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steddieas-shegoes · 2 years ago

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The first time Dustin tried to get Steve and Eddie to meet, Eddie refused.

“You expect me to be nice to Steve Harrington? The King of Hawkins High?”

“I told you, that’s old news,” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“Last year isn’t exactly old news, Henderson.”

So Dustin let it be.

— — — — —

The second time they didn’t have a choice.

Eddie was wanted for murders he didn’t commit, and Steve was well-versed in the ways of the Upside Down.

When Eddie almost died, it was Steve who was able to carry him through the gate.

When Eddie was in the hospital for three weeks, it was Steve who sat by his side every night so he wouldn’t be alone with his nightmares.

When Eddie got out, it was Steve who brought him to his appointments and helped him get settled in the new government-provided house for him and Wayne.

When Eddie thought about it, Steve was probably the nicest guy he’d ever met.

— — — — — — — —

But Steve ended up having to go back to work when things got fixed up.

His parents left him the house, but otherwise cut him off.

Groceries and gas don’t pay for themselves.

So he saw him for an hour here or a few minutes there, always checking in when he dropped Dustin and Mike off for D&D.

Eddie started to wonder if Steve only hung out with him because he had like, survivors guilt or something. He had been so kind and caring, but clearly the clock ran out on that.

But to Dustin, it was just a reset.

Steve hadn’t changed, just his available time.

And it was time to do something about it.

— — — — — — —

They say the third time’s the charm, but in this case, it wasn’t.

In fact, Dustin almost gave up when this result ended in Eddie telling Steve to go fuck himself.

He didn’t know what happened, and he never found out, but Steve looked hurt, and Eddie shut himself in his room for three days.

— — — — — — —

Dustin was sick.

The flu was running rampant through the streets and school halls of Hawkins, leaving no person left untouched by the worst nausea and body aches known to humankind.

Also, Eddie’s dramatics may have been rubbing off on him. Just a little.

So he couldn’t go to Hellfire, and without him, they couldn’t finish the campaign.

But in his drug-addled mind, he thought of a resolution. Potentially. But bribery would have to be involved.

So he called Steve.

“Steve.” He turned up the pitifully low rasp of his voice to make it seem like he was dying. “I need you to cover me at Hellfire.”

“Why? So Eddie can tell me to go fuck myself again? No thanks.”

“Dude. Please. I’m too sick. Everyone’s been wanting to finish this campaign for a month.”

“Can’t they reschedule when you’re better.”

Well, yeah, probably. Eddie had been way more open to rescheduling since everything happened.

That would ruin his plan, though.

“C’mon, Steve! I’ll owe you!” He coughed to add to the drama of it all.

“Fine! Fine.” Steve sighed. “I hope you know you’re gonna lose.”

“Nah, it’s a team effort. Everyone will help you.”

“Sure.” Then, because Steve was Steve: “Need anything, Henderson?”

Dustin almost felt bad about what he was making Steve do. Almost.

“No, mom’s making me a broth soup to try to sip on.”

“Okay, call tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

If Dustin wasn’t as sick as he was, he probably would have tried to stay awake to call tonight.

But he fell asleep within minutes.

— — — — — — — —

“I’m sorry, you’re what?”

Steve rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “Filling in for Dustin. He’s sick.”

“You can’t do that.”

“He said I could.”

“He doesn’t run Hellfire, does he?”

“Shouldn’t he? Since you graduated?”

Eddie glared.

“If you two are done bickering like old ladies fighting over the same man in the nursing home, we have a campaign to finish,” Erica said from her seat, looking at her nails instead of at them.

“You heard Lady Applejack,” Eddie gestures towards the table.

Steve sat in the largest chair at the end and leaned back.

Everyone was staring at him.

“You’re not that dense. You can’t be.”

Steve looked up at Eddie with a smirk.

“Is there a problem?”

“That’s the DM seat. I’m the DM. Therefore, my seat.”

“It’s big enough to share. I like the view from here.”

“You can see all my notes from here!”

“Exactly.”

Eddie’s face was so red, it was a wonder he hadn’t exploded yet.

But he didn’t continue arguing. To Steve’s delight, and Dustin’s if he were there to see it, Eddie sat down on the edge of the chair. Steve scooted over a little, but they were pushing each other and being immature and stupid.

They both fell on their asses and Lucas finally spoke up.

“Can we just reschedule? This isn’t gonna work.”

“No. We’re so close. Dustin wouldn’t have sent Steve if he wanted us to reschedule.”

Eddie looked at Steve, searching his face for something. Whatever it was, he must’ve found it.

“Alright. Steve’s in my lap. Let’s go.”

He clapped and pulled himself back into the chair, patting his thigh and smiling at Steve.

“The whole game?”

“It’s this or Dustin’s spot over there.”

Steve wasn’t having that. He deserved this spot.

He stood up and sat down in Eddie’s lap, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered at being close enough to smell the shampoo Eddie used. Eddie’s hands settled on his hips to hold him in place while he leaned around to check his notes.

“Let’s begin!”

Luckily, Steve didn’t have to do much. The rest of the group kind of played for him, knowing he was just a warm body at the table.

And he was certainly warm.

Eddie’s hands had been finding new places to touch on his sides or legs or back or stomach all night. It was distracting. It was annoying. It was intoxicating and addicting and Steve never wanted to leave.

He was completely zoned out, barely registering he was supposed to be an active participant in this fucking game when he felt a light smack on his thigh.

He let out a whine.

And then reality came crashing in.

Everyone was staring at him with raised eyebrows. Eddie was completely still under him. He was mortified.

But he still didn’t want to get up.

He kind of just wanted to turn around and bury his face in Eddie’s neck.

As soon as he has the thought, his body is making it happen. ‘Your wish is my command,’ it’s saying in excitement.

Within seconds, his body is turned facing a shell-shocked Eddie, legs using the space between Eddie’s back and the back of the chair to wrap around his waist, and his face burying itself into his neck. He let out a much quieter whine, and felt his whole body relax.

A hand was on the back of his head, keeping him in place, and he sighed.

He could feel vibrations, like Eddie was speaking, but his head was cloudy and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was saying.

It didn’t really matter anyways. He was cozy and safe and relaxed for maybe the first time ever. Unless Eddie physically removed him from his spot, he wasn’t moving.

Time passed, but Steve couldn’t take a guess at how much.

“Stevie? You awake?”

“Mhm.”

“You wanna get comfy?”

“Am.”

He felt Eddie laugh more than he heard it, but he just snuggled further into Eddie’s neck, bunching his shirt in his hands.

“Okay, I’m just gonna pick you up and go to the bedroom. It’ll be better to sleep.”

Sleep? Was it that late? Where was everyone else?

“Shhh. It’s okay. Just squeeze your legs around my waist and hold on.”

Steve followed his instructions to the letter and he could’ve sworn he heard Eddie whisper “good boy” into his ear, but that could’ve been wishful thinking.

The next thing he knew, Eddie was sitting on the edge of his own bed with Steve in the same position on his lap.

“Wanna get in comfy clothes?”

Steve shook his head.

He was so tired.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno. Week?”

“A week?! Steve…”

“Shhh. Sleepy.”

“No shit. You haven’t slept in a week.” Eddie sighed and then somehow managed to get them both settled in bed, Steve’s body almost entirely on top of Eddie’s. “Get some rest, sweetheart.”

“Mkay.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head, but he was already almost completely asleep.

— — — — — — —

“So he just…cuddled him? Right there at the table?”

Dustin couldn’t believe his plan worked and he wasn’t even there.

“It was awful,” Erica spit out.

“It was weird,” Lucas added.

“It was disgusting,” Mike said, pointing a glare at Dustin. “I wish I had the flu so I could’ve missed it.”

“And has anyone checked in on them since?”

Two days had passed and Dustin was finally able to keep solid foods down and his fever broke more than 12 hours before. His mom was even going to let him call Suzy later.

“Uh. Should we?”

“Lucas! Dude! They may have turned on each other.”

“Yeah, more like turned each other on,” Erica mumbled.

They all stared at each other, disgusted at the thought of their friend and babysitter being close.

“Gross.”

But Dustin smiled anyway. His plan finally worked.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #tumblr drabbles #dustin henderson #Dustin the meddler #that should be his d&d class tbh #idk what this is? I just furiously typed this out on my phone for the last 30 minutes #it felt important at the time

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hoshigray · 2 years ago

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A Pricked Hand to Hold

Just thinking about h*lding h*nds with Miguel for the first time bc I'm still fucking soft for this man (like it's so bad).

An: Yup, it's been three weeks, and my infatuation for this man has yet to falter (or that movie in general bc I've seen it like 5-6 times already, and can't get tired of it). This was meant to be a little smthn, but I just wanted to get my soft aggression out of the way. Also, tysm for 1k followers again!! Like fr, y'all are too sweet :') Sacrificed sleep to get this done, sooooo hope you guys like it!! If there are spelling/grammar errors, my dumbass will take care of it tmrw bc I need to take a fckin nap right tf now ahhhhhh— Also! Gonna make an ATSV masterlist later today, so I'll be sure to link it when it's done!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - h*nd h*lding (barf) - the reader is implied to be in college (at least age 20) - you and Miguel aren't together [yet] but the pining is strong in this one! - Lyla and Jessica teasing you lovestruck idiots lol - you accidentally prick yourself with your lead pencil, but no blood or injuries - ayo you and Miguel almost kiss tho??

Wc: 2.1k

As usual, it was a busy day at headquarters. Many anomalies have been captured for Margo to send back home, Spiders helping other Spiders fight off evil-doers and placing them back in their universes, and Pavitr having a scare nearly revealing his identity to his girlfriend, Gayatri.

Then there's you, sitting at a table doing your homework that needs to be finished for the lecture tomorrow. But you're not alone. In front of the table are three others discussing matters of their own. Lyla is giving new information about another anomaly that needs to be captured before going home, and Jessica's leaning on her motorbike listening to her pixel friend. Right next to her is another taller person listening along as well.

Miguel O'Hara — leader of the Spider Society and the man you've been pining for a while now.

You've been working here for a few months, taking in Margo's shifts or helping Lyla relay messages to other Spiders across the multiverse. At first, you've tried to keep it simple and only see it as a job. But the more you work here, the closer you get to others...and your boss, Miguel, is no exception.

Things started short and blunt with him between you two — just simple greetings and exchanges of the necessary information. But then there was a time when the man was in HQ for far too long, probably sacrificing too much sleep and time to eat that day. So, you got him something from the cafeteria and a little note telling him to "Take care of yourself, leader!" before going home.

From that day on, you and Miguel got closer slowly but surely. Not only does he appreciate you reminding him to take breaks or grab something to eat, but he also checks up on you whenever it's your shift, talks to you on his breaks, or eats dinner with you whenever he has a chance (or when he's not stressed out).

And how you talk to each other is much more comfortable and personal. Sure, you're still respectful of his position and are aware of his duties, but it's always a guilty pleasure when he spends his little free time with you. Unfortunately, you've developed feelings for the tall and brawny Spiderman due to this.

You know how complicated it is to have feelings for someone, especially within the work field, so this is something that you have no faith in whatsoever. But for some reason, you can't help but think something between the two of you is starting to bloom...and based on his actions, maybe Miguel feels the same way as well? Lyla and Jessica tease you, saying it's plain to see that even Pav fangirls about you two.

".../n."

However, for a man like him, is such a thing possible?

"Y/n."

Your thoughts vanish as you turn to the person calling for your attention, just to find it's from Miguel. The two women are nowhere to be found, probably tending to other matters you didn't catch because of your overthinking.

"Yes!" you stutter a reply. Oh God, I hope I didn't make him call on me so many times...

"Done with your homework?" He asks while coming to your side of the table.

You give him a nod, fidgeting with your mechanical pencil. "Yeah, I took care of the stuff for my classes tomorrow. Now I just got a paper to finish by Friday...What about you? Gonna head out soon?"

"I would, but I gotta stay here in case Jess needs backup for the mission. She just left to fix up her bike before she goes."

A chuckle sneaks past you, and Miguel swoons at the sound of it. "Are you sure you wanna do that? Didn't Lyla keep bothering you the last time?"

You can tell he reminisces the time you recall; his sigh and a shake from the lead confirm so. "Yeah, well, when is she not bothering me."

"Heard that." The woman appears in front of him quickly before disappearing again, leaving Miguel a little puzzled before a slight scowl paints his face. Yet it's not so bad when he sees you laugh at the interaction.

"I swear," your giggles wear down, but your smile remains. "It's like you two are siblings or something. But that just means the pestering comes from a place of love."

He hums at your words. "Yeah, love..."

For the past few months, you've been a reoccurring theme in Miguel's life that he thought he'd never experience again. From the day he met you, he figured keeping his distance and maintaining an appropriate work relationship would benefit him. But he was a fool to challenge your beauty and welcoming aura whenever you entered the scene. Especially your kind gestures, starting with the food and your little note for him.

It was apparent then that avoidance would do more harm to himself than good, so he spent his days getting to know you more, understanding you more, appreciating you more...and worse, loving you more.

An emotion such as love has been something that's only brought up painful memories and anguish. And for that reason, Miguel has chosen to dedicate his life and being to doing something he's good at — his job protecting the multiverse. Because, in his eyes, it's the only thing he seems capable of. Not love.

...However, whenever you look at him, speak to him, or smile at him, Miguel can't fight the twinge of his heart longing for something — longing for you. And he knows he isn't the only one who thinks so since Lyla constantly ridicules him about his "schoolboy crush," just like a sibling.

Nonetheless, he still doesn't go far from the talks you share with him or the times you eat together in a friendly manner. Because that's what he and you are comfortable with, and he wouldn't want to break it. Yet he can't help but wonder what would happen if he was just a little more selfish.

Be more selfish and pursue you...without losing you.

"OUCH!!"

Without hurting you.

Miguel's thoughts are immediately halted when he hears your hurtful cry. You drop your pencil and grab your finger as you wince through the pain. And he wastes no time coming to your proximity to examine what happened. "What!? Something wrong?"

"Ahhhh, yeah, I'm fine," You reassure him with an attempted smile. "I just accidentally pricked myself with my pencil."

"Let me see."

The words take a long to register before the man takes your hand in his, the back of your hand resting on his palm while he surveys your fingers. He then sees a tiny circle indent on your middle finger. "I don't see any pieces of lead."

"Oh, thank goodness," you exhale in relief. "Because I don't think I'd survive tomorrow if I did. I got three lectures that day!"

Miguel chortles at your comment, and it has the beat of your heart quicken. "So sorry for you."

Your smile is still prominent. "Thank you, Miguel."

"Don't mention it."

Silence follows those words, yet they're substituted with gazes between you and the man. The twinge on your lips slowly dissolves the more you lose yourself in his burnt amber eyes. The same goes for Miguel, who still has your hand in his.

The internal turmoil in his mind doesn't ease at that fact, incapable of deciphering whether to let go. And when your hand slowly reciprocates the hold — turning it for both palms to face each other — his breath hitches.

"Miguel..." his name appeared in a whisper, only for him to hear. Your breathing goes shaky when he replies with his fingers intertwined with yours. And you notice him take a tense gulp, easing your nerves to know that he's also nervous.

He knows he shouldn't be this close to you as it could jeopardize the relationship you have spent all these months building and maintaining together. However, this is the first time he's been so close to you, touching you. And his heart pushes him to want more.

He knows he shouldn't...but curiosity is an intriguing dance. That's why he slowly leans forward to you.

And you go rigid by the notion...yet your eyes are drawn to his lips, and you follow suit by going inward. Eyes close, letting the moment take place for itself.

"Ready, Miguel?"

Nevermind.

Both eyes open immediately, and locked hands are withdrawn from each other. Miguel puts on his mask quickly, but you could still see a slight flush of pink on his cheeks and ears before they were covered up. You straighten yourself and look to the other side of the table to see Jessica on her motorbike entering the scene.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

"Oh—" the woman spots you two before Miguel stands straight up, and she doesn't try to hide the smile that creeps on her face. "Oh. Was I interrupting something?"

"No." You two say in unison. Jess only lifts a brow through her yellow goggles. You continue with an explanation while you pack up your stuff. "I accidentally pricked my finger with my mechanical pencil, so Miguel checked it out to see if I had any lead on it."

"Ooh, yeah, those aren't fun. Basically like a splinter." Before Jessica could say more, Lyla appeared in everyone's line of sight.

"Good, you two are still here." She jumps around between Jessica and Miguel. "The anomaly we discussed earlier has jumped to another dimension as predicted; better get them now so we can go home."

The two nod while you get up from the table with your backpack. "Good luck out there, guys." You address the older three before exiting for the night, and they all say their goodbyes to you.

For a few seconds, your eyes linger on Miguel. Despite the mask covering his face, his gaze was intense and palpable. Without saying a word, you let your eyes say your final words before turning to leave.

Miguel still watches you leave until he's unable to spot you through the dark hall. And unfortunately for him, he can feel two pairs of eyes on him. He mentally prepares himself before looking at the two women who harbor shameless grins. "What's with the faces?"

Lyla and Jessica only share a look amongst themselves and shrug before answering him. "Oh, I don't know, Miguel." The pixelated woman darts close to the man. "What's with your face?"

"Wh-What are you—"

"C'mon now, Miguel." Jessica cuts him off. "Seems like something more was going on than just a pricked finger."

He sighs. "Well, you're wrong. Because that's all it was." The two share another look with each other as their smirks go higher.

"Oh~, my darling Miguel," Jessica changes her voice to a higher pitch and daydream tone. "I wish you luck on your mission and that you return to see me tomorrow~."

"Don't you worry, my wonderful Y/n," Despite Miguel's eyes narrowing at Lyla's terrible impression of his voice, she still acted out the role. "I will return to you unscathed and have you in my loving arms in no time~."

"I don't talk like that." The two women chuckle at his blunt statement. "How old do you think I am?"

"Old enough to look like a man but still scared to talk to your lil' crush." Jessica crosses her arms with a matter-of-fact attitude, her smile itching broader when Miguel rolls his eyes through the mask.

"Ay, por Dios, can we please open the portal already?" The poor man can only take so much teasing from the two, making him feel like he should've left with you instead.

Lyla giggles one last time before Jessica uses her watch to open a portal to the desired dimension. "Whatever you say, lover boy." The portal opens, and a flash of colors and shapes contrasts with the dull room. Jessica is the first to go, Miguel following right behind her.

Even when going on his mission, his mind can't stop thinking about you and the moment you shared together earlier. It was a risky thing to have happened, and he scolds himself for letting such a thing happen. Miguel knows he isn't a person for love, for it's something meant to be destroyed by his very touch. You are no exception; the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He loves you too much to put you through that.

But then the compliance and willingness you've expressed in holding his hand surely meant that you wanted something more, right?

If Miguel were selfish enough, he'd use that as a hint. A hint to look forward to what other things you'd allow him to express to you.

If he were selfish enough, he would plan to approach you tomorrow in the right way.

If he were selfish enough, he'd test out the waters more and finally let this "love" flourish into something better.

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lucajayms · 2 months ago

Note

i sincerely apologize for the rant

pre bullets gerard plsplsplspls!!!! they have an office crush at cartoon network then she moves away without telling anyone and they replace her (CUBICLES BEST SONG EVER) so then he just keeps wondering what may have happened, until mcr are playing like in another city during revenge era then mikey sees her in the crowd before a show and he goes to gerard right before going onstage and its like hey gerard remember that girl you talked about 24/7 in 2001, shes here tonight. and gee just freaks out while trying to play down the whole performance becase hes scared she wont like the whole fake blood/gay/screaming thing. then they finish the performance and he goes to find her and shes like all happy bc she knew he was gonna do much better things than to work at a shitty office. and shes a big comic book artist and does really weid like blood and vampire stuff so shes so happy that gerard also does weird blood vampire stuff. and then theyre happy and then the umbrella academy happens and yea

yea youre free to ignore this, i just have too much free time to imagine shit like this 👍

HELP I LOVE THIS SO SO MUCH!

CUBICLES

gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

masterlist

warnings: swearing!

"Maybe you could draw her more like this to bring out the background more so she's not just stiff," I instructed him. Gerard is a very talented artist, he just has a little bit of trouble deciding what to put where.

"But I feel like if she was a little different, due to her design, she'd go flat," Gerard argues, putting his pencil where he was describing.

I sigh as I place my hand delicately to my chin, trying to see what he's talking about. The deadline is soon and he's not done pitching these characters. "Honestly, Gerard? Whatever feels right. You'll get her."

"You sure?" He asks, seeking confirmation in my words.

I smile, nodding my head, "Yeah. Deadline is tomorrow, just do whatever feels right!" I say before I'm off to my cubicle to continue my project.

I knew he was looking at me. For weeks now, it had become a pattern—one I could almost draw if I could figure out how to capture that lingering gaze in ink. He thought he was subtle, keeping his distance and asking me barely relevant questions about some “project” or “character design” he’d been working on. Gerard was charming, though; there was no denying that. Quiet, a little too good at staring at his desk, and adorably oblivious to how easy it was to read him.

“Hey, uh, (Y/N)?” I looked up from my sketchbook, where I’d been mindlessly drawing a graveyard scene—something I had an odd fascination with lately. Gerard was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, wearing that awkward half-smile that looked better on him than it should.

“Gerard,” I said, glancing up with a smirk. “To what do I owe the honor?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I…uh…just wanted to see what you were working on.”

I flipped my sketchbook shut, even though I knew he was dying to see what I’d been drawing. “Just some stuff. You’d probably think it’s too creepy.”

“Try me.”

Maybe it was because I wanted to test him, see how he’d react to what was under the surface, but I opened the book back up and turned it to face him. His eyes widened as he took in the vampires, blood, and dark cemeteries I’d sprawled across the pages.

“You…actually drew all of this?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my cool. “It’s not much. Just whatever’s in my head.”

He laughed, this soft, surprised sound. “Whatever’s in your head is amazing.” He paused, his eyes lingering a second too long.

I grinned, leaning back in my chair. “Well maybe not everything, Way.” I tossed my pen onto my desk, feigning nonchalance. “Can’t have too many weirdos like me around. Bad for the office’s reputation.”

And that's why I left.

Maybe I should’ve told him I was leaving. I hated the idea of going without a goodbye, but part of me figured I’d see him again. He’d get over it. Life had a way of carrying people in different directions, and honestly? I couldn’t stand the thought of another month behind that desk. I needed to be somewhere I could let these ideas out, somewhere that didn’t expect me to keep my weirdness behind a closed sketchbook.

The day I left, I watched the office fade from my rearview mirror, fingers tapping the steering wheel as a familiar guilt crept in. I didn’t leave him my number or my address or even a hint of where I’d gone. Some part of me hoped he’d figure it out. But after that, there was just silence.

Gerard

She left without a word. Just…gone. I tried to keep going like I didn’t notice, told myself it wasn’t a big deal. But the absence gnawed at me, creeping into every sketch and unfinished character. (Y/N) was gone, and I had no clue where she’d gone or why. I stopped asking questions after a while, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The thought became like an echo in my mind, constant and inescapable, pushing me to drown it out with anything I could find.

And I did.

One show after another, one drink, one line, whatever I could find to keep the silence at bay. The stage helped a little—at least there, I had the lights in my eyes and the noise blocking out the mess in my head. I’d stand in front of the crowd, hands dripping with fake blood, trying to exorcise whatever pieces of myself felt missing. But then the high would fade, and I’d be left in a dark room, trying to ignore the question that refused to die.

Where did she go?

I kept the band going, kept pretending it didn’t matter, kept letting the weight build. It wasn’t like I had any choice. The shows were packed, and the screams of the crowd felt like both a relief and a punishment. They had no idea. No idea that some days, it felt like I’d never get off this damn ride, that maybe I’d crash and burn right here. But something shifted in 2004. I couldn’t explain it—maybe it was seeing my friends’ faces or feeling the burn of another empty night. But I knew that if I kept going like this, I’d lose everything. I’d lose myself.

I finally made the decision to clean up, and in August 2004, I was clean. Free. My body hated me for it, and my brain wasn’t much friendlier, but I had to get clean. I couldn’t keep living on the edge of destruction. Every day after that, it felt like I was shedding pieces of the person I’d become just to survive. By the time I left, I was…well, I was alive. And that had to be enough.

It had been nearly a year since I’d gotten clean, and for the first time, it felt like I could really breathe on stage again. I could look out at the faces in the crowd and see them. Really see them, not just the blur of movement and lights I’d been numbing myself to. This was what I’d always wanted. This was where I wanted to be.

"MANHATTAN!" I scream into the mic and the crowd before more goes wild. "We are going to FUCK SOME SHIT UP TONIGH!"

And as I say that, Mikey plays the beginning of Give Em' Hell Kid. The set goes without hiccups, the crowd is perfect, and the most I've seen in a few weeks. Right as we leave the stage before the encore, Frank grabs me by my collar.

"Holy shit, Gee," He starts, and concern bubbles in my stomach. Did I do something wrong?

"What? What is it?"

He shakes his head vigorously, "I don't know if I'm tripping, but I swear to God I saw the girl you keep drawing in the crowd."

Fuck.

"What?!" I exclaim.

"Thirty seconds to encore!" One of the stagehands yells.

"Frank, where did you see her?" I ask, frantic. There's no possible way she could be here tonight. Why would she be here tonight.

"Our left, by the barricade. I think?" He explains, looking up to recount exactly where he saw her. My heart thuds against my ribcage as Frank’s words sink in, and I feel my throat tighten. (Y/N)? Here? After all these years?

"Ten seconds!" the stagehand yells, clapping his hands. Mikey shoots me a quick look, and Frank gives me a small, reassuring nod. There’s no time to think or even process—I’m barely holding onto the last traces of composure as we rush back on stage. I grab the mic, trying to get my focus back on the crowd, but every nerve in me is lit up, wondering if (Y/N) is really here tonight.

“MANHATTAN!” I shout again, forcing energy into my voice, hoping it’s enough to cover the wild surge of emotions that’s slamming through me. “YOU READY FOR ONE LAST ROUND?”

The crowd screams, and the band jumps into Helena, the encore I should be ready to pour my soul into. But all I can think about is her—her face, the way she used to sketch, her laugh. The lights are blinding, and I try to keep my focus on the crowd, but my eyes keep searching, desperate to find a glimpse of her. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but by the end of the song, I swear I see her—a flash of her hair, bright eyes, her face half-turned away in the crush of people, but unmistakably her.

The song ends, and we give a final shout before exiting the stage. As soon as we’re out of sight of the crowd, I turn to Frank, breathless.

“You’re absolutely sure it was her?” I ask, gripping his shoulder.

“Fuck, I don't know how accurate your drawings are,” he says, his voice serious. “Bit it was her, Gee. I’m sure of it.”

“Holy shit,” I breathe, running a hand through my hair as the adrenaline surges through me again. "Where do I even start looking?"

Frank raises an eyebrow. “I’d start by getting your ass back out there before she disappears again. You just finished the show. You’ve got maybe five minutes before the crowd starts spilling out.”

I don’t waste another second. I dart down the steps, half-running, half-pushing past crew members as I head toward the audience exit. It feels like the longest, most insane few minutes of my life, weaving through the backstage area until finally, I’m in the thick of the crowd, scanning every face I can. And then—I see her.

She’s lingering by the side of the barricade, glancing around, half-smiling to herself like she might leave at any moment. She’s a little older, a little different, but I’d know her anywhere. I take a deep breath, feeling my hands start to shake, and then I call out, loud enough to cut through the noise.

“(Y/N)!”

She turns, her eyes finding mine, and for a moment, it’s like everything around us goes still. Her face lights up, and I swear I feel that same electricity that ran between us in the office all those years ago.

"Oh my god, you guys did so good!" She laughed, too, shaking her head. “Gee, look at you! Rockstar Gerard. I always knew you’d end up doing something wild, but I never expected…” She gestured at my blood-stained shirt and smeared makeup. “This.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, heat creeping up my face. “Yeah, well, it’s, uh, a little different from Cartoon Network, that’s for sure. But I never thought I’d see you at a show.”

“Oh, please,” she grinned, giving me a playful nudge. “I knew you’d be doing something big. You were always too talented to be stuck behind a desk, remember?”

I laughed, surprised by the surge of relief that came with her words. “Guess it’s been a while since anyone told me that.”

She softened, and something flickered across her face. “I'm sorry I disappeared. I had to move, and things got in the way, and…” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged, a little awkwardly. “I never thought we’d run into each other again.”

“Same here,” I admitted, looking down. “But I’m glad we did. Even if it’s, uh…” I glanced at my blood-streaked hands, shaking my head. “Like this.”

She laughed, a bright, genuine sound, and I felt my nerves ease a little. “Honestly, I kind of love it. I’m doing comics, Gee. Lots of, you know…gory, bloody, vampire stuff. Seems like we’re both into weird stuff now.”

“Every time I go into a comicbook store, I look for your name.” I say, feeling a familiar spark of admiration light up in my chest.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, but her smile told me she was proud. “I kept drawing, kept pushing for it, and here we are. I got some stuff out that's been somewhat successful, but you—you’re the one really living the dream.”

It felt surreal, standing there with her, years and miles from where we’d left off. She was still (Y/N)—the girl who got me, who somehow saw through everything. But she was different, too. Confident, sharp, like she’d grown in ways I never got to see. And she was right here.

We fell into silence, the crowd thinning around us. Finally, I took a deep breath. “You know, after you left…I wasn’t great, to be honest.”

Her brow furrowed, and she gave me a sympathetic look. “I figured,” she said quietly. “It was a pretty messed-up time for both of us.”

I nodded, knowing she got it. “Yeah, I got pretty lost for a while. It took me…a lot to get back on track, but I’m good now. Clean, you know? And I’m just trying to keep my head on straight, one show at a time.”

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. “Good,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “That’s what you deserve, Gerard. You don’t need anything dragging you down.”

I felt something click into place then—a kind of peace I hadn’t felt in years. “Thanks, (Y/N). Really.”

She grinned, glancing around like she was taking in the whole scene again. “Hey, I think we’re due for a major coffee catch-up. I want to hear everything.”

I chuckled, feeling that old sense of ease wash over me. “Deal,” I said, grinning back. “But only if you show me your sketchbooks. I wanna see all the vampire blood and gore.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “You got it. Only fair, since I’ve got a feeling you’ve been drawing me for years anyway.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and together, we walked out into the night, talking like no time had passed at all. And this time, I knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

(Y/N)

What a fucking life. Leaving Gerard like that in 2001 did something to me, you know? Fucked me up. I felt really fucking bad.

But it's okay. We're good. And by good? I mean my boyfriend is the fucking lead singer of My Chemical Romance. Like, who gets to say that?!

After their final tour ended, Gerard was bugging me more and more about his comic that he was writing and that he desperately wanted me to illustrate for it. Apparently, he had been working on it for around three years, and he wasn't getting anywhere by himself.

"I don't know, baby. I got deadlines," I always say, but God, who could say know to that pretty face of his.

And so I finally agreed to illustrate The Umbrella Academy.

And boy, did that change my life.

#my chemical romance #mcr #fanfiction #gerard way #frank iero #gerard way x reader #mikey way #my chem #mychemicalromance #ray toro

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imtrashraccoon · 1 year ago

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Uh, this one I had planned from the beginning and I honestly love how it turned out. It definitely got away from me though.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Dust - Vibe Check

Word Count: 1,865

As you entered your apartment, you closed and locked your front door. For a moment you debated putting the deadbolt in place before just doing it, as you never knew what could happen nowadays.

With a sigh, you slipped off your shoes and hung up your coat. Today had been exhausting and your back was killing you from sitting in those office chairs for so long. Still, you could relax now, at least until you had to return to the dreaded grind tomorrow morning. The moment you turned around though, you gasped.

Dust was sitting on your couch.

His skull was propped by his arms and he was hunched forward in a way that couldn't be comfortable for long. He was sitting so still, that you couldn't tell if he even knew you were there or not.

"Hey... Are you okay, buddy?" you asked carefully.

He shifted and glanced up at you, although he was still clutching his skull with his gloved hands. Did he have a headache? There were dark grooves underneath his eye sockets reminiscent of eye bags that humans got when they didn't sleep well. His mismatched eyelights seemed quite as well and almost glossed over, like he wasn't quite focusing on you, or anything else for that matter.

His gaze seemed to pierce through to your soul and yet, he said nothing. It was almost as if the person you knew as Dust wasn't actually there at the moment and you were looking into the hollow eye sockets of a husk.

"Oh boy... I'm gonna guess that you've had a rough day so far."

He didn't respond.

You shifted uncomfortably under his steady gaze and looked around for anything that might solve the mood of Mr. Spooky Scary. "Do you...mind if I just go get changed out of these work clothes? I'll be right back, okay?"

You didn't expect an answer and didn't receive one either. So, you decided to just give him a bit of space for a few minutes while you settled down a little now that you were home. At least he seemed passive at the moment and not hostile like you'd previously witnessed.

Once you were in comfy clothes, you re-entered the living room and found Dust in much the same position you'd left him in. You elected to unpack your bag and put things away though before trying to interact with him further.

Although, you couldn't help hating the silence and decided to try to engage in conversation with him. "I had a bad day too. I mean, it probably wasn't as bad as yours but still... I get it," you said quietly.

No response.

"One of my coworkers neglected to finish a report last week and the client practically raised hell until we got it done. So the big boss has been on us all day."

You sighed and shook your head, "It's frustrating getting punished for a problem an idiot caused that I had no involvement in."

Dust was still ignoring you, or at least, you couldn't tell if he was actually listening or not. Maybe you should try cheering him up? Although, you'd have to do something to shock him out of his current staring contest with the floor first.

You had to be careful not to startle him too badly though as you generally quite liked being alive. Plucking a small throw pillow from its place on the couch, you hesitated for a moment before actually following through with your "prank."

You lightly smacked the top of his skull with the pillow; not nearly hard enough to hurt of course, just to get his attention.

"Vibe check."

He was startled more than you'd expected and sort of jumped to get away from your rather pathetic assault. His eyelights flickered wildly before focusing on you and his expression morphed into one of annoyance.

"what are you-!?"

You hushed him with an outstretched finger and pursed your lips in a thoughtful way. "Hm...your vibe seems...annoyed and bewildered," you said in the most serious tone you could muster.

"no kidding! do you have no survival instincts or something?!" Dust growled.

You tilted your head and pretended to think for a moment. "Huh... Considering Axe once asked me pretty much the same question, no... I think they're probably broken, at least when it comes to skeletons anyways."

He stared at you in disbelief before collapsing back against the backrest of the couch. "well that explains a lot..." he muttered and ran a gloved hand over his face.

You frowned slightly as you studied him. It really bothered you to see him, or anyone for that matter, upset like this. He'd come here on purpose though so that must mean he actually wanted to be with you. However, you were a little confused why, as he hadn't been exactly nice in the few interactions you'd had so far with him.

Sitting down on the couch next to him, you reached over and gently put your hand on his arm. "I'm sorry for scaring you like that just now, Dust. If you need to talk about whatever's bothering you, I'm here, okay?"

He shook his skull and remained silent.

You stayed there for a few seconds but when he didn't respond further, you decided to let it go. You'd tried, but if he didn't want to tell you, then you couldn't make him. Just as you withdrew your hand though, he seemed to realize that you'd actually touched him and his mismatched eyelights flicked over to you.

"how do you do that?"

"Do what?"

He vaguely gestured with his hands in the space between you two. "that...thing... how..." He seemed to be having a hard time articulating his thoughts all of the sudden. "how do you make your intent so...gentle...?"

Now you were also confused. "I don't know? Is it not usually like that?"

He stared at you blankly like you'd just asked an incredibly dumb question. "no...it's not. most humans only utilize it to attack other people."

"Oh."

"did someone teach you or something?"

You shook your head slowly. "No...? I don't have magic so I wasn't ever considered for mage training."

"so you just do this? like all the time and you never noticed? in fact, not even a monster noticed before now?" His tone of voice sounded skeptical but there was also a twinge of disbelief.

"I suppose so..." You crossed your arms when his jaw fell open slightly in shock. "What? I don't have any monster friends besides you and Axe, okay? I'm basically a shut in except for when I need to go to work or go shopping."

"wow...you're actually crazy..." He shook his skull and lightly massaged his temples. "my headache is only getting worse just listening to you..."

"Oh, is that what's bothering you then?" you asked, purposely ignoring his insult.

Dust sighed and frowned at you. "it's one thing i guess...among many others..." he muttered.

You gave him a warm smile in return. "If it'll help you feel better to tell someone, I don't mind."

He muttered something unintelligible and quickly looked away.

"Sorry?"

"fine... just...give me your hand back..." he grumbled.

You raised an eyebrow but held out your hand again.

He hesitated and then reached over, wrapping his pinkie finger around your own. You didn't make any comment and just waited patiently.

"do you know what lv is?"

His voice sounded rather hollow all of the sudden, like all previous emotions had bled away, and you felt a small chill pass down your spine. You did know what LV was, or at least you vaguely knew, thanks to general magic education in school anyways.

"Yeah," you murmured. "Levels of Violence, right?"

He nodded slowly. "do you know what happens to someone with too much lv?"

You didn't like where he was going with this, but you had basically promised to listen to whatever he had to say and weren't about to back out now.

"I'm afraid I don't... They never covered it in school beyond how bad it was to get."

He let out a bitter sounding laugh. "figures..."

A few moments passed before he spoke again. "it's like an addiction... once you have some, you want more, and more, and more... and if you don't get more...well, you go through withdrawals."

You grimaced at the mental picture his rambling brought on. It sounded awful to go through and you couldn't help the immense wave of concern for him that washed over you.

"So, that's why you came here?" you asked.

"yeah..." he murmured, although his voice sounded a little hoarse all of the sudden. "my skull feels like it's gonna explode and my idiot colleague was being annoying."

"Can I try to help you?"

He looked over at you again with surprise almost plastered across his skull. It disappeared quickly and he regained his trademark neutral expression.

"sure, whatever, knock yourself out..." he said with a shrug.

You went to stand up but hesitated when you realized his pinky was still linked with yours. He noticed as well and quickly pulled his hand away, ducking further into his hoodie as he did so. You restrained yourself from teasing him over this school kid behaviour, for now anyways.

First thing on the agenda was to make the room darker and you turned out the lights except for the one in the kitchen for now. It wasn't too dark outside yet, although you didn't want to potentially trip over something when it did get.

"Do you want some water or maybe tea?"

"water's fine."

"And do you prefer an ice pack or a hot bean bag?"

He seemed to mull this over for a moment. "ice pack would be better," he finally said with a shrug.

You disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the items. The ice pack was easy to prepare and the glass of water was even easier. After you'd wrapped the ice pack in a soft cloth, you returned to the living room with the water.

Dust glanced up when you approached but said nothing. You sat down and gave him the items, which he excepted and downed half the water in moments.

You couldn't help but stare at him as he did so. Where did the liquid go? Was he like a bottomless pit or something?

He quickly noticed your staring and shot you a weird look. "what?"

You felt your cheeks heat up from embarrassment and shook your head. "Sorry...I was just thinking is all," you muttered.

A moment later though, you had a question. "Would a head massage be of any benefit for you?"

He seemed actually intrigued by this and pondered it over for a moment. "can't hurt i suppose."

"Then just turn a little so I can actually reach you, okay?"

You spent the next few hours just sitting together in relative silence. Dust was surprisingly mellow considering your first encounter and he basically just tolerated whatever you did. When supper time came, you got up to go make something for the both of you.

He was gone when you turned to ask if he had any particular food preferences though.

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #dusttale #dust sans #dust sans x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

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dee-the-red-witch · 5 months ago

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how did you get past “just being gnc”? asking for me, i’ve been in that mindset on and off for years. if you don’t mind sharing

I... okay, look, that's like a question with two other subtextual ones rolled up into it in a donut all at once. And I have an all-day road trip tomorrow, so I don't have a ton of spoons to spare, but I'm still gonna try and tackle all three. And I'm gonna hit the subtext questions first, because they're important and play into it. 1. What's a good way to come out as trans?

There fucking isn't one. For anyone of any gender. There is no perfect way for anyone to come out. It will always be awkward, there's always going to be some kind of price to pay, and you are never going to know that full price up front. It's also just about always less than the price of NOT coming out, though. 2. What's a good way for *ME* to come out as trans?

Okay, this one ties into my own story some, but the shorter version? I don't know. I can't tell you. Because I don't know your details and what's going to work for you or how. What I can tell you is that nobody is going to magically guess it for you, no one's going to give you permission to do it, and you're gonna have to start it yourself. There's folks that will absolutely help later down the line, but you have to initiate and start things, even if it's babysteps. Case in point... 3. ENOUGH SUBTEXT, DENICE, how'd YOU get past just being a guy?

It's complicated. I'd been in denial since the late 90's. so there was a LOT of personal bullshit, and art, and other work, and everything, packed up in and around my gender like mad. Like a wad of gum with a bunch of other stuff stuck to it- and sometimes when a piece finally got pulled free, part of the gum came up with it. Bad analogy, probably. Still. When I finished writing, and laying out, and publishing my first book (and practically screaming HI! IT ME! AM TRANS! in the afterword and other bits, because that's what happens when I write a historical horror novel with a GNC-transmasc-ish protag) I felt empty. Hollow. For months. I was trying and struggling to get a second book off the ground, and having this weight start settling over my head. Only it was like three months early for my usual denial ideation episode. Meanwhile, on facebook, my friend J who was dealing with the tail end aftershocks of a nasty divorce from an even nastier asshole. And of course she was going off about a very rational distrust and dislike of Men and some of their behaviors in particular, and I just had that goddamn black wave of ideation set in on me in full and was mentally internally screaming "But I'm not a fucking man!" and I did the one thing I'd never done in twenty plus years of dysphoria, denial and ideation. I said it out loud. Nobody in the apartment to even hear me. But I said it. And repeated it. And so help me, that depression/denial/ideation wave that I knew was going to end with me hurting myself or worse started immediately fading. I started switching my pronouns over to they/them on my social medias almost immediately. Like I said. Baby steps. But it was enough- one of my partners noticed the update and flat out asked me about it the next time she was over, and that's how I ended up coming out as nonbinary to both her and the rest of my immediate family. And a few days later online all over as well. Realizing I was a girl took a bit, because enby felt right, but not all the way right. I'd started t-blockers already because I knew I had dysphoria issues (just no idea how serious they were) and then started E. All of which was made easier by being in an informed-consent state and having a doctor who had zero issues with prescribing them, and more than a little bit of a mad scientist nature. Three days into Estrogen I just had this one weird moment of driving and hitting a sunny patch of road and suddenly I was happy and laughing in a way I'd NEVER been. That's when it started really clicking for me. When I realized that what had been holding me back was a lot of internalized shame and conditioning that I needed to unpack and get rid of. That's all where I started. (and yes, it meant a whole extra round of comings out and updates and everything, but well, here I am.) I hope that wall of text helps some? But yeah. Take baby steps. Things move from there as you figure it out. But you can't figure it out while you're holding yourself back.

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umlewis · 11 months ago

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lewis hamilton is interviewed after his first f1 qualifying session, australia - march 17, 2007 (transcription under the cut)

Lewis: "I was fairly relaxed. I think I probably surprised myself, how relaxed I was. There is a lot of pressure on me from the outside, the world, and from everyone in here, from the team, but at the end of the day I put more pressure on myself to succeed. I wanna win in this business. I'm not here to finish second, and so… But there's a certain way you have to do it. You can't go in all guns blazing, wanting to qualify on pole in your first qualifying session. You need to go step by step, and I think fourth, you've got a good pit strategy. We are quite ready, and so I'm looking forward to tomorrow." Interviewer: "Are you starting to feel at all the pressure of all that extra expectation?" Lewis: "Probably the biggest shock is just how much attention you get. When I leave the paddock or when I'm in the paddock, everyone's looking, and it's obviously just trying to just have tunnel vision and try not to make too much eye contact and get distracted." Interviewer: "What was the first exchange you had with Fernando Alonso after that session finished?" Lewis: "Immediately. When we finished we were on the weighing scales, and he was just behind me, and he tapped me on the back and said congratulations, and same for him. He did a great job. I think we've both done the best job we probably could do for the team, and I think we've both, again, got good strategy, so we're in good step." Interviewer: "What is gonna be the approach? What is gonna be the mindset? We're all familiar with your GP2 style of competing and racing. Do you carry that sort of style into Formula 1?" Lewis: "I think so. At the end of the day that is my style, but it's a lot harder to overtake in Formula 1, let me assure you that. So all these people said, there's no overtaking in Formula 1. It's extremely tough. You lose so much downforce, and the thing is when you're able to carry so much speed through corners, you just lose that aero balance and you're almost tiptoeing when you're beind someone, and it's so easy to come off and make a mistake." Interviewer: "You've dreamt about the day, you've dreamt about the opportunity. What do you expect the first few laps, certainly, to be like?" Lewis: "I hope it's similar to what I've expected before in GP2. I'm pretty sure… No. I'm sure that all the drivers are extremely professional, as they were in GP2, and so there should be quite a steady first lap. Hopefully we get a good start, but it's all about having a clean first lap, and then carrying that on and just keep on pushing. I'll be pushing 110% all the way." Interviewer: "Well it's the best qualifying performance by a British rookie driver on his Formula 1 debut in well over fifty years, so that's one target achieved. What is the target for the race?" Lewis: "Target for the race is obviously to score as many points as possible, but… I'm trying to take things step by step, so scoring as many points as possible. Whether that means a podium or not, we don't know, but if I'm out of the top three, still, if I get points that'd be great. But a podium, then a win. It's got to move on from that way." Interviewer: "It's going great so far. We wish you the best." Lewis: "Thank you very much."

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #australian gp 2007 #flashback fic ref #flashback fic ref 2007 #australia #australia 2007 #australia 2007 saturday

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februaryflowers · 2 years ago

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letters from park seonghwa

with seonghwa abroad, he leaves a series of letters with just what you need to hear to feel better in his absence. but the last one he writes, the last letter is everything you want to hear

check out the playlist for letters from park seonghwa here !

warnings: some parts imply the reader overworks themself, mutual pining, reader is pretty sad without him, language, kissing, poorly proofread sorry ;-;

mostly hurt/comfort but i promise the ending is fluff, 6317 words, best friend!seonghwa x reader | uni au

a/n: this one is kinda more rushed than my last ateez fics but im impulsive and i love seonghwa heh so my apologies if it’s eh😭

Sliding your arms around Seonghwa’s neck and down his chest, you peer around his head. “What’re you doing?”

At your voice, his shoulders jolt up before quickly relaxing once more. “I dunno,” he hums, shrugging. “Just tryna pass time. I’m bored,” he whines.

Running a hand through his hair, you sigh. “I know. I’ll be done soon, I promise, sorry. God, I hate essays.”

He pouts as you untangle yourself from him and head back to your bed, brows instantly furrowing as your fingers start to clack against the laptop keys once more. With a sigh, he returns to his idling. He always worries about you, about how you manage your mountainous workload. Will everything be okay when he’s gone?

Even as he tries to focus his attention on the pages in front of him, he can’t seem to shake you from his thoughts. Folding the paper, he glances to you once more, frowning as he watches the tension in your slouched shoulders. He hasn’t had the heart to tell you about his departure, and time is ticking down until he has to go. Of course, you knew that he had to get an internship for his graduation requirements, but did it have to be so soon?

So one paper craft turns to five, to ten, and soon enough, as the hours tick by, he probably has over a hundred. Before he knows it, he’s stuffing them into his bag, looking up to see your head lolling to the side, your body tilting so much he’s surprised you haven’t fallen over.

He chuckles softly, shuffling over to you and prying the laptop from your grasp.

“I-I’m almost…done…” your murmur, your eyes drooping more and more with every second that passes.

“You can finish in the morning,” he coos. “You need rest.”

With your chest now rising and falling in slow breaths, Seonghwa pulls the blankets up to your chin, brushing the side of your face with his finger. “Sleep well,” he murmurs, smiling at the little quirk of your lips that appears at the sound of his voice. “Dream of me.”

You apparently have enough energy to lift your hand, only for it to fall back down in what he guesses is supposed to be a playful swat before sleep comes to you. With one last look at you as he turns off the lights, he sighs and pads to his room.

Tomorrow, tomorrow he will tell you.

You try to keep the drive as lighthearted as possible. With your shared car playlist blasting in the background and the two of you bobbing your heads along to the beat, you can almost pretend that today isn’t going to crush you.

But as the minutes tick down and the traffic builds with your approach towards the airport, the weight on your chest grows and grows, your out-of-tune singing growing quieter and quieter. Ever knowing, Seonghwa reaches for one of your hands, prying your fingers from the wheel and into his grasp.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you croak, your voice finally breaking. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Seonghwa.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, baby,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand.

His words don’t help the heaviness in your heart. You don’t even remember when he started calling you baby. He’d said it was because he was just so fond of you and wanted to take care of you whenever he began using that term of endearment. He’d given you the brightest smile and pinched your warming cheeks that day, and every day since, he has given you the biggest swarm of butterflies.

Maybe you’re dreaming, but it feels different than it used to. And that definitely makes your heart clench, wishing that it was. In another universe, another lifetime, another plane, Seonghwa loves you like that. But it’s not here.

Here, Seonghwa is simply your best friend, your beloved roommate. Perhaps he’ll find a lover abroad. And, even if it crushes you, you’ll still smile. Because, even more than you want him, you really want him to be happy, even if it’s not with you.

His humming takes over, shuffle play bringing a slow song to the speakers, a soft love song, because of course your best friend is a sappy romantic at heart. While it provides some ease to your racing nerves, you’re still all too aware of how he plays with your fingers, tapping the rhythm against each tip. It’s as if he just knows you, your mind, so well, that he can make your knees weak and your brain jelly without as much as a second thought, without even knowing that he’s doing it to you.

With the instruments finally coming to a quiet close, he pauses, turning to meet your profile and lowering your intertwined hands to his knee. “Can I ask you something?” he exhales.

“Anything, always.”

“It’s kind of selfish of me…” he whispers.

“That’s okay.”

Biting his lip, he looks to the floor. “Could you…smile for me?”

You pause, the car simultaneously coming to a stop at the red light.

But he senses your hesitation as a soft no, one you don’t have the heart to say out right. “It’s okay,” he says, untangling your fingers and instead placing his hand over yours on his thigh. “It’s selfish, I know. You have every right to be sad. I just—” He sighs. “I’m not gonna be seeing the real thing for the next two months; I wanna remember your smile.”

You forgot, if anything, your best friend is also cheesy as hell. A chuckle arises from your tight throat, causing a smile to bloom over your features. And it’s in that moment that a familiar quickened rhythm overtakes his heart.

He grins, reaching his fingers up to brush your cheek. “There it is.”

And ease returns once more, your dramatic crooning returning. You can pretend. You can do it for him. You will yourself to do this one thing for him after all he’s done for you.

But it just can’t be contained when you make it to the parking lot and help take out his suitcases.

“It’s okay,” you sniffle, brushing away streams of water that run down your face with a small smile.

Despite that curve on your face, the heavy burden on your heart builds and builds as the moments tick down to when you and Seonghwa will be apart. You don’t think you can remember a time in your whole college career where you went so long without him. Every summer break or holiday recess, he’d be there, visiting you, teasing you about how lonely you were without him. And now, it’s too real.

Taking you into his embrace, he rubs your back, leaning his head against you gently. “Baby, no,” he murmurs, a quiet shush to your tears. “It’s okay to be sad. If I could stay—”

“No,” you chuckle, shaking your head. Salty droplets continue to pour down your face, stinging your skin, but you pull back from Seonghwa, brushing his hair away from his face. “You’re gonna save the world or something,” you smile sadly. “I’ll be okay.”

Seonghwa wants to say that you’re the world to him, his world, but the words die on his tongue when he meets your glazed gaze that reflects the airport lights back to him. You just mean so much to him. What if he loses—

With one last squeeze, you finally detach yourself from your best friend, patting your cheeks with your sleeves and brushing off your jacket. If you don’t let go now, you don’t think you’ll be able to stop crying before he leaves. You might not be able to ever let him go.

Exhaling, you force a smile on your face, past the swollen eyes and runny nose. “Now go make me proud, Park,” you tease.

As he steps away, his luggage wheels squeaking against the tile as he pulls the handle, your lip begins to quiver once more. God, you just wanted to reassure him. He always worries so much about you, and here you are, holding him back when he has no choice but to go. And—

His movement pauses, before he turns around, blinking back at you.

“Seonghwa?” you call, taking steps towards him. “Did you forget something?”

“Hold on.”

He sinks to his knees, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and pulling out a glass jar.

“Hwa!?” you giggle. “You know you can’t bring that on the plane; What if it broke! You’re so silly, y’know. Good thing you remembered—”

Standing, he zips the bag shut once more and hands it to you wordlessly. Despite the words tumbling around in your brain, the butterflies swarming your stomach, you tell yourself that his pallor is from his nervousness about flying, his important internship for graduation. Seonghwa would never like you like that, right?

“Is…that for me?” you squeak, your voice unusually feeble.

He nods, holding it out to you again. “Open them whenever you’re feeling sad, okay?”

“O-okay…” Taking the container in your hands, you dare to meet his gaze. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“How could I ever not think of you, y/n?” he asks, his eyes round and soft as he quirks his head. He then forces his lips into a small smile, wrapping his arms around you for the briefest second before he pulls away. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

It’ll feel like a lifetime, an eternity, instead of the actual two months it’ll be. But you can’t keep him here when he has to go, when he can change the world for the better. So instead, you take your free hand to squeeze his.

“You’re gonna kick butt.”

Pushing him off then waving until he’s out of view, you wait until you return to your car to bury your face in your hands. Are the hundreds of other people here saying goodbye too?

Even though there are probably many other teary partings and weary friends and lovers, it all feels irrelevant. Do they understand each other like you and Seonghwa do? Do they love each other like you and Seonghwa do? Do they need each other as much as you need Seonghwa?

So, despite being in his arms less than five minutes ago, you take the jar from the passenger seat, unscrewing the silver lid to pull out the first of many objects that fill the rounded glass. Every last centimeter of the container has been crammed with paper, origami envelopes with a heart to open them. You don’t even know how he had this much time to finish all these, especially while he was preparing for his internship and departure.

Running a finger under your eye and flicking away the droplets that don’t seem to stop, you let a small breath into your lungs, courage to pluck out the paper laying right on top finally coming.

You can’t help the small, amused huff that comes through after you open it.

A letter. Of course.

Dear y/n, Are you sitting in the parking lot crying right now? We just said goodbye right? I know I’m teasing you as I write from the past, when our departure doesn’t weigh as heavily on my mind, but that also means it hurts less right now. I guarantee that when I’m in the middle of check in I’ll start bawling. Sure, we’ll be time zones apart, an ocean away, but, really, call me whenever you need, whenever you want. Don’t even worry about it. I want to hear about your day, what you’re up to, how classes are, what San and Wooyoung are up to, anything, everything. And I’ll be back before you know it. I promise. I miss you so much already. Love, Seonghwa

Your phone dings just as you read his name, tracing your fingers over his elegant signature. Fishing the screen out of the cup holder, you’re met with a photo from Seonghwa.

“‘I told you so,’” you read aloud.

Admittedly you chuckle at his silly antics, even if it does set off a pang in your chest to see him so teary eyed. He’s going to change the world and pretty much complete the last big push of his graduation requirements. He shouldn’t be feeling that sad. Is it your fault?

But before your thoughts can settle and take root in your mind, another notification pops on the screen with another text from Seonghwa.

“‘Thank you for smiling for me. Text me when you get home safely. I’ll be here for a few hours,’” you repeat.

It takes everything to turn on the ignition and put the car in drive, but with a slow exhale and Seonghwa’s words covering the worries running around your mind, you manage to pull out of your parking spot and onto the road. These next weeks will be impossibly long.

Even though you already sort of knew it, you quickly remember that life without Seonghwa is so gray and dull. The sky even agrees with you, the days following his departure filled with overcast skies and rain.

Every morning you wake up to a quiet apartment, no Seonghwa waiting at the island with breakfast for you, no Seonghwa to keep you company on the walk to class, and no Seonghwa to come home to, greeting you with the best hug you’ve ever had (Yes it gets better every day. You don’t know how but it does.) Of course your friends all begin taking on extra care for you in his absence, meeting you for lunch or bringing dinner by, studying with you more often, hanging out more frequently. And you appreciate it, you really do. You really do have fun and enjoy the time with them. But there’s nothing like having Seonghwa in the flesh by your side.

And it hits one late night, the moon high above you, the only light in a starless sky. It hasn’t even been a week since you said goodbye. Slumping down on the oddly empty sofa, you sigh, your fingers itching for the phone a foot away.

Your friends have already gone home from your weekly Friday night shenanigans, which means that you should be putting on a funny movie with Seonghwa to conclude the evening. His cuddles are probably the best way to finish up a tiring week, reinvigorating you with excitement and energy for the next days to come.

With the weight building on your chest, you let a soft breath leave your lips before you give in to the nagging in your heart. Sure, you talked with him this morning, but you’d really like to hear his voice now for a moment, at least.

y/n [ 12:06 am ] : are you busy?

Of course he doesn’t respond. It’s right in the middle of the workday for him. He has other things to do. But you can’t pick yourself up off the couch. You don’t know exactly what you’re waiting for. Fingers tapping mindlessly against the fabric, it isn’t until a soft ding echoes around the room that you shift.

seonghwa [ 12:08 am ] : in a meeting :( i’ll be done in 20 though

seonghwa [ 12:08 am ] : is smthn wrong?

y/n [ 12:09 am ] : nothing…just miss you…

Yeah, you should really head to bed. He’ll be busy even when the meeting ends. Waiting here will only make you more miserable.

Pushing yourself off the sofa, you shuffle to the bathroom, brushing your teeth until you hear the quiet buzzing once more. As you rinse your mouth out, you find your eyes in the mirror.

Seonghwa wouldn’t want you to be this sad, would he? He always loved, loves still, your smile, always pinching your cheeks when you have a wide grin or a matching one of his own growing on his face when you’re particularly happy.

seonghwa [ 12:11 am ] : sorry baby :( i miss you too i’ll call you tn

seonghwa [ 12:12 am ] : why don’t you open a letter for me?

y/n [ 12:12 am ] : okay

y/n [ 12:13 am ] : gonna head to bed after though so dw gl with your meeting

seonghwa [ 12:13 am ] : sleep well baby :)

Unscrewing the jar, you carry it into your room and leave the glass on the nightstand before pulling out a small blue envelope. From the crooked creases, you’re guessing it must’ve been one of his first projects, which causes a small smile to force its way to your face as you imagine him redoing the same folds over and over until they were clean enough for his standards with furrowed brows. As you scoot into bed, you rest your back against the pillows and unfold the paper.

Brushing the smooth surface with your fingers, you finally let out a small breath and find his words.

Dear y/n, Are you tucked into bed? I hope you are. I hope you’re getting enough rest, taking plenty of breaks, and still enjoying life without me. Did Jongho take you out for lunch today? Did you hang out with Yunho and Mingi? You can tell me all about it later; I’m sure it’s late now and you’re tired.

That’s right. You have a lunch date with Jongho tomorrow. And you did study with Yunho and Mingi at the boba place near campus, even if you quickly devolved into laughter and anything but studying.

You do miss Seonghwa. You wish he was with you here instead of being on the other side of an ocean. You really do. But there’s so much fun to be had with all your friends.

With a reluctant smile, you continue reading.

When you finish this note, I want you to close your eyes. I might be far from you physically, but you are never far from my thoughts. I’ll be thinking of you every day. I already do. When I see the sun rise, you’re watching the same sun set, just on the other side of the planet. Two sides of the same coin. I’m still with you, baby. So close your eyes. Smile for me? I’m never far so don’t miss me too much :) I’ll be home soon. Sleep well and dream of me ;) Seonghwa

There’s a teary smile on your face as you finish his words. Flicking a stray droplet from your cheek, you sigh.

What are you ever going to do with that man?

With a playful shake of your head, you attempt to fold the paper back into the shape it was given to you in, but you can’t seem to find the right combination of creases to turn the flat page into a beautiful letter once more. You’ll have to ask Seonghwa how to do it when he comes home. But for now, you start the pile of finished notes on your desk, smoothing out the lines so the page will lie flat next to your stacks of books.

Perhaps Seonghwa’s letter is exactly what you needed to hear, the heavy allure of sleep beginning to take its toll on your drooping eyes and a yawn escaping from your lips. Crawling back to bed, you close your eyes. It might be your imagination—you know it is—but it’s as if you can feel him sitting next to your drowsy figure, watching over you protectively.

On nights like this one, he’d normally tuck you in tightly under the blanket before busying himself with his homework at your desk until you fell asleep. Tonight is far from that, but, even half asleep, you know he’s still taking care of you from a world away. This isn’t what you’re used to, but today is okay. Sleep comes quickly.

Today sucks. Today is the worst day you can remember in the last year. So you failed your exam. And your project team is driving you up the wall. It seems every inconvenience that can go wrong does go wrong, leaving you exasperated as you drop your keys at the front door after a long day.

Shuffling into your room, your fingers fish out from the jar, unfolding the delicate page a little rougher than you should. With a huff, you collapse on the bed, holding the letter above you.

Dear y/n, How’s your final project going? You’re supposed to be doing one of those for your design class this semester, right? I know you must be stressed around now. I hope you’re remembering to take it easy. You’re doing so much work; you gotta take care of yourself, baby. Take a break. Go on a walk. Get boba with Hongjoong (lord knows he needs a break too). Even if you think you need to finish everything right now, you need to put yourself first. Your health matters. You matter. And you don’t want to burn out before the semester ends, do you? If you can’t do it for those things, could you do it for me? Because, most of all, I hope you remember to be gentle with yourself. I know this degree is important to you, but above everything, you are the most important. You’re the most precious star, baby. I’m proud of you already. Don’t worry too much, yeah? Love, Seonghwa

You think that’s what does you in, little streams beginning to flow down the mountains and valleys of your cheeks. It’s not even the frustration from your day. How does Seonghwa—past, present and future—just know exactly what you need to hear when you need to hear it? What ever did you do to be blessed by having a friend like him?

Placing the letter on the neat stack you’ve amassed, you return to your bed, not wanting to smudge his ink with your tears. Sunset prickles through the window shades, sneaking under your closed lids as you try to rest. While the still quiet is nice, in your heart you know Seonghwa is right. It’d be good to hang out with someone.

So you open your eyes, retracing your steps through the apartment to find your phone on the kitchen counter.

y/n [ 5:36 pm ] : do you wanna get boba maybe?

hongjoong [ 5:37 pm ] : ofc???

hongjoong [ 5:37 pm ] : ill come by we can walk together?

Laughing with Hongjoong, you can feel every ounce of irritation that’d built up in you the whole day being replaced by the second. It’s almost a little annoying how well Seonghwa knows every corner of your mind.

y/n [ 4:26 pm ] : SEONGHWA SEONGHWA

y/n [ 4:26 pm ] : SEONGHWA I GOT THE JOB

Checking the time, you let out a small sigh. He’s probably asleep. You know he’ll see your messages when he wakes up in the morning, but it’s not quite the same as celebrating with him in real time, still off the high of the email in your inbox.

It’s become a habit now, finding that glass jar whenever you wish he was with you instead. Yet again, you crawl on the bed, wrangling a piece of paper out from the container. The one you pull up is a little fancier than the ones you’ve picked previously, a pristine white page with small bunny and confetti stickers. It makes you pause, squinting at the folded envelope.

There’s no way Seonghwa would know, right?

Dear y/n, Congratulations! Maybe you guessed from the celebratory stickers I put on, but I wrote this one for a special occasion. I hope you’ll tell me all about it when we have a chance to talk again, but I hope this will suffice in the time being. Regardless, I want you to know that I’m so proud of you. Even if you opened this on a different kind of day, I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of who you are and all you’ve accomplished any day of the week. My best friend is so kind and sweet but also smart and a badass. But I just know that you’ll read this one on a good kind of day. So congratulations! I know, whatever it may be, that you deserve it. You are so capable, baby. You’ll still tell me about it when you’re rich and successful though right? ;) Love, Seonghwa

Oh, curse him. He genuinely baffles you. What kind of guy can predict the future like that? (He knew. He always has faith in you.) And what kind of coincidence must there be for you to open the exact note today?

And it just reaffirms the little thought in your mind that there is nobody in the world quite like Seonghwa. You don’t think there’ll be anyone as wonderful and gentle and caring as him. But to top it all off, he just understands you through and through.

While you just clicked all those years ago, he also listened. He never stopped. He simply tries his best with you, and will never let you go so easily. He still does. What’s between you is more than an initial spark.

It still burns. You’re more than content to keep fanning the gentle flame that keeps you both cozy. And Seonghwa and his warmth are the best company to sit around that fire with. It will always burn bright.

Of course when he reads your messages in the morning, he celebrates and cheers with you, almost as loud as you know he would be if he was actually here.

You grow less dependent on Seonghwa’s little notes as time goes by. You’ll still take them out sometimes when you miss him particularly badly or for fun, but definitely less than the first weeks. Your texts and video chats are still as frequent as before, though. If you had to go two months without seeing his smile you aren’t sure what you’d both do.

This weekend you find yourself at the farmer’s market with San and Wooyoung. As the former goes around trying to get free samples and the latter actually looks for groceries, you wander off to the lake.

Families and pets are scattered along the shore, enjoying the spring breeze through the bright sky. Summer will come soon, an inkling of humidity sticking in the wind that blows past the shining sun.

The last time you came here was two years ago with Seonghwa. Another opportunity never really came up to return, but San and Wooyoung insisted you come today and you wanted to visit again anyway, agreeing to tag along. And next year, you’ll all graduate, making your way into the real world. It’s a little hard to believe.

But this is the kind of memory you’d like to savor, to revisit.

Stepping out of the shade of the treeline, you let your eyes find a little family of ducklings. The babies tail behind their mother, and, almost as if they can sense your gaze, they turn and let out small quacks. With a chuckle, you give a small wave before they all head on their way once more, your heart growing in your chest at their flapping, splashing wings.

“Y/n!” San calls.

“We got donuts. Do you want one?” Wooyoung asks.

Turning to them you smile. “Sure. Just gimme a moment.”

This is the kind of thing Seonghwa would coo at, a simple, adorable moment. You’d probably be able to convince him to come here with you when he comes back with the promise of free samples alone. Everything else would just be another cherry on top.

Regardless, you want a picture, just for yourself, your own personal scrapbook in your mind. The animals, the weather, the scenery, it’s all a little too picturesque to not immortalize.

But before you can even unlock the screen, your eyes find the date.

Your best friend is coming back in a week.

You made it.

While you certainly can survive without Seonghwa, there’s something about having him in the flesh that adds an extra sparkle and brightness to life. And he’ll be back before you know it. You survived months. You can make it another week.

Snapping the photo, you hurry over to your friends and gladly take the glazed donut hole that Wooyoung hands you. Nothing has ever tasted so sweet.

The night before Seonghwa’s return, the glass jar catches your eye. A lone page sits on the bottom, all its brethren now stacked neatly on your desk under a paperweight.

Drying your face, you smile. What the hell. You might as well open it.

Crawling into bed, you take the letter. Everything is as it should be. Seonghwa is on his plane home, back to you. You finished the semester with the best grades of your whole college career. You just had a fun night out with your seven other crazy friends.

Unfolding the creases, a path you’ve memorized and can now do without a second thought, you swallow upon seeing the paragraphs in front of you.

You already know this is going to be different.

With a shaky breath, you begin.

Dear y/n, I hope things have been going according to plan and this is the last letter you open before I come home. I’ll be back soon and, even if I haven’t left yet as I write this, I know the first thing I’ll want to do when I land is fall into your arms and hold you until you complain about needing to pee or something. I already know I will miss you terribly. And maybe, my hope in writing this, in our distance, is to protect my fragile heart. I know I’m being cowardly in not telling you this in person, but if you find you don’t see me in the way I see you, that’s okay. I will love you as a friend all the same and you can burn this letter and pretend the last 10 minutes never happened. But I love you. I love you in every way I have been taught to love and then some. I have fallen so deeply for you that a simple, ordinary life with you would be more meaningful and happy than any alternative, a timeline in which every other dream I have could come true. My heart is yours, has been shaped and nurtured and protected by you; I don’t think I know what it would be like if I’d never met you. Every day I wake up and see you in our kitchen before going to class, and I can’t help but feel lucky to know you. Yet, despite that, I can’t promise that I will be everything you need in a person, in the world. But I promise that I will try to protect your beautiful heart, your bright-eyed wonder, until you are so sure of them that nothing will shake you. And even then, I will still be in your corner, a shoulder to lean on. Just say the word. I can't wait to come home. Yours always, Seonghwa

By the end, you can’t stop the waterfall of salty droplets falling from your face. You clutch the letter to your racing heart, trying to take a slow breath to calm all the nerves in your body that have been lit.

Seonghwa…your Seonghwa…he loves you…

You always knew he loved you. You know he does now.

It’s just…he loves you in one more way.

You don’t think twice as you bring the page with you to your desk, already pulling out your own page and finding a pen. After all the letters he’s written you, you think it’s only fair that you write one back to him. Even if you can’t stop the few tears that soak your paper of your single note, you hope it’ll be enough to match the time and attention he put into his hundred.

Your little airport pickup sign has Seonghwa’s name in large, black sharpie on the front, but as you hold it up, the back of it is what causes a lump to form in your throat. The triangular paper flap that has since been taped down can change everything now. When Seonghwa opens it, nothing will be the same, and you won’t be able to go back.

But you know it’ll all be for the better.

Rocking on your heels, you scan the exit tunnel area once more. He’d texted you that he’d made it through customs a while ago, so it could be any minute now. But your impatience takes over, and you pull out your phone to check for new messages.

With your foot tapping at the tile, you don’t even notice the footsteps towards you until their owner is wrapping his arms around you.

“Y/n,” he sighs, his breath falling to your skin.

While you jolt at the surprise, you quickly relax into his familiar warmth, letting small pools form in the corners of your eyes. It doesn’t surprise you either when you feel similar drops landing on your shirt.

“I missed you,” you cry.

“I missed you too.”

He rocks you back and forth, the two of you eventually sinking to the ground to simply hold each other. Nothing can get in the way of you finally being together with him once more.

“How was your internship?”

“Good, they gave me a glowing review to my advisor.” He snuggles his head further against you. “How’ve you been?”

“You say that like I haven’t spoken to you every day,” you chuckle, flicking away the wetness on your cheeks with your hands before they quickly return to their spot on his back.

“I wanna hear about everything,” he says. “Even if you repeat it ten times over. I’m always gonna wanna hear what you have to say, y/n.”

Blinking, you find it in yourself to pull away, still in his arms, just at a further distance so you can meet his eyes. “There’s…there’s actually one thing I didn’t tell you.”

He swallows. Did you start seeing someone? You would’ve told him, right? Or maybe…you read his letter…and you thought telling him in person would soften the blow. “W-what is it?”

You hand him the envelope silently, staring at his smooth hands as he opens it and pulls out the piece of paper tucked neatly inside. It’s so simple, yet it holds your whole heart on it.

He glances at you before his eyes find the words once more and he begins.

Dear Seonghwa, It’s silly. You spent so much time writing me notes and letters, filling pages with heartfelt words that you just knew I needed to hear somehow always when I needed them most. You never ran out of the most perfect words. And yet, I can’t even figure out what to say in my first one. I don’t know if I can ever truly explain or understand how much I love you. You deserve to know, though, so I’ll try my best, but I can only hope that this is enough. Your last letter to me was different in a few ways, no? If I’m reading things right, it was a confession, right? It was primarily for your feelings rather than mine. And, most of all, it was everything I wanted to hear and then some. The stars would be so proud to know they created you. I’m so honored that you feel I have shaped your wonderful heart in the way that I have, but I want you to know that you, your heart, yourself, you are stunning just as you are. I don’t really know what I’m saying here but I hope you will always be happy. And I’d love it if I could be that person to make you happy. I love you. I think I always have. It just grew and grew, and I hope it doesn’t stop. Because, Park Seonghwa, you’re the one I love most. Your partner in everything (and hopefully one more way), y/n

You’ve stopped staring for a long while, just listening to the hustle around the little bubble you’ve made on the floor. You don’t think you have the heart to see his face as he reads everything you poured into that letter.

“Y/n,” he murmurs.

You hum, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Could you look at me?”

When you don’t budge, he lifts his fingers to your chin. Giving you a moment to look at him on your own, he turns your head from the ground.

“Have I told you…how much I love you?”

Finding his round orbs, you swallow. Of course his eyes always sparkle like that, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen them so bright. The soft blanket of his steady gaze is trained on you, a warm fondness and affection that causes your stomach to swoop. You’d never be able to describe how stunning his eyes are. Not even the most talented painter creating their finest masterpiece could match their beauty. And…it’s all for you…?

“Was it okay?” you squeak.

He smiles, brushing your cheek. “More than okay.” Tucking you into him, he rests his lips on your head. “It was perfect. You will always be more than enough.”

In the middle of your bubble, you give him a squeeze, resting your weight against him. He’s really here, with you, in your arms. And…

“Does that mean…you’re mine?”

He tests the waters, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you’re mine, baby.”

“I like that.”

Grinning, he begins rubbing long strokes down your back. “I like that too, angel.”

But as you spot some of the other strangers you’d been waiting with begin to shuffle towards the exit with their friends and family, you try to stand, only to be met with the resistance of Seonghwa’s grip.

“Hey! I’m not letting you go just yet,” he laughs, the tears collecting in his eyes finally dropping from his lashes and onto his cheeks. “I’m not letting go until you complain you need to pee or something.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez fics #ateez x you #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fics #ateez seonghwa #mei's #mei.atz

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hellverse · 11 months ago

Text

wrote a little thing (emphasis on little) about dean trying to provoke cas and cas being, well, a little slow about it. check it out on ao3 or below the cut if you wanna, xo

Dean was bored. So. Very. Bored. He was convinced that if there was anything left to learn, they would have learnt it by now. Sam had already clocked himself out about an hour or so ago, which in his mind, served as a pretty good sign that they could be done for the night. They could just continue this tomorrow. Or later. Or simply at any other time but now. Because right now, Dean just wanted to drag Cas to their bedroom, and certainly not for sleeping purposes. It wasn't like he was touch starved, the two of them spent plenty of time passing up on some good night sleeps, trading them for early morning coffees and midday naps. But sometimes, Cas would get into one of those stubborn, help-the-world moods, where nothing else seemed to register. One could call it dedication, Dean, however, liked to think of it as the evil reverse viagra he had to defeat.

And of course, as Dean’s luck would have it, they had been stuck in a bit of a loop recently. Although he was pretty sure Sam could handle it on his own, if he wanted, or passed it on to someone else, he and Cas were insistent on helping. At the end of the day, Dean knew he would’ve made the same decision, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. He felt somewhat normal for the first time in, well, a while, and wanted to stay in their little bubble just a little longer. Sue him. But...duty calls.

Dean was sitting with his legs stretched, crossed at the ankles, staring at the ceiling, when he turned his head to take a peek at Cas. The angel was burning holes into some book, concentrating at such a level he almost looked like a statue - an immortalised bookworm. Cute. Hot, even. There was something about the way his face looked, how serious he was, how his brows were just a little furrowed, and how the line between them was starting to show itself. It certainly reminded me of Dean of something.

“Cas," no answer, "Cas!”

The angel lifted his head in Dean’s direction, keeping his eyes on the book for five seconds longer before eventually looking at him. Cas smiled, something small and sweet dancing at the corners of his mouth. It was making Dean even more antsy, just thinking about how different his smile could be if he were to just-

“Did you want something?” Cas interrupted before he could even finish his thought.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I did. Um, are you gonna be, uh, done soon?”

"You can go to bed if you're tired, Dean, I don't mind staying here on my own," he said almost matter-of-factly.

If only that were the issue , Dean thought to himself. Admittedly, he could just tell Cas what he wants, it's not like the angel couldn't return to this later, after all, he's not the one who needs sleep. The issue, however, would be that Dean wouldn’t want him to leave. He never does. And although they haven’t ever discussed it, he has a feeling that Cas doesn’t like it either. Call it a hunch.

As much as Dean couldn’t focus on the research, he also knew, believed really, that he had enough brain power left in him to come up with a plan. Okay, maybe less plan, more technique of how to turn Cas away from reading and more to, well, him.

While the wheels were turning in his head, he must've been staring at Cas pretty intensely, as his blue eyes suddenly left the page again, locking with Dean's own. He could see the other glance down for just a second, where his thumb was resting on his lower lip, before speaking.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm wonderful," Dean quickly answered, smiling, purposefully dragging the thumb across his lip.

Cas stared at him for a second, wheels of his own probably spinning in that pretty head of his. Eventually, however, much to Dean's dislike, he turned back to the book.

The thing about Cas was that he could be a little...unaware sometimes. Especially when his mind was focused on something else. And what is there for Dean to do, if not have a little fun with it? He wasn't opposed to some light teasing, provoking, especially when he could watch Cas slowly get the point of what Dean was suggesting, watch the little light bulb go off behind his eyes.

Even with the anticipation buzzing all the way down to his fingertips, Dean wanted to make sure he would see this through. It was already past midnight, but he was sure coffee could only do some good, considering the plans he had. And besides, Cas could have some too. Not that he needed it, of course, but it had become something of a habit for the angel.

"I'm gonna go fetch some coffee, do you want some, sweetheart?" Dean let his voice go sweet, putting a certain weight behind the pet name. They weren't exactly big on those, but when the moment calls...

Cas stared at him again, head slightly titled. Dean couldn't quite tell if he was getting suspicious or just a little ticked off by all the interruptions.

"Sure, I'll take some if you're going."

Dean beamed at him, as he got up from his chair. Before going to the kitchen, however, he decided to see exactly what Cas was reading. And by 'see', he really meant lean down and pretend like he had a reason as to why he's gone over to Cas' side of the table before getting the coffee. Dean positioned himself on the left of the angel, resting the palm of his hand on the table, and putting the other hand on Cas' back, lightly drawing circles on the skin with his middle finger, right above where his shirt that Cas was wearing began.

"Which book is this?" Dean asked, slightly turning his head in Cas' direction, but not looking at him.

"The, um, it's about-"

"No," he chuckled, "I mean the number, how many have you read?"

"Oh," Cas smiled, "I think this must be my fifth if I'm remembering correctly."

"Ah, well, haven't you just been such a hard worker today?" he placed a quick kiss on Cas' temple, before finally making his way to the kitchen.

"Such hard work should be followed by a good reward," Dean whispered to himself.

When he returned with the two coffees, Cas was still in the same position. Figures. He shuffled towards him, placing both of the mugs closer to the middle of the table, so as not to disturb the books placed in a half circle around the angel.

"Hey," Dean muttered quietly, letting Cas know he was back, just in case he was too focused and didn't hear him come back.

"Hi, Dean, thank you," he smiled.

It was moments like these, where it was just the two of them, the world quiet and calm like a field covered in snow, no wind and no footsteps, that convinced Dean he would never not feel the way he does now. Even before the confessions and first kisses, there was something about the way Cas would smile at him. It always went hand in hand with a pinch between his ribs, somewhat painful and warm. He kind of expected it to change, now that he knew the other felt the same, now that he had stopped telling himself it would never happen, now that the two of them were different. And yet it hadn't, not really. It knocks something in him loose every time, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't glad.

Cas put his book down, interrupting Dean's thoughts once again, presumably to take a sip of his coffee, and Dean simply couldn't pass up that chance. He leant down, gently placing his hands on either side of the angel's face, and kissed him. The immediate jolt at the base of his spine served as a great reminder of what he was after. Cas kissed him back with no hesitation, something lazy and content in the way his lips were moving against Dean's own. That alone was enough for him to rethink his ways, thoughts of just grabbing Cas by the hand and dragging him to their bedroom flooding his mind. But again, where was the fun in that? More than anything, he was craving to see that light bulb moment, when Cas' eyes turned a darker shade of blue, knowing that the buzz in their stomachs and fingers matched each others.

Dean decided to stay set in his ways, but that didn't mean his self-control was intact. He deepened the kiss, urgency colouring his own quiet sounds, tongue brushing against Cas' lower lip. He could feel one of the angel's hands, the one resting on his waist, softly grabbing at his shirt.

He ended the kiss with a sharp inhale, eyes closed for a second longer, til the ground beneath his feet felt solid again.

"Dean.." the rasp in Cas' voice almost made Dean lose his footing again. A beat of silence covered the room, letting Dean focus on the pulsating feeling in his cheeks.

"What was that for?" Cas looked serious but only in a confused, have-I-missed-something kind of way. It took Dean everything he had not to jump him again. Instead, he just flashed a quick grin at Cas and winked.

"Nothin', blue eyes, 's just because," he said, giving Cas one last peck on the lips.

He could feel Cas' eyes follow him, as he walked back to his side of the table, right across from Cas. When he looked up, he could see the slight twitch in the angel's eyebrow. For a celestial being, especially one that has seen a lot of what the world has to offer, he really couldn't be any more oblivious sometimes.

Dean sat back in his chair, the warm coffee cup in his hands matching the warmth in the pit of his stomach. Cas was back to reading again, though Dean could tell he was a little more fidgety than before. He smiled to himself, as he lifted the cup to his lips. He could pretend he was reading, but even that seemed like too much work. After all, he was more than happy to just watch Cas. With the angel already slightly on edge, it was only a matter of time before he was glancing up at Dean every few minutes.

"Dean...," Cas finally broke after about 30 minutes.

"What?" Dean answered, playing it up just a little bit to sound offended.

"Why are you staring?"

"Can I not look at my very handsome boyfriend?" he smiled. If there was a gun to his head, he'd have to admit he even fluttered his eyelashes a little.

The term 'boyfriend', similar to pet names, wasn't something that the pair used very often, but sometimes, well, there was just no way getting past it. Dean didn't necessarily mind the word, just needed some time to get used to it, he thought.

He could see the slight blush forming in Cas' cheeks. The angel lowered his head, about to return to his task, before looking back up at Dean through his eyebrows for a split second. A look nearly bordering on 'knock it off', but not quite.

The glances continued, almost like Cas was trying to catch him in the act, like something he did would give away whatever it was that he was thinking. Dean, of course, only saw that as an opportunity to continue his little show.

By this point he had already finished his coffee, the ring finger of his right hand sliding in circles around the rim of the cup. It wasn't exactly a conscious action, not until he saw Cas glance at his hand. After that, he made it a point to look Cas up and down the next time his eyes wandered back to Dean. The angel only squinted at him.

He had noticed Cas finish off his own coffee not too long ago, so after a few minutes of pretend daydreaming, he got up, hand under his shirt, the palm of his hand resting on his ribs. This time around it wasn't so unintentional, his shirt pulling up slightly, exposing the skin. If Cas could burn holes in him, he was sure he'd be all burnt up by now. But who was he to complain?

He slowly made his way to the kitchen for a second time, washing up the cups, and sorting out a few other things while he was there. It was nearing 4 am, and as entertaining as it had been, Dean was ready to actually get things going.

He walked back into the library with a purpose, heading straight to Cas. The angel didn't even have time to blink before Dean was already in front of him, arm stretched out as if he was asking him to dance. Cas put his hand in Dean's, suspicion in his eyes almost completely masked by the gentle amusement.

Dean barely waited for him to get on his feet before grabbing Cas by the waist with one hand and dragging him closer. Cas just smiled, head tilted to the left ever so slightly. Good , Dean thought, better access .

"I think you should be done now," Dean muttered before scattering light kisses on Cas' neck.

"Oh, should I?" the angel said, amusement now clear in his voice, Dean humming against his neck.

Dean lifted his head only to give Cas a look that in his head couldn't have looked anything short of hungry. That must've finally filled the missing gap in the angel's mind, as Cas' face finally mirrored the expression that Dean had been thinking about for hours now. The split second of surprise bled into understanding, and his eyes darkened. Maybe it wasn't so much a light bulb going off, as it was a light bulb exploding.

"Oh," Cas whispered.

"Oh," Dean echoed, teasing, whilst it was still his turn.

"I think you might be right," Cas said, as he stepped forward, hand resting on Dean's chest, softly pushing him back, "I've done enough work for today."

Dean let the angel guide him until he felt his back hit the pillar, the coldness of it seeping through his shirt, a nice distraction from the heat of his own body. Though that didn't last long, as Cas pressed against him, hands sneaking under his shirt, much like Dean himself had done earlier. Cas slid his hand up and down Dean's sides, his fingertips occasionally sinking into Dean's skin.

He launched forward, only to have Cas swiftly pull back like he was already expecting it. As soon as Dean let his head fall back, resting against the pillar, Cas leaned closer to him again, lips almost touching and whispered:

"I understand you've had your fun, but what about me?" voice sweet, smiling, moving further back and then closer again in waves.

"Cas..." Dean breathed just as quietly, his throat dry, "Cas, once we get to the bedroom you can have all the fun you want."

"Oh," Cas immediately pulled back, "well, if you say so, Dean."

As soon as the sentence left Cas' lips, Dean knew. He knew that Cas wouldn't let up until Dean was bordering on incoherent, and, oh, he just couldn't wait.

#rei writes #it's very short fyi #but fun!#cute!#nothing painful!#just dean and cas being boyfriends!#:D #anyways

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akantonelli · 1 year ago

Note

i think you know exactly what ship (🐨⛳️) i'm gonna send you a request of for the angry confession prompt thingy :D

- 🍁

(7 and/or 10 please, i think they work quite well together)

angry confession prompt

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”

“The part where you want me,” Oscar replied to Lando’s exasperated, almost angry tone with the same intonation. He’d held feelings for Lando since his karting days, when he’d seen the older as an inspiration (though there was less than two years between them). Those feelings - what he’d played off at the time as puppy love at most, and a crush on something of a celebrity - hadn’t faded. They’d followed him as he’d climbed through the junior ranks of the sport, and still hadn’t left him as he’d graduated to Formula 1, as Lando’s teammate of all things.

The fact that Lando wanted him didn’t feel real, the fact that he was telling him that after one of his worst recent performances only made it worse. This was just some kind of cruel, sick prank, and Oscar couldn’t let himself have hope.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Lando asked, the anger slowly dissipating and being replaced with hurt. Oscar didn’t like it. He didn’t want to feel responsible for hurting Lando’s feelings, but he had to protect himself. There was a race tomorrow and points on the table, and he was starting from tenth - worse than he had in the Sprint. He needed to focus, he needed to be able to show the team that he wasn’t just a One Time Thing.

As a result, Oscar just shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Getting into this wasn’t going to help his mindset.

“Oscar, look at me.”

His teammate spoke so gently, though, and it was impossible to deny his simple request. He was almost always looking at Lando with his stupidly lovesick eyes, and even if he was trying to protect himself he couldn’t help but soften as he turned back to look at him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He repeated. The hurt was there again, but it didn’t seem like Lando was hurting for himself. It almost felt like he was hurting on Oscar’s behalf, and that almost felt worse. He didn’t want to be pitied.

“Not good enough, am I?” Oscar said matter-of-factly, giving Lando a half-arsed smile as he spoke. He didn’t want Lando to sympathise with him for his answer, but it was the honest answer. Lando was lightning - narrowing in on P4 in the Championship. He was consistent in his drives, with strong podium finishes almost every weekend since the upgrades had come to the car. Even when he qualified poorly he drove like hell during the race to make up for it. He was spectacular, he was everything Oscar had always hoped to be - and continued to hope to be.

Oscar had done well in Qatar, but since then? All he’d had was excuses. He’d proven he could learn new circuits quickly, so why hadn’t he been doing that lately? Why had he been qualifying worse than his teammate? Why had his race pace and tyre management all but evaporated?

“Oscar…” Lando said quietly, and Oscar forced his smile wider still.

“You could have anyone in the world, Lando. Maybe raise your standards a bit?”

The longer the conversation went on, the less and less it felt like a prank. Surely, by now, Lando would’ve admitted to it. Surely things were getting a little too personal for him to continue if there wasn’t some truth behind his words. Oscar licked his lips, taking in a deep breath through his nose, and he turned away from Lando again. He wasn’t saying anything - probably thinking about Oscar’s suggestion - and that felt like a good enough time to get out of the conversation. He needed to get away from Lando before his mind pointed out that maybe he’d fucked up the one shot he’d ever have with the guy. More importantly, he needed to get away from Lando before his emotions caught up with him. He’d admitted that he wasn’t good enough, and even if he wasn’t trying to shield himself from being on the wrong end of a prank he knew it was true. Saying it aloud hadn’t quite sunk in yet, but he could feel the dagger he’d plunged into his own chest starting to twist. Nausea hit him first, the telltale sign that insecurity was starting to eat him from the inside, and he had to get away.

Lando didn’t let him.

He tried to walk, but he felt a hand gripping at his wrist. There was no one here but them, and Oscar wasn’t sure if he liked it that way or not. People being around would’ve made Lando far less likely to intervene like this.

“I think you’re perfect, Osc,” Lando said. His voice was a whisper, but the emotion in his voice spoke volumes. There was so much care and love behind his words that he couldn’t deny that the feelings between them were requited any longer. Lando liked him - really liked him - and all Oscar wanted to do was run away. After a moment of silence, Lando spoke again.

“You didn’t say you didn’t like me back.”

“That’s not the point…”

“That’s exactly the point. It’s not for you to choose who I like, or for you to dictate my standards. I like you, Oscar. You’re a bloody talented racer, too, but that’s got nothing to do with it. I like you for your dry sense of humour and that cute bit of hair that sticks out all wavy. I like you for how hard you work, and how determined you are. I like you because no matter how shit of a weekend you have, you always bounce back with a smile. I hate the fact that you think you aren’t good enough for me, because you are universes out of my league. Forget me, you could have anyone in the world. I guess, part of me hopes that anyone might be me.”

The silence came back again, but this time Lando didn’t break it. Oscar was forced to bask in Lando’s kind words, letting them wash over him as they stood under the fluorescent lighting in the back of the garage that Lando had caught him in. Lando’s fingers were still wrapped around his wrist, and Oscar had a decision to make.

He could force Lando to drop his hand and walk away, cementing the fact that he didn’t believe he was worth Lando’s affections. Or he could take a risk, let his walls down a little bit, stop hiding behind his own insecurities and let Lando in.

It was difficult, and it seemed ludicrous. They were racers, they constantly took risks that could end up with their lives ending in a fraction of a second. The only risk here was that the relationship didn’t work out and things became a bit awkward. Despite the fact that it wasn’t life or death, it seemed so much more terrifying than deciding where to brake in the wet at Monaco.

Slowly, very slowly, Oscar flexed his fingers. As he moved them he twisted his arm to force Lando to let go of his wrist.

There was a brief moment of dejected heartbreak on the other’s face, but as Oscar moved his hand to press his palm against Lando’s, their fingers intertwining, it was replaced quickly with a smile. Both their cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as Lando squeezed his hand tightly, and Oscar found that all of his insecurities had quietened down significantly.

He could get used to this.

#landoscar #autumn anon #well this ended up being longer than expected #writing

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