain fight were never truly discussed.

Mike REALLY hurt Will and I think that’s why he didn’t reach out- because he didn’t know what to say. He avoided his feelings and thinking about Will as much as possible and wrote El letters. But seeing Will at the airport changed something. He’s taller. He’s grown. He’s confident now (I’ll get back to that later). And when he sees him, Mike’s stomach does something it’s never done before. And he doesn’t know why. But despite that, he goes to hug his girlfriend. He doesn’t hug Will.

I firmly believe that Mike is gay (again, imo. Bi Mike people, ily, I love ur analysis, ur cool asf, this is just my opinion). I don’t think he’s ever felt a genuine attraction to El. He’s mimicking his parents and his friends and comics and fairytales- he will be her knight in shining armor, her Superman. With El, it’s friendship and the anxiety of a facade, but he mistakes it for the butterflies of a crush. With Will, it’s the only time he feels something REAL. I just don’t think he’s used to feeling genuine feelings, especially powerful feelings (let’s not forget he’s a teenager, the hormones are RAGING) and while he likes it (even though he has trouble admitting it… I think he gets better as s4 goes on though) it’s overwhelming and scary. I think he interprets those feelings as some kind of threat (especially considering that he’s been bullied before) or at least, he subconsciously does.

[calsvoid]

“i miss you all the time” stop

[scumvillainess]

au where the entire plot of pidw gets derailed when shen qingqiu shows up with a baby and announces to the rest of the world that yue qingyuan got him pregnant.

(i think there’s a fanfic where sqq babytraps yqy but i just can’t find it for the life of me)

[solar-eclipsed]

I’m kinda obsessed with how every single character in dandadan is so mean to each other but it works out because they match each other’s freak PERFECTLY

[astrobei]

every byler creator who has ever felt unappreciated or has never seen their work on a rec list or has stayed awake for hours working on something for it to get no interaction or has had their work passed up in favor of the big fandom favorites or has never been taken a chance on or has ever come last in a poll they didn’t ask to be on or has felt self conscious about posting or about calling themselves a creator if what they’re posting is not a magnum opus or has created something for themselves and still hoped deep down that people would love it: get behind me. i’ll protect u

[the-woman-upstairs]

Betting on Daniel’s S3 plotline being the gay vampiric version of Almost Famous. No way Lestat’s going on tour without someone to chronicle all the insanity that’ll ensue plus Daniel would absolutely jump at the chance to get Lestat’s side of the story. It’s the perfect setup.