#i want what noah and allie have .

[tvintedspvrk]

adding :

allie hamilton , twenty three , the notebook , madison iseman

noah calhoun , twenty five , the notebook , jacob elordi

#{ having a meh day so i put on the notebook forgetting i can't consume media like a normal person anymore so . new muses . } #✧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ☆ 🤍 ‧₊˚ ⋅ i tried to understand what’s in your plans and what you want ⌗ allie . #✧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ☆ 🤍 ‧₊˚ ⋅ i’m untethering from the parts of me you’d recognize ⌗ noah . #✧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ☆ 🤍 ‧₊˚ ⋅ you and all of your new perspective now ⌗ visage . #✧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ☆ 🤍 ‧₊˚ ⋅ so when my thoughts take off may i breathe deep ⌗ ooc .

[p1utofairy]

PICK A CARD: “when i look into your eyes, i know it's real.”

★ which romantic tropes will you and your fp embody?

DISCLAIMER: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates leave what doesn’t. this was such a cute idea – thanks for requesting this anon. 💞 i hope you all enjoy!

— PILE ONE.

tropes → star-crossed lovers, forbidden love & opposites attract.

there’s a distinct polarity in you and your fp’s personalities & backgrounds, pile 1. you’re more reserved, cautious and patient and they’re more free-spirited and spontaneous. they say whatever they want and deal with the consequences later; this isn’t in a bad way either, i’m more so picking up that they like to stand up and fight for what’s right. they could be an activist of some sort. they’re confident and brave, and you’re really going to admire that. as far as finances go, this person has MONEY, like big money! they either come from money or they are in a profession that pays extremely well and that’s where i see the forbidden love trope coming in to play.

remember how allie in ‘the notebook’ comes from a wealthy, privileged background, while noah is portrayed as more working-class? the contrast in their backgrounds and personalities added depth to their relationship and created a lot of tension and conflict, but ultimately it made their love story more compelling and dynamic – that’s what i see here with you and your fp. you’re tired of over-working yourself for low pay and working jobs that don’t fulfill you financially, mentally and emotionally. you feel stuck…wondering when things are going to change. i see someone looking out of a window in a house, there’s a strong sense of longing and their eyes look sad. they’re waiting for someone or something to arrive, but when? you’ve been telling yourself to keep going and keep pushing through, and then you will see progress and reward in the long run – very saturn/saturnian energy.

it’s interesting because you’re looking for a way out of your situation and your person is looking for an adventure. your fp is very comfortable financially, but they’re lacking in their love life. right now they’re very much single and they’re fine with that, but that fiery energy that burns inside them can’t be dimmed for long. when they cross paths with you they’re gonna be awestruck like “whoa! who is that?” lol. your fp might have some sagittarius/fire sign placements, or they just carry themselves very pompous and matter-of-fact, which might throw you off at first. that’s why i was also picking up on that opposites attract trope because princess belle & the beast from ‘beauty and the beast’ immediately came to mind. belle loved her books and independence, which was a stark contrast with the beast’s initial gruff and hot-tempered nature. you might think they’re a bit arrogant at first, but once you get to know them you’ll understand that there’s layers to them.

their family plays a big part in their life, which ties into the forbidden love trope because i’m ngl their family lowkey can be a lot to handle. as i said before, some of your fps come from money so some of their families might be a little snooty and strict like allie’s mom from ‘the notebook’ but i think with patience and time – you and your fp will learn to not give a f*ck what their family or anybody else thinks. this relationship is destined and you’re meant to show each other the different aspects/complexities of life and love. the energy is very reminiscent of mr. darcy and elizabeth from ‘pride and prejudice’ like remember how much longing and yearning it took for them to finally be together?! it was sooooooo worth it.

additional messages → wealthy, 2 years from now, ego, aries, very lowkey, the blackest day by lana del rey & cultural differences.

— PILE TWO.

tropes → second chance & age gap.

your fp is dominant af, pile 2. they possess everything within reach, and they’re admired by many. you may establish boundaries with them from the very beginning and they will respect that, they value you and wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt you. however, despite the love, passion, and devotion that will be present in this relationship, there will also be a need for compromise. it seems that this relationship will fulfill your hopes and dreams, but it will also come with its share of responsibilities. in the early stages, both you and your fp will feel a strong urge to make your relationship official and commit to each other. whatever you need or want – they will provide for you. you may not have expected to fall for them, but you couldn’t fight the obvious chemistry between you two. i picked up on the age gap trope mainly because they have provider energy. for some of you, they might already have a kid/kids? your energy feels a little bit more flighty and young. you like to be in your own personal space most of the time, and not everyone understands that, but your fp will.

actually, i think the idea of compromise i was picking up on earlier has to do with your personal space. you might be a bit of an introvert and the idea of constantly entertaining someone 24/7 and not having a moment for yourself is a bit jarring to you. now i’m not saying this person is taking your autonomy away, what i’m saying is that there has to be some sort of balance with the give and take in this connection. it’s reminding me of olivia pope and fitz from ‘scandal’ like one minute he’s showing her the house he had built for them in vermont and then the next scene she’s crying that she needs space and they can’t be together – like OLIVIA what’s it gonna be?! it’s like your heart is saying yes but your mind is saying no.

you’re gonna have to use your discernment and figure out if this is what you want – true commitment. it’s gonna take trust and dedication to make this work, pile 2. it might get to a point where y’all take a break and you choose to see someone else, and then you realize how much of a greater difference your fp makes in your life. they’re your home. that's the second chance trope coming into play. wow, pile 2. this is a very dynamic and complex relationship, but that’s what keeps you two going and loving each other through thick and thin.

additional messages → infrunami by steve lacy, you will meet through friends, extremely dedicated, workaholic, ass kisser, there’s someone in your inner circle you need to cut off, moving abroad, younger sibling & love drought by beyoncé.

— PILE THREE.

tropes → high school sweethearts & enemies to lovers.

your fp is the life of the party, pile 3…sometimes to a fault lol. they’re capable of being responsible and making good decisions, but sometimes they just say f*ck it and wild out. they can be impulsive and unpredictable at times which is quite the opposite from you. i’m picturing haley and nathan from ‘one tree hill’ and kat and patrick from ‘10 things i hate about you’ AND no by meghan trainer just randomly started playing in my head. i’m honestly so amused by this energy cause you’re like “nope! you’re not gonna fuck my life up.” being all dramatic 🤭 and they’re like “what?! me? i would never!” lol there’s gonna be a lot of witty banter between you both. your friends are gonna encourage you to just give them a chance, cause it’s obvious that you do like them — you just can’t stand how “friendly” they are.

your fp is extroverted as hell and loves a good social outing, whereas you on the other hand, rather curl up in bed with a good book or binge-watch your favorite shows/movies in the comfort of your own home. there’s this energy of “been there, done that.” the party scene just isn’t it for you anymore, and you’re content with that. this connection will really help your fp mature and get more in tune with their emotions, instead of masking them behind reckless behavior and nonchalance. that high school sweethearts trope really comes through strongly, not in the sense that y’all are actually in high school, but that nathan & haley vibe – that puppy love! once y’all are together, nobody can tell y’all shit. you and your fp will RIDE for each other.

nathan and haley definitely had their ups and downs, but they always found a way to make it work once they put their egos aside. haley brought out a side of nathan that nobody else got to experience but her. sometimes butting heads is necessary, it helps you confront things within yourself that you don’t always want to acknowledge. you’re so nurturing pile 3, you bring water to their fire. i don’t see you immediately jumping into this relationship, but that’s the beauty of it. that’s where the enemies to lovers trope kicks in, you’ll have to warm up to them first before you truly understand who they are at the core. your fp is used to fast-pace, hot n’ heavy, fleeting relationships but this is stable. this is pure. they’ll realize you can’t rush true love like this, it’s the journey and build-up that makes it so magical.

additional messages → 1st house placements, sagittarius, very soon, get out of your head, nice and slow by usher & family feud.

— PILE FOUR.

tropes → friends to lovers & forced proximity.

your fp has very high-energy, pile 4. i feel out of breath like i just got done doing 8 different tasks at once lol they might be very athletic or they just like to keep themselves busy. you and your fp are opposites, but the more you get to know each other, you will begin to realize that you have a lot in common – i’m hearing that you two will have a lot to talk about. sometimes you might find yourself holding back from saying things that you want to say in fear of judgement but with this person that anxiety goes out the window. they want to hear your thoughts and ideas, because they truly value your wisdom and knowledge on certain topics that they might not have been aware of. i’m hearing that they want to know your lore lol this is too cute. maybe you’re really into movies? marvel? fashion? idk there’s something very specific that you could go on and on about for hours and hours.

that’s why i picked up on that friends to lovers trope because i feel like they will show immediate interest in you and want to pursue something more, but you’ll be like WOAH hold it there…let’s build on this and see where it can go, no rush. i’m ngl pile 4 they might have a bit of a reputation or vibe of being a player…which will make you hesitant as to whether or not you want to take this seriously. i don’t even think you two normally run in the same circles – this is more like a chance meeting. yup here goes that forced proximity trope, you’ll probably meet them in some sort of unconventional way and be “forced” to spend time together.

you and your fp kind of remind me of holly and eric from ‘life as we know it’ which is a very underrated but amazing rom-com. i don’t think you’ll initially hate them per se, you’ll just be a bit cautious of them and wonder if they’re actually being genuine. however, by spending time with your fp, you will develop a deeper understanding and appreciation for them; which will then lead to you falling for them and establishing a close bond. you two might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and then after a proper conversation with them you’ll be like: huh…you’re not so bad after all. there’s this flirty energy that comes in the form of sly/sarcastic remarks, and you’ll come to realize that it’s their own way of saying “i really like you.” it’s giving 2000s rom-com lol hot n cold by katy perry just came to mind.

the sexual tension between you two will be palpable, your friends will be like just f*ck already!!! this relationship will have it’s fair share of ups and downs, but that’s what will make it worth fighting for; nothing and no one is perfect and you will learn that in this relationship. no one could ever compare to you in your fp’s eyes – they will always have love for you even in the moments where you two don’t see eye to eye. the difference in you and your fp’s personalities will be what draws you two together even more.

additional messages → jealousy, jealousy by olivia rodrigo, lots of traveling, you manifested this, different lifestyles but we’ll make it work, your angel guides got your back & when one door closes, another one opens.

#pick a card #pac #pick a pile #tarot reading #p1utofairy

[jennay]

Noah

An: My first Noah fic I hope you like it. Let me know what you think 💜 I always get nervous writing new people for whatever reason!

Noah Sebastian x reader

No warnings just fluff

Words: 2kish

Noah Master List

How did this happen?

You didn't mean to fall in love with Noah.

He was just a friend, nothing more. At least, that's what you thought.

You met Noah at a friend's birthday party five years ago. He was charming and handsome, but you didn't feel any sparks. He had a warm smile and a friendly handshake, but nothing that made your heart skip a beat. Like you, he was into music and photography, but so were many others. You exchanged numbers and stayed in touch as friends, but nothing more.

That changed when he asked you to look after his apartment and pets while he was on tour. You agreed to help him, thinking living in his place in a different city and state would be fun.

You didn't know that it would also bring you closer to him.

His apartment was cozy and colorful, with posters, books, and instruments. It smelled like coffee and vanilla, his favorite scents.

It felt like home, even though it wasn't yours. You loved spending time there, playing with his dog, and you read some of the books that stayed on his shelf. They looked like they needed some love, and you couldn't stand seeing the books covered in dust, alone and uncared for.

Noah would call you almost every night to check on his pup, leading to more extended conversations. He would tell you about his adventures on the road, the places he visited, and the people he met. He would ask about your day, work, and hobbies. He'd make you laugh with his jokes and stories.

"You're so fuckin cool, you know that?" He said one night.

You felt your cheeks flush. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're doing me a huge favor, and I don't know how to thank you enough."

"You don't have to thank me."

You heard him sigh on the other end of the line. "Well, I owe you dinner or drinks, something like that, when I’m back in town."

You felt your heart race. "I could never say no to free drinks and dinner."

You realized that you had more in common than you thought. You shared the same sense of humor, values, and dreams. You also discovered new sides of him that you never knew before. He was passionate and creative but also humble and kind. He was generous and thoughtful but playful and adventurous.

He became everything you wanted in a partner.

But he was your friend.

He often told you how much he appreciated and trusted your friendship. He had also told you how hard it was for him to trust women after all the pain he had gone through. He had been betrayed and hurt by his ex-girlfriends, who had spread lies and rumors about him. They had tried to use him for fame and money, not caring about his feelings.

You were different from them. You were a journalist, but you never wrote anything wrong about him. You never exploited his secrets or his scandals. You never tried to get a scoop or a headline out of him. You respected his privacy and his dignity. You cared about him as a person, not as a celebrity.

You wanted to be the one who could heal his wounds, make him happy, and love him like no one else.

You wanted to be the one who could make him see that not all women were the same.

You wanted to be the one who could make him fall in love again.

You sure as hell didn't know if he saw you as more than a friend.

You were going to see him today at a hidden bar that only a few knew about. It was a place where he could be himself, away from the public's prying eyes. Noah loved his music and fans, but he was a private person. He needed his privacy, and you respected that.

You knew he would probably bring one of his bandmates with him. They were his support system, and though you sometimes wished he would come alone, you understood. That's why you often invited Allie along. She was your best friend and had a crush on Nicholas. Nicholas was smitten with her, too, and he would chase her around like a lovesick puppy, leaving you and Noah some time to yourselves.

You didn't go all out with your appearance, just a touch of makeup and a casual outfit. It wasn't your style, and you knew Allie would tease you if you showed up too fancy.

She'd been nagging you to confess your feelings to Noah; she even blurted it out to him once when she was drunk, but you brushed it off with a nervous laugh and told her to drop it.

You enter the bar, feeling the cool air hit your face. You head straight to the counter, order your favorite beer, and leave your debit card with the bartender.

You scan the room, looking for your friends. They stand out from the crowd. You see a tall man and a petite blonde girl, with Nicholas trailing behind them like a loyal dog. Your eyes land on Noah holding his cue stick and aiming at the table. He is smiling at something he said to Nicholas, but you can't make out his words over the loud music.

You grab your drink and walk towards them. Allie spots you first and runs towards you, wrapping you in a tight hug.

She slurs some words in your ear. "Finally!" She yells, her breath reeking of alcohol. "These two are no fun. They're too good at pool, and I can't beat them. So now they are playing each other, and I'm just watching." She giggles.

You escape from her hug and follow her to the table, putting down your drink and taking off your sweater. "Well, it's not a fair game when Noah's arms are longer than the fucking table." You joke.

"I heard that!" Noah shouts from across the table, waving his pool stick at you.

You shrug your shoulders, "It's the truth!"

"Who wants to play next?" Nicholas asks as he walks over to you and Allie. "Allie owes me a shot, and I'm done with him." He laughs, pointing at Noah.

"Are you giving up?" Noah asks as he joins the three of you. "I don't blame you. You suck and everything." He teases.

You smile up at him and open your arms to hug him. "I love being ignored." You say sarcastically, making Allie snort.

He hugs you tightly and rocks you back and forth slowly, "Sorry, my precious little angel," He mocks, "I was busy kicking ass."

Nicholas hands you his cue stick and grabs Allie by the arm, dragging her to the bar. "Good luck!" He yells back at you.

"Ok, Noah." You laugh, trying to escape his grip, "You can let go now."

He looks at you with a fake hurt expression, "But I thought we were having a moment."

You roll your eyes, "Yeah, a moment of suffocation."

He grins and releases you, "Fine, fine. Let's play then. Loser buys the next round."

You nod, "Deal. But don't cry when I beat you." He winks, "We'll see about that."

You and Noah start playing pool, taking turns to hit the balls. You're both good at the game but like to distract each other with jokes and taunts. You laugh and tease each other, enjoying the friendly competition.

You notice he's getting closer to you, leaning over your shoulder to show you how to aim better, brushing his hand against your arm when he passes the cue stick, whispering in your ear when he makes a shot. You feel a surge of heat in your body, wondering if he is flirting with you or just being playful.

You decide to play along, hoping he will make a move. You touch his chest when you congratulate him on a good shot, look into his eyes when you talk to him, and bite your lip when you miss a shot.

You see him react to your signals, his eyes darkening, his breath quickening, his smile widening.

You’re both down to the last ball, the black eight. It's his turn, and he has a clear shot. He looks at you and says, "If I make this, I win. And if I win, I get to ask you something."

You raise your eyebrows, curious and nervous. "I have to buy you a drink, and you get to ask me something?" You ask. "That doesn't seem very fair."

He shakes his head, "It's fair, you'll see." He bends over the table and aims at the ball. He hits it with precision and power, sending it into the corner pocket.

He straightens up and pumps his fist in the air. "Got it!" He exclaims. He turns to you and grabs your hand, pulling you close. "I win!"

You smile and nod, "Yes, you do."

He looks into your eyes and says, "And now I get to ask you something."

You swallow hard, feeling his breath on your face. "What do you want to ask me?"

He leans in and whispers in your ear, "Can I kiss you?"

"Are you drunk?" You ask, taken back by his question, "You don't want to kiss me. That's the alcohol talking. Are you drunk?"

He chuckles, "No, I'm not drunk, and I want to kiss you. Am I reading signals wrong? I thought that's what you wanted..." He nervously speaks, his dark brown eyes closely watching you, waiting for a response. Did he overstep your boundaries?

In a whirlwind of nervous energy, you feel your heart race as you stare at him. What are you waiting for? Isn't this what you wanted?

You softly nod your head, "Ok," You whisper.

You feel everything else fade away, and the only thing that matters at that moment is him. As your lips get closer, the air gets thicker with anticipation, your hearts beating as one. The world pauses, waiting for this moment. With a gentle move, he lowers his head, and a wave of bliss washes over you when you feel his lips press to yours. You feel warmth as his hands caress your face, and he deepens the kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck tightly, not letting him go.

You hope this is real, not some cruel dream playing with your mind.

When you finally pull away, your eyes meet again, breathless and smiling like two people who have just found a hidden treasure. You see the love and happiness in his eyes, reflecting your own.

“About damn time!” Nicholas shouts from behind you, breaking the spell. You laugh, feeling a bit shy but also proud of what you have done.

You lean in and give Noah another kiss, softer and sweeter than the first one, just to make sure it's real.

You didn't mean to fall in love with Noah. But you did, and it changed everything.

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian bad omens #noah sebastian x you #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult

[superblysubpar]

masterlist | the music

19.7k words | Sorry freaks, no smut this chapter - but the series is 18+ and so is my blog so skedaddle on out of here if you're not!

A/N: I have a really long one here - so I'll just say thank you once again and that I love you. Also, another special thank you to @sweetsweetjellybean and @loveshotzz💛💛

chapter warnings: very brief mention of religion (but not reader participating or believing in one in particular) | small mention/description of reader's maternal death and cancer symptoms | teeny tiny spoiler for the ending to the movie 'when harry met sally' | use of dialogue from the movie 'My Best Friends Wedding'

Why do we want to believe in things like fate or destiny - divine intervention? Why do some put their faith in religions with blind following? Why do we look to the stars in moments of despair, when we’re desperate for hope, when we’re lost? 

We seek out answers from something we can’t see but we want to believe in. Whether it’s a fortune cookie in your take out, a penny head’s up on the sidewalk, a community of like minded souls coming together for prayer or worship, or a horoscope you read on your morning Instagram scroll - the reasons have to be the same for choosing to believe, for the hope that starts to rise in you for the promise these things try to offer. 

We look for solutions to problems. We need reason. We need purpose. We need to feel like we’re not alone. We need confirmation that it’s all gonna work out even though nothing can really guarantee that. 

When you look up at the stars that work hard to shine through clouds and a full moon, your chest rises with air trying to fill your lungs and you wonder if they’re up there. Your eyes blink up at that indigo sky, searching. Steve sits next to you and Leigh waves, whispering their hellos. His hand rests next to yours on the plaid blanket, he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. It’s all too stiff, too on edge, and you hate it. That attempted deep breath is unsuccessful, lungs deflating as it catches in your throat, and your thoughts wander back to the stars again. They wander to him, and them, and seek answers. 

What if they are up there, watching, like it’s one of those movies your mom was always putting on and your dad and you boo’d at from your spot playing cards. When he walked in with her with that on her finger, your mom would have gasped, she would have paused the movie, she would have yelled at you and your dad about the plot. She would have thrown popcorn at the TV and declared there’s something going on, he couldn’t, no way - there was no way. She’d have calmed herself down, rationalized there was still time left, gone to the pantry for more chocolate, kissed the top of your head and your dad’s cheek as she passed. By the end of the film, her prediction would have been right, she’d be crying and sighing at the couple who got their happy ending.

So could Steve declare his feelings for you here in a dramatic scene? Tell you it was all a big misunderstanding - that he’s sorry, that it was a rocky road but being together is worth fighting for? Could you leave here, hand in hand, as a top forty song plays and the credits roll? 

Of course not. 

Because this isn’t a rom com your mom would have loved. Life is not a movie full of soul-mates and cosmic connections. People like your parents are the exception to the rule. The couples who make it work - the ones who don’t let the trials of life take their love away like Allie and Noah, Kate and Sam, or Westley and Buttercup, are fictional characters. They’re stories to escape into when the despairing reality of yours is too much to read or write anymore. It’s exactly why you don’t like most movies or stories like theirs. Because eventually, the movies end, the credits do roll, and you have to face real life once again. Love like that doesn’t exist off the big screen, and you’re just kidding yourself when you fall into their traps. 

Knowing this simple fact of reality doesn’t stop the hope though. 

That painful, aching hope that clings to your skin like honey when you can feel the heat from his arm even through the sleeve of your sweater - like your bodies burn hotter when closer together - too close to the sun. It feeds the hope that your brain tries to squash away but your heart thuds harder for. The what if, what if, what if replacing each beat of it. Hope that makes you want to cry out ‘please let this just be a bad dream’ to the universe. Hope that tries, but can’t escape the gnawing pit in your stomach that’s growing wider, threatening to swallow you whole. Hope that makes you wonder why this can’t be a story - why can’t you just be the grandson, yelling at his grandfather that he can’t be telling it properly? Someone is getting the story wrong. He can’t be marrying her, you’re just sure of it. Screaming at him, at someone, to please, just get it right. 

You wonder if someone were watching, would they be feeling the despair you are? Is this the moment? That scene in the movies is always the gut punch - for the audience and the character. It’s meant to hurt, make you hold your breath. Made to be dramatic - yell at the screen, break your heart, make the character in the action get back up and fight. They’re moments made to ignite that hope - but really, it’s the double tap - coming right after the feeling catches flame, that’s made to shatter you completely. 

The moment that extinguishes the what if for all it’s worth. When the audience’s heart's already breaking for the grandson, only for the grandfather to ask who says life is fair? Where is that written? When the knife is entering your chest, but the mask falls and the killer turns out to be someone you thought you could trust. When you’re untethered in space only for your last moment of consciousness to be watching a friend cut the cord. The person who sucker punched you is now kicking you when you’re weak, taking it one step too far, leaving you crumpled on the mat. It’s all enough to make that fight, that urge to be angry instead of scared or hurt, disappear. It’s enough to knock you down so hard, you can’t possibly get back up - the hope is extinguished, and the story seemingly over. 

Robin squeals quietly, pulling Leigh’s hand across you to admire the ring, knocking Steve on the shoulder and saying something about the Dingus doing good. Your gaze flits down to the brown sugar and apple donuts in your lap, convinced you’re about to get sick right on top of them. Not because he’s marrying her, but because instead of being angry with him, you feel like you’ve been squashed, you’re hurt, you’re betrayed. Despite your better judgment, despite the past several years, you’ve let a man make you some pathetic, sad, heartbroken, and weak version of yourself. 

When Leigh’s hand retreats from Robin’s, lifting and curling a piece of hair behind her ear, diamond sparkling in the moonlight as she smiles over at Steve, your story’s end is written, and you need to accept it if you ever want some semblance of normalcy to return. You can’t lose him and them. But when Steve’s pinky brushes yours and you look over, his eyes resemble the broken beer bottle from the football game all those weeks ago. Shattered emerald and amber, cutting you to shreds with each shard of glass as he murmurs, “Can I tal-“

“I’ll be right back!” You whisper-shout, cutting him off and squeezing Robin’s shoulder as you get up. 

She yanks on your wrist, halting your attempt at an exit. Her eyes narrow as she interrogates, “Where are you going?”

Swallowing harshly as her blue eyes peer directly into your soul. She can probably smell the desire to run on you. Remembering your vow that Steve won’t take them away from you, a not quite a lie falls from your lips as you gesture to the concession food trucks, “You don’t have those cinnamon roasted almonds. They were my mom’s favorite and the smell is driving me crazy. Promise that’s all.”

“I swear to god, if you don’t come back, I will literally come stand outside your window on the sidewalk and scream-sing Monster Mash until someone calls the cops and I’ll drag you down with me.”

Her eyes blink, features incredibly serious despite the amusing threat. Your laugh mixes with Leigh’s and you ignore the shared moment, tugging your wrist free. “Would expect nothing less Robin.”

She motions she’s watching you, fingers to her eyes then yours, lips twitching in the corners before she turns back to the screen. 

Your feet feel heavy as they drag through the damp grass, and come to a stop to wait in line. It shouldn’t be a surprise after ordering when you hear his voice behind you. It floats through the air, soft, barely audible over the popping kettle corn, “I really didn’t know you’d be here. I wouldn’t have…” he sighs, settling on restating, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Your shoulders fall and your eyes stay focused on the truck. You’ve had time, since that night on the sidewalk, but your hurt still sits fresh under your layer of armor - tender like an open wound you need to keep protected. Your palms slide further under the sleeves of your sweater, clinging to the garment like the shield you’re willing it to be - you don’t want to fight with him anymore, no matter how hurt and angry you are. 

So the tone you respond with aches to sound indifferent, if not a tad harsh, reminding him you’re mad and pretending there isn’t any spark of hope within you still. It’s over, it has to be over, and all it ever was to him was something to kill time - fun and no strings exactly what you wanted. So your words are really just a reminder to yourself, another layer of the wall you need to keep up around him, “It’s fine Steve. Would have been nice to get a head’s up,” your shoulders shrug, “But, well, that’s probably too generous for the girl you were just fucking while waiting for the one, right?”

The people next to you clear their throats and you can’t find it in yourself to care, to be embarrassed. 

Steve moves in front of you, his face filling your vision. He shaved - no more scruff you like. His jeans are dark again, with fresh, new creases, and a light blue sweater pulls across his chest and shoulders. He’s picture perfect, his polished uniform in place.

He shakes his head, eyes bouncing between yours as he asks, “Is that really all it was?”

Your shoulders shrug again, because it’s easier. It’s easier to try to deny, to ignore the flutter the question causes in your stomach. Easier to bite back the words that try to form on your tongue. Because of course that’s not all it was, at least not to you. You wouldn’t feel the way you do right now if that were true. But what’s the point in telling him that though? What happens? Can you forgive each other for the words said, that, no matter how true, can’t be taken back? Things like this only end in heartbreak - because what happens if you tell him how you were starting to feel - does that change anything for him? And even if it did, that means a broken engagement, it means complicated truths coming out, it means attempts at forgiveness. And even after all of that, life won’t give you a guarantee. There is no promise of zero fights, of nothing bad ever happening. There is no happily ever after where the possibility of a break up, of losing everyone you’ve grown to care for deeply, doesn’t exist. 

So yes, it’s easier to not say any of that, because you know. This isn’t how life works. This isn’t a movie. No one is immune to life’s misfortunes. These sorts of open-ended questions and complicated emotions that come from his simple ask are unmeasurable and unreliable. Wondering and giving into those feelings only open you up to be used as a target for someone else’s shooting practice. You’ve known this, but you allowed yourself to forget, hating it was Steve who had to remind you. 

Which is why you look away from his eyes as you say, “I believe that is what was established a few weeks ago at that party Steve. You were there, remember? You were dressed as a pirate.” 

His head drops, hands running through his perfectly styled hair as he laughs, breath shaky, like the laugh is covering up any feeling in his voice. “So, that’s it? We’re just gonna act like none of it happened? You don’t wanna talk. You run away every time we get a chance to do so, a beer in my face and-“

Your hand rising in the air cuts him off, his mouth clamps shut as you make eye contact with him. “You deserved that and I’m not apologizing for it.”

He takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching towards you, then back into his hair, second guessing himself. “I’m not asking you to, and I’m not apologizing for what I said either.” Steve swallows, hands on his hips as he looks at the ground then back up at you, “What I said wasn’t a lie.” 

He breathes out the next words, both of you staring at each other with the weight of what he says hanging in the air between you.

“You couldn’t tell me.”

Your hands shake from the confrontation, from his request you left unanswered that night. The emotions that still want to bubble over, the time apart did nothing to cool either of you down. That what if, what if, what if that replaced your heartbeat grows louder, but your brain only shuts it down harder. If you hurt now, how will it feel if you keep feeding the flame only for him to extinguish it again?

The beat of your heart and those hopeful words thud in your ears as your head shakes and your voice tries not to, barely audible as the words leave your lips, “I don’t want to do this anymore Steve. We’re just going in circles. You’re getting married. You didn’t tell me. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you were really my friend while you were clearly getting engaged this whole time?”

Blue light flashes from the screen, catching the corner of your eye and illuminating his, their gaze bouncing over your face. Your bodies move closer like they can’t help it, like they know they won’t be this way again. Steve’s tongue darts over his bottom lip before his breath blows out, your name a whisper on it. The way he says your name with that look in his eyes, chests almost touching, it’s easy for your head to tilt with familiarity. Your breath out is his breath in, and it’s even easier to forget the last time you were this close. Sounds other than his harsh swallow and your heartbeat fade away. Time freezes, just a little, and the air pulses with a tangible possibility of hope. 

A shrill classic horror movie scream shatters the bubble. Your name is called, you blink, and take a step away. Guilt washes over you as you see your friends staring intently at the movie you’d practically forgotten you were there for. Leigh and Robin talk quietly and your eyelids flutter as you will whatever wants to escape down your cheeks away.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore Steve. I just want to go hang out with my friends. I need this to be over. Can it please be over?” You stare intently at the ground, one single tear slipping past your lashes. It feels like it rolls down your cheek for an hour before Steve finally answers. 

“Okay,” he quietly agrees. 

Your head nods once and you brush past him, barely choking out a whispered ‘by the way congratulations’ as you grab your snack. Hand swiping at the stray tear as you make your way back to the blanket slowly. 

When you sit back down, Leigh’s typing on her phone. She squeezes Robin’s hand before whispering a goodbye to everyone. She jogs over to Steve, cocking her head at him. He pushes his hands through his hair again, giving her a short smile. He runs his thumb and forefinger down the bridge of his nose, swiping under it with the back of his hand. His other extends towards her as she reaches him, fingers lacing together as they walk out. 

Robin’s shoulder nudges yours and your head turns to find her with eyebrows pinched together. She leans in and quietly asks, “Is he okay? Did he say something about leaving to you?”

Your head shakes, and you extend the bag to her with a tight smile. You will just keep lying to her. Steve and you will move on, and maybe, one day in the distant future, you’ll be able to tell her. It’ll all work out.

She mirrors your sad smile, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening as she takes a small handful and turns her attention back to the movie. Or she tries, but you watch as her eyes glance down to her phone every few minutes, until it lights up with his name and she quickly starts typing a response. 

It’ll all be fine. 

“Said ‘I’m fine’ but it wasn’t true. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you…”

The pop song playing overhead makes your teeth grind, your skin itch, it pries at your armor. It clangs its melody like fists on the metal plates around your heart, screaming to let it in. 

Fuck Taylor Swift and her poetically relevant lyrics. 

You’re fine. 

“Mommy, why is that lady wearing pajamas?”

“Well, sometimes people, um, well maybe they’re sad or-“

“Not sad,” you call over your shoulder, but spin as you decide to face the stranger. The poor, unsuspecting stranger who is unprepared for the wrath of a person wearing blue, fuzzy pajama bottoms with ducks all over them, yellow smiley slippers, and holding several pints of Cherry Garcia in her arms. “Could just be sick. Or lazy. Could be a lot of different things, but sad is not one of them, and it’s rude to assume there’s any reason at all. I could just have wanted to stay comfy today, you don’t know!”

It’s almost laughable, if it wasn’t so humiliating or awkward. A practically audible record scratch kind of moment. Conversations of several other customers quiet then stop altogether. Eyes blink at you in concern and pity under too harsh of fluorescent lights, surrounded by neon advertisements and packaging trying to convince you the world isn’t shit as long as there’s junk food. The poppy beat overhead seems to play even louder, yet a pin could drop and people from another state would hear it. 

The mother’s hand runs through the small child’s hair next to them as she stammers an apology, “I really…I’m sorry, I just-“

“No, no, I’m so sorry. It’s fine…I…” You close your eyes and turn back around, mortified beyond a depth you ever thought possible. The pints of ice cream tumble onto the sticky counter-top, lottery tickets beneath it staring up at you and mocking ‘hey wanna test your luck even more?’. Your hand flies up into the face of the cashier as you grumble, “Not a word, Keith.”

The employee you’ve come to know on your late night and early morning snack runs snorts. His mouth closes, slurping his Mountain Dew through a straw as he rings up the ice cream. His lips leave the red plastic, squeaking it against the lid harshly, about to tell you the price you already know, when a bottle of wine is placed on the counter with a low thunk. A leather clad arm extends across your vision, a second bottle landing beside it. A deep and familiar voice from behind your shoulder calls out, “These too. But definitely not because she’s sad.”

Turning, you find Eddie just as you knew you would, his brown eyes the same as they have been since you met. Full of warmth that’s contagious, except now something darkens them, they’re colder. Reminiscent of how they looked in a bathroom that feels like you were in it ten years ago instead of a month. They’re kind, but they’re hurt, confused, and most importantly - disappointed. 

“Right,” you clear your throat and look away from them. Embarrassed, but adamant in your denial of the purchase and your appearance having any connotation with the emotion they all think you’re feeling. “These are not sad items.”

Despite the look in his eyes, Eddie’s lips twitch in a fight of a smile. He looks over your outfit and the hint of amusement disappears. His mouth turns down in a grimace. He faces Keith, hand waving across your form, “Right. Sad people don’t wear duckie pj’s to the store to buy ice cream and wine, they just don’t. People who ignore their friends though, they might…”

Honestly, the call out is nicer than what you deserve. You hadn’t dared to miss a text or call from Robin again, but all other group contact had gone unreciprocated for two weeks - convincing yourself it was easier for everyone that way. Biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes blink up at him apologetically, hopeful you can fix a small part of the mess you’ve made still. “Yeah. But if a person,” your hands wave as you speak, “Who isn’t sad,” you quickly tack on before continuing, “Did ignore their friends, it was probably for a good reason and she probably feels really bad about it and-“

“Jesus Christ, pay for your sad shit and get out,” Keith groans, snapping his fingers and then waggling them for payment. 

Eddie mashes his lips together, a genuine smile threatening to break as he hands over a bill. He salutes as he grabs the bag of items. “Keep the change, dude.”

“See you tomorrow, new shipment of Ben and Jerry’s at nine A.M!” Keith calls to your retreating forms. Eddie and you turn in tandem, flipping him off. 

“Mommy, what did that mean?”

Eddie snorts, his laugh finally bubbling out of him as you hide your eyes under one of your hands. The door swings closed behind you as the brisk November air does little to cool off your embarrassment.

His laughter trails off in a sigh and yours in a groan. When you peek at him from behind your fingers, you hold your breath as they fall to your side. Eddie’s eyes seem to poke and prod at you with their gaze, like you’re a frog laying open on a table for dissection. Like he already knows what he’s about to find, but he’s giving you an opportunity to just say it before he makes the first cut. 

Gesturing towards the bag in his hand, your eyes drop to the ground as you clear your throat. “Thank you, you didn’t have to pay. And I really am sorry for going radio silent. I’ll get better at that.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you risk a glance up. His brows are furrowed, meeting under parted bangs, brown eyes glued to your pajama pants. Eddie nods slowly, tucking his tongue into his cheek before clicking it against the roof of his mouth. Rocking back on his heels, the plastic bag swings at his side. “Sure. What are friends for?”

His eyes meet yours again finally, and as your lips part, he keeps going, his voice a little crisper than it’s been to you before. “Cause, we are friends. Right?”

Head nodding as your brows bunch together from the tone delivering the question. That and his gaze makes something under your skin itch, your feet restless against the pavement like a horse before a race. 

Hesitation heavy in your words as you respond, “Yeah, of course…listen, I have to get back but-“

“Great,” he spins on his heel, heading down the sidewalk like he was waiting for those exact words to leave your mouth, “I’ll walk with you, sad girl.”

Blinking at his abrupt interruption, hand still raised to take the bag from him, it takes you several seconds for his words to register. He’s already halfway to the corner, your apartment just around it and you have to take a quick few jogs to catch up with his long strides as you call out, “I’m not sad.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie nods, flicking a zippo in his hand, converse scuffing against the sidewalk as he kicks a pebble, “And I’m the King of England.”

Tired of his tone and demeanor you didn’t invite or ask for - you don’t need this. Eyes rolling as you huff past him, your shoulder bumping his harshly as you do. Eddie scoffs, but falls back into step close behind you, not letting you get away. “Quite the attitude to have with the friend who just bought your sad girl treat, even threw in the wine.”

Your shoulders hunch at his words, eyebrows pulling together and face growing hot as you fiddle with the first key to the apartment building. “Well, I didn’t ask you to buy it and if you only did to just rub it in my face you’re not really my friend. And I didn’t ask you to come here.”

Eddie’s hand lands on the door above your shoulder as you push it open, arm blocking you from entering. “Quit the tough girl act, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Your skin burns at his accusation, hands balling into fists at your sides. “I’m not trying to fool anyone, Eddie, or do anything. I literally don’t know what you’re talk-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can keep trying to sell this shit to everyone else, but I’m not buying.” He points inside, “Let’s go.”

Face feeling hotter than when you were six and scolded in public, you stomp through the entryway, each step echoing across the old tile. As you turn to head up the stairs, if only to get away from his all seeing eyes, the realization of what your apartment looks like and how extremely not ready it is for guests has you pausing mid stride. 

When your gaze makes contact with his again, Eddie simply makes a statement. Flat, disappointed, and no question in his tone, “It’s worse than I think isn’t it.”

Before you can argue, before you can tell him to leave, the keys in your hand are snatched by swift fingers, and Eddie’s long legs are jumping up the stairs, skipping over several steps and disappearing around the landing. Chasing after him, the thundering of both of your feet is dulled by the faded and dingy carpet and the shriek of his name leaving your lips. 

Watching as he pushes the key into the lock, turning the knob, you sprint down the hallway. Your body barrels into his, but it’s too late. Eddie falters from your weight crashing into him, but he remains upright, although slightly hunched, as your body clings to his, trying to drag him down. The door swings open and he winces, and you drop to the ground, defeated. 

For the first time in a few days, you take in the state of your living space from an outside perspective. You watch as Eddie reviews it all for the first time - the take out on your counter, the empty beer bottles pushing the lid of the recycling up. The stack of Double O Seven DVDs on the coffee table. The couch covered in blankets because you’ve been sleeping there, your bed still sitting free of sheets in the other room. The bag of chips and the tub of frosting. It’s not a pretty picture. 

Eddie suddenly crouches, hands grabbing at you and you push him away shrieking, crawling into your apartment and away from him. Both of you swat at each other, hair flying in faces and grunting like you’re siblings fighting over the remote. 

 “Go-get off! What the hell is your problem! Eddie!”

He manages to grab your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket and you leap towards him, arms over his shoulders, you reach for the phone, and he holds himself up on his knees, arm extending it away from you. He manages to tilt it just right to get your face to unlock it and you growl, thumping on his bicep as he shoves you off. He presses the familiar green icon on your home screen while you accuse, “What is your deal? What the fuck are you-“

Eddie groans, holding up the screen displaying the last song you’d been listening to and getting to his feet. He points towards your bedroom. “Go put on some jeans. No more sad girl music. No more cheese out of the can. Field trip. Let’s go.”

Your hand holding a slipper that had fallen off in the scuffle points towards the open door, any neighbors paying attention getting a hell of a show. Your scowl meets his frown. “Um, you can go. Don’t basically break into my home and insult Britney and Easy Cheese in the same sentence asshole. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, they disappear under his bangs and he looks at you as if you’re the child you’re determined to act like. He sighs, voice dripping in drama as he heads into your kitchen, “I really didn’t want to do this, but you’ve left me with no other choice.” He spins the cheap metal cap off of one of the bottles of wine theatrically, flicking the cap onto the counter before turning the bottle upside down as he stares at you. “I’d get going. The ice cream is next.”

Your eyes roll as you scoff, “You’re not gonna do shit to the Ben and Jerry’s, you and I both know it.”

He starts on the second bottle, both ringed hands holding tight to each, red liquid splashing the sides of the sink. “I will literally drag you back out of here in your sad girl jammies to a very public place. I’m generously giving you the opportunity to avoid that embarrassment, but if you insist…”

Eddie sets the bottles down in the sink, stepping over to you in two strides, hands on your waist as he moves like he could toss you over his shoulder.

Your hands push at his chest. “Fucking fine! Give me a few minutes.” You start towards your room but spin sharply on your socked heel, one foot still in a slipper that skids as your finger points in his face. “Touch my ice cream and see what happens.”

He snorts, crossing his arms. “Big, tough words coming from a girl with chocolate frosting on her chest and ducks on her ass.”

You turn away from him, slamming the door on his call of, “If you ever want to see your precious Ben and Jerry’s again, you’ll be back out here in five minutes!”

When you make eye contact with the chocolate stain in the mirror, you have to suppress your groan. 

Eddie’s Jeep tires crunch over gravel before coming to a stop in a homemade parking lot. Tan dust kicked up and floating through the air partially obscures where he’s taken you. 

The entire twenty minute drive had been enveloped in stilted silence. He had managed to dump one of the pints while you changed, claiming to have thought you weren’t coming back out, and now he was on the receiving end of one of your finest silent treatments. His hand flexes on the gear, moving the car into park. As his jaw clenches while yanking the keys out of the ignition, you start to rethink your silence. There’s a part of you that wants, maybe needs, to run back to your apartment, lock the door, and never speak to him again. But there’s another part, far larger, and riddled with guilt, that made you follow him. 

Staring out the window at the dilapidated bar, your voice feels scratchy from the lack of talking as you push out, “What are we doing-” Eddie’s driver’s door slams, and the end of your question falls into the empty car, flat, as you blink at his back walking away from you, “Here.” 

As Eddie makes his way to the building, you hoist yourself out of the Jeep and begin to follow despite the cold shoulder. You’re willing to appease him and participate in whatever this field trip is if it means you can somehow get the apology you definitely owe him out - try to make things right for the mess you’ve pulled him into. 

A faint and familiar sound echoes in the quiet and practically empty parking lot. The distinct whip of a ball and the ting and harsh smack of metal meeting it, mix with the crunch of rocks under your rubber soles. Behind the tired and washed out brick building, chain link fencing rises, hinting further to what the sounds are and where they’re coming from. The large red letters above the doorway spell out “Murray’s” in distinct vintage lettering, hollowed out with unlit bulbs reminiscent of an old theater’s marquee lights. You pause beneath the sign, stealing a deep breath because something tells you Eddie has officially pinned you to the table, and the first inevitable cut of the dissection is imminent. Your fingers curl around the gray, metal door’s industrial handle and pull, and you step inside. 

Billie Holiday’s voice croons from somewhere deeper in the building. Voice and music crackling and staticky, like it’s playing off a real vinyl. The urge to find out why Eddie’s brought you to a place seemingly stuck in the past draws you deeper down the dimly lit hallway. Rich, red paint on the walls partially covered by framed photographs line the entire space. Black and white film prints of American icons, with individual golden lamps lighting up each from their spots attached to the frames. Your feet carry you past Elvis, Jackie Robinson, then Marilyn, and Michael Jackson before you enter a spacious and circular room. 

Red vinyl booths line the curve on one side, small round tables meant for two lit by glowing lamps scattered across the floor. A stage and space for what appears to be a dancefloor sit opposite of you, nestled between the booths and a bar running across the opposite curve. Speckled and worn mirrors behind the bar reflect the wide range of liquor bottles and the different glassware in a variety of shapes and colors, clearly thrifted antiques, hanging above them. Eddie leans against the bar talking to an older man, neither of whom spare a glance in your direction. 

This room’s photographs on the walls are covers of Life and Time, clippings from other renowned news outlets - all famous headlines like when man went to the moon and the JFK assassination, the Cubs winning the world series, spanning all the way to current events. As you spin, you see the vintage photo booth, much older than the one you and Steve took photographs in at Replay, and you push the memory away, focusing on the bulletin board next to it instead.

The flier for Corroded Coffin has your attention as the song crackles on it’s end notes, the next from the album playing softly. Billie’s voice sings the familiar lyrics of ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ and your heart drops into your stomach, palms sweating profusely. Why the hell are you here? Why this song? Why, why, why.

“Ouch. Who broke your heart?”

The unfamiliar voice asks the same question Eddie had asked you back in September, and this time you’re even more unprepared for it. Your head whips to the side, gaze looking over your shoulders that hunch. Your body turns to face them head on, but your arms cross in defense. The man Eddie had been chatting with now has his focus solely on you. Wire rimmed glasses frame eyes that stare intently at you as he wipes down a glass. His balding head of hair and the confidence he carries, along with the way he tosses the rag over his shoulder before leaning on the bar, has you feeling like you’ve suddenly entered a sitcom. 

Eddie continues to ignore you, one foot resting on the metal of stool as his ringed fingers crack peanuts. He avoids your gaze as you turn your frown on the man who seemed to have read your mind. You keep your voice as neutral as you can when you ask, “Excuse me?”

“Written all over your face, kid.” The nameless man, but you have a hunch the name of the establishment and him are one in the same, winces with his words. He pulls down three amber colored, short glasses, then a bottle of vodka. Before you can argue, he keeps going as he pours, “Well, maybe you’re not in love. Not yet anyway,” he muses to himself, “Or maybe he is and you don’t know how to let the poor sap down?”

His eyes lift from the glasses of alcohol to yours and he squints. Pausing before pouring the third glass, humming, “Wait, no, well…maybe.” Keeping his eyes on you as he tips back one of the generous shots before he breathes out with finality, “No.”

Eddie smirks into his own shot, as the man snaps in his face, but technically commands, “Name.”

Your mouth opens to stop this nonsense and analysis you absolutely didn’t ask for, but Eddie beats you to it. Eyebrows raised, mouth pursed as he offers up, “Steve.”

The man behind the bar hovers the liquor bottle above the now empty glass, blinking wide behind his frames. He sets the bottle down, pressing his palms to the bar top. Scoffing with an incredulous tone, “You’re kidding.”

“Excuse me!” You try to interrupt, but the man shakes his hands, ignoring your objection. 

“We’ll deal with that little slip in the simulation some other time,” pushing the third glass down the bar towards you as he continues, “So, Steve,” he laughs a little, licking his bottom lip, “Right. So he loves us, maybe, but perhaps it is us who loves Steve? Mm, tragic, because he doesn’t reciprocate? Or are we too scared to tell him how we feel?”

Your shoulders are up to your ears now, arms wrapping around yourself even tighter, trying to make whatever see-through, vulnerable shield this man can penetrate more resilient. Your gaze is harsh on the side of Eddie’s face, death stare glaring and attempting to burn his cheek with only your eyes as you ask again, “What are we doing here?”

“The cosmic question, isn’t it?” The bartender muses, pouring another glass for himself. He raises his eyebrows at Eddie in a silent question who shakes his head no. 

“I’m leaving.” You start to turn towards the door, but Eddie’s call behind you makes you freeze.

“Have fun walking back then!”

Your hands go to your pockets, searching, even though you know they’re empty. When you look at him, you see your phone in his fingers and his brown eyes that have turned to stone. “Yeah, I still have this. So either you can participate in the field trip, or you can walk all the way back home to your sad girl cave.”

“I’ll just have him call me a cab.” Gesturing to the nameless man with your solution. 

“Murray,” he offers with a toothy grin and head nod, confirming your assumption. 

Eddie laughs, cold, tossing a peanut shell on the bar, “Yeah? And pay for it how?”

You’ve been very, very, dumb, because it’s only now you realize the empty pockets would also mean you don’t have your wallet. Your eyes close in defeat. 

When you open them, Eddie is staring at you and it feels an awful lot like that scalpel is resting just over your heart, waiting for any final words. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he says, “I’ll take those quarters now.”

Murray rolls a tube across the bar to him, eyes darting back and forth between you two like he is watching a ping pong match. 

Eddie grabs the roll, storming past you and down a different hallway, out the back door of the bar. The chipping black paint flutters as the door swings closed, a slam as it meets the frame making you flinch. The final notes of ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ finish and you release a shaky breath. 

“And I suppose I’m to follow him and his mysterious quarters?”

Murray’s lips twitch and he raises his hands in surrender. Your sigh and step towards the door has him dropping his hands though, nudging the still full glass of vodka towards you. Figuring it’s his way of telling you to clean and sterilize the wound before the prodding at it begins, you take a step closer. Hesitating slightly, your finger wraps around the amber glass, a deep breath leaves you as you tip it to your lips. 

He nods his head towards you and raises his own glass, and as the liquid flows into your mouth, he toasts, “To Steve.”

The liquor sits on your tongue longer than you’d like it to as you glare at him. Swallowing it down, you blame the harsh burn in your throat for the prickle that’s forming behind your eyes.

Spinning on your heel to follow Eddie, Murray’s voice calls out quietly, making you pause.

“I’d tell him sooner, rather than later.”

Looking over your shoulder, he puts the glasses in a bin underneath the bar, not looking back at you as he quietly adds, “In my experience, there’s always space to dive deeper into the story. Things are often not what they appear to be. And well,” he chuckles to himself, “Harrington’s got a lot more going on under all that hair than meets the eye I think.” Your brows furrow as Murray looks up at you, patting his hand over his heart with a smirk on his lips, “And I’m not talking about the stuff on top of his head.”

Normally, the joke about Steve’s chest hair would have your lips twitch into a smile, a roll of your eyes, but instead, his words float through the air until they arrive in your gut, sitting heavy and dragging you down. They try to ignite that hope again, but you know it’s no use in letting it light anymore. 

Your feet push forward, stomping down the hallway without a word back. As the door swings closed behind you, your eyes blink, adjusting to the harsh sunlight you’d forgotten was shining outside. The sounds from earlier now connecting to what’s before you. Several enclosed batting cages sit just beyond a wooden and covered back patio of the bar. There’s two older men with their bags of gear sitting at their feet. Each drinking a beer at a small wooden table, rubbing their shoulders. Eddie is inside one of the cages. His leather jacket hung on the fence, a blue helmet squishing down his curls. The white cotton of his baseball tee stretches over his flexing back muscles as he swings at a ball released by the machine. 

As your feet scuff against the deck and then the gravel, you take another deep breath, mouth opening to just blurt out some sort of apology to him. Eddie stops the machine with a harsh smack to a button on the side of the cage. He comes out the door, holding the helmet and bat out to you, chest moving up and down with each ragged breath. He offers a closed lip smile as he says, “Your turn.”

“Eddie, I really don’t…” you trail off until you settle on just asking, “Why?”

“Would you just do it?” He frowns, tone annoyed as he extends his arms towards you further. 

Eyebrows raised in anticipation he nods once as you take the items with a huff and stomp into the cage. As you place the helmet onto your head, and stare down the machine, you exhale and press the button. It whirs back to life as your hands wrap around the bat and you step up to the metaphorical plate, Eddie’s voice calling from over your shoulder as you do. 

“So, wanna tell me why you’re sad? Talk about anything Murray said?”

Your fingers curl tighter around the grip, shoulders going up in defense again. Your jaw clenches before you grit out, “For the last time Eddie, I’m not sad. I’m fine.”

Eddie snorts behind you as you swing at the first ball released, missing.

Strike one. 

“Sure, figured that’d be your answer. So,” he sighs heavily and you hear the fence rattle like he’s kicking it, “Why’re you avoiding us again then?”

You knew this topic couldn’t be dodged forever. It’s true, you’d been pulling away again since Halloween, and getting the save the date was the nail in your friendship’s coffin. As the wedding looms in the not so distant future, it’s easier to pull away from him, from all of them, because you know that they were and always will be Steve’s friends first. Intentions of not letting Steve keep them from you seem futile now, when you know the history and depth of friendship you’re up against. You’re not gonna say that to Eddie though, so as the next pitch is released, you swing and stammer out a pathetic lie. 

“I-I’m not.” The ball makes contact, causing your forearms to vibrate from the bad swing. Your grip tightens so the bat doesn’t fall from your fingers as the ball pops up and behind you, rattling the fence. 

“Well that’s a load of crap. Wanna know what I think?” Eddie yells, not pausing for you to refute and sarcastically continuing, “Great, I’m overjoyed to tell you.”

Your heel digs into the gravel and your eyes narrow on the whirring machine, waiting for him to sink the scalpel into you, defenseless - trapped from running away from him, stuck in this cage with nowhere to go to avoid what he’s about to tell you. 

“I think you are sad. I think Murray was right and you don’t wanna admit it to him, to anyone, and especially not yourself. Instead of an easy fix of talking about it, you wanna sit in your pity and throw a party.” Eddie’s voice takes on a dramatic, high pitched imitation of you as the next ball is released and you swing, “I’m Y/N! Woe is me! I’m all alone! Nobody loves me!”

You miss the ball again, shoulders hunching in, desperate to make yourself smaller with each of the words that he shouts at your back. Turning to look over your shoulder, you glare at him. 

Strike two. 

Eddie leans against the fence, glaring right back at you with his eyebrows raised as you hiss, “You’re being an asshole.”

“Yeah? At least I’m an asshole who’s got friends,” he gestures towards you, “You clearly think you don’t.” You twist your toe in the gravel deeper, returning your focus to the machine and taking a deep breath as he keeps going. “I’ll have Murray pour you some more vodka and you can sit here and think about how your life is horrible. Truly tragic.”

Your eyes narrow from his bored tone, lifting your chin and elbow, adamant to ignore him. 

“You have nothing and no one.”

Another exhale, your chest rises and falls with a deep inhale and your shoulders relax. Straining to hear the hint of the ball being released instead of Eddie yelling at you. 

“Maybe you’ll get a cat one day, but ultimately you’re gonna die alone!”

SMACK.

Your bat meets the ball and it soars to the end of the cage and you spin on him. Face hot, your emotions bubbling and ready to explode. Anger mingling with adrenaline coursing through your veins from the hit, amping up how the words fall out of you in an angry cry. 

“Yeah! I am Eddie! And that’s what I want! So fucking lay off!”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s easier!” 

When he yells right back, without pausing, asking you for a reason, the excuse falls out of you easily. Your mouth closes immediately after the words tumble out in your scream, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as Eddie’s narrow. He shakes his head, volume lowering only slightly. 

“Nah, that’s just fucking running. And take it from someone who ran for a long time, it feels easy, but it’s the furthest thing from. Eventually, you are going to get tired, and your problems will be right on your heels. 

Facing the machine again so you don’t have to look into his eyes any longer, you shake your head no at him, letting a ball hit the end of your bat, popping forward limply as you try to speak with confidence. 

“I’m not running from problems Eddie, I’m just…it’s easier to be the one who does the leaving than to be the one who’s left, okay?”

The words float through the air, unable to be taken back, and their weight makes something in your chest squeeze and constrict. 

“That’s some next-level, glass half empty, pessimistic, depressing shit. And who the hell said anyone was going anywhere? You’re refusing to see that if you looked back for one second from the door you’ve been half out since you got here, that nobody else even has their shoes on.”

The squeezing in your chest only intensifies, his cut getting deeper as he searches for answers, and your bat hesitates halfway through your swing, sending a ball straight up into the air above you. You breathlessly ask, “What?”

Eddie waits until you look over your shoulder at him, emphasizing each word. “Nobody’s leaving you.”

His words hit you harder than your bat has hit any of the balls. It feels like one was pitched right into your gut, expelling all the air from your lungs and causing the tears that have been right behind your eyes to well up hard and fast. You spin to avoid his gaze again and square up for another pitch. 

Eddie doesn’t know that it’s not a promise anyone can make - life doesn’t care. 

Your head shakes, tears brimming on your lash line as you argue, “You can’t know that Eddie, not really. It’s better this way.”

SMACK.

A tear slips over your bottom lashes, trailing down your cheek as the bat makes good contact again and Eddie digs the scalpel in for his final cut. “Fine. Believe that. But you need to admit that you’re slamming the door on our faces and pretending like no one is still standing on the other side, knocking and asking to be let back in.”

The machine whirls, it wooshes with the release of a ball as another tear, and then another falls. Your vision progressively grows fuzzy, the world around you blurring as you swing again and his voice washes over you. 

“Did you know that Nancy is a freak just like you, and I’m sure she’d be happy to split some Cherry Garcia any time? God help you both for liking such a disgusting flavor.”

You let the tears fall openly, but silently, as you swing harder this time. The weight in your stomach - the knots that have been forming since the very first lie was told - twist and tug harder. 

“I know you’re not stupid enough to think I wouldn’t come have a beer with you, or take you to Target to get some new sheets or food that doesn’t have the Frito-Lay logo plastered on it.”

Another ball pops up and behind you as you clear your throat. Refusing to believe what he’s saying, you wonder if he can see the tears hitting the tan gravel beneath you and darkening it like drops of rain.

“And Robin! She’d love to watch Double O Seven with you. You should hear her Sean Connery impression. It’s terrible.” Eddie laughs a little and you twist the toe of your converse into the gravel, covering up a dark spot. 

“But no. Instead of any of that, you just gave up. You didn’t give any of us a chance. Steve Harrinngton’s dumb ass is the only thing to blame for all your loneliness, sadness, and problems. So keep ignoring the footsteps running behind you and the knocking, or open the fucking door.”

You want to believe Eddie, you really do. But what happens when you come to rely on someone, need the support to lean on, and they’re gone?

Your head shakes harder, a sob stuck in your throat as you barely murmur, “Eddie, I can’t.”

His voice is softer than it has been all day as he asks, “Can’t or won’t?”

More tears fall past your lashes. The last ball is pitched and you choke out, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t attempt to swing at this one and it hits the fence behind you. The machine whirs one final time then stops. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Heavy, suffocating, disappointment lingers in the air around you. 

It takes several minutes, even more tears falling quietly, for you to remove the helmet from your head and drop both it and the bat on the ground with a clang. When you turn around, swiping at your cheeks, Eddie isn’t there. 

Each drag of your feet inside is an active fight. Limbs heavy, heart even more so, because you know what awaits you inside before it’s confirmed. 

Murray looks up from a keg he’s tapping and simply nods to the end of the bar. Your phone and wallet sit there and you know the Jeep and Eddie will be gone when you push out the door crying. 

You’ve somehow done the leaving and were left this time. 

Strike three. 

It’s literally a symptom, or as some like to claim - stage - of grief. 

Denial. 

We lie all the time. We tell lies to spare or protect feelings, and more importantly, we lie to ourselves, instead of facing truths head on. 

Because it’s easier to lie - to avoid, to shut something down, or deny its existence when it’s too hard to look at directly. Which is interesting. Why has there not been some sort of evolutionary transformation from this reaction? And really, the longer you wait to face something, the harder the truth is going to hit you. The time you give a truth to sit untold, unacknowledged, it only grows larger. That truth takes hearty roots, and your avoidance in the form of lies, whether to yourself or others, or both, only allows it to spread more rapidly. 

Eventually, you will have to stop lying, to stop running, and that truth will have grown in strength. It has sprouted new truths or problems because your lies only fed it the fertilizer it needed to do so, and now it’s suddenly not the one thing you have to face anymore, but the multiple harder truths. 

Which may be why you’re still outside, staring up at Nancy’s brownstone, where all of your friends, or well, the people you hope are still your friends are-

“Out of the bike lane!”

You jump forward onto the sidewalk just in time for a man in bright yellow spandex to zoom past you shouting some sort of curse as you clutch the dessert in your hands tighter. 

Grateful you had a firm handle on it to begin with, it's one of the few family heirlooms you held onto along with the recipe it’s holding. Hoping to gain some sort of courage from deep within it, like your mom can offer you some through the dish, you make your way up the brick steps. 

The only reason you're here, the only reason you’re facing this day the way you’re feeling just so happens to be the one to open the door before you can even ring the bell. 

The door is flung open and her bright blue eyes fight to sparkle behind squinted eyelids that are almost shut she’s smiling so wide at you.

“Happy Friendsgiving!” Robin shouts louder than she needs to and holds her arms out in a dramatic greeting. She’s covered from fingertips to elbows in thick, orange goo, her clearly thrifted oversize old man sweater sleeves pushed up to her shoulders. You smile your first genuine smile in weeks as she goes to hug you and you both pause, rethinking it. 

“Fall in a pumpkin?” You quip as you balance the dessert in your hand to shrug off one arm of your coat. 

Robin wiggles her fingers and hands spirit and jazz style with a beam that shows off her dimple as she corrects, “Sweet potato casserole.”

“You fell in a sweet potato casserole?” Following her deeper into Nancy’s, you take in a long breath, the tight chest you’ve had since Eddie left you at Murray’s loosening with each word exchanged between you and her. But knowing you have to face him, Nancy, Steve and her, and continue to pretend nothing is wrong while around Robin, has the constricting pressure around your heart returning quickly. 

Robin rolls her eyes, turning and walking backwards and making a face at you. She huffs as she turns back around, “No. Steve is making his famous mac and cheese and apparently I was annoying him, can you believe it? So him and Nance put me on mashing duty to keep me busy like a toddler.”

“You said it, not me!” Steve calls, his wine glass stopping before his lips when he makes eye contact with you. 

Weeks of not seeing each other after the way you left things was going to be hard, you knew that. But you really weren’t prepared for how he looks today, or how it would affect you. 

He’s got a burnt orange, almost brown, thick sweater on with light wash jeans. You’re sure both are from the section of his closet you stumbled upon months ago. That part holding his clothes he doesn’t wear often for whatever reason. He looks comfortable, casual, content. Down to the tube socks on his feet and the worn brown leather of the band of his watch. Your chest aches a little as you wonder if it’s Leigh that’s gotten him to relax into this version of himself. Even his hair, longer than a few weeks ago, is different than you’ve seen from him. Far messier than usual - like it hasn’t seen products or been styled lately, and several days of facial hair evident on his jaw. He looks like a version of Steve designed to torture you - a Steve who you’ve only gotten glimpses of and you miss before you’ve even really met. 

“Hi,” he says quietly, smiling closed-lipped at you.

“Hi,” you offer with your own hesitant smile. Your fingers fiddle with the tinfoil over the edge of the dessert from your spot where you linger in the doorway.

“How are you? Do you…wine?” Steve stammers over his questions, cheeks turning pink. He spins and starts pouring you some without waiting for your answer. It gives you a small bit of relief that he’s as anxious as you are, neither of you knowing what comes next. Do you ever return to normal? And what is normal for you and Steve?

“Sure, yeah, good. You?”

Steve nods his head too quickly, spinning to face you again with the wine. “Good, yeah, thanks.”

“Good.” 

“Yeah.”

Steve blinks at you, hazel eyes bright under the soft glow of Nancy’s pendant lighting hanging above her island. As you stare at each other, unsaid words float in the air, it was silly to think it could ever just be over with him. You miss entering a room and not sharing this awkward, palpable, tension - when it was a smile or joke exchanged instead of forced greetings, a warmth and joy felt instead of dread. 

You hate that you don’t hate him. 

You hate that there’s this horrible ache in your chest, like words want to tumble out but you physically can’t say them - why can’t you both just apologize? Why can’t that save the date be ripped to shreds? Why can’t it all work out? 

“You two are acting weird.”

Robin’s voice bursts whatever bubble you were both in, and you clear your throat, looking down. Steve’s fingers adjust on the wine glass and he shakes his head. 

Steve stammers, “N-no, we’re g-”

“Good?” Robin questions, eyebrows raised, “Yeah I gathered that.”

Before either of you can say anything in response, Nancy’s voice calls from the front door, “Crisis averted! I found a bag!”

Her brown curls bounce against her cheeks as she jogs into the kitchen. Dressed up in black suede boots and flared jeans, her tan peacoat left open showing off a silky black blouse. She pauses, mid stride, bag of marshmallows held aloft and her smile faltering as her gaze darts around the room.

Feeling warm under Robin’s sudden perceptiveness, you’re grateful when Nancy springs into action, relieving the awkward tension. 

“Geez Robin, did any sweet potato end up in the dish? I left you alone with them for twenty minutes.”

Robin’s lips twitch slightly, eyes finally leaving Steve’s as she looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers, the orange goo becoming stiff and hard on her skin.  

Nancy gives you a look, her eyes narrowed in a question but smiles when Robin looks back up. She places the marshmallows on the counter and grabs her hand. “Well, Y/N, can finish up.” She directs her next words to you, head nodding to a pan on the counter, “Put those marshmallows on top and stick it in the oven. Steve, your cheese isn’t gonna grate itself. And you,” Nancy tugs Robin out of the kitchen, smiling sweetly at her, “Are gonna come get cleaned up with me.”

Robin’s entire face turns pink, freckles standing out on her skin, from the way Nancy stares at her intently, like no one else exists. You look down, hiding your smile when Robin coughs, sputtering out something that you’re sure is supposed to be a yes. She eagerly nods and Steve huffs loudly, which makes her turn to glare over her shoulder at him, but it quickly turns into a smile as you call out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” to their retreating forms. 

Their footsteps fade and Steve reaches out with one hand, looking at the dessert as he asks, “I can grab that from you?”

As the door to her bedroom clicks closed, you breathe out an exhale, unsure of how much longer you can keep it all up. His eyes are warm as his fingers brush the dish and you pull it back from his reach a bit, whispering, “It’s really fragile.”

Steve’s eyes bounce over your face, setting the wine down, both hands reaching for the dessert as he promises, quiet and sure, “I got it.”

Your fingertips graze each other as he takes it, and the electricity of just one more touch from him is enough kindling for the hope to spark. The heat from his stare has your cheeks warming and his turning pink. Steve’s lips twitch slightly in the corners as he glances down at the dish, then back up at you. 

“So, this just from Mariano’s then?” 

Your eyes roll hard at his assumption, scoffing as you turn to rip open the bag of marshmallows and keep your back to him. “You would ask if it was from there instead of Jewel.”

Steve knocks the faucet off from washing his hands, shaking them into the sink and flinging water across the stainless steel before drying them. He sucks his teeth with a wince as he turns to the counter, his shoulder next to yours. “Yeah, okay that’s fair.”

You laugh quietly, popping a marshmallow in your mouth in between placing them haphazardly across the orange mixture. Steve sighs next to you and gestures to the dish. “See, this is why I asked. No way you baked something. Didn’t think you could do anything in the kitchen except keep your take out menus impeccably organized.”

“Impeccably huh? That your word of the day on the calendar Robin got you?” You toss another marshmallow in your mouth with a smirk. 

“Actually, no today’s word was assiduous.” 

The veins in his hands flex as he grates the cheese, and he gives you a look as he says the word with confidence and emphasis, eyebrows raised.

You stall, taking a sip of your wine and hiding your smile in the glass before asking, “What, am I supposed to be impressed or something?” 

He dumps the cheese into the pot and turns to you, cocking his head, tongue in his cheek before he frowns. “You’re not?”

Steve’s lips twitch, his facade breaking easily and you both laugh. Your shoulders relax further and so do his. Why does it have to be so easy with him, yet so hard?

“Actually, I think it will be you who’s impressed,” you start, making the marshmallows a little more purposeful and pretty for his sake. 

“Oh yeah?” 

You hum, nodding, “I made that pie from scratch.”

“No you didn’t.”

Looking up, you see him shaking his head. He makes eye contact with you and he shrugs, adamant, “Nope. No way.”

Your hands land on your hips as your tone turns indignant. “Yes I did! I made the crust from scratch, cold butter into flour and everything. Rolled it out, doctored up the filling in a pan on the stove. Brown sugar, the works.”

His hand stops on the second block of cheese, eyes narrowing at you as he questions, “Really?”

A laugh leaves you from the tone of his suspicion as you slide the pan holding Robin’s dish into the oven. “You sound like my dad when my mom made it the first time.”

Steve doesn’t say anything and your lip tugs between your teeth as you remember the moment between your parents. Maybe it’s the holiday, maybe you’re just tired, maybe it’s the few sips of alcohol that let the story fall out of you so easily. 

“She was really awful at cooking,” you laugh, taking a sip of wine and waving your hand in the air, “I mean like, awful. She could serve you a grilled cheese that was somehow burnt but the cheese was cold? She got better, but anyways, I really don’t know why she thought she’d be any better at baking…”

Steve’s eyes meet yours briefly as he takes his own sip of wine and you look away, grabbing some of the cheese and deciding to help as you keep talking. 

“I don’t remember how she decided to do this, but my dad was out of town for work, and she wanted to make him something special, and to her that was a pie, I guess? But she was adamant that it be from scratch. Made and baked with love. And so we did. We went and got all of the ingredients, and we destroyed the kitchen, but it was the most fun I’ve ever had with her. We listened to Dolly Parton and drank wine all day, totally got flour and butter everywhere, I told her about classes, and the guy I was seeing…”

Your eyes drift off the counter, remembering it was right before you knew she was sick and your chin trembles as a watery laugh leaves you, “And then my dad got home. Oh my god, his face. He, he…” you blink away tears as you start laughing harder, “He just dropped his duffle bag on the ground and shook his head looking around in shock and my mom yelled ‘We made you a pie!’ and my dad just raised his eyebrows and said ‘Sure looks like you made somethin’.”

The last words come out shaky and it isn’t until you feel a pressure on top of one of your hands that you realize you had been grating the cheese down to almost nothing, stealing it from him. Glancing up through blurry vision, tears continue to fall down your cheeks as Steve quietly asks, “But it was good?”

You snort, more tears leaving you as you shake your head no. “It was inedible,” you laugh harder, “Like raw, but somehow dry and clumpy, so bad.”

Steve squeezes your hand, eyebrows furrowing together as his confusion settles deeper in his face and he starts cautiously, “So…you…made an inedible pie for us tonight?”

Your head shakes more and you take a deep breath, laughter and tears slowing. “No, after that, she, um…” closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and push out, “She needed to keep her hands working…” 

When you open your eyes again, Steve’s staring intently at you, waiting. You wonder why he can wait patiently for this story, look at you like he’d wait an eternity for you to tell him the ending, but he couldn’t wait for you. But, would you have wanted him to? When you’re certain that the potential of losing him, all of them, completely, isn’t worth the risk. Would he have waited forever for you to change your mind?

Your voice breaks as you finish, “Her chemo…she started to get neuropathy, and making the crust and keeping her hands and brain busy helped. So she kept practicing until it was perfect. And now it’s one of the last things I have from her. The dish too, we went and searched for the right one…” Fingers of your free hand form quotation marks as you roll your eyes with a laugh, remembering her ridiculous insistence on it and the day of estate sales and thrift stores.  

It’s silent as the unsaid ending washes over you both, the importance - the weight - of the dessert and the story. The immediate need to take it all back rises up in you hard, wishing you could put the entire thing back inside yourself and rewind the last few minutes. The vulnerability leaves you cracked open and exposed to him and you’re not sure you can handle his reaction. 

“I’m sorry,” your brows furrow, “I don’t know why I just…”

Steve’s fingers wrap around yours tighter and he squeezes. Your eyes meet the moss and honey you want to avoid because you’re sure they’re looking at you with that look. The pitying one, the one that everyone gets before they tell you a sorry that doesn’t help. 

But Steve’s eyes shine with something stronger - admiration and amusement as he winces, “So, see, that story tells me that your mom practiced and practiced to make a perfect pie not you and-”

Your hand smacks at his chest lightheartedly, laughing around a protest. Steve holds his hands up in surrender, “Hey, hey, okay!” 

Both of your laughter subsides and he smiles, a genuine smile, one side of his lips twisted up as he looks at the pie then you. “I’m sure it’s great. I’m excited to try it. Thank you for telling me that…I wish I could have met…”

As he trails off, your fingers brush against his on the counter, your bodies shift closer, letting the story and laughter pull you into each other’s gravity once more. Maybe it doesn’t have to be hard - there’s a reason you can fall so easily back into each other. A reason you can offer up a story you normally keep close if he’s the one listening, a reason you can forgive. There has to be a reason your body wants to be closer to his, a reason you want to feel his lips on yours again. Maybe there are cosmic connections, unexplainable phenomena of the universe, fate and destiny and invisible strings. 

Hope flourishes inside of you, it catches on every bounce of his eyes over your face, the way his finger nudges against yours just like they did in that car ride to a lake so many weeks ago. It sparks and drifts into the air, it floats around you like embers from an actual fire as he breathes your name out and your body takes one step closer, making you chest to chest. One easy tilt of your head, one bend from his and maybe it’d all be okay again.  

The doorbell rings, making both of you jump apart. The reality of the situation hits you, like someone dumped an entire bucket of water over the hope as Steve looks toward the door and frowns. You keep letting yourself end up in this position and eventually it’s going to hurt so much you’ll never be able to come back from it. 

You’re not his, he’s not yours, and it’s too late. Another girl calls him baby, he calls her honey, and they go on and have the life you were certain you never wanted - all because you can’t let him in the way he wanted you to. This isn’t a movie, there is no rewind, there is no pause, and it’s time to move on. 

“I’ll go get that, you have cheese to…uh…” 

“Y/N, wait-”

You’re already out of the kitchen, speed walking to the front door. Dreading the girl you’re certain is on the other side, you start to pull your shoes back on. Maybe you could slip out with an excuse and leave. Your destiny isn’t Steve, it’s to always run, to always be alone. 

The door swings open and you look up from your crouched position, one shoe on. Eddie is standing in the doorway, holding a bag of Hawaiian Rolls and looking at you, eyebrows raised in wait.  

He holds open the door and gestures outside as he asks, “Should I leave this open?”

Your stomach swoops, thinking of the chance he’s giving you, the opportunity to do what you want, no questions asked. But your heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears at the opposite side of the coin - the other chance he’s giving you. 

A deep breath is exhaled as you shakily ask, “That depends…are you still knocking?”

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe. Only one way to really find out right?”

Nodding once, you stand. A limped step over to the door with one shoe on, and you close it. Your palm rests flat against the wood as you take another calming breath. The sounds of the others in the kitchen are muffled as you turn around and look up at Eddie. You kick off the shoe, take a step forward, and mime opening a door.

Letting a tear slip past your lash line, you shrug, standing in the metaphorical open doorway and hold your breath. 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Thank god, my arm was getting really tired.”

Another watery laugh starts to escape you and you wrap your arms around him in a hug. “I’m sorry. For everything, for dragging you into all of this and for leading you on and…and…”

He extends his fingers, counting his points as he sighs, “You forgot for being stubborn, for not asking me to be the Inigo to your Buttercup, for-”

“I’m sorry.” You force every ounce of meaning behind the words as you squeeze his waist tighter and he finally meets your hug, long arms wrapping around you. 

“We’re all good sweetheart, don’t sweat it.” He pats your shoulder and takes a step back, cocking his head, “But that’s not all…” he taps his finger to your forehead, “What else is going on up there? Why were you leaving?”

“Y/N, please don’t…” Steve trails off as he comes into the entryway. You duck your head and sniff quietly, hoping there’s no evidence of your tears that escaped and break away as Steve clears his throat. “So-sorry. I thought you were…nevermind.”

Steve turns quickly on his heel, back towards the kitchen where the sounds of Robin and Nancy arguing about something echo louder down the hall. Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes at Steve’s back, and gestures for you to go before him, quietly whispering, “We’ll chat later about that.”

“Why does it smell like that? What did you put in it?” Nancy is bent down, looking at the dish you placed in the oven. Her hair is damp, curls weighed down against her cheeks, but her sleek outfit is back on, sans coat, sleeves rolled up. 

Robin’s hair has a towel twirled on top of it, though she’s otherwise back in her jeans and sweater, her hands on her hips. “I don’t know! I did exactly what you said!”

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, tossing the bread onto the counter. 

“You don’t smell that?” Nancy shakes her head, hand held out to the air in exasperation. 

Steve’s back is to you as he dumps cooked noodles into his pot of melted cheese and Eddie shakes his head no. Your nose starts to wrinkle though the longer you sit in the space. 

Your hands raise, “I swear I just put the marshmallows on.”

It takes Nancy gagging on a bite she tries to eat of the casserole and Steve going through his spices next to his pot to realize Robin used paprika instead of cinnamon. A lot of paprika. 

She throws her hands up in the air as she storms out to the deck, where you’ve all decided it’d be better to eat, bundled up from the cold, than inside trapped with the smell. “You know what, I never asked to cook anything so eat you’ll eat your paprika sweet potatoes and like it!”

As everyone sits at the table, Eddie looks around and asks, “Shouldn’t we wait for one more?”

“What?” Steve asks him, tone a little sharp, sitting down in the seat across from you.

“Your fiance? Isn’t she coming?” Eddie prods, meeting Steve’s cold attitude with an equal sting and rolled back shoulders. 

“I’m sure she was earlier,” Robin mumbles into her wine glass, “Ow.” She glares at Steve who kicks her under the table. 

Nancy rolls her eyes as Steve shakes his head no, clearing his throat, “She’s…we haven’t…she’s with her family already.”

Robin sighs from her spot next to you and your eyes meet Steve’s before jumping down to your plate. The pressure around your heart squeezes even tighter - maybe it was only easy with him because she’s not here, and that is not always going to be the case. Your fingers itch, neck rolling from the tension. You want to get up and walk away, but Eddie’s knee nudges yours and your shoulders relax slightly. 

Nancy raises her glass, changing the subject, “Okay, before we dig in, I want to say that I’m very grateful for you all, and here’s to many more years of Friendsgiving.” She smiles at Robin when she uses the name. 

Robin beams, holding her glass up too, “Here, here! Now everyone take two scoops of the potatoes.”

Glasses clink and laughter shared, it's easy for you to believe Nancy. Easy with Steve smiling across from you and Eddie and Robin bickering about the food next to you, with her not there, to believe that you’ll be a part of their stories. Maybe - 

“So, Dingus, it’s time to spill all the details about Leigh.” Robin leans forward on the table, her eyebrows raised as Steve’s glass pauses halfway to his mouth. “We don’t know anything and you’re getting married in like five months.”

Nancy and Eddie’s bites and glasses also freeze, not so discreet looks at you from both of them. Nancy finishes swallowing and shakes her head, “Robin, we know enough! Let Steve-”

“No we don’t! I don’t know how you met, or if she’s moved in, and how he proposed and why on earth he didn’t tell his best friend! I have him cornered finally and you’re all gonna help me. Don’t act like you guys don’t want to know either!”

“Robin,” Steve starts licking his lips as he looks at her then you, “Can we not do this right now?”

“Time’s up bub,” Robin frowns, shaking her head, “I promise we like her, she’s cool. But you’ve been dodging the questions and me for weeks now. Start with the easy one, how’d you meet?”

Steve looks at you like he’s in physical pain and you look down at the liquid in your wine glass, swirling the red wine around as you wait for the story that is sure to kill you. You wish he’d just rip the band-aid off, get it over with.  

“We, uh, met through my parents.” Steve swallows a large gulp of wine. 

Your head whips up at the comment and Steve stares at you, frowning before he looks up at the sky. 

Robin’s brows furrow as she asks, “Your parents?” Equally shocked as you are. It isn’t a secret that Steve and his parents aren’t always on the same page. 

Steve rubs at his forehead, closing his eyes before he sets the wine glass down. He straightens, rolling his shoulders back, “Okay, it’s all going to come out anyways so…our parents set us up. It’s been arranged for awhile, we didn’t really date or anything, we’re getting married because that’s what we do. She’s from a good family and I’m from a good family, it makes sense. For business and life and…that’s it.”

The table is silent as Steve’s lips twist, waiting for someone to say something.

Your heartbeat isn’t loud in your ears, your stomach doesn’t swoop - it’s like all noise has left the planet. It’s like someone actually hit pause as his explanation and the last few months catch up with each other in your brain until they meet in a loud explosion. It’s an actual glass shattering sound effect. Heartbreak and hope and disbelief and anger swell inside of you like a wave ready to devour anyone who was stupid enough to enter the unpredictable ocean. 

It’s surprising to everyone, including yourself, when you’re the one to break the silence. The question leaves you so quietly, you weren’t even certain you asked it out loud until he looked at you. 

“So you’re not in love with her?”

As Steve stares at you, the table floats away, it’s just you and him. His mouth parts, but no response falls from it. You stand abruptly, chair scraping against the wood deck harshly as you push back, muttering something about needing to put the dessert into the oven. Your stomach that’s been twisted into knots for months feels like someone pulled one loose thread and it’s unraveling inside of you. A box of bouncy balls released, an unpredictable canon of confetti, trapeze artists, butterflies, boulders, and a deep ocean swallowing you. All of it, finally coming together and creating catastrophe. 

It’s like every single moment you’ve been angry with him is turned up to eleven, but so is every look and touch. Every single one feels like a lie, a slap to your face - he was just using you because he was indecisive, scared, afraid to give up his single life. Steve Harrington was just like every other man. Your entire last few months swirl around inside your brain, replaying every moment, every emotion like a favorite movie. But it’s like someone took that film and told you every single thing wrong with it. Like they pointed out how everything you loved was just covering up the real and horrible plot - bright lights and pretty sets to convince everyone they had a good time, when in reality it was cheaply made and not worth it. 

Your hands shake as you start to rip at the foil covering the pie, and his voice calls out behind you, “Please let me answer that question. Please let me explain.”

A scoff leaves you, eyes closing as you bite back, “It’s fine Steve. Clearly I was just some placeholder for you the whole time.”

“Placeholder?”

You spin, hands in the air as you search for words to make him see how much this hurts you. “Yeah, yes. Some, I don’t know. Last hurrah!”

“What?” The word comes out sharp, like he truly doesn’t understand what you’re saying. His cheeks are pink, his hair blown from the wind outside, eyes wide and blinking at you like you’re crazy.

“You heard me! I was just some fun fuck before you sealed the deal on your spoiled brat fate.”

Steve’s mouth falls open, then quickly closes, taking a step closer, hands clenched into fists as his brows furrow. His jaw tightens with each word, “I’m not a spoiled brat!”

Another scoff, a cold laugh as you wave your hand again. “Oh please Steve! You used me to bide your time and prolong the inevitable! You were just avoiding looking at the contract you signed!”

Steve stands over you, both of your chests rising and falling in time, the air inside the kitchen warmer from the oven being on all day and your words shouted at each other - the sparks leaping from your bodies and engulfing each other. 

“I didn’t use you! You offered! It was all your idea! I’m so sick of this-”

You shove at his chest and he grabs your wrists, as you mock him, voice dripping with fake pity, “Oh, poor Steve Harrington. I have to get married and say goodbye to my single life, but let me use this girl-”

“This isn’t about me, I have to make decisions that affect my whole family, I can’t just say no! And what was I supposed to do? The person I want doesn’t want me!” HIs voice cracks as he drops your hands, fire cracking and sizzling between you both. His admission, the chance to tell him he’s wrong, that you do want him, makes your heart beat turn rapid, like it’s actually trying to punch its way out of your body. 

You shake your head, pushing down the flames of hope threatening to burn you alive, pushing him away. “You saw an opportunity to postpone but not fully deny. It’s fine Steve, I get it. It was the safe option.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Grabbing the pie, you sob, “Security. Money. You couldn’t say no to them. And then when I offered to fuck you no strings attached? Man,” you scoff out another laugh around your tears, “You probably thought you won the lottery, huh?”

Steve grabs for the pie, his eyes wet as he shakes his head. Voice hoarse as he argues, “You’re so unbelievably wrong. I couldn’t fucking wait for you to maybe, hopefully, open up one day! I have to move on! And it’s not like she’s a bad person, and I don’t know why we’re arguing about this again, because clearly you’re with Eddie.”

You tug harder on the dish but Steve doesn’t release as you cry out, “Oh! No! Don’t even try that! Eddie and I aren’t together and we never were! You’re using that as an excuse! Tell me Steve. Tell me you love her, that you want to marry her.”

“I-”

“Is that what your future looks like? Huh? Ten years down the road, it’s her? That’s what you imagined and not your parents?”

“Y/N, it’s not that simple!”

“It is! What do you want, Steve?”

You need him to tell you and he needs you to tell him and neither of you will - because you’re scared, stubborn. Two suns burning too hot and close together, and it was inevitable for it to end this way. You both stood on the edge of that cliff and saw the end you’d meet and you jumped anyway. Was it worth it? 

“I can’t believe you two.” 

This is the moment. 

It wasn’t when he showed up at the football game with her. It wasn’t the party. It wasn’t the engagement.

It’s the look Robin is giving you both from her spot in the doorway. It’s the pie and the glass dish hitting the floor in shards of sapphire blue and orange peaches. It’s Steve and you both turning to her, shaking your heads no, saying her name in the same pleading way.

Her bright blue eyes turn to glass as she chokes around a tearful laugh, “I knew, I knew you both were hiding something, I just…why? Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

Nancy reaches for Robin’s wrist, “Robin, they didn’t mean to…”

Robin recoils, swiping at her cheeks. She looks at Nancy, then at Steve whose head falls, his hands in his hair. Eddie looks down too when Robin turns to him and she steps back again. “Everyone knew, huh? You all have been lying to me this entire time? Why? I don’t…” She shakes her head again and runs past you both, down the hall and slams the door. 

Steve starts to go after her when a small frame stands in front of him like she’s twice his size, hand pressing to his chest. Fury burns in Nancy’s eyes as she blocks the hallway. Her voice low and far more angry than you’ve heard it be before. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“Nance, come on, that’s not fair,” Steve steps forward again and when she stops him with two hands now, his voice turns sharper, “Don’t act like you’re the only one who cares about her.”

“Yeah, well you’ve got a funny way of showing it Steve.” Nancy looks at you, “I think you should leave. All of you.”

Eddie grabs your elbow, speaking quietly, “I can drive you home.”

Steve laughs, “Oh, I’m sure you can.”

“Steve,” you start and he interrupts you, hands running down his face. 

“No. It’s fine. It’s all my fault right? I’m the only one in the wrong?” He pushes past you, shoulder hitting Eddie’s hard and the door slamming even more so behind him. Pictures rattle against the wall, Nancy and her family's smiling faces tilted in their frame. The world turned off its axis. 

It’s Nancy’s quiet knock from down the hall, Robin’s shouted ‘leave her alone’ and Eddie’s sigh of ‘fucking, christ’. It’s that there you stand, the door closed behind him, the mess you made, literally, surrounding you. 

This, the consequences of all of your actions - is the double tap. 

You let the mess build, you let the avoided truths take deeper roots and spread lies to cover them up. All because you wanted the hope to stay - you wanted it both ways - despite telling yourself different, despite lying to yourself for months.

Now, it’s too late. You’re just a girl who isn’t in a rom com with a happy ending. You’re alone, and the hope that maybe you wouldn’t be for once isn’t just gone, it’s ripped from your fingers. 

The book is closed. The knife drips in the killer’s hand as the victim’s chest stops heaving. The spacesuit floats through a noiseless and lifeless galaxy. The body doesn’t get up from the mats and a silence falls over the crowd. 

“Fuck!”

Your hands smack the steering wheel, a sob leaving you as your forehead falls against it. 

You’ve been driving around for hours, hopeless. Your heart hasn’t stopped its erratic and hard beats since you ran out of Nancy’s. Somehow your body still courses with adrenaline, fight or flight still at war inside of yourself. Every time you think about the look Robin had on her face, every time you think about how much you hurt her, or how you may not see her again, you feel real, visceral, pain and panic. Your hands start shaking, the crying starts its cycle over from scratch, and you have to pull over until the snot sobbing stage settles into a calm, sort of silent cry. 

This is a mess, and it’s your mess. Despite wanting to put all of the blame on Steve, you simply can’t run from this truth anymore. It was you who came up with the plan. Steve was hesitant immediately, bringing Robin’s thoughts up right away. It was you who came up with the Red Hot Ranch code, who kept going. It was you who called it off and started it up again despite knowing how it would all inevitably end. It feels like you pushed Steve off the cliff and thought it was okay because you were diving after him. 

As you stare out the windshield, you know you have to stop running. Eddie’s words ring through the air.

Open the fucking door. Nobody’s leaving you.

You have to at least try, right? You have to apologize to her, to tell her it was all your fault so if she at least doesn’t forgive you, maybe you can offer a crack in the door to her forgiveness for the others. The others who simply got caught up in your lies, tripping over the tangled knot of roots they took.  

You’re certain Robin and you met how and when you did not by chance, the universe gave you each other for a reason. You’re certain that there are soul mates, they’re just not in the form you always suspect. And you’re certain that if you don’t try to make things right, you’ll be miserable and truly alone for the rest of your life.

Robin once told you that she was there, and that she would be there when you were ready and you hope the offer still stands. Maybe you can’t make everything right, you can’t rewind, but you have to at least try to make the ending bearable. 

When you turn the key in the ignition though, your car sputters. Your face twists into an expression of disbelief, only deepening when it does it again and your mouth falls open in shock when it suddenly starts to rain, mixing with snow that melts immediately on the ground. You laugh, looking out the windshield at the bleak and miserable sky, washing out the city in a dull gray. 

“Of fucking course,” you mumble under your breath. Getting out of the car, you sigh as you lock it. You shield your eyes as you stare up at the sky and laugh, “You’re real funny. Great joke.”

Maybe it was a sign from the universe that you needed to really work for it, maybe it was bad karma, maybe you really deserved it, maybe it was even supposed to be a blessing - washing away the past to clear the slate for the future. 

Regardless of reason, you don’t take the train, and you make the slow and wet walk back to where you came from. 

The buzzer for her place rings with no answer. You know that she’s home because the light is on, and you intercepted her take out. 

“Buckley I’ll keep buzzing, your egg rolls are getting cold!”

When she doesn’t answer again, you sigh, pressing your wet forehead to the cold brick and hold it down again, pulling out the big guns. “Okay, Robin, I, listen. I am so sorry. And if you want to hate me and never see me again, that’s totally fine, I understand. Because honestly, I am…I am scum for lying to you. I am pond scum. I’m lower than pond scum. I am the fungus that feeds on the pond scum.”

You release the buzzer and when there still isn’t a click of her responding your chin trembles. Maybe you really did fuck it up that badly and there is no coming back from this. It was silly of you to think she’d ever forgive you, especially when she has Steve. You’re about to set the food down and buzz again to tell her you’ll leave when the front door opens. 

“You’re lower actually.” 

A sob leaves you as Robin stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her favorite Hawkins Band sweatshirt. The fuzzy lime green socks with banjos on them that you got her for her birthday on her feet.  

You nod, swiping at your tears with a free hand. “You’re right. Lower than the fungus. I’m the pus that infects the mucus that cruds up the fungus that feeds on the pond scum.”

Robin’s lips twitch, but she rolls her eyes before they look at the ground. “Quoting Julia Roberts is really unfair. You know how much of a sucker I am for her. Cheap shot.”

A crack in the tightness in your chest starts to pry open as you whisper, “I almost bought roses and had this plan to blare classical music from my car but it broke down and…well, here I am anyways, asking for forgiveness and a chance to explain.”

She raises her eyebrows, waiting, and your chin trembles as your voice shakes, “Robin I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to lie to you about it all for so long. And there were so many times I wanted to tell you. I was selfish and wrong and scared I would lose you - that you’d pick his side and shut me out - but I’m here trying now…please don’t hate me forever. And don’t hate Steve. He did nothing wrong. Or Nancy, or Eddie. It was all me and I’m so, so, so, sorry, please let me explain everything and give me another chance to be even half the amazing friend that you are.”

It’s silent, for what feels like forever, until her eyes meet yours. Shining from tears and her nose wiggles as she sniffles, “You were going to Pretty Woman me?”

You nod, tears roll down your cheeks and mingle with the rain that coats them. 

Robin sighs, choking on her own tears as she laughs, “You just get me.”

She engulfs you in a hug and both of you cry into each other’s shoulders as she says, “I’m still mad you all lied. You’re not off the hook. I think giving me limitless veto power for movie nights is extremely fair and nonnegotiable.” 

Your body feels lighter than it has in months as your arm tightens around her as you agree with a teary laugh, whispering another apology while silently vowing to never let her go. It doesn’t matter what happens next, because at least you have her, and you know you always will. 

Robin trips on a heel as she emerges from her closet. Tilting your head at the dress she holds up, your nose scrunches as you shake your head no. 

She sighs, throwing it on the no pile and groans, “Ugh! This is hopeless!”

As she flops onto her bed with a huff, you laugh and swap places with her, “No, no, come on. Tell me again.”

Robin sits up, staring at her dresser with a furrow forming under her bangs. “I want to look professional, put together, but not like it’s an interview, you know? I want them to take me seriously, but I want to look like me. Ergo, I am doomed.”

Your fingers trail over her clothes, eyes searching again after they roll. “Ergo, you’ve been facetiming Dustin too much.”

A black dress catches your eyes, velvet and cinched at the waist. Pulling it from her closet you hold it up. “What about this? I’ve never seen you wear it. Is it new?”

Her head tilts, “Huh. I forgot I bought that for…” she trails off and looks at you with a sad smile. “Right. Yeah, you don’t think it’s too low cut?”

You shake your head no, taking a deep breath at her change of subject, thoughts drifting to if she bought it for the wedding or something related to it. Maybe you could ask, but you’ve sort of had a non-verbal agreement to not discuss Steve the last month and it’s been working. After explaining everything to her, including how you felt about him getting married, your complicated feelings, it just felt easier to not discuss anything relating to him. 

“Throw a nice necklace on, you’ll be perfect babe,” you make an a-okay symbol with your fingers, “The Wheeler’s aren’t gonna know what hit em.” You smile and look at the clock on her nightstand, handing the dress out to her, “Get to it though, or you’ll be late.”

Robin makes no move to get up, holding the dress in her hands and staring at it. 

She shakes her head no. “I can’t do this.”

Sitting next to her, the bed bounces lightly and you grab her hand. “You absolutely can do this. It’s just meeting the parents and siblings, all of whom you’ve met already.”

“But not as her girlfriend. When I met them she wasn’t even out. What if they hate me? What if I spill something? What if I order the wrong wine?”

Laughing, you hold her panicking face in your hands, taking a deep breath to encourage her to do so too. “Robin. Breathe.”

She does, her exhale shaky and you smile, head tilting as you let her face go, fixing a curl you smooshed. “You really love her don’t you.”

It’s not a question, but Robin answers anyway. She nods vehemently, words tumbling out of her like she can’t help it. “God so much it’s scary. But also not? I want to spend every second with her. I want to tell her about every dumb little thought that pops into my head and I want to hear what she ate for lunch every day. I want to wake up and fall asleep next to her and that’s insane! How can you love a person like that so quickly? Like everything in your body is screaming for it? It’s…it’s that kind of love I’ve only heard about before? That kind of love…” she trails off, maroon polished fingers covering her smile before she keeps going, “It’s easier than breathing. It is breathing, you know?”

As she says the words that prick at something inside of you, prodding on thoughts you’d locked away, her skin pales, looking like she’s going to be sick. “Oh my god I really can’t do this. I can’t-”

“Robin. One step at a time. Change your outfit, you can do that right?”

She laughs, head falling to your shoulder, a sing-song lilt to her voice, “We’ve been here before.”

“Yeah and look at what happened.”

Robin sits up, biting her lip, nodding once and standing. “Right.”

As she changes, you assess her jewelry box. Your eyes roam over the mirror of her vanity, smiling at the pictures. You pause at the one of her and Steve that’s new to you. He has his tongue out, her arm around him and your fingers touch the corner, an ache in your chest wondering what they were doing and what stories they’ll have from the day. 

“Have you talked to him?”

Her question startles you and your shoulders lift. Clearing your throat, you hold the necklace out to her. “No, um, I haven’t. He’s good?”

Robin starts to hook the necklace as she hums, “I think so. It’s hard to tell some days.” She hesitates, her face pinched into a familiar look to you, the one that looks like she’s physically holding words in, a true test for her. She bends down to buckle her heels as she asks, “Is it always going to be this way? Avoiding talking about each other? Seeing each other?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just need some time. I’ll be okay.” Shrugging with a smile, you grab your purse and coat. 

Robin’s blue eyes sparkle under shimmering gold eyeshadow and she tilts her head, a smile forming on her lips as she nods, confident in her words, “You will be. One step at a time.”

“Cute,” you muse, and take a step back. You twirl your fingers for her to spin and she rolls her eyes but obliges. The black velvet dress cuts off at her calves, hugging her curves in a sexy but modest way and the gold pendant on her necklace matches the blocky old-fashioned heels. You yell out, “Ow-ow!” 

Robin laughs, waving you off and grabs her phone. “Okay picture!”

“Ew, Robin no! You look so good and I am literally in my sweatshirt with the mustard stain on it.” 

She shushes you, “Tough tater tots toots.”

She pulls you in as you laugh, both of you easily falling into a goofy pose as she snaps a selfie. She nods her approval and grabs her coat, “Oh yeah, that one’s definitely going on the board.” She clicks her phone closed and you both head towards the stairwell. 

As you step out of her apartment building, Nancy is getting out of an Uber, an emerald peacoat wrapped around her and she stops, eyes only on Robin. 

“Hi,” she whispers, smiling, “Wow. You’re so beautiful.”

Robin’s face turns as red as her nails and you duck your head. “Well, I think that’s my cue to leave. Have a good night,” you squeeze Nancy’s hand, “Tell your brother and El hey from me?”

She squeezes it back, confirming she will, and holds the door open for Robin, then jogs around to the other side and you have to smile at her lack of wanting to scoot across the seat or maybe it’s just her old fashioned, secret romantic side coming out. 

As you start to walk away, you hear your name and spin back around, Robin is leaning out of the window, smiling wide as she asks, “Benny’s tomorrow? 10?”

“I expect a full report!” You cross your arms over your chest, fore and middle fingers crossed in a good luck to her that she mirrors as the car drives away. 

The walk to the train from there is short, your car still out of commission, and you pop your airpods in, debating how your evening will go. Eddie is already home for Christmas with his uncle in Indiana, Robin and Nancy together tonight, and Steve…

Before them, an evening alone like this never would have bothered you. Eating what you wanted to eat, watching what you wanted to watch - you got good at being alone, enjoying it actually. Now, there’s a funny little feeling that pulls at a thread inside of you, trying to unravel the work you’ve done. 

As you wait for the train, pulling your winter hat tighter over your ears, you watch a couple come up the stairs. They have shopping bags in their hands, dressed in warm, wool coats. Giggly, pink cheeks, gloved hands clinging to each other. They sit just down from where you stand against the railing when you get on, huddled together as they look at a map on his phone, and you wonder what their story is - where they were, where they’re going, and if they love each other. It seems like they do, and you wonder if it’s the kind of love Robin explained.

How can anyone love like that aside from fictional people in the movies? How can you love someone so deeply and intensely, without fear of it being ripped away?

But maybe people do fear it being ripped away, and they love regardless. Fear doesn’t make love disappear, it makes it stronger. Because what if that person is gone one day? What if you never told them how you felt? What if you never even got the chance to see if you could love like that? Isn’t it better to try than never know?

As you look out the train doors, the sky is turning a soft pink and purple. The sun is setting over the city in one of those perfect nights, slow, like each color being revealed is a purposeful brushstroke, hand painted. A sign. 

Sunsets. Steve. A good song. Steve. Your friends. Steve. Your family. Steve. 

Easier than breathing. 

An undeniable, unavoidable, unforgiving wave of heartbreak rolls over you. But it’s not alone, it’s hope, it’s questions and answers, it’s relief and clarity and you know what you have to do. 

You unlock your phone, a desperation and need to get all of it out now, fueling each press of your thumbs to the screen. Maybe the story is wrong, but you’re the main character, narrator, and author and you can change it if you just put in the work to do so. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks, and you let them, unashamed, finally free of the place you’ve kept them locked away. Pressing send on the message, you hold your breath, hoping she’s not already too preoccupied with Nancy. 

The train doors open and you rush down the stairs. Each step slams against the sidewalk, sending shocks up your spine, cold air filling your lungs as each stride brings you closer to him, but not fast enough. You have to try to change the story, you have to tell him.  

But when his location is just out of your reach, when you see him, you slow down. 

Steve stands beneath the gold twinkling lightbulbs of the old brick theater, the white marquee sign displaying the title ‘When Harry Met Sally’. He has a black beanie on, hair sticking out and curling slightly. A dark gray peacoat flutters against the back of his thighs in the wind, open to reveal the yellow sweater he has on and your feet come to a skidding stop. His phone is pressed to his ear as he looks up from where he was scuffing his Nike against the sidewalk and makes eye contact with you. 

Your heart beat has thoroughly been replaced again as your hands start to shake, each slow step to him stretched out and lingering, lasting for what feels like minutes instead of seconds. 

What if. What if. What if.

The phone slips, hand falling to his side. His brows furrow just under his hat and you want to reach forward and brush the worry away with your thumb. His greeting leaves him quietly, a puff of his breath and the word floating in the air just a few feet from you.

 “Hi.”

Gesturing with a trembling hand to the sign above that you can no longer see, fully under the gold lights, you blurt out, “Did you know that it came out in 89’? So technically it’s a bad 80s rom com. I was wrong.”

Steve shakes his head, the twinkle of the lights highlighting the brown in his eyes, warm and sweet and deeply confused as he starts, “What are you-”

“I was wrong about a lot of things, Steve. And I know I’m late in saying that. I know I’m late for a lot more, but I think it’s better to say it late, to say it now, than to never tell you and wonder for the rest of my life.”

Steve’s lips part, your name a whisper on them, but you take a deep inhale and prepare to get it all out fast and without fear of needing a breath akin to the way Robin speaks, just so you can leave yourself open and vulnerable despite knowing that it could, and most likely will, hurt. 

“I’m sorry if Leigh is inside or she’s gonna be here soon, but I have to tell you. I…Steve I’m sorry. I wanted to be friends with benefits because I was selfish. You were right. I wanted it both ways. At first, you were just this guy who was hot and funny and knew what he was doing and I didn’t want to lose that. But then, then I got to know you and that’s when it got complicated, because I really didn’t want to lose you then.” You swallow as Steve freezes in front of you, no longer stepping towards you and his shoulders hunch like he’s holding his breath as you keep going.

“I wanted you, but I was scared to commit, scared that if I did commit, I’d lose you all anyways. And I still am scared. Terrified,” you laugh a little as tears start to roll down your cheeks, “But I think being scared is worth it if I’m doing it with you. Because…” Inhaling, you take a step closer as Steve blinks at you, willing the words to keep coming.

“Because I think we could be something special if we gave it a real chance. And I think that we can’t know what’s going to happen, maybe it all blows up in our faces, but at least we tried and we’ll know and we won’t spend our lives wondering what if.” Tears blur your vision as you leave it all out there, words that feel like they’ve wanted to tumble out of you forever just keep coming, faster and faster, your hands gesturing wildly with each one, stepping closer and closer to him.

“And I want to try so badly Steve. I want to hold your hand in public and go on dates and tease you and make memories with you and I think we could fall in love, I think I was already starting to. Like real love. Like that undeniable, scary, kind of love, and I’m sorry you’ll have to wait for me to get there to say it, but if you give it a chance…I think we’re worth the wait. I don’t care that I’m saying all of this too late, I don’t care that you’re getting married because at least I said it and if you wanna stand up there and say I do to her in May then that’s fine, I can move on, maybe, I think, because at least I’ll know I tried and-”

“Woah, woah, woah.” 

Steve grabs your shaking hands, interrupting you. Cedar and mint hit your nose as you inhale, his cologne lingering on his scarf. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. One hand leaves yours, fingers curling under your chin as he murmurs, “I’m not getting married.”

“You’re…” you hiccup a laugh through your tears, “What?”

He tilts his head and clears his throat, repeating it as his thumb brushes a tear from your cheek, fingers squeezing your hand. “I’m not getting married.”

“You’re not getting married,” you repeat it again, quieter, letting the words sink in. 

Steve shakes his head no, the back of his knuckles brushing more tears from your cheek as he lets out a shaky breath. “I called it off the day after…after everything.”

“Oh,” you swallow, eyes blinking up at him under wet lashes as the reality of the extremely vulnerable words you practically just shouted at him sit unreciprocated still, unable to be taken back. 

Steve’s lips twitch on the right, like he’s fighting a smile, eyebrows furrowed deeper as he sighs, “Yeah. Quit my job too.”

“What? Steve, why, what-”

His fingers trace your jaw as he shakes his head again, rolling his eyes but the smile fighting on his lips wins. “This girl that drives me crazy basically quoted The Notebook scene at me and I decided I’d rather have the life I wanted, have her, or have nothing at all. But I didn’t think she felt the same way, and I wasn’t going to push her again.”

You smile, a laugh bubbling out of you as you shake your head, “You’re crazy about me?”

Steve laughs, his hat bumping yours as your foreheads touch. You drop his hand, both of yours pressing to the soft yellow material against his chest. His breath warm against your cheek as you ask, “So what happens now?”

He pulls away, forehead leaving yours and creating a small space between the two of you, you already want closed again. The lights make the green almost disappear from his eyes, golden, sunshine pulling you in and making you beg for more of it to light you up, a tether, your gravity, just like they’ve always been. 

Steve clears his throat, hands reaching up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing over the apples of them as he declares, “Well, rule number one, we tell Robin.”

“Deal,” you tilt your head, playing his game. Your hands slowly crawl up his chest, wrapping around his neck, playing with the collar of the coat as you throw out, “Pet names?”

Steve nods dramatically, pinching his eyes closed, “Oh yeah. So many.” He leans in, nose tracing up the line of yours slowly, foreheads knocking together as the tips of your shoes meet. “I’m gonna call you babe and honey loudly at the grocery store for no reason other than I can.”

“Yeah?” Your top lip hits his with the lift of your smile and question.

He nods. “Yeah.”

Steve’s hands cup the back of your head, tilting you open for him as he ducks down, mouth hovering above yours as he speaks like you’re the only two people in the world. 

“But right now? Right now I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Which bad 90s rom com you steal that one out of, Harrington?” You whisper against his lips. 

Steve smiles, gaze tracing the curve of your lips then meeting yours as he takes a deep breath. 

“You liked it.” 

And maybe the marquee lights twinkle above you a little brighter as you finally meet in a kiss. Maybe snowflakes start drifting down from the clouds lazily, covering everything in a fresh start right at the moment his hands wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your back arching from the passion of his kiss. Maybe a terrible top forty song blares out of someone’s car as it drives past, your foot popping off the pavement a little when he pulls away for a breath only to lean and kiss you deeper and slower. 

The universe can’t guarantee anything for you and Steve, but it is giving you a chance. There is nothing, not even love, that can keep away the inevitable struggle, heartbreak, or loss life will be sure to throw at you. Which is scary, but doing it together, his hand in yours, makes it less so. Yes, it won’t always be easy, but the hard work you’ll both put in when it isn’t, means it’s real. There is no one other than yourselves who can decide if your relationship could be like the movies. The two of you are the only ones that can calculate if there’s still time for a happy ending in your story. Only Steve and you can be certain that the fear of heartbreak or pain is worth taking the risk, because if you don’t, if you let the chance slip away, you’ll never know if one day you could have called it love. 

WCIL Taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii @silkholland @redbarn1995

#we'll call it love #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrinton fic #stranger things fanfic

[harrys-titties]

“I can’t- I need to go home.” 

“No, don���t go.” He reaches toward her but stops himself just before he grabs her, bringing his arm back towards his body like the very thought of pulling Y/N back to him burned. 

She turns to him, tears brimming. “I-, no! I can’t do this anymore, Harry.” He watches as she wipes a tear. She hadn’t looked at him since they’d returned to his apartment. “All the big sighs, the angry looks. You clearly hate Xander, or maybe you hate me being here.” She chooses this point to look him dead in the eye, and Harry feels his stomach turn. 

“But you won’t say it. I keep- I thought you would but you haven’t. So what the fuck am I meant to do, huh Harry?” 

There’s no confusion in Harry’s voice when he speaks, only a sort of dejection that Y/N hates. She hates all of this! Harry was never supposed to be the person she had this conversation with. 

“Say what, YN?” 

That you love me. 

It’s on the tip of her tongue, just begging to come out. But Y/N knows this is one of those sentences that she couldn’t take back, one that would change the dynamic between them forever. She didn’t want to be responsible for that. So she says nothing and lets Harry read the frustration and begging in her eyes instead. 

The silence settles over the room, so long and thick it begins to choke her. 

It’s Harry who speaks again. “Yet you won’t say it either,” he shakes his head. “What do you want me to tell you, Y/N? That I love you being with him? That I’ve always imagined you coming here and the person you ending up with being the one person I can’t stand? What did you expect exactly?” 

“Plea-.” She opens her mouth to speak, but Harry had never spoken to her like this before, and the fear of losing him snakes up her throat and squeezes. 

“Do you want me to be happy for you? Because fine, if that’s what it takes, then so be it, but I’m not gonna be happy for him. And I’m not going to be happy that he took you away from me. And I’m never going to forgive him or accept him because he’s not and never will be good enough for you.” Harry hates the hurt that spills from her eyes.

But what was he supposed to say, that he was in love with her? He couldn’t. How could anyone say something like that so brazenly? This wasn’t a movie. She wasn’t going to run into Harry’s arms in the rain and forget the fiancé left in New York. Harry couldn’t be the Noah to Y/N’s Allie because she didn’t choose him. She’d never chosen him. 

She chose Xander, and Harry loved her too much to force her into making a decision she shouldn’t have had to. 

“I need to leave.” 

Harry sniffs, nodding like he was trying to convince himself she’d just said that. He lets the disappointment sink to his stomach and stew, beginning to feel sick with the implication that she was making her final choice, and he wasn’t it. Maybe he was never in the running and had only let himself believe it. 

“Okay.” 

Opening the door for her, he stood looking at the floor, waiting for her to walk past him so he could close it and try to forget how she’d looked at him twenty seconds ago. 

“Harry- please.” He looks at her then, and a tear threatening to fall from his eye causes him to clear his throat, “What, Y/N? Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, please.” 

She still doesn’t move. 

“I- I’m so scared, Harry.” It’s whispered so softly that he knows he would never have heard her if he wasn’t straining his ears, praying she’d admit she loved him.  

“Scared of what?” 

She laughs, but neither of them sees humour in any of this. “Of fucking up and losing you. Of hurting Xander and doing something I can’t take back. I’m scared of it not working out and losing both of you at once. Which is selfish, I know, but I can’t help it.” 

She looks so scared, so vulnerable that Harry is immediately transported back to their days at University. The hours they spent drunk sitting on the floor of her dorm room, the thousands of tears they’d wiped off of each other’s faces, every time Harry had thought of kissing her, and all the times he knew she was thinking the same thing. This gut-wrenching, spine-twisting feeling was exactly the same as when he’d told her he was moving. When her eyes held the same dullness they do now, every gaze and blink screaming that he’d betrayed her. 

“He’s not good enough for you, he won’t- he can’t take care of you the way that-" he gulps, “the way that I could.” 

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry #harry styles writing #writing #am i feeling dramatic today? yes xxx #is this cringey and overdramatic? ALSO yes #love u all as always

[twoelectrichearts]

Noah Schnapp is literally beyond evil. Like, spawn of satan level of evil. He only deserves to suffer for the rest of his existence. How dare he have empathy for innocent civilians in Israel and Palestine. First of all, there’s no such thing as innocent Israeli civilians. Second of all, you can't have empathy for both. Especially if he is a Zionist. All the Jewish people who identify as Zionists are evil. Israel has absolutely no right to exist and Jewish people have no right to exist in Israel. So many Jewish people who are Zionists claim that’s what Zionism means to them but they’re wrong. Zionism is pure evil. You can’t be Zionist and want peace and self determination for Palestinians. I’m not Jewish but I definitely know better than the Jewish Zionists who claim that. They’re all evil lying monsters. They want every Palestinian wiped off the face of the Earth. Hamas would never want such a thing. It’s not like they had a charter that said that about Jewish people. Even if they did, they supposedly recently changed it to Zionists instead so it’s all good now. Hamas is totally accepting of Jewish people now and would welcome them with open arms as long as they aren’t Zionist. Noah, if you’re a Zionist, don’t be anymore. You can change your evil ways. Hamas changed. Yeah, they may have killed civilians and taken hundreds hostage, they may have said October 7th was just the beginning and that it was going to happen over and over again, but they’re no longer antisemitic. They’re just anti Zionist so they’re good people now. You can change and be good too. You’re so young. There’s still hope for you. Stop lying and telling us how you want peace and self determination for Palestinians. We all know that’s not true. It can only be true if you aren’t Zionist.

You liking something like this makes absolutely no sense if you’re Zionist. I bet you don’t even agree with it and just liked it by accident or something. It’s crazy how I even managed to come across this months ago considering nobody talked about it or brought it to light. You liking that sketch of people in the LGBTQ+ community simping over Hamas got so much attention and caused so much outrage though. Funny how the internet works. Anyways, as a bisexual, I was so offended by that video. Hamas are well known LGBTQ+ allies. How could you like that video as someone who’s gay? It’s probably because you’re lying about being gay too. Shame on you.

Last thing I’m gonna say is fuck Israel and fuck Israelis. That country and all the people living there are evil. They’re all colonizers and occupiers. It needs to cease to exist and all the people currently living there need to go back to where they originally came from. All of them came from Europe, right? That’s what I’ve been hearing. They all need to return to Europe. Gosh, why’d they ever leave there in the first place? I know Jewish people say otherwise but they’re wrong. They’re either lying or in denial. They’re not indigenous to Israel. They’re indigenous to Europe. Us non Jewish people really need to educate them more about their own history, religion, ethnicity, etc. We need to teach them what antisemitism actually is. A lot of them don’t seem to understand what it is. We do that to every other minority group that we aren’t apart of, right?

#this post is sarcastic in case you can’t tell #bottled this up for so long and finally exploded lol #gotta learn to just not give a shit #noah schnapp #will byers #byler #I guess I’m also a terrible human being for having empathy for every innocent person affected #Netanyahu hamas and the idf suck #all terrorist groups and militaries suck #they shouldn’t even be a thing #one of the many reasons this world can’t be peaceful #I wish we all could live in peace but that’s never been reality and will never be reality because this world is terrible #if there actually was a god why would they allow all these horrible things to happen? #this is why I’m a former catholic turned atheist #stranger things #I can’t think of anyone more perfect to portray Will #actual gay actor playing gay character #love the representation #so many people who don’t personally know Will demonize him bully him and call him slurs #so many people who don’t personally know Noah demonize him bully him and call him slurs #thank goodness they both have family and friends who care about them and love them #antisemitism

[wakeupthemembersofbylernation]

It is not even that Mlvns are homophobic. I mean, many of the toxic ones are. We’ve all seen them and interacted with them and received hate anons from them. When Noah’s article officially confirming Will’s sexuality dropped during the summer, people were literally tweeting slurs and fantasizing about him being hate-crimed or dying from AIDS. (It’s probably unfair to group Mlvns in with these people, as lots of them weren’t even Mlvns, just bigoted GA members and trolls). But still. It was bleak. There’s a deep darkness within the ST fandom undeniably.

But I’m sure many Mlvns/Byler-antis are the types of people who genuinely have no problem with queer people in real life. When we call them out on their bigotry and homophobia, they get confused and say, “But I have gay friends! How am I homophobic for not liking Byler?” And they mean it 100%. They really do have gay friends. They probably consider themselves allies and yada yada.

The issue is that A) they are deeply heteronormative without realizing it, and B) they simply aren’t the target audience for the show, and as such, they don’t really understand or connect to the themes of the show. The thing is, lots of people, many Milkvans included, are simply normies. Now I love Steve as a character, so this is literally no hate to Steve, but lots of people are Steves. And people who are like Steve: popular, straight, attractive, used to dating the types of people they want, into ‘normal’ interests like sports (not that Steve is hyper into sports, but you know what I mean), likely to go down ‘normal’ paths and live fairly conventional lives like their parents, etc. are simply not the target audience for the show.

Obviously, the show centers on outcasts, nerds, queer characters, characters with disabilities, black characters, etc. Most people recognize this on some level, but they recognize it in more of a general sense like, “Of course the protagonists are nerds/outcasts, just like all the classic 80s teen protagonists. I just love how nostalgic ST is!” And they leave it at that. Because they are normies, they don’t really connect to the themes of the show other than a surface-level, power of friendship sense. They don’t see how Byler is more aligned with the show’s message than Milkvan at this point. They don’t see that the outcast status of most of the characters is more than just a throwaway personality trait… its deeply integral to the point of the show itself and closely connected to the supernatural storyline.

This is because nerd culture is somewhat mainstream now, and lots of “normies” like it too. Star Wars, Marvel, LOTR, Harry Potter, etc. These are all major parts of society and billion dollar franchises, even more so than they were in the 80s. Because of this, people don’t realize that in the context of the world of the show, they wouldn’t have been friends with the Party most likely. It is far more statistically likely that they would’ve rolled with Angela’s friend group or joined Jason’s human hunting squad. Or even if they weren’t outright bullies, it’s far more likely that they would’ve been one of the nameless background characters in Hawkins High, just kind of floating by in a conventionally comfortable existence, entirely oblivious to government lab conspiracies and alternate dimensions. The characters in ST are outcasts in a deeper, existential sense. Society is against them.

And so many people can’t relate, especially to the queer themes. They can’t even see the queer themes. Because the show is not for them. That’s why you see so many baffling takes on the show:

“Will is so whiny all the time, and I don’t like him!”

“Mike was right in the rain fight! S3 is about growing up, and Will was acting like a baby.”

“Tbh I don’t care that much about the Party dynamics. My favorite part of the show is Steve and Dustin being funny together. And my second favorite part is Hopper being a cool action hero.”

“B*lly is overhated! I mean, he’s so hot and misunderstood! He could’ve redeemed himself.”

“I don’t get Byler. It barely seems like Mike and Will are even friends.”

To be clear, it doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy the genre of the show. Being horror/sci-fi, its core fans are a smaller pool of people than, say, fans of The Office or Friends or other popular sitcoms. So the Mlvns who watched it since the beginning probably do have some avant-garde tastes in terms of genre-preferences, since lots of people wouldn’t touch horror with a ten-foot pole. But it does mean they don’t pick up on the themes of the show and the arc of the characters.

(Of course, many newer fans now are just watching it cause it’s popular, regardless of which genres they typically prefer. This opens the show up to lots of people who don’t connect to anything about the show, not just its themes but also its darker content. A lot of newer fans sound like this: “Like, I just love that Mike was in love with El from the day he found her in the woods, and it’s so cute that El is Mike’s superhero, and Eddie is so cool and badass; I wish he could’ve told Chrissy how he felt, and I’m anxiously awaiting S5 to see who Nancy chooses but I hope she chooses Steve… Stancy 4ever!” This is because Stancy is like every other conventionally attractive couple in media).

I’m rambling, but a lot of people are into Milkvan because of their expectations that “pretty boy and pretty girl go together,” and that’s all there is to it. Finn is attractive and Millie is attractive, and they play the protagonists, so of course Mike and El are endgame. Why wouldn’t they be? This is true for the girls who project themselves onto Millie and see Finn/Mike as a dream boyfriend, and it’s true for the guys who project themselves onto Finn and who would want nothing more than to have a cool, superpowered girlfriend.

This is the way of nature. In a normie worldview, there’s no deviation from this path. A lot of fans basically take The Kissing Booth/To All the Boys I Loved Before and slap a sci-fi/horror filter on it, and they think that’s what Stranger Things is. It’s a cool show where kids fight monsters, and there are normal, heterosexual romances like Mlvn to root for, and there’s a badass superhero main character at the center.

Oh, there’s a gay character too? Well, that’s weird. I mean, y’all already have Robin, but whatever. I’m not homophobic! I’m cool with Will being gay… as long as he stays over there. Oh, he’s in love with Mike? Well, that’s even weirder. Why would the writers do that? I suppose that’s fine, as long as it’s just a little crush, and as long as it doesn’t get in the way of “the main storyline” and my OTP. I’m not homophobic, I swear! I have gay friends!

And they do. And they might not actively be against LGBTQ+ people in real life. They may really be telling the truth. But because they are Steves, this is where heteronormativity comes into play and blinds them. Main couples in shows are always straight, so the cool sci-fi, monster show they love must also be. They’re fine with Kevin Kellers, but queer Mike doesn’t fit the box that they allot to gay characters. So Mike must be the straightest character of all time to fight back against “weird delusional Byler theories” that would “come out of nowhere.” It’s not that they’re actively anti-gay; it’s that they are profoundly closed-minded and have a very myopic view of sexuality/storytelling/their favorite characters/their favorite shows. This is very similar to the XO, Kitty situation and people who were upset that Kitty was ‘suddenly’ bi and had a crush on Yuri.

WHAT?! Where did this come from? I thought I was watching a normal rom-com! I was fine with the gay characters on it who were clearly televised from the beginning! But Kitty? No! Kitty’s my self-insert. How can she like girls too? It must be a phase and be “less real” than her male love interests. This isn’t Heartstopper. The same weird energy is present in the ST fandom.

Byler being semi-canon isn’t seen as confirmation of a love triangle; it’s seen as a disruption to the norm and the foregone conclusion that Mike and El will be together forever and get married and have telekinetic children because the show owes that to them for all they’ve been through. “But why is Will inserted into their scenes?” we ask them, begging them to see reason. “Idk, but he should know his place and stop being a homewrecker and go find a new boy to like. Just leave the soulmates alone. Mike has already made clear he’s straight and that Will is nothing more than a friend. He said it in the roller rink!” This is how heteronormativity works.

That’s why Byler endgame will be so important because it will shatter preconceived notions and open people’s eyes to the beautiful tapestry of humanity. And they will see that this powerful, queer, coming-of-age, love story was right there, under their noses, in their “fun sci-fi monster show” this whole time. *Mind Blown*

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler i know what you are #byler endgame #stranger things 5 #anti milkvan #ST fandom analysis

[still-not-over-transformers]

hi! could you do i mirage x fem bot where she's kinda got the build of a mech and is super self conscious about it. and when noah and elena meet her they think she's a mech and she gets upset and they've got no clue whats going on but mirage does and he comforts her? sorry if this doesn't make sense 🫶

Just the Way You Are

ROTB Mirage x Femme Autobot Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1300

You had heard much about the Autobots’ human allies. As you waited patiently inside a warehouse which was the current hideout for Optimus Prime and the Autobots, you couldn’t help but feel excited. You had never directly interacted with humans during your short time on Earth, and you were looking forward to finally meeting them. Shortly after the Transwarp key had sent its beacon into the cosmos, you had followed its signal in your ship to Earth. This is where you would come to join up with the Autobots and make this planet your temporary new home. 

As for your new comrades, you found them to be welcoming but you got along with some better than others. Of course you regarded Optimus with the utmost respect, but he wasn’t much for conversation and you didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself in front of him. Arcee was informative and kind; Bumblebee was quirky and fun; but Mirage definitely made you feel far more comfortable. Actually, he made you laugh quite a bit, and despite Mirage’s antics often butting heads with Optimus, you couldn’t help but want to spend more time with him. Besides, he was highly in-tune with human culture and close friends with their human companions. 

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard the familiar rev of Mirage’s engine, causing you to transform from your vehicle mode into your Cybertronian form. In usual Mirage-fashion, the mech peeled into the warehouse in his Porsche vehicle mode before halting to a sudden stop. You couldn’t help but roll your optics slightly, thinking to yourself Always with the dramatic entrance. 

As Mirage parked, both the driver’s side and passenger doors opened, allowing two humans to emerge. Once his cab was empty, Mirage transformed from his vehicle mode and stretched his limbs. As he glanced around, Mirage’s optics focused on you, “Hey, Y/N! Ready to meet my friends?” His tone was upbeat and full of excitement as he beamed with eagerness. You took a few steps forward before focusing your gaze towards the two small human figures standing before you. “I’m glad to meet your acquaintance. I am Y/N,” you lower your frame slightly, trying to decrease the height difference as much as you can. 

Mirage steps in to introduce everyone, “Y/N, this is my boi, Noah, and the badass Elena.” Both Noah and Elena smile up at you, with Noah stepping forward to address you, “Y/N, it’s an honor to meet you. It’s great to have another Autobot on the team. Maybe Mirage, you, and me can head out on the town afterwards. Just the three of us guys hanging out.” Before you can fully process Noah’s words, Elena chimes in, “It’s nice to have you joining us, Y/N. Hopefully Mirage and Noah don’t rub off on you too much. Honestly, we don’t need too many boys misbehaving after all.” 

You pause briefly, taking in what you just heard, Do they think I’m a… mech? You tried to keep your thoughts to yourself, attempting to force your emotions to the back of your mind. As much as you tried, you couldn’t stop the surge of emotions that would ultimately bubble to the surface. You were aware that your frame build wasn’t as feminine as a bot such as Arcee. That you were built thicker and more muscular than the average femme on Cybertron, a fact that had plagued you even before the war, as many a mech would make a jab at your more masculine appearance and voice. It all would become too much, and your body language betrayed your thoughts and feelings. 

Noah and Elena watched you in confusion, unsure of what was bothering you. Noah stepped forward to speak, “Hey, Y/N, are you okay? Was it something we said?” 

Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you turned suddenly and glared down at 

Noah and Elena. “Yes it was something you said! It’s something that everyone, human or Cybertronian, apparently has to point out!” Your words came out in a tone of both anger and agony. You would swiftly turn away and transform into your alt mode, before driving out of the warehouse, your destination: anywhere but here. 

Both Noah and Elena are left speechless and with a sense of guilt, although they had no idea why. Mirage looked down at the two of them and gestured to Noah, “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve got this.” He quickly shuffled away from them both, transforming into his vehicle mode then driving off in pursuit of Y/N. After a short drive, Mirage follows your trail to a secluded and abandoned lighthouse on the edge of the bay. Mirage had been here before and knew this was usually where you went to relax or calm down after a hard day. Mirage transformed from his vehicle mode and walked around the exterior of the lighthouse, finding you sitting down, your back leaned against the building. He notices your dour demeanor and softly speaks, “Hey… Y/N, are you feeling alright?”

Although you weren’t expecting Mirage to follow you after your outburst, you weren’t surprised as he was Mirage after all. You kept your gaze averted from Mirage, “...I could be better…”

 Mirage tries to keep a positive attitude and sits beside you, scooching closer to you, “I’m really sorry for Noah and Elena… I promise you they didn’t mean to offend you. Even humans can make mistakes and I’ll let them know what’s up.” His optics are locked onto you, his expression soft but clearly full of concern. 

“I’m sorry if I overreacted, but… it’s not just them, it’s just… everything and it’s hard not to be affected by it.” Your entire life you had to struggle with your appearance and how so many Cybertronians mistook your gender. You always tried to ignore and deny how this made you feel, but there was only so much you could handle. Despite having known him for a short time, Mirage had always tried to make you feel better in his own quirky way. You always laughed at his jokes and you were always down to join him on patrols or occasionally risk a lecture from Prime after breaking curfew. Primus forbid anyone should know you had developed a crush on him, although you never thought you had a chance with someone like him. 

Sensing your distress, Mirage shifts towards you and places a servo on your shoulder. “Y/N, I’m gonna be honest with you. You’re cute as hell and I think you are one of the finest femmes in the universe.” He flashes a brief smirk before his expression changes to be softer and more vulnerable. Mirage begins to go off on details about your personality and how he finds your mannerisms absolutely adorable. But this mech isn’t done yet. “Don’t get me started on how a chick who could bench me is beyond hot as slag. And don’t get me started on what’s ‘feminine.’ Cause what even defines that? Tall, short, skinny, built, thick, all the same to me.” He fires off a shameless wink towards you before clearing his throat and re-focusing, “Look, Y/N, I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner, but I really like you. As in… ‘like you’ like you. But… I understand if you don’t feel the sam–”

Before Mirage can finish his sentence, you wrap your arms around him and pull him close, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Catching yourself, you quickly pull away embarrassed, “...I-i’m sorry…! I don’t know what came over me—” You are in-turn surprised as Mirage brings you close once more and kisses you, 

As his lips slowly pull away, Mirage smirks to you, “I one-million percent feel the same.” 

END

#transformers #transformers rotb #transformers oneshot #mirage transformers #mirage #transformers x reader #transformers x y/n #transformers x reader insert

[luvgavii]

allie to his noah. / pablo gavi.

request: hiii, can you maybe do a late night dancing with gavi or some sort of that? btw your fics are really cute!!

author's note: hi hun, thank you sm for your request, i hope you love it as much as i do. 💘

summary: tonight, you and gavi shared a moment that almost felt like it was taken out of 'the notebook'.

Celebrating your one year anniversary in your hometown, you and your golden boy decided it would be nice to go out to the best restaurant in town, all dressed up.

After having the night of your life, food, and a lot of wine, you two decided to head back shorty after midnight to your parents house, where you two were staying before going back to Barcelona.

You held his hand while walking outside, the cold air finally hitting your face making you less dizzy from all the wine.

"You okay, amor?" Gavi asked you worried after he saw you enjoying the light breeze with your eyes closed.

"Yeah, of course. Hey, there should be a taxi station a few blocks down the road, wanna walk there? I'm not drunk it would just refresh me." You giggled a little before taking his hand, Gavi following after you, smiling from ear to ear.

A few minutes later, you looked up at the stars letting go of his hand and taking a few steps, the night sky being covered in stars that were shining in the moonlight.

"Isn't the sky so beautiful tonight?" You stopped in the middle of the road after making sure there were no cars coming.

Gavi followed you, stopping next to you and looking up, "It really is." He said, finally looking back at you.

He knew that what he was going to say would be extremely cliché but he also knew you would love it.

"Dance with me." He held out his hand to you.

You looked at his hand and then back at him, realizing you were in the middle of the street just like Allie and Noah were from one of your favorite movies. 'The Notebook'.

Smiling, you took his hand and followed his lead, slow dancing in the silence, touching foreheads.

"You know, Noah sang in this scene." You laughed a little at the face he made, Gavi definitely wasn't the best singer, but you still loved it when he would sing to you. Sometimes he would sing to you while you were cooking, or before falling asleep while he was playing with your hair.

To many people Pablo Gavi was no one but a football player with anger issues who couldn't control himself, but to you he was the most perfect human being, you loved being the only one he showed this side to, but even so, he always showed his love to you to your followers on social media.

Just like that, without another word, Gavi started to shyly hum your favorite love song, the streetlight and moon illuminating your beautiful features and making your eyes shine brighter than any star in the sky.

A few minutes later, after Gavi stopped humming and you stopped dancing but not letting go of him, you pulled him into a kiss.

A kiss so full of love that you never wanted it to end.

"Can we watch 'The Notebook' when we get to my parents?" You laughed while pulling away from the kiss.

"You will the death of me, woman." Gavi laughed, you made him watch that movie with you a few days after you started to officially date, turning it into a tradition and watching it on every monthiversary that followed leading up to this moment.

And even if he wasn't the biggest fan of romantic movies, he always watched them with you, and every time he would see the two fictional characters falling in love, he would see you two.

It was crazy how in love he was with you. And Gavi knew he would always do anything for you. Out of every fictional couple, he liked Allie and Noah the most, because Noah was as in love with Allie as Pablo was in you. He knew you were the Allie to his Noah.

But even if you weren't Noah and Allie, you were Pablo and Y/N, and there was nothing more beautiful than that.

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi one shot #pablo gavi headcanons #gavi imagine #gavi fluff #gavi icons #pablo gavi blurb #gavi blurb #gavi #pablo gavi fluff #footballer x reader #football imagine #fc barça #fc barcelona #pablo gavi x y/n #gavi x you #gavi x yn #pablo gavi x you #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #6avi #fc barca #gavi headcanons

[ystrike1]

He Awakened When I Died - By 자요 (7.5/10)

A side character. A broken, unwanted Ducal son. They're friends, not lovers. Nothing romantic will happen I'm sure. In this world power is all that matters. If you have noble blood it's worthless without power. Our protagonist accidentally befriends the unwanted boy before he becomes special, and their special friendship brings forth unexpected consequences.

Bliss Hope is the illegitimate son of a Duke. Duke Hope kept him because he wanted another magical son, but Bliss didn't awaken before the age of ten. Nobles that get their powers after that time are always...weak.

Bliss is so universally disliked that he gets banned from his own birthday parties. Everybody else eats the cake meant for him while they talk about how useless he is.

That's...rough...

This is Shana.

Magicians can also have guardian pets. Bliss summons a fluffball that will turn into a dragon when he gets his magic.

The girl that dies.

That's her role.

Bliss is destined to meet a special woman that melts his heart through...touching later in life. Bliss hasn't awakened, but he's an ice mage. He needs body heat, but nobody touches him because he's a dirty and weak boy. Shana holds his hand and they become friends.

Bliss is very handsome after five years of blade training.

Fluffy is pure white under a layer of dirt.

He's also basically a beast king.

Shana has a good and sisterly relationship with him. She blushes because he's handsome but they do talk like siblings.

Shana is very comfortable around him.

Shana finds a plant called the Devil's Dream. She needs to fake her own death and leave Bliss. He's destined to meet a sensual lover, and Bliss is part of a dangerous family. She needs to escape. Noah the pharmacist helps her because his secret boss wants to get closer to Bliss. Other countries know that magical guardians are rare and prized. Bliss may not be strong yet, but his Fluffy Thingy makes him a valuable political ally.

Shana fakes her death.

We get a reveal.

Bliss has been ACTING kind and brotherly. He wants Shana to be trapped beside him forever. He doesn't actually want his powers to awaken. He wants to live in his father's lonely spare mansion with her until death do they part.

Well, death shows up.

Bliss begs for help.

Bliss begs for help.

Duke Hope says he will not allow the family doctor to look at a servant. Bliss begs for help. The guests at the party he wasn't invited to start laughing. Bliss begs for help, and he apologizes for causing a scene. He says he will do any kind of hard labor in exchange for help from a healer.

Silence.

Duke Hope says having a corpse in the ballroom is disgusting, and he needs to bury it.

Power is king in this nation of magical nobles. Bliss is literally a dog to them, and Shana is a weak magical instructor from a lesser family.

Bliss begs for help.

Shana's heart stops beating, and he hears her go silent, because he's holding her in his arms.

His magical awakening happens, and he freezes the entire ballroom. Noah's mystery boss appears. That boss offers to save Shana.

He damn well knows she isn't dead.

Much drama goes on while she's sleeping.

Kyle, the secret boss, explains what happened.

Shana ingested death plants to get away from him.

To escape from him.

Bliss does not take this well. He reveals his true colors as soon as she wakes up. Shana isn't special, by the way. She's really definitely a mage with middling abilities, and Bliss just became one of the strongest mages in the land the day before. He asks her why she left...and everything is different.

Her harmless little brother is gone.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon

[p1utofairy]

PAC: your upcoming relationship 🎀🫧🎆

pile 1 🧸 —

ok so i immediately heard let the light in by lana del rey ft. father john misty! this is a very passionate relationship pile 1 wow. your person is very patient, attentive and willing to put you first no matter what. the dynamic will be similar to allie and noah's but minus the toxicity…there's a push and pull but just enough to keep each other engaged and entertained. i'm hearing a lot of witty playful banter, you grinning until your cheeks hurt and not being able to keep eye contact because they give you butterflies. i'm feeling some gemini influence in this pile hmmm communication will be really important between the 2 of you. i think you both are very similar when it comes to your interests and values but have a different approach to how you handle your feelings and express your emotions. you may be a bit more hesitant or resistant to sharing how you feel in hopes of keeping the peace but i feel like your person will encourage you to speak your mind instead of bottling it in. this goes for any scenerio as well, they want you to be able to step into your power and not dim your light for anyone or anything. your person could have prominent water/cancer/or 4h placements because they give nurturing vibes. i just heard "I JUST WANNA SEE YOU SHINE, CAUSE I KNOW YOU ARE A STARGIRL." you mean everything to them. even if you two were to have a disagreement, they'd probably be a bit moody at first but at the end of the day they'd want to talk it out and make up with you. (and i heard make it up to you) they'll never want you to go to bed angry at them or vice versa, this person is very mature and doesn't like to cut corners when it comes to their relationships. this person has an "all or nothing" type of mentality, when they commit themselves to you that's it. all they see you is pile 1, awww it's so sweet. you're gonna have lots of fun with this person.

pile 2 ⭐️ —

love you like a brother, treat you like a friend, respect you like a lover. OOOO pile 2 your person is very suave, they know exactly what to say and when to say it. i feel like they light up every room that they walk in & could definitely charm the pants off of anyone. it might be hard to take them serious at first or you may question if they're serious about you because they seem to be very friendly or more experienced. but i'm hearing that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, because although this person may give player vibes they’re actually a sweetheart at the core. i can see this person having a really bright smile, they'll love to make you laugh and put you in a good mood. you will bring a good balance to them, they need stability and you're exactly that. they're very confident and extroverted but deep down they feel like no one really sees them except for you. i'm hearing infrunami by steve lacy so maybe some of you already know this person. it honestly does give a good friends to lovers vibe. i can see you two texting a lot, going on little dates and having random/deep conversations about any and everything. maybe lots of discussions about movies? i'm hearing some of you really love cinema. i think you'll definitely see this person in a different light as you get to know them, compared to your first impression of them. it’s like when andie was putting ben through all those hoops until they went to visit his family in staten island…and once she saw him in his element/who he truly was at the core she realized her feelings for him. yeahhh this is super cute pile 2, i dig it.

pile 3 🍬 —

heyyy pile 3, right off the bat i keep hearing the word CUTE. like maybe this is what people will think when they see you and your person together? you two are absolutely made for each other, i think your inner child will really come out when you're around this person. i can feel the excitement, the giddiness and anticipation you two will exude when you're in each other's presence. i heard "like a kid in a candy store" lol that's adorable. power trip by j. cole ft. miguel is playing…yeah it's very much THAT. i feel like you both will pinch yourselves thinking is this real??? your person is gonna make you feel like you're on cloud 9 hehe i see them getting you flowers, writing you cute little messages on sticky notes and gifting you thoughtful things that you may have mentioned in passing but didn't expect them to remember. i feel like you (and maybe even your person) have been waiting/yearning for a connection like this for very a long time, i get an almost lonely energy. like you've been single for a long time and now you feel whole/complete. the intimacy between you two >>> not even just sexually but intellectually and emotionally! you're gonna feel so safe and comfortable with them. your person is very sentimental and they will never take a moment shared with you for granted. i see polaroid/photobooth pics of you 2 being all close and cutesy :) this person might be a little lowkey/reserved in nature but you definitely bring them out of their shell. the scene where jenna says “arrivederci” and is so giddy when matty responds back with “au revoir” is coming to mind. AH y'all are gonna be so goneeeeee pile 3 i love it for you.

#pick a card #pac reading #intuitive reading #tarot reading #love reading #pick a pile #pac tarot #love pac #pac

[thcfountain]

Dating Noah includes:

mdni. smut & fluff. ftm x Noah.

Noah always making sure that no one misgenders you or uses your deadname. (He's buff now so if they try, he can take 'em.)

Working out together and having body goals that you're both aiming towards, which means you encourage and support each other even when it feels hard to work out some days.

"You are looking so buff," you coo at him, admiring his shirtless body after a workout. The two of you have retired to the shower together to wash off the sweat and stink.

He grins and tugs you towards him by the waist of your sweats that you had yet to ditch. "You look handsome too," he tells you before a kiss.

Noah helps you record your voice at intervals after you start t. He's just as excited for the change as you are.

Going to Pride together as a couple.

"Will you do my eyeshadow?" he asks, handing you over the colors of his sexuality flag.

"You're gonna be gorgeous when I'm done," you promise. "or hideous," you add teasingly, "who knows."

The whole band is very anti transphobes and they WILL tell people off in your defence.

"Support trans people or die by the," slight pause as Folio stumbles to repeat the meme, "fishing pole..." he waves the pole menacingly and you laugh.

"It's not by the pole, it's by THE BLADE!" Yells Noah, unsheathing one of his swords.

Noah is a MUNCH. We all know it, okay. And this fact doesn't change for you. Yeah he still loves eating you out but he's also big on sucking t-dick.

Being on testosterone, also, makes you wildly horny. A fact that Noah revels in. The second he catches on that you're needy, he's there.

Your back leans against the wall for support, pants and boxers around your ankles as Noah takes your growth into his mouth, earning whimpers and soft, panting moans from you.

A finger works its way into your core as he pulls back, strings of spit bridging between his lips and your dick. "Fuck," he moans, fingers arching up into you, "I love sucking your cock, baby."

-

He's got you bent over the kitchen table, a fact that everyone else would surely complain about, but you couldn't care less in this moment. Your cheek presses against cold wood and every thrust into you has you crying out his name, desperate for him to let you cum.

-

You know it's taking everything in him not be loud, to continue whispering commands on how he wants you to touch yourself, how which sucker or dildo to use. You know that he hates not being able to see all of you, but he's on tour and facetime will have to do.

He's uncomfortably hard in his stage outfit, internally torn between seeing if he can jack off quickly before the opener finishes and he has to on stage, and he knows you timed this purposely. "Brat," he teases when you finally cum. "When I get home, this earned you a few spankings."

he wears pins with the trans pride flag, excitedly points out trans characters in media to you, he's an ally, and he's adorable about it.

You steal his hoodies and sweaters constantly. They give you gender euphoria and they smell like him. He jokingly complains about it but you've caught him spraying his cologne on your favorite hoodies before he leaves for tour.

some times the band has boys night, no girlfriends allowed, and they amend it to no partners because you kept tagging along and being disgustingly cute with Noah. They love you though.

baking cookies for Noah when he comes home from tour and helping him do his stinky laundry.

Coming home and finding Matt holding your packer in confusion.

"What is this?" he asks, holding it up as Noah snickers with laughter at Matt's lack of knowledge.

"Unhand my dick, Dierkes!" You laugh and as it dawns on him, he flings it at Noah.

"I don't wanna touch another dude's dick, no matter what it's made of!" He yells, running to wash his hands of your cooties.

Getting top surgery and being able to walk around shirtless with the guys.

"Your cup size is bigger than your boyfriend's," Jolly jokes to Noah and you grin, striking a pose to show off your chest.

"I'm part of the tiny tittie committee, thank you," Noah replies sarcastically.

He uses you as a pillow or human weighted blanket all the time because you're warm and he demands snuggles.

Gay jokes. All the time. You guys are constantly joking with each other.

"Your tie is straighter than I am," he tells you one day with a chuckle.

You turn to look in the mirror and adjust it. "Now it's gayer than you."

Having two secret snack stashes. The one Noah has found and thinks you don't know he's found, and the real one.

sometimes you two wear matching clothes.

Going fishing with Folio, attempting to rollerblade with Ruffilo, Jolly teaching you how to properly shave. You're officially everyone's adopted brother.

Other fans under the trans umbrella start referring to you both as their dads. Noah's a little overwhelmed by suddenly being dad to hundreds. It's okay though, he's also flattered.

"Post something on Twitter for me," he says, a little out of the blue but not so surprising since he refuses to return to social media yet.

You pull your phone out, ready to shoot off a tweet from your profile for him.

He seems to think about it for a moment, wording himself just so. "The only thing anyone expects of you today, is to survive."

"You're such a good father figure," you tease, sending the post. "I just won't tell them about you setting our bathroom on fire with Yankee candles."

BATHS! Noah loves baths and he abs absolutely adores having you sit in his lap and relax with him. He plays lofi music, makes a charcuterie board, he goes all out.

He doesn't go back to VA much anymore - the South has long since quit being his home. But every once in a while trips are made. Everyone packs up to go hang out with Ruffilo down there or everyone shuffles over to Maryland so Folio can host.

An argument is ensuing between Ruffilo, Jolly, and Noah - it takes place in Ruffilo's backyard on a particularly warm, summer day. It's not often that they're off tour and even less often that everyone's gotten together down here, but here you all are.

You and Folio are splashing each other in a kiddy pool, you've caught Noah checking your swim trunks out a few times earlier but for the moment, he's preoccupied.

"I should be the one to grill. I'm TRANS DAD," announced Noah, puffing his chest out in an exaggerated way. You're pretty sure he could take the other two in a fight if he wanted.

"Yeah but it's my grill," says Nicholas, who's usually the least likely to get into an argument. "Plus, you aren't band dad."

Jolly snaps a pair of tongs their way. "I should be grill dad," he tells them.

As the argument continues on, you watch as Matt goes unnoticed, setting the grill up and you and Folio are quick to help.

The burgers are practically done by the time Noah, Jolly, and Ruffilo actually take notice.

Gaming together for fun. Usually its not too competitive, but every once in a while there's a promise that loser gives the winner a bj.

#noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian imagine #ftm x noah sebastian

[creativitysparks4everxoxo]

It's been a minute since I made one of these long boi posts, so here goes:

Things I want to see in the next Steven Caple Jr/Knightverse Transformers G.I. Joe crossover movie:

Decepticons!!! Oh how I've missed them! I want to see some new badass Decepticons make an appearance and be scary af and cause drama for the Autobots, and what I assume will be their new allies, the Joes.

GENTLE TOUCHES BETWEEN NOAH AND MIRAGE! I don't give a FUCK if they're both dudes or whatever! GIVE US SOME GENTLE TOUCHES, GODDAMMIT! Remember the cute little finger grasping thing that Charlie did after she calmed Bee down when he went into his kill mode? Give us something like that where Noah wraps his tiny fingers around Mirage's HUGE digits.

Give us some hugs! I want to see Noah and Mirage hug affectionately, not minding the size difference at all. Either a full body hug or a face hug works, or both. Both is good.

Can we please have Noah boop Mirage's nose as a joke or for funsies? 🥺 I would love to see how Mirage would react to that touch.

Noah placing his tiny hand on Mirage's faceplate! Gahh! If Charlie can do it, so can Noah! 😤 Could happen in a reassuring/comforting scene.

Hand holding or grabbing. Like Noah grab's one of Mirage's digits with his tiny hand or Mirage holds Noah's tiny hand in his massive servo. Just hand touching in general please! 🥺

More teasing and flirting from Mirage. Since the PCS basically hinted that Miroah is a done deal, I would like to see how Mirage would up his game. Like what if he increased his teasing and flirting with Noah and says something even more outrageous than, "You've been inside me!"? What if him and Noah are having a casual convo (ideally in front of a small audience, like other Autobots for dramatic effect and added wow factor) and in response Mirage says something like, "That's not what you said last night, babe. 😉" Imagine Noah's reaction and the audience's reaction. 🤣🤣 Though, considering how hard the studio had to fight to keep the inside me joke in, that particular line may be "too spicy" for Hasbro. But something more mild or along those lines would be greatly appreciated.

MIRAGE'S KILL MODE!!!! I WANT TO SEE MIRAGE GO INTO BERSERKER MODE because someone had the audacity to harm or attempt to harm Noah!!!! Battle mask on and weapon charged! I want to see him absolutely enraged and start shooting up the place. But in a controlled rage like Bee had where he aimed at vehicles instead of people. Maybe Mirage could aim at Decepticons or some other enemy. Point is, I want to see Mirage use his battle mask and go to town blasting! And then I want to see Noah gently calm him down and give him a gentle touch or say something soothing to help calm him down.

Give us this Mirage right here! Battle mask on, weapon charged and ready to fight everybody!

Or instead it could be Mirage just naturally protecting Noah from an enemy that triggers his kill mode. But this could be Noah's first time seeing Mirage like that, so we could still get that delicate, gentle moment between those 2 once Mirage calms down.

CHARLIE AND BUMBLEBEE REUNION!!!! I had a dream recently about Charlie playing a sort of game of tag that was an extension of the ending scene in Bumblebee, when Bee scans his new alt mode and Charlie is amazed by it and then Bee drives off. In my dream Charlie is running in front of Bee laughing while he drives very slowly behind her to chase her. I have no idea where that dream came from since Miroah has been living rent free in my brain for months, but it makes me want a Charlie/Bee reunion extra bad now!

More Mirage and Arcee sibling energy! I think we were absolutely ROBBED of Mirage and Arcee moments in ROTB, so I want more in the next movie! Big sister Arcee scolding or teasing Middle child Mirage about something. It would be glorious! 🤩

Mirage introducing Noah to new Autobots and being all proud like. Like, "Yup! That's my human! He's mine." or whatever the robot equivalent would be. I don't know why, but every time I read a Miroah fic that has Mirage refer to Noah as his human, my heart swells a little. It's just so cute. It's giving cat owner energy for some reason. 🤣

A Mirage and Noah mission scene where they're officially partners. All the jokes, all the teasing, all the flirting, just all the general Miroah shenanigans. But now they are officially on an Autobot/G.I. Joe mission together.

I want Breanna Diaz to meet Mirage! I need to know if she will pull out a chancleta and try to strike Mirage with it. 🤣 'Cause you know the Diaz family loves to resort to violence whenever they first see Mirage. Noah with the metal pipe and Kris with the baseball bat. I need to know what Breanna's weapon of choice is. 🤣 But also, I want to see her warm up to Mirage and him being all charming and kind towards her.

I would love to see some Mirage and Bee shenanigans. The 2 Autobots with human companions need a scene together! Maybe even give us some Mirage and Bee sibling energy. And maybe even a double team up with Mirage and Noah as partners and Bee and Charlie as partners.

A Mirage pamper scene or flashback or mention of how Noah pampered him up real good to make him look all shiny and brand new. A perfect chance to slip in some flirting from Mirage praising Noah for a job well done. 😏

MORE ARCEE SCREENTIME!!!! GODDAMMIT!!! WE WERE SO FUCKING ROBBED! ARCEE IS A QUEEN AND DESERVES MORE SCREENTIME!!!!

MORE ELENA!!!! Elena is also a queen and I want her in the next movie coming in with that artifacts knowledge and general warm-hearted and caring Elena energy that we all know and love! 🥺

This might be a stretch, but what about Arcee becoming fond of a human and she ends up getting her own human companion? It could be Elena or another female character. That would be so cool!

The main reason why I made this post is because A LOT of the stuff I wanted to see in Transformers EarthSpark S1C actually happened (I still need to make a post about that) and it makes me feel like if I keep making these long boi posts, I can continue to manifest my own desires and head canons. *cue maniacal laughter* No, but for real, can we please get a Noah/Mirage centric animated series?? It would be wonderful! 🙏🏾

Okay, that's all for now. If I can think of anything else, I will definitely edit this post. Thanks for reading! ~

#long boi post #transformers #transformers rise of the beasts #tf rotb #rotb #rotb mirage #rotb noah #rotb noah diaz #rotb elena #rotb elena wallace #rotb arcee #rotb bumblebee #charlie watson #maccadam #maccadams #transformers rotb

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

What are some things tan does for his s/o and no one else?

well well well....

he's not a heartless guy, though I think he pretends he is

he's very reserved, and I don't think he particularly enjoys people knowing things about him, especially things that could be seen as vulnerable- like how you may care about someone/thing. he doesn't like others knowing how much he loves said thing

but with his partner, he makes it very clear how he feels (would take a lot of warming up ofc, and probs several months of dating to get to that point) but once you are there, he'd be a very straightforward guy (he would be like that beforehand, but it would be different with his partner- like he's not affraid to call them out bc he knows they have a solid foundation. like maybe at the beginning of dating, he may bite his tongue and avoid saying things that may upset them, bc he knows things are still new) maybe like noah and allie in the notebook, where he says something about being a pain in the ass- that kinda thing. feel like im rabbling about nothing so im gonna change subject lmao

he lets lem see his vulnerable softer side ofc, though his partner would see it so much more often. had this idea that he could only be nice and cute for so long before having to do something annoying to reset it all. like if he's being too loving, he'd stick his finger in their drink, or give them a wet willy- just something to dilute all niceties

he has a really diverse sense of humour and can be very dry but also witty. he has great jokes, some maybe pretty dark, and some just awful and terrible- the kind that one could only find funny if they love them. so I think only his partner and lem could know that

a lot of how he behaves and act can only really be done around lem and partner, like they're the only two people closest to him to be able to see that. I think he maybe has a couple mates from school but he doesn't see or speak to them often

I think once tangerine lets someone in, they're kinda like the light of his life and they become his whole world. he just wants to love and protect them :(((

#ask #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine headcanon

[cinammonelles]

Thoughts about Nea, past!Allen and the next chapter

long post, spoilers under the cut

Okay so I've always wondered why Nea gave up on Allen as his ally so quickly. Allen was one of his closest allies besides Cross and Tim till the time of his death right? He even gave up his body so Nea could execute his masterplan.

Yes, Allen did lose all his memories(or did he?) and somehow ended up in the Black Order. But we know Nea can show him his memories so he should also technically be able to show him past!Allen memories that were locked away? Or atleast memories of himself with past!Allen?

Allen would definitely be torn and overwhelmed and confused after but everyone who has known the "other side of the war" has taken Nea's side so far. And Allen even went so far as to become Nea's vessel in the past. He would definitely take his old friend's side again right? Or even seek out some sort of a middle ground?

Why didn't he do that then? Nea watched all of his memories since Cross started tailing him and Mana. Wouldn't it be easier to have Allen half-cooperate during the little time he has left, instead of having him actively work against him?

There's so much emotion in this one panel here. Confusion, worry, pain, anger, desolation, and maybe even a hint of guilt?

Its like... he just didn't wanna disturb the little equilibrium Allen had managed to create in his life? The little community he had found in the Black Order?

I mean if we think abt it Nea never really wanted to parasitize Allen in the first place(or atleast that's what I think the evidence so far implies). It was just the only option available to them back then. They needed Nea's powers to thwart the Earl & the Noahs' plans. And if Nea died then the Earl would just absorb(?) him and there would be no stopping him after that.

And I think giving up on Allen as an ally was Nea's way of being kind to him. Of returning the favour. Being his ally isn't an easy or pleasant job from what we've seen so far. And Allen would've disappeared anyway from the moment past!Allen transferred Nea's memories to himself. After seeing his attachment to the Order and the friends he made there, maybe he just wanted Allen to disappear with pleasant memories he made at the Order rather than the gruesome memories of being Nea's ally.

This panel in particular is so sad. He was able to give up on Allen as an ally so easily because he still had Tim. Tim was his last remaining ally and then he wasn't. And its particularly cruel how Hoshino pulled this off. He says that he doesn't need anyone else as long as he has Tim and just a few chapters later Apocryphos kills him. Nea must be used to losing allies by now but Tim really was the last real friend he had left(hoshino you cruel cruel woman)

Also the way Link's just bomb dropped the news abt tim?

Imagine hearing your last friend/ally died from some rando and then not even getting the time to process it because your arch enemy's ressurection shows up and somehow has your face? And then you get yeeted back into brain breakroom just as you were about to start beefing with him and the next time you wake up you're in your childhood home which you have mixed, complicated feelings for.

And that's not even getting into the whole 'tim chose allen over nea' thing.

Also if Allen goes back to the mansion and finds Bookman, he's guaranteed to find out atleast part of his past if not the whole. And he would definitely demand to know more from Nea. Will he accept Allen as his ally again now that Tim is gone? Will he accept Link as well? Will he try to kill Johnny again? Will he even be stable enough to consider future plans? Will we ever see Lavi again? We find out next month :D

Or we don't

(I also have a theory abt the Bookmen having the ability to transfer memories but that one's for another time)

Thanks for reading!!!

#day 3615 of me being absolutely normal abt nea #everyone say f in the chat for nea #boyyo just can't catch a break #this kinda ended up rantier than i'd like but oh well #i understand that this is very hc-heavy so if you don't agree feel free to scroll past :D #nea d. campbell #nea d campbell #allen walker #past!allen #dgm #dgm spoilers #d gray man #d gray man manga #text #🍀 #when will lavi return from war

[astranva]

Marry Me?

Word Count: 3.1k

Category: fluff!!!!

Warning: the intro is a little poetic, a few curse words.

Summary: In which someone gets down on one knee and it isn’t Joe.

Backstage Girlfriend! Universe Masterlist

..

When you get your heart broken, there are a lot of songs and poems you start to relate to.

Love is a Losing Game by Amy Winehouse, no longer becomes just a slow song you might hum along; it becomes a fact you live by. 

A love like Noah and Allie’s from The Notebook is one that makes you flip your TV channel, because who could love someone like that?

Kafka’s letters to Milena start to make no sense, because how can a man tell his lover “For myself I am too heavy, for you I am light” and mean it? 

Heartbreak fucks you up. It shakes everything you know about love; to a partner, to a parent, to a friend, and to yourself. 

But then you meet someone new, and you realize that maybe the door should be left ajar. Maybe you can accommodate another visitor, in hopes of that visitor isn’t just a passerby. Suddenly, you realize that you don’t hate love because how could you hate love when them calling your name gives you some untamable butterflies? How could you hate love when their mere presence makes you forget about all the sleepless nights you spent crying, wondering if you were worthy of love? 

How can you hate love when you receive it so loudly, so softly, and so passionately? 

Having your heart broken by Harry wasn’t something you had expected. You had expected fights–bad fights, even, and you had expected distance, but you had never expected having to stay quiet as his manager told you that your boyfriend was out on a date with someone who wasn’t you to drive more traffic to his new movie. You didn’t expect to see your boyfriend coming home with a smile on the same lips he kissed someone else with, knowing that you knew–that you saw. You never expected a crowded relationship.

And maybe you didn’t expect to move on either.

“My girlfriend actually styles my outfits,” is the one of the things you didn’t expect Joe to say on national television, “Y/N is just-she’s-she’s incredible at everything honestly.”

“Hey, man, this is my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N,” is another you also didn’t expect to hear your boyfriend say as he introduced you some celebrity friends.

“Tell me if it gets too much,” as well, with his arm around your dress-clad waist, lovingly looking at you and ignoring the flashing cameras on the red carpet.

Two years pass by, and not a day went by without you feeling loved in the relationship. Not a single day went by without Joe’s “I love you”s, or sending you silly pictures to make you laugh at work, or kissing you until you were a giggling mess. Not a single day went by with you questioning his love.

With his mouth opened slightly agape in a tiresome slumber in your arms, your hand was stroking through his soft hair, holding him as he slept through the movie he told you he’d stay awake during but you knew better—you knew him better.

“I could die right now, Clem,” Jim Carrey as Joel, told Kate Winslet in the movie playing on your shared TV, “I’m just…happy. I’ve never felt that before,” he said as they both lied on ice, hands intertwined, “I’m just exactly where I want to be.”

And you smiled, mind racing with a million memories.

Memories of Joe nervously asking you out on a date. Memories of Joe blushing when your hands had brushed for the first time. Memories of your first kiss. Memories of him holding you as you told him about your heartbreak. Memories of disagreements, where no matter how mad, the both of you never could go a day without communicating. Memories of Joe unapologetically loving you.

You released a short sigh, leaning down a little to press a soft kiss to his temple, smiling when he snuggled more into you with a small groan.

If someone had asked you: “What made the shift?” You wouldn’t know how to answer, but right there and then, with him in your arms, and with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind playing on the TV, you knew.

He was your person.

You knew that you wanted him in your life for as long as your lungs accomodate you, and for as long as your heart beat for you, and for the love you could finally say you deserved.

It was a week later when it happened. One moment you were walking to your car after getting a new sports bra instead of your comfort one that you had been using and abusing for years, and the next, you were standing and looking at rings.

“Are you interested in Cartier, miss?” 

You smiled politely, “I’m not so sure, I’m just-I’m just looking.”

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” The man smiled.

“Boyfriend, yeah,” you chuckled bashfully.

The man hummed, “You look in love,” he pointed out, “Any special occasion?”

“I think,” you paused, furrowing your eyebrows a little as you gave him a smile, “I think I want to propose actually.”

His eyes went wide, and as did his smile, his fixed posture dropping as his hands went to his heart, “Oh!” He exclaimed, “We do live in modern times!” He grinned, “Come in, come in, I’ll show you the great deals.”

And you did. The man, whose name turned out to be Roberto, seemed excited as he showed you different bands; silver, gold, rose gold, thick, thin, 15% off, 40% off.

You were polite as you looked and nodded along, complimenting every ring he showed you and holding it in your palm.

“I just-Nothing really screams his name, you know?” You told him, turning around to glance at the shop.

There it was.

A flyer, stuck on the memo board they had behind the cashier stared back at you with its big, bold text screaming at you:

MAKE YOUR OWN JEWELRY!

Jewelry making workshop: 4 days, materials covered.

Ask us about the workshop!

“You have a jewellery-making workshop?” You asked Roberto, pointing at the flyer.

He hummed in confirmation, putting a ring back in its place, “It’s very fun.”

“How do I register?”

And then you found yourself having to lie about your whereabouts to Joe.

“I have a meeting with Rian Johnson tonight.”

“Hey, baby. No, trouble at work. I’ll be a little late.”

“Stressful week at work, yeah. The crew’s expected to stay late on set for two more days.”

Never would you have ever thought that you would be sitting opposite to a 57-year-old man, in overalls, as an only student in a jewellery-making workshop, melting and shaping metal.

Joe wasn’t someone who went all out and crazy with jewellery. In fact, it wasn’t a usual sighting to see him wearing rings, except years ago when he wore one on his pinky.

It was why you decided on making a simple design, and you were thankful for that because you were sure a 4-day workshop and with your minimal skills, you couldn’t do anything too complicated.

“And now,” Sid, the 57-year-old instructor, began quietly with a proud, soft smile, “Carefully put it in the box.”

You carefully held the finished ring, forgetting to breathe for a moment as you carefully put it inside the small black velvet box, a loud exhale leaving your lips as you looked at it.

“Good job, Y/N,” Sid smiled, watching you.

You laughed in excitement, not realizing that you were crying until you sniffled, “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“You made that ring, sweetheart,” Sid replied, “With your own hands. Any person who doesn’t love that is not worth keeping.”

By the time you were back, Joe was putting down his guitar, his head turning towards the door before a smile came to his face.

“Home sweet home,” he said, standing up with his arms open as he welcomed you in a hug, kissing your head, “How was your day?”

You hummed, looking at him with your arms around his waist, smiling as you replied, “It’s good now.”

“Cute,” he chuckled, leaning closer to press his lips against yours, “Have you eaten properly? You know iced coffee isn’t food, right?”

You rolled your eyes, “I had tacos,” you replied.

“Good choice,” Joe said with a smile, pecking your lips, “When are you going to rest?” He asked, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you replied, pecking his lips, “How about a dinner date on Saturday?” 

“Where?”

“Wherever you want,” you said.

“We can stay home and cook something nice, what do you think?”

“I’ll cook,” you said, “Whatever you want.”

It was when Saturday came that you realized what it was that you were about to do.

You woke up two hours before Joe from the restless sleep you got. You were an anxious mess. From making sure you were squeaky clean with a shower, to moisturizing too much, to making sure your house was spotless, to shakily preparing breakfast, you had no idea how you were going to be even a tad bit calm for the night. 

The velvet black box remained hidden in one of your purses; a place where you knew wasn’t risky because Joe never had a reason to go through your bags nor were they always in his sight.

Your heart remained frantically beating in your ribcage. Your hands remained shaking. Your mind remained alert enough to remind you to breath every minute or so.

“Mooorning,” you heard, feeling Joe’s hand on your waist before he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Good morning,” you smiled the best you could, turning to the side to place your hand on his neck as you stepped closer to kiss him.

Joe hummed, smiling as he squeezed your hip before his eyes fell on his mug of coffee, ready for him to drink, “Thank you, baby.”

You only smiled, turning around to turn off the stove on the scrambled eggs you were making for the both of you.

Mornings with Joe were always so peacefully quiet. He’d show you funny tweets, you’d show him funny TikToks, and then you’d both talk about the day you had ahead, all whilst seating beside each other, having your breakfast in the kitchen.

It was your conversation that had your calming down, but if you were to narrow it down, it was Joe’s presence that calmed you down. 

Joe was simple. He had fans left and right, he was a main character in one of the most watched shows, and he made music that could make someone ascend to heaven, but he was very simple to the core. If you were to ask Joe about his perfect day, he’d say it’d be spent with you, some music playing with a nice meal, then maybe you’d take a walk around the park before going back home to cuddle to a movie he’d sleep in the midst of.

Maybe it was why your dinner date was one where the both of you weren’t dressed up for.

Instead, you were in plaid pajama bottoms with a black t-shirt from his Djo’s Decide merch. Joe was in sweat shorts, and in a t-shirt that you had gotten him as a joke months ago that said “I ❤ MY GIRLFRIEND”, with his hair a mess.

You were thankful for the t-shirt you were wearing hiding the bulging pocket of your pants, and even more so when you both had finally sat down to eat.

“Look at thaaaat!” Joe exclaimed, looking at the food you had prepared as the both of you sat on your dinning table.

You laughed shyly, giving him a shrug, “As if you weren’t helping me with it.”

“All you,” he shook his head, taking your plate in his hand as he began to put food on it, “Tell me about your week?”

And then you fell into the effortless conversations you both did so well. Laughter, dramatic gasps, a shit ton of compliments, and more laughter were shared as you both ate.

“And then we finally made it to the show,” you concluded your story, “Thankfully, Phoebe hadn’t, like, begun her set yet so we were so fucking lucky.”

“Was she good live? I can only imagine how cool her shows are.”

“She was so good,” you replied, talking about Phoebe Bridgers, “Like, I’d tell you I had a favorite song from the live show but I just don’t. They were all so good.”

“We should go together,” he pointed at you with his fork, “You know what, I think we need a new, like, a new goal.”

“And what’s that?” You smiled, leaning your head on your hands as you looked at him.

“We should see every single artist live,” Joe dramatically replied, “I’m talking Stevie Nicks, Cardi B, Phoebe Bridgers, Niall Horan, Silk Sonic. Literally everyone.”

You laughed, “Oh yeah? Are you planning on living until we’re 150 years old?” You teased him.

“We just-It’ll be easy! How fun would that be?”

“What? For you to be seen at every single show? Do you realize how absolutely crazy fans would go if they got pictures of you at all these people’s shows?”

He waved you off, “Then they’ll know I’m having a fuck ton of fun with my girlfriend,” he replied, “It’s a nice goal. Admit it.”

“It’s nice,” you admitted with a smile, “I could actually just call Niall though,” you said, “We’re not so close but we’re friends. He’s, like, one of the nicest people to ever exist.”

“You know Niall Horan,” Joe’s eyebrows went up with a smile, “That’s cool.”

“Want me to get you an autograph?”

“Fuck off,” he laughed, tapping your leg with his underneath the table, “Wouldn’t it be a little awkward if you talked to him? You know, given that you’re, you know…”

“Harry’s ex?” You asked, watching as Joe nodded. You shrugged, “No, Niall’s a nice guy. I think we sort of became friends a little, like, beyond Harry.”

Joe nodded again, “Alright so it’s a yes to seeing Niall live,” he said, “Do you know the rest of the One Direction guys, too?”

You shook your head, “Just Niall. Harry mostly kept contact with Niall more than the rest so I only met him.”

“I would’ve cried if you were friends with Zayn, honestly,” Joe said, making you laugh, “For real. He’s–The guy’s fucking majestic.”

“And he’s so unbothered,” you said, “Like he’s just out there doing his own thing and nobody knows a thing about him.”

“Exactly,” he said before grimacing, “Are we talking about your ex’s band on our date?”

“Not anyone’s fault he was in a successful band,” you chuckled.

“He’s successful,” Joe pointed out, making you nod. “Anyway, how’s it going with Rian Johnson?” 

And then just like that, you both continued to talk some more.

It was 15 minutes later when you seemed to zone out, your mind going to the velvet box in your pocket as your heart frantically thumped against your chest, anticipating the awaited moment.

Your mind was elsewhere as you and Joe began cleaning the table, with him telling you about some pointless celebrity gossip he saw on Twitter that you both enjoyed so much.

It was when your hands were washed, that Joe wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning closer to leave a soft kiss to your neck, then cheek, then finally, your lips.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said.

“You liked it?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, a smile on your face.

“Loved it,” he said, “I love when we do that.”

“What?”

“This,” he shrugged, “Home-cooked meal, or any food really, just staying together and having a slow day,” he shrugged again, “I love it,” he said before smiling, “I love you.”

You smiled, moving your hands to his cheeks, “I love you,” you repeated. “Can I ask you a question?”

Joe hummed, nodding slightly.

 “Do you imagine us together, like, forever?” 

“Fuck yeah,” he gave you a look that screamed “What sort of question is that?” before he nodded, “Are you kidding?”

“You do?” 

“Are we not-Are we not past that point? I thought it was obvious that we were, like, in this for eternity type of thing. No joke.”

“Just making sure,” you said before taking a deep breath, “Um, just so that what I’m about to do isn’t awkward,” you slowly removed your hands from his cheeks, watchin as Joe gave you a confused look.

Shakily, your hand grabbed the velvet box in your pocket, taking it out as Joe’s eyes went to it. 

And before he knew it, you were down on one knee.

His eyes widened, a shocked grin on his face.

You cleared your throat, avoiding eye contact, “J,” you began, “I didn’t prepare a speech because I knew I’d forget it. But I want to see every artist live with you,” you said, “And I want the home-cooked meals, the slow days, I want it-Fuck, I want it all with you,” you laughed, sniffling as tears fell down in your hot cheeks before you finally looked up at him, laughing some more at his shocked expression, “Will you marry me?”

Instead of answering, Joe was down on his knees, grabbing your face in his hands as he pressed his lips on yours, one hand moving to tangle his fingers in your hair as he did.

“Yes,” he answered, out of breath, “You’re so fucking insane for that, you know? Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

You laughed in glee, wiping his tears, “Oh my God,” you laughed, kissing his lips once more.

The moment you pulled away, Joe looked down at the ring, making you remember the jewellery. You took out the ring, holding it with your fingers, “I made it,” you sheepishly and quietly said, “The waves are-It’s cheesy but we said our first I love you’s on the beach and,” you shrugged with a giggle.

“You’re unreal,” Joe shook his head in disbelief, “You had it made for me?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I made it. I made it myself,” you said, holding his hand in yours, “It was this 4-day workshop,” you said, “It’s not much, I kno-”

“Fuck ooooff,” he frowned, shaking his head, “This is the best fucking ring I have ever seen in my entire life,” he said, “You made it. You actually made it.”

Softly, you slid the ring onto his ring finger, grinning after you did so before looking at him.

Joe sniffled, letting out a small laugh as he turned his head, bringing his shoulder closer to wipe his tears before looking at his ring-clad hand, shaking his head in disbelief. 

He stood up, holding his hand out for you, “Come here,” he said, pulling you up before pulling you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, “I love you. I love you so fucking much, yeah?”

“I love you so fucking much, too.”

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