#...i just love this kid and i write for myself half the time

[chaosduckies]

Congratulations on 100 Followers!!! Big achievement!!!!

Gonna take you up on your open commissions so I’d love to see your take on a tiny being forced to ask a giant for help.

Your choice of characters but I’m a sucker for hurt comfort so go wild ❤️

Congrats again!!!

Thank you! :D

I'm sorry that this took so long to get out! I was having a minor writing slump but I'm back at it! I did have a lot of fun writing this and I hope you do to! (classic borrower asking a human for help)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Minor blood

Snow Fall

———Forest———

Everything was going great. I set off on my own, leaving my parents behind and starting my new life. Of course I was scared. Who wouldn’t be when you were two inches tall and leaving everyone you know and love? It was terrifying, but I had to. Borrower children, even though some were some-what good at borrowing from humans, were supposed to leave their parents as soon as they turned fourteen since it was a liability for their parents. I was just lucky and extended my stay for 3 more years. What could I say? I loved my parents just as much as they loved me, and no matter how many times my mom pleaded for me to stay, I knew I wasn’t that good at borrowing. I would eventually get us all in trouble. Which was why I decided to find a new home when I turned seventeen. It didn’t sit right with me that I was still leeching off my parents. 

Humans were scary. The horror stories, the pets, the kids. Almost everything about them scared me half to death. Just thinking about getting caught in one of those huge hands has me shuddering. I couldn’t think about myself getting caught, or what would happen to me, and to be honest, leaving my parents was the worst decision of my life. 

I wasn’t a good borrower to say in the least. I could barely hurdle over the counters without somehow hurting myself or becoming so sore the next day that I could barely move, I wasn’t the best at hiding. I had no idea how my parents did this at such a young age, but I wasn’t like them at all. How did they end up with such a failure like me? I laughed at the thought. 

My new home was nice. The human here had a schedule that I could work around. They left for work every morning, giving me plenty of time to get a little bit of food that they leave out sometimes, get some other things, and head back. They weren’t very observant of anything in particular, perfect for grabbing a few extra paperclips since my hook usually breaks from my own misuse. This house was perfect… or so I thought. 

After a while, the person stopped laying out food everywhere, they had started packing up their things in huge boxes, people in strange uniforms came by and dragged out anything heavy. I had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t good. I stayed hidden in my home in the walls, scared of what was happening. I was too scared to go out at night and get my daily necessities, like food and water. Humans were terrifying. If I was seen by even one of them, who knows what might happen? I didn’t care if I was so hungry that my stomach was digesting itself, there was no way I was going to get caught and placed in some weird science lab. Testing me everyday, killing me slowly. I shuddered at the thought, wrapping myself in the thin cloth I managed to snag before any of this moving was happening. 

Lately the seasons have been changing, and the human that I thought was still living here hasn’t bothered to turn on the heater. This only made things a million times worse for me. I was already hungry, practically starving from not having eaten anything for the past three days, and now it was freezing cold. There was nothing I could do about it though. I was terrified. Scared. Too paranoid about what would happen if I stepped outside the comforts of my dingy home in the walls. No matter how much I wanted to go back with my parents, I couldn’t. More because I barely even remember the way back home, but also because it was already dangerous enough getting to this new home. I had no choice but to stay here in hopes that I could get over this fear of being seen and that the human had left some kind of food out. But there was no such luck. The house was empty. Furniture moved, heater off, no sign of food in the cabinets. Just nothing. My hope diminished as I sluggishly walked back home in defeat. There was no way I was going to survive. 

The human that I found so easy to maneuver around without being seen, that left food out, was now gone. Who knew when another one would just move back in? Most days I would walk around out in the open because there was nothing to do. I mean, without a human there was no chance of me surviving. I was too afraid to go outside because I knew there were animals that wouldn’t hesitate to mistake me for food. So staying inside was really my only option. Plus, it was just the slightest bit warmer here than outside. 

Sometimes I’d go sit on the windowsill, stay there for hours watching these tiny white balls fall from the sky and cover the ground. People passed by wearing thick coats that protected them from the harsh cold, and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I looked back at the thin piece of cloth wrapped around me, barely giving any warmth while humans were able to be so warm, get food without having to worry about anyone seeing them (or in my case get food at all), heck, they weren’t even scared of anything. 

I sat alone, in a quiet house just waiting for anything to happen. I didn’t care if it was good or bad. I didn’t know how I was surviving for so long, nor how I was still moving despite searching the top shelves and countertops desperately for something. But of course it was always the same way it was. Empty. Nothing was changing, but in a bad way. 

My legs were sore from the amount of climbing I’ve done the past few days, my body was getting even weaker than it already was. I guess I really was going to starve to death, huh? All of that talking with my parents about making sure I would have enough to last me and it’s just wasted. How was I supposed to know that only a week after I found a new livable home that the human I was just barely getting used to was going to move out? Life wasn’t fair. 

Today was yet another sad, depressing day. I dragged myself along the floor, trying to at least be active while I was struggling to survive. Would another human be coming here soon? As much as they scared me and borrowers alike, most relied on them to help us survive. When they’re clumsy and forget easily, it’s easy to “borrow” a few things here and there. They leave food out or there’s an easy way to get into a cabinet, we can take a few things they wouldn’t notice. It was almost impossible to live without relying on a human in some way. Ironic how the thing I fear the most was the thing that was keeping me alive. 

I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill, breathing heavily as soon as I was safely up. I groaned in pain, wrapping up my hook and sitting by the window, once again staring at the white scenery. Other houses just across that had a slight smoke coming from the top of their house. Must be warm… I rubbed my arms, watching as a few people walked by, possibly on their way to work. I shivered, regretting not taking my “blanket.” 

Life wasn’t fair. I knew that much, but I forced myself to stay alive for whatever reason. My figure was getting slimmer from the lack of food, but I somehow kept moving. It was cold, but I gathered up any cloth I could find and wrapped myself up at night. My hook looked like it could break at any point in time, but it was hanging on just like me. If my hook did break, then there was basically no way for me to get anywhere but home and on the floor. I hoped that something would happen one day, but nothing ever did. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something gray scurry along the floor. I stared for a couple long seconds before shrugging it off and continuing to look out the window. It was probably just my imagination. Great, now I’m hallucinating. I sighed, watching as cars carefully passed by. 

I don’t know how long I stayed on top of the windowsill, but eventually there was a change of scenery. At first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but there it was. A car parked right in front of the house, headlights turning off and revealing a human, zipping up their jacket and looking down at something and back at the front of the house. I was too caught up in my fascination to realize that I was out in the open. The human slowly started making their way up to the front door, holding something that looked silver in their hands. 

I scrambled for my hook, climbing down as fast as I could, which was very painful. At some point I lost my grip and fell, but to my luck it was only a couple feet. I hurried to my feet, pulling my hook from the ledge it was dangling from and ran as fast as I could to reach the extremely tiny hole I squeezed myself through. I took a few seconds to catch my breath before the front door opened. My eyes were wide, my heart pounding fast. Would my luck finally be turning around? 

The human was taller than the last and looked much younger. I couldn’t really get a good look at their face, but I could make out his dirty-blonde hair. I could hear my own heartbeat. Is everything going to go back to normal? Would I be able to survive on my own again? 

The human moved around the place, shivering and pressing some buttons on something. Soon enough, the house was slowly but surely being warmed up. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. It might not be much… but at least it was something. Better than the frigid cold that had been filling the house for who knows how long. 

They moved around the house, checking everything out and smiling, their eyes a nice shade of light-brown. They looked… so nice. For a split second my mind wondered what would happen if he would ever see me. Would he keep me as a pet like I’m pretty sure most humans would? Or… nothing? No, why would I even be thinking about that? He would obviously want to hurt me even more than I already was. 

My stomach rumbled quietly, I winced, but confused to watch as they came from outside and back in, carrying a few boxes, bags and a small case that had wheels on it. Was I finally… saved? If this human was moving back in then I could actually have a chance to survive? I silently cheered to myself. How long has it been? Almost a week maybe? How did I even manage to stay alive? Didn’t matter anymore I guess. 

I continued to watch the human, putting up things in the boxes, setting up a few mini tables and placing picture frames of him and, who I was guessing, his parents. Of course occasionally taking breaks for a snack or two, leaving a plastic container filled with what looked like fresh fruit and vegetables. After most of the boxes were unpacked, a few still in their bedroom, he went back outside, most likely to fetch something else from his car. He usually took a while out there… so maybe it would be enough time to go and quickly grab something to eat? No, that was too risky. What if I was wrong and he came back early? I doubt I’d have enough time to find a hiding spot while out in the open since he didn’t exactly have any furniture or anything. 

I slumped, making my way back to my bland home in the walls. I had always tried to decorate… but since there hadn’t been anyone living here for me to “borrow” a few things from, I haven’t been able to decorate. Only the small bed I made by gathering up a bunch of cloth that the human before had forgotten about. It wasn’t extremely comfy, but better than anything I could’ve asked for. Otherwise, boring room. But it’s not like I need to decorate it anyways. Surviving was my main focus right now, and now that there was someone actually living here now… maybe I’d have a chance to get back into things. 

The wait was long, hearing the human talk to someone on what I think they call a phone, hang up, set up their house again and spend most of their time gathering up all of the blankets and pillows that he had brought with him and gathering them all up in what I think was going to be his room. As comfy as it looked, I knew I couldn’t just take a couple of minutes to get somewhat comfortable. Lately every night has been spent cold, hungry, filled with false hope. If I could just take a couple minutes to have some kind of sense of safety and security, that would be great. But I haven’t been able to, and I doubt that I’d be able to even now. I never realized just how hard it is to survive. Imagine what my parents went through while taking care of me… 

I hugged my blanket close, my eyelids threatening to close at any second. I heard the sound of the door open once again, and the loud sounds of him dragging something across the floor. It was all fine for me though. My eyes shut close, I laid down, and soon enough my mind drifted off. 

——————

When my eyes opened, there was a quiet noise of people talking outside. My heart had skipped a beat, thinking that there were more humans living here. That would make it impossible for someone like me to get past without being noticed, but as I groggily stepped outside, rubbing my eyes to wipe away the sleep, I realized that it was only the tv that wasn’t there a couple hours ago. 

I looked around the dark room, seeing that there was now a singular couch in what was the living room, a tv, a table that held two more frames. How long had I been sleeping? Or better yet, just how exhausted was I? Obviously the sun had already set, so I guess it didn’t really matter. I headed back to my room, grabbed my hook, and took off, every now and then finding a hiding spot just in case the human was somewhere I couldn’t see him. 

My head turned towards a dark shadow scamper right across from me, but I didn’t pay any mind. Probably just my imagination, right? Right now I was just trying to make sure that the human was asleep right now just before I go and see if he had any food out… or at least something edible in the cabinets. 

I checked the living room first, hiding by one of the legs under the couch, peaking my head out just enough to see him having trouble keeping his eyes open. Good enough for me. I ran quietly back to the kitchen, throwing my hook as far up as I could before testing if it was safely secure. I started my trek up, my arms and legs begging in me to go back down. Despite my arms threatening to tear off from the lack of strength. I really wasn’t good at borrowing. 

As soon as I reached the top of the counter, I took a few seconds to catch my breath. Once I get used to the human’s schedule I may finally be able to get back into things. No going hungry for that long, not worrying if I’ll make it to the end of the night. as soon as he turns on the heater things would be even better… I wouldn’t be shivering at night and struggle to find something that would act as a blanket. Yet another reason to be jewels of humans. They had everything borrowers didn’t. It wasn’t at all fair, but we all knew what would happen if a human found or saw us. The thought was pure torture to even think about. Literally. 

On the counter, there really wasn’t anything for me to see except for the half-eaten sandwich just lying on the counter. I silently walked over, not really wanting to eat part of the sandwich that they had already bitten into but I had to unless I wanted him to already be suspicious when it hasn’t even been a full day. 

I started cutting off pieces, making them fit inside my bag and taking a few more unnoticeable pieces for tomorrow, learning from past mistakes. As I was cutting, I realized that there was something off. The tv was still on in the other room, I figured that the human still hadn’t left the couch either, fighting off sleep. So why did it feel so off? I treaded carefully, watching every tiny movement that caught my eye. For a moment it was so quiet that I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest, and then too quiet. 

My eyes searched around, taking my final piece into my hands since no more would fit in my bag. I might as well grab as much as I could. Better than having nothing. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that I wasn’t dead, that I’d at least have some kind of way to survive. Out of curiosity, I took a small bite out of the sandwich, only really getting the bread part but it tasted so good. To be honest, a sandwich was a definite score for borrowers, now when you’ve been starving for days on end, it tastes amazing. 

Two glasses hit each other behind me, I turned my head seeing them spin before returning to their still pose. My eyes widened, hurrying to my hook that was still hanging off the edge of the counter. I looked back, the light making it easier to see a rat chase me down, easily twice my size. I let out a yelp as I ran through several spice glasses in hopes of losing it, only to hear them all fall onto the counter with a loud thud! That was bad for two reasons, one because not only was it making a mess and trails that I’ve been here, and two, because I knew the human would want to come and investigate what was happening. Of course being the person that I am, I would never be able to run faster than this  surprisingly malicious rat. 

I struggled to keep up my balance, eventually tripping on thin air, dropping the small piece of sandwich a few feet away from me. I quickly rolled over, my chest heaving up and down as I faced the rat not even given a second before they scratched at my shirt. I winced, holding my stomach and seeing my hand covered in some blood. My breathing was getting more heavy as I saw a silhouette by the kitchen entrance. The lights turned on, blinding the rat for just a second as I quickly stood up and kept running towards my hook, holding my stomach. I knew what was happening, and there was no way I would be found the second a new human moves in, right? I blinked back the tears building up in my eyes, tripping once again. My vision was blurry from the tears, and judging by the small squeaks from the rat I thought was a good couple feet away, that meant that the human was here. 

Forcing myself to sit up, I looked at the bowl that kept moving. The rat screeching to be released from their prison. The human placed some heavy books on top, sighing to himself as he muttered something under his breath I couldn’t catch, but I didn’t really care. I scrambled back onto my feet, trying to run yet again and slammed into something soft and squishy. I winced as I fell and soon my entire world was moving again, the soft surface now everywhere. 

It settled in my mind slowly, realizing that I was in human hands. It hurt to breathe from my new wound, but I couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to muffle the sounds of my quiet cries. 

“Oh! U-um, I didn’t mean to…” Their voice sounded quiet and worried. I just continued crying, not even caring what would happen to me. Who was I kidding? I could never have survived on my own! I should’ve known when that first human moved out. Sure it was okay at first, but obviously them moving was a sign that I wasn’t meant to be on my own. I should’ve listened to my parents and stayed with them. This would’ve never happened, I would be alive and healthy instead of on the brink of death and in Death’s hands himself. Literally. Who knows what this human would do to me? It was scary to think about. 

“P-Please don’t h-hurt me.” I mumbled most likely too quiet for his ears to hear, leaning against what I think was his thumb. He flinched slightly, but why did it feel so… comfortable? 

“Aw little guy,” He smiled softly, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” I leaned into the warmth from his hands, hugging what was his thumb closely, still crying to myself. What else was I supposed to do? Of course I was scared but… I also just wanted someone to hold me. Right now I didn’t care that it was a human and I’d face my consequences later, I just wanted to be promised that I wouldn’t have to try so hard anymore. That I could just live without thinking about what I could manage to get for dinner. 

“You were just… hungry?” He asked as I picked my head up, seeing him looking straight at the piece I had dropped on the counter. I shakily nodded my head, hoping he would see. For now, I would just hide my fear. Right now this human was giving me everything I’ve wanted this past week. Comfort, warmth. Heck, I’m even crying in front of him. How embarrassing was that and he still hasn’t said or asked me anything. 

“Hm, here little guy.” He tried tilting me back onto the counter, but I grabbed onto his sleeve and hung on tighter. I didn’t want to be let go already. I know humans are bad and I’d face the consequences eventually, but right now I’d like to think that not all of them were as horrifying as the stories make them out to be. 

He softly laughed, cupping both hands around me again. I sniffled, “C-could you… h-help me? P-please.” I tried wiping away my tears, but they just kept coming. My eyes felt red and puffy, my legs felt like jello, heart racing. I was a mixture of emotions. Terrified, filled with hope, and most of all grateful that this human hadn’t decided to hurt me yet. 

The human studied me, worried. I stood still for a moment, hoping I would get my answer. It seemed ridiculous to be asking a human this. One that probably had no idea that they had saved me in the first place. My heart thumped in my chest, waiting in the eerie silence, awaiting my answer. My stomach still burnt from the deep gash, but I've had to go through worse. There was still some blood that was getting on the humans’ shirt sleeve, but that was the least of my worries. 

I felt something rub against my back, making me flinch, but lean into the gentle touch. Some part of me knew that this was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. I was sitting in a humans’ hand, talking to one, being seen by one. And for some reason, it all felt right. Everything felt right. That this was meant to happen. That it was alright for me to be vulnerable to this human. 

They started moving their hand as I continued to cry, pressing my face into the fabric of his shirt. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a makeshift hug. I could hear his heartbeat in the background beating rhythmically, the slight rise and fall of his chest with every slow breath he took. I sniffled, shocked from the gesture but otherwise grateful. I wasn’t going to die. I was alive. I felt safe. There was no more suffering, no more false hope, no more anything. I would be fine. I smiled to myself, trying to wipe away the tears trailing down my face. 

I guess sometimes it’s okay to ask for help. 

——————

I hope you enjoyed! I don't know how to feel about this myself, but I think it's alright! Again, I had a lot of fun writing and thank you for the prompt!

Slowly getting out of my writing slump, hopefully get these prompts done plus something reallyyyy exciting (well at least it is to me)

Thank you for reading! :D

Taglist: @da3dm

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[harrysfolklore]

yn piastri fretting over oscar’s broken rib and oscar’s like, “gee you’re worst than mum” & nicole’s just like, “yeah i don’t need to worry about oscar when yn’s around”

the rumors are true: i'm obsessed with writing this little scenarios

read little bitch here

"Are you absolutely sure you're comfortable? Maybe we should prop you up a bit more," you hover anxiously over Oscar, adjusting his pillow for the third time in as many minutes." Oh, and do you need more ice? I can run and get some. Actually, should we call the doctor again? Just to double-check everything's okay?"

"YN, I'm fine," Oscar groans, "It's just a broken rib, not the end of the world. I'll be racing in Hungary next weekend anyway."

"What? No, absolutely not!" your eyes widen in alarm. "You can't race with a broken rib, Oscar. That's insane!"

Oscar rolls his eyes dramatically. "It's cracked, not broken. And I've been cleared by the medical team," he stresses, "You're worse that mum sometimes."

From her seat in the corner, Nicole chuckles. "Oh yeah, I don't even have to worry about you when your sister is around. She's got the overprotective mother role covered."

"Thanks, Mum," you say, turning to her. "My therapist has great opinions about it. She says my anxiety comes from a place of love."

"Yeah, well, your love is suffocating me right now," Oscar snorts.

"Osc, I'm just worried about you," you stressed again, "It's too dangerous. What if you crash? What if your rib punctures a lung? What if-"

"What if aliens invade during the race?" Oscar interrupts, mimicking your concerned tone. "What if a meteor hits the track? What if I suddenly forget how to drive?"

"This isn't funny, Oscar! I'm serious!"

"So am I! Carlos nearly drove with a burst appendix, and he was fine!"

Carlos, who's been quietly watching the siblings' back-and-forth like a tennis match, pipes up. "Well, 'fine' might be stretching it. I was in quite a bit of pain, actually."

You whirled on Carlos, who suddenly looked very interested in the ceiling. "Oh, don't even get me started on that piece of stupidity!"

"In my defense," Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly. "I didn't actually race…"

"Only because the team had more sense than you did!" you exclaimed.

"Back when you pretended to hate Carlos but you were at the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was at the hospital," Oscar teased, making you roll your eyes.

"That's not the point right now," you crosses your arms over your chest, glaring at Oscar. "We're talking about your safety, not my past… concerns."

"Oh, but I think it is relevant," Oscar grins mischievously, sensing an opportunity. "Remember how you kept texting the group chat every five minutes when Carlos was in the hospital? 'Just being a decent human being,' you said. As if we couldn't see right through you."

You feel your cheeks heat up, aware of Carlos' gaze on you. "That's... that's completely irrelevant," you stammer.

"Is that so, hermosa?" Carlos chuckles softly, moving to stand beside you. "I didn't know you cared so much back then."

You shoot Carlos a look that's half embarrassment, half exasperation. "Don't you start. And you," you turn back to Oscar, pointing an accusing finger, "stop trying to change the subject. We're talking about your cracked rib and your ridiculous idea to race with it."

Nicole, who's been watching the exchange with poorly concealed amusement, decides to intervene. "Alright, kids, let's all take a breath. YN, honey, I understand you're worried. But Oscar's right - he's been cleared by the medical team. They wouldn't let him race if it wasn't safe."

"But-" you start to protest, only to be cut off by Oscar.

"No buts," he says firmly. "I appreciate the concern, sis, I really do. But this is my job, and sometimes it comes with risks. I promise I'll be careful, okay?"

You sigh, feeling your resolve weaken. "Fine. But I swear, Oscar, if you so much as wince during that race, I'm storming the track myself."

"Now that I'd pay to see. YN vs. Formula 1 security," Carlos jokes, "My money's on you, mi amor."

As you and Oscar continue to bicker, your mom and Carlos exchange amused glances. Carlos leans towards her, speaking in a low voice.

"Has YN always been like this?" he asks, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches you fuss over Oscar.

"Oh, you have no idea," Nicole chuckles softly. "This is actually quite mild compared to when they were kids. There was this one time when Oscar was about seven, and he fell off his bike. Scraped his knee pretty badly. YN, who was ten at the time, went into full nurse mode."

"What did she do?" Carlos raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Well," she continues, "She insisted on 'quarantining' Oscar in his room for a week, claiming he needed complete bed rest. She even made a 'Do Not Disturb: Patient Recovering' sign for his door. Poor Oscar was going stir-crazy by day two, but YN wouldn't let him leave. She brought him all his meals, read him stories, everything."

Carlos can't help but laugh at the image. "That sounds exactly like something she would do."

"Oh, it gets better," Nicole grins. "When I finally convinced her that Oscar was fine to go outside, she insisted on wrapping him in bubble wrap before he could ride his bike again. Said it was 'necessary protective gear'. Oscar looked like a little astronaut waddling down the street."

Their laughter catches your attention, and you pause in your debate with Oscar about the dangers of racing with a cracked rib. "What's so funny?" you ask suspiciously.

Before Nicole can respond, Oscar, catching on to the conversation, groans dramatically. "Oh god, Mum, please tell me you're not telling the bubble wrap story."

Your eyes widen in realization, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Mum! You promised never to mention that again!"

Carlos, still chuckling, wraps an arm around your waist. "I think it's adorable, hermosa. You've always been a protector."

"Well control your girlfriend! She's trying to bubble wrap me again, I swear!"

"I am not! Although..." you trail off, a mischievous glint in your eye, "it's not a bad idea for the race. Extra padding couldn't hurt, right?"

"YN, no!"

[churipu]

WHAT REMINDS THEM OF YOU 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, megumi fushiguro, itadori yuuji

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. just pure fluff :D

note. i was going to write some hurt comfort — but then i figured that i wanted to keep myself sane for today :>

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

anything strawberry. scent, taste — anything strawberry.

gojo remembered when the first time he brought you home some honeoye strawberries after a mission since it was in season. the way your eyes just lit up at the sight of strawberries made him happy, and from then on — gojo looks at a picture of a strawberry or even smelled strawberry from god knows where.

he just thinks of you.

one time gojo saw a rabbit eating a strawberry while scrolling through his social media, and he wasted no time sending the video to you with a small message: "you <33"

or the other time gojo sees a bucket cap with strawberry motives and he just had to get it for you. the male waited in line for half an hour for that hat (and he had to "fight" a kid for it, he won in the end because the kid moved on to a duck motive hat instead).

"baby, look what i got you — strawberry scented bath bomb. it was the last one on stock, and i had to argue with a lady over it," he happily bursts through the door, boasting while raising what seemed to be a bath bomb.

gojo just knows when you change your usual brand of strawberry lip balm. it took him a peck and he asks you, "did you change your brand? this one tastes weird," he wipes his lips.

"they were out of stock, 'toru."

"why didn't you say so?" he cooed, kissing the bridge of your nose, "i'd go to the other side of the earth to get you one, y'know?"

you chuckled, "or, i could just wait for it to stock back . . ."

"nonsense!"

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

the smiths.

he finds it amusing when you start quoting that one scene from 500 days of summer, "i love the smiths . . ." and he just unexpectedly replied with, "sorry?"

but that time — he didn't know that he was "unknowingly" going along with it. confused, he had to question you about it, and when you told him it was from a movie. megumi finally understood and thought that maybe you really liked the movie.

he was wrong. it wasn't the movie, it was the smiths. so now, every time he sees anything or hears anything about the band, he finds himself thinking about you — but he'd never actually say that. megumi often listens to their songs just so he could understand when you talked to him about it.

also, quoting the movie was now a habit for you two. you just go, "i love the smiths," out of the blue and megumi will continue it (even if he says that it's pretty corny).

megumi loves it when you listen to the smiths out loud, singing softly to the tune. the male tries really hard to get you unofficial merchandise, official merchandise for the smiths are actually so hard to find today — so he just had to go and make it custom for you.

"and when the double decker bus, crashes into us . . ." he heard you sing, both of your ears jammed with earbuds from the earphones, "to die by your side."

that, was your favorite song. and megumi made it into a custom painting of you and him as if the two of you were in that one scene in 500 days of summer. i'm not kidding.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

mochi skin. the texture, the flesh. it just reminded him of your cheeks — it's so squishy and soft. every single time he buys a mochi, he makes sure to do something that he calls a squish test.

where he squishes the mochi, and then squishes your cheeks. if they don't feel the same, yuuji gets rid of the mochi and gets another one (he eats them).

"it doesn't feel the same y/n, i don't like it," he whines out softly, tossing the mochi into his mouth — he angrily takes out another bill of cash to buy another mochi.

"yuuji, why does it have to be the same again?" you asked him, hands inside your pockets.

"because . . ." good point. why?

the male prompts to ignore you and buy another one (three others) to make sure they are the same texture as your cheeks. it's something he does — if a mochi he buys doesn't feel the same way like your cheeks does.

he eats them or lets you have them.

if it does.

he also eats them or lets you have them.

it's just something he does for fun, so he could always remember you. and when you're not there with him — yuuji makes sure to buy at least five before coming over to visit you so he could do the test.

when he's not feeling like it but he misses you, he takes a video and sends it to you with a caption: "i miss you."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[chosok-amo]

OH, I'M DESTROYED : GOJO SATORU

he's your best friend— gojo satoru, he's getting married soon with kids on the way even though your heart is craving for each other, you sarcastically, jokingly tell him, “pleased? oh, I'm destroyed,” after hearing the news, he laughed, almost crying as he looks at you.

w/c. 3,4k

warning : non-sorcerer! gojo satoru. little bit angst. (idk)

p.s. when i said the reader didn't believe in god it's just for writing purposes, i, myself too believe in god. this fiction is inspired by one day series episodes 8? I forget.

“y/n, can we talk?”

there he is, satoru gojo— your bestfriend, your other half, your oasis in the desert, your everything. standing with two of his warm, delicate hands stuffed into his pocket. a warm smile makes themselves home on his handsome face. his blue eyes— satoru gojo's blue eyes, shimmered like the clearest ocean on a sunlit day, mesmerizing depths promising thousand, endless even, unspoken emotions.

each glance felt like being wrapped in the gentle embrace of a summer breeze, full of warmth and tender affection. his eyes held a universe of mystery and allure, making it impossible to look away, as if they whispered secrets of love and devotion only meant for you— hah, you wish’ you thought.

“sure,” you smile.

your hands gripping the bouquet tightly, so tight the spine cuts through your finger without you realizing. you two walk side by side into the maze behind the chapel where suguru geto and shoko ieiri weddings are held, yours and gojo's other friends. you refuse to look at him, sparing the man a glance that feels strange after all those two years living your life with no contact from him, neither do you try to reach him, at least not after the fight you have that night.

“how are you doing, y/n?”

the simple question lingers through the air for quite a time when the two enter the maze. your silken hair is pretty, falling gently, enchanting, on your back, touching the soft material of your bridesmaid dress, a blue one, the same color as his eyes— oh, his eyes.

you look to your left to fulfill the starving of your heart, take a glimpse by a glimpse of his frame. two years was too long without seeing those pretty eyes, those warm smiles, those pretty long white lashes, those . . . no, just him.

“it was fine,” lied, of course.

you couldn't find the courage to pour your heart out, you wouldn't dare. you wouldn't dare to tell your best friend how much the longing, how thousand days and nights, and each time you closed your eyes there he was before you, standing in the void inside your dream, how he all of the other people the one who you falling into the abyss to.

“turn right?”

you only nodded, his palm barely touched your lower back and your breath was already prepared to leave your body only for it to come back the second gojo pulled his hand away. the two of you sat on the concrete bench, nailed in the middle of the maze. under the moonlight, the soft glow casting a magical aura around you. the silvery light made gojo's eyes come alive, no longer hidden behind the black glasses he once wore so often.

his striking blue eyes shone with an ethereal brilliance, reflecting the moon's gentle radiance. his white locks shimmered like strands of stardust, adding to his otherworldly beauty. in that moment, with the moonlight dancing on his features, he looked more breathtaking than ever, a living embodiment of celestial grace and charm. the night seemed to hold its breath, as if time itself paused to admire the sheer beauty of the scene, leaving you both enveloped in a cocoon of serene enchantment.

he is as beautiful as ever, as breathtaking as you can remember— that's how you always saw him.

oh, but how gojo wish you could see the way he sees you. sitting before him, his oh-so-called-bestfriend, his unwavering rock, his compass, and how sometimes— no, every time, it's just 'his'.

under the moonlight, with its silvery beams casting a soft glow around you, in the heart of the maze where the world feels like a distant dream, it’s just the two of you. the stillness of the night amplifies the beauty of the moment, every shadow and glint of light painting a picture of serene intimacy. here, in this secluded sanctuary, surrounded by the whispering leaves and the cool night air, the universe narrows to the space between you.

gojo looks at you, his eyes filled with a tender intensity, wishing you could see yourself as he does—captivating, radiant, and indispensable. in this moment, under the tranquil moonlit sky, you are his everything, the silent heartbeat of his existence, the unspoken song of his soul.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence, “i never thought we'd end up here again. thought you’d be too busy saving the world or something,” you throwing the man side glance, a little smirk playing on your lips.

gojo chuckles, the sound light and familiar. he brings the glass of almost-finished wine to his lips, takes a sip before answering, “and i thought you’d be too busy being mad at me forever,” he jokingly smiled at you.

you roll your eyes, the smirk turns into a smile, tugging at your lips. “well, you did deserve it. you were being insufferable,” you laugh a little. and without you notice, it caught gojo by surprise, a little. two years long he survived with hearing your little giggle— giggle for me, again’ he thought. eyes fixed to you as he takes another sip, smiling.

he smirks, leaning back on his hands. “insufferable? that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” your head slightly shook, “nope, just accurate,” you retort, popping the 'p' as you nudging his shoulder playfully. “you have a way of getting under people's skin, you know.”

“oh, come on,” he protests, a teasing glint in his eyes. “you know you missed me. admit it.’

“missed you?” you asked, giving the man a glimpse of 'knowing look' before smiling, “more like missed having someone to argue with,” you reply, though there’s a softness to your words. you glance at him again, the moonlight making his blue eyes shimmer like twin stars. “it's been quiet without you around.”

he laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet night. “same old you. always ready with a comeback.”

“and same old you, always thinking you’re the center of the universe,” you quip, though your tone is softer now, the old familiarity seeping back. “well, i am pretty important,” he says with a wink, but then his expression turns more serious. “i’m sorry, you know,” his eyes moving slowly, looking for your expression, “for what happened. i never wanted to hurt you.”

for the second time, you nodded your head, eyes focusing on your laps. you finish the rest of the wine on your glass before putting the glass down on the bench and look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “i know, satoru. i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have walked away like that.”

he reaches out, taking your hand in his. the hands he always wants to hold, straving even. the hands that always perfectly fits with his like a puzzle, the warm, your pulse hitting your soft skin a little harder every time he holds it— oh, how he loves the feeling. “we both made mistakes. but we’re here now. can we start over?” you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. “yeah, i’d like that.”

he grins, the mischievous spark back in his eyes. “good. because i’ve got two years of teasing to make up for.” you laugh, shaking your head as your brain begging you to let go of his hands, so you did.

shaking your head slightly, you scoff, “bring it on, gojo. i’m ready.”

he shifts closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “you know, i really did miss you. it wasn’t the same without my best friend around.”

best-friend, fucking hate that word’ you thought.

you look at him, the honesty in his words melting away the last remnants of your anger and blossoming the garden of regret and sadness you used to grow, still. “i missed you too,” you smile so little, just like how your feelings made you feel right now. “more than i wanted to admit,” you added, jokingly.

gojo chuckles softly. “well, lucky for you, i’m back now. and i’m not going anywhere.”

please don't— you want to beg him, wishing he wouldn't make any promises, you hope he would go anywhere. at least until these feelings start to leave your body, faded, disappearing like whispers on the wind.

but you smile because feeling a sense of peace settles over you. “good,” you lie to yourself. “because i don't think i could handle losing you again,” it was a pleasure to be burn for gojo satoru, it was always a pleasure.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with tender intensity and something unfamiliar— you think, only to not realize he looks at you just like how the way you look at him. his love for you breaking all his bones and soul, but all he can do is just laugh; you were his best friend, after all. beautiful, crushingly so even, you look like the rest of my life— no, that's not how a best friend thinks of his best friend. gojo satoru wouldn't dare.

“you won’t. not if i can help it.”

the two of you just look at each other after that, with soft smiles on your faces, letting the weight of the past dissolve in the quiet night. under the moonlight, in the heart of the maze, it feels as if the world has been righted, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels as it should be.

or maybe it shouldn't.

gojo shifted slightly and reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “hey, i have something for you,” he said, his voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. curious, you watched as he pulled out an envelope. the paper was thick and elegant— the kind used for important occasions, a soft lavender color that stood out against the dark fabric of his suit. he handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours, sending a familiar warmth through you.

you took the envelope, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. opening it carefully, you find a beautifully crafted wedding invitation inside. the names on it made your breath catch in your throat: satoru gojo and his fiancée.

your heart sank, but you managed to keep your expression neutral. “satoru..” your voice came out as a whisper, blending with the soft hustle of the leaves. “this is lovely,” you said, forcing a smile as you looked up at him.

satoru's eyes searched yours as if trying to read your thoughts. the grief— it's all over your eyes, the grief that is more honest to him than you ever could. but gojo does not know the reason, why are you grieving? it is because of your sorrow and he can't give you the shoulder? or is it because you, once again, are letting yourself burn for loving him? the saddest is, he doesn't know that, not that he has to.

is it still a pleasure to burn for him now?

“i wanted you to have it first,” he said quietly. “you've always been important to me, more than anyone else.” the weight of his words hung in the air, making it harder to maintain your composure. “thank you,” you replied, your voice barely steady. “i wouldn't miss it for the world.”

you smile at each other as if trying to comfort each other. “are you pleased?” he asked softly— too afraid if his voice came out louder, he would break you. please, don't say yes’ he begged his heart. just say the word, y/n’ he continued. he begged, once, twice, three time, for the past twelve years of his life knowing you, under the moonlight, to the moon that you say the words, begging him to stop the wedding. just say the word and he'll come running to you.

you groan a little, “pleased? oh, i'm destroyed.”

no, he was destroyed.

so he leaned closer, faster enough to fill his eyes with a mixture of affection and again, something you couldn't quite identify. “you know, you’ve always been my closest friend. my confidant. my anchor.” you nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “and you’ve been mine,” you said softly, the unspoken words lingering between you.

the silence between you grew heavier as you stared at the lavender envelope in your hands. with a deep breath, you carefully opened the lavender envelope, your fingers trembling. the wedding invitation was exquisitely crafted, each detail speaking of the elegance and care that had gone into its creation. the elegant script revealing the date. seven weeks from now. your heart sank further, the realization hitting you like a wave.

you looked up at gojo, the question evident in your eyes. “seven weeks?” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. “that's. . . soon.” he nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “yeah, it's a ‘shotgun’ wedding,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “things have been moving quickly when you are not around,” your heart ached at his words, the reality of his imminent marriage sinking in. “why so soon?" you asked, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “you are going to be a father? is that allowed?”

he chuckled at your attempt to joke, trying to hide the sadness that was so clearly there behind his eyes. the smile on his lips didn’t quite reach them, but he tried his best to keep up a brave face for you.

he scoffs, “apparently, they did,” he nodded.

he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act as though it didn’t bother him in the slightest. he didn’t want you to know just how much turmoil he was facing with this entire situation. “yeah, not like we had much of a choice in the whole matter . . .” the fact that he was getting married had been eating at him for weeks. all of that time he had spent with you, all the memories. in just seven short, short weeks it would come to an end. he wanted to tell you. tell you just how much you meant to him, but . . .

but what? would it do any good?

your hand is gripping tightly around the bouquet, so tight, suffocating, until— for the second time that night the spine digs itself through your skin, straight to your heart— the pain, it's unbearable, you feel like dying.

there was a long pause, the maze around you silent except for the faint rustling of leaves. you wanted to tell him everything, to confess how much he meant to you, but fear held you back. instead, you tried to focus on the moment, on the bittersweet reality of his impending marriage. “oh, my god—” you choke on your own. one hand covering your mouth before you face him.

satoru reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and comforting. “promise me we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” he said, his voice almost pleading. you squeezed his hand, fighting back tears. “always,” you promised, even as your heart shattered a little more. your hands, the one he wants to carry his heart by.

your eyes are shaking, matching his heart, it's hurting. “i'm so happy for you,” your smile didn't reach your eyes. someone once said that people's hearts appear in their eyes, gojo can see yours now; it's broken, shattered before him.

please don't be happy for me, be miserable, so i don't have the heart to leave you, so i can be with you,’ he wants to scream at you.

“oh, god, i'm so happy for you. . .”

look at you, a girl who doesn't believe in god now crying, begging, pleading while calling his name because the pain was unbearable. how is cruel love can be?

the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, the lavender invitation between you acting as both a bridge and a barrier. you took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up, and without thinking, you pulled gojo into a hug. he stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around you in a familiar embrace.

your tears flowed freely, once, twice, thrice, the moonlight catching them and making your eyes sparkle like crystals. “i’m happy for you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and sorrow. satoru held you tighter, his breath warm against your ear. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “it means everything to me to have your support.”

the maze around you seemed to close in, the hedges whispering secrets and memories of times past. you clung to him, your heartbreaking and mending all at once, the scent of the night flowers mingling with the salt of your tears. “i wish you every happiness,” you continued, your words barely more than a breath. “you deserve it, ‘toru. you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. his own were glistening, the usual sparkle tempered by the weight of the moment. “and you deserve happiness too,” he said softly, his thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “promise me you’ll find it.”

your foreheads met, and the gentle press of his skin against yours felt like the most natural thing in the world. your breaths mingled, soft and warm, creating a delicate rhythm that only the two of you shared, a silent conversation of souls.

his eyes, filled with a depth of emotion you had always known but never fully understood, locked with yours. the moonlight bathed you both in a soft, ethereal glow, casting a spell that held the night in a timeless embrace. every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, shimmered in the air between you, a tapestry of love and longing woven through years of friendship.

gojo's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he were afraid you might disappear. slowly, almost reverently, he began to close the gap between you. his movements were unhurried, each inch a testament to the gravity of the moment, the culmination of everything that had been left unsaid.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, erratic beat that seemed to echo through the silence. the anticipation was electric, every second stretched into an eternity. as his lips drew nearer, you felt the world around you blur into insignificance, the maze and the moonlight fading into the background. then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, his lips brushed against yours. the touch was soft, almost tentative, like the whisper of a dream.

oh, how empty he is to be full by you.

the contact sent a shiver through you, a spark that ignited every fiber of your being. you responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his face, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

the kiss was everything—a confession, a promise, a revelation. it spoke of years of hidden desires, of nights spent wondering, of the unbreakable bond that had always connected you. the taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, was like coming home after a long, arduous journey.

when you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, you opened your eyes to find him gazing at you with an expression that mirrored your own—wonder, longing, and a profound sense of rightness. ‘longing’, such a tender name for such a miserable state of being.

you nodded, the ache in your chest making it hard to speak. “i’ll try,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but right now, i just need to be here for you.” gojo’s gaze held yours, the moonlight illuminating the silent understanding passing between you. “you’ve always been there for me,” he said, his voice a soft caress. “and i hope you always will be.”

the world around you seemed to fade, the only sounds the rustling of the leaves and the steady beating of your hearts. you felt a bittersweet calm wash over you, knowing that despite everything, your bond with satoru was unbreakable, saddest.

“i will be,” you promised, your voice firm despite the tears. “no matter what.”

he smiled then, a small, tender smile that spoke of shared sorrow, of the disaster from loving you, but oh how he promised, i will always be this tender for you. “good,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms. “because i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his arm tightly around you as your cheeks rest against his chest— he gathers you up, folds you to his heart, and looks at each other a little too long to be just friends.

[ltbunny]

Ex husband price brain worms again, c.w/ nsfw, unedited, bad writing, I've never published nsfw before

It's your ex-husband, Price's birthday, and the last thing you expect is for him to show up, with a sweet, suave smile on his face

It's not even his custody day but he says "come on, love. I wanted us to spend it together, like a family. You're really not going to let me take my favourite two girls out for my own birthday?"

All you can do is roll your eyes and let him as he walks in, leaning down and leaving a small peck on your forehead as your daughter runs down the stairs to hug her dad, squealing.

He's adamant about cooking lunch for you two, but you stop him

"Oh, come off it, John, I'll cook since it's your birthday, and you keep saying you'll take us out"

He gets dragged off to play teaparty with the little princess and comes back after a while, his arms slot around your waist, swaying side to side softly as you half heartedly try to stop him, he just grins and nestles his head into the crook of your neck,

"Let the 'birthday boy' hug his wife, love."

"Ex-wife, john."

"Mhm, whatever makes you happy. Happy wife, happy life."

Lunch is served, and the three of you spend the rest of the day going shopping, prices idea. Dollhouse, cars, legos, Barbie, slime, whatever the kid wants, and some small gold necklace for you, even though you won't accept it,

"They're too much, John, stop it-"

"But, love, this is your favourite design and the colour. It'll look beautiful on you."

He buys it and even gets the jeweller to engrave a small j.p on the back of the charm while you're not looking.

He takes you two to a small fancy restaurant at the end of the day, your daughter playing with her new toys on the table, while John's hand holds yours on the table.

"Might retire soon, getting up there in age, love," his eyes watch the way your light up slightly, looking at him before turning away slightly, seeing his gaze, "ill be able to be around more often, wasn't that one of your complaints, I was too busy, so I gave you a little one."

You smack his arm lightly, "Oh, shush, John. She'll be happy. She is always saying how she misses her dad. She keeps asking for a little brother, says everyone in class has one except her," You chuckle softly

At the end of dinner, he drives you two back home, your daughter tuckered out, he picks her up and takes her to her room, tucking her in, kissing her forehead softly, "sorry, I'm not here much, princess, I promise to be around more, okay?"

He comes downstairs and kisses your cheek as you swat him off lightly,

"Stop it, John, you know that's not appropriate,"

"Mhm, whatever you say love, come help me take the things out the car will you?"

The night ends with price bending you over in the backseat, fucking you desperately,

"Fuck, love, I missed this grip, you might have a hard time saying it but your pussy's been missing me, huh? The guys you bring round ain't big enough for ya anymore? Don't worry, daddy's here."

Your fingers grip the car seat, squealing every time he thrusts in

"There's only one thing I wanted for my birthday, you know, love? It's been real lonely up by myself sometimes, and been thinking," he hums lowly, grinding deep inside you while you struggle to even keep up with his pace let alone words, he moves over you, one hand groping your breast, teasing the nipple, the other coming up to your clit, rubbing it along with the harsh pace, "been thinking bout this pussy, and getting the present of life, ain't that cute?"

You gasp, your pussy squeezing around his cock tighter as he starts rubbing your clit faster, "John, please- is, is too much," you moan

"You're doing so well for me, mama, you want another little one too, right? You always said one feels bad, we need to give our little baby a sibling,"

"John- holy shit," your legs shake as he presses you down against the seats, every thrust with one purpose, "please, please, I'm so close!"

He keeps going until he feels your legs trembling, three loads in, his fingers massaging your clit, his lips kissing your neck, leaving hickeys for everyone to see.

You wake up in your bed, listening to John's snoring as you yawn, shifting to get up slightly, his arms tighten around you and his eyes open slightly.

"Mmhm, best birthday ever."

He mumbles before he starts snoring again

[wlntrsldler]

bad for business | luke castellan

warnings: loser!luke agenda is strong with this one, insecure!luke because of reader's judgmental siblings but they get over it later on, suggestive content but nothing explicit, luke being happy and in love (we need more of this; i'm pointing the finger at myself, i need to write happy luke fics) aphrodite!reader x luke, in an alternate universe where the betrayal didn't happen

based on bad for business by sabrina carpenter

i. he's good for my heart, but he's bad for business.

"she's probably going to dump him soon, anyway."

"she's just doing it for the tradition, obviously."

"she's too good for him."

sometimes luke just wanted to tell them to shut up, but he's already on thin ice with-- well, everyone at camp. they weren't a fan of the smell of cigarettes that lingered on his clothes, or the ugly scar on his face (this, wasn't his fault though. if anything, they should hate his fucking dad for giving him the quest in the first place), or the fact that he's somehow dating the most popular, gorgeous, and brilliant girl at camp.

you, y/n y/l/n, the favorite daughter of aphrodite. at first luke thought that you'd be just like the rest of the aphrodite girls (he's not one to perpetuate stereotypes, being the victim of it all his life, but the aphrodite kids always turned their noses up at him so he didn't feel too bad dishing it out), but then you smiled at him with your pretty, pink lips and luke knew he was a goner. he didn't stand a chance (not like he fought it too hard anyway)

you made an effort to remember his name, say hello to him when you passed by him, and you even went as far as asking him for his opinion on things.

"what do you think of this strategy, luke?" you asked, staring at him directly. the entire blue team was arguing loudly (luke thought their strategy fucking sucked and was a sure way for the ares cabin to, once again, demolish all of you, but he was going to keep that to himself) before your soft voice broke the noise. everyone stopped in their tracks because why the hell were you talking to him? asking him for his opinion?

he blinked, even looking behind him in case there was some other kid named luke that he didn't know about. when he finally realized that you were talking to him, he managed to stutter out that the plan was fine. you looked at him skeptically, penetrating the persona he put up with everyone, but decided not to push him anymore and simply nodded.

when the red team, led by the ares cabin, of course, handed your asses to you on a silver platter, you found luke at dinner and sat directly in front of him. chris, who was just as starstruck as luke that you were sitting with them, immediately scrambled off his seat and mumbled some half-hearted excuse to leave the two of you alone.

"so, spill," you said, planting your tray of food on the table. "what did you really think of the strategy?"

your conversation went from strategy to your life to his life to everything and anything until you two were the last two people left. he was glad when people finally got tired of gawking at you and him. (many in disbelief, all in jealousy that you decided to sit with him) you didn't seem to mind the stares, though, luke figured it was because you were used to it. it was hard not to stare at you.

luke thought that dinner was just a glitch in the matrix, that it was just some weird anomaly that would never happen again. he was just thankful that it happened; but then the next day, your perfectly manicured hand knocked on the hermes cabin door and you stood in front of luke with a timid smile on your face to ask him to train you in sword fighting.

luke got dressed at record speed. chris woke up after the third time luke hit his head under his bed when he was trying to find a semi-decent shirt to wear to your sparring session (maybe one that didn't smell too much like cigarettes). chris sat up on his bed, eyebrow quirked, with a teasing smile on his face.

as luke was racing out the door, he looked at chris, "don't start.''

chris threw his head back laughing, "i didn't say anything."

luke threw a pillow at chris with an oomph before rushing out to meet you.

the training sessions slowly morphed into sitting next to each other daily during meals, then into hanging out at campfires, until it got to the point when there wouldn't be a second of free time where the two of you wouldn't be together. luke could feel your siblings shooting daggers at him whenever he was alone, like a warning to stay away from you, but it's not like he was the one initiating things.

sure, he would follow you around the ends of the world if you asked (or even if you didn't, let's be honest here) but luke didn't want to test his luck so he just went with the flow. sometimes, he just wanted to talk to your siblings to set the record straight.

"look, i'm just as fucking confused as you are," he would say, "i don't know why she's hanging out with me either."

as much as he enjoyed your moments together, a piece of him still worried that you were just being nice. maybe you were this way with everyone. maybe he just likes you so much that he's making up these scenarios in his head.

he tried to talk to chris about it, but that proved to be the wrong decision because it's not like the boy had any experience either; he was pining over clarisse. the blind leading the blind, truly.

and then one day, while you and luke were sitting beside the water, after a long day of training, you looked over at him with an unreadable expression.

panicked, luke immediately straightened his back and twisted his body to face you. he wanted to reach for your hand to comfort you, but decided against it. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he cleared his throat, "what's wrong?"

"why haven't you asked me out?"

you would've thought percy summoned a cold wave to crash into luke with the way he was sitting there frozen. luke was looking at you blankly, like his brain was short-circuiting. it was a habit of his to blink and tilt his head to the side whenever he was shocked.

"huh?"

you were frowning now, "do you not like me? i'm sorry, i guess i was just reading the situation wrong."

"woah, pause," luke leaned in closer, inspecting your face to see if there was a punchline about to drop like it was a gotcha! moment and all of your siblings would come out from behind the trees to laugh at him. he found no sign of such a thing. "do you like me?"

"luke, i've been so obvious," there was a hint of embarrassment in your voice and luke wanted to kiss it away. your cheeks were dusted with the lightest shade of red as you chewed on your bottom lip. "i thought maybe you liked me too, but i guess it was all in my head. i'm sorry-- forget i even said anything."

"yeah, i don't want to forget it," luke shook his head, now stumbling over his words. his brain was working again, sort of. "i like you, too. like really like you. sorry, you just caught me off guard for a sec."

"you do?"

"gods, i really really do."

you beamed at him and luke was so thankful that he was sitting because his knees would've buckled at your reaction and humiliated himself by falling face-first in the water if he was standing. he was especially thankful that he was sitting when you climbed onto his lap to make out with him until both of your lips were bruised.

ii. i'm mad for you, it's sad but true, and you know it. you're on my mind, you stole my life and it's showing.

word traveled fast after that. when you walked into breakfast with luke's arm around your waist, the whispers started. luke thought the staring before was bad, but this was on a new level. he felt the other aphrodite kids following his every move, poison in their eyes.

when you sat next to luke, impossibly close to him, chris' eyebrows rose in glee. he motioned to the both of you with his spoon, flicking drops of milk with the motion, "what's going on here?"

"i'm luke's girlfriend now."

luke nearly choked on the apple he was eating when he heard the words leave your lips. yes, he knew that you were dating now (his pathetically hoarse voice saying, "will you be my girlfriend?" after the hours-long makeout session the night before haunted his dreams last night; he wanted to keep his cool so bad, but it just wasn't possible when you were sitting on his lap, all pretty with your thighs on either side of his, lips glossy with his saliva instead of your typical lipgloss), but it was the first time he heard you refer to yourself as his girlfriend. his girlfriend.

"nice," chris raised his hand up for a high-five, which luke was about to complete, but chris pulled his hand away, "not for you, dude."

you giggled and high-fived chris, making luke look between the two of you in bewilderment.

"what the fuck was that?" luke asked. when did you and chris get close?

"this is embarrassing," you started, looking down at your plate of food. you were dragging your spoon across the blob of oatmeal, "but i talked to chris about you last week because i was so sad that you haven't made a move yet. i just wanted to hear his opinion on things in case i was just being stupid."

"why didn't you tell me this?"

"i tried!" chris argued, laughing a bit when luke's face turned red, "plus, i didn't want to tell you that me and y/n had a conversation because i had faith that you'd make a move! i obviously bet on the wrong horse, though, because y/n made the move."

"oh my gods, i'm a loser." luke groaned, tossing the apple on his tray. he lost his appetite. "you mean we could've been together this entire time?"

you placed a hand on his thigh, making him turn his attention to you. you gave him a comforting smile that he quickly reciprocated. you gave his thigh a soft squeeze, "it's okay, luke. we can make up for lost time."

luke smirked at you, "tonight?"

"dude, i'm trying to fucking eat."

luke threw up the middle finger to chris' face before connecting your lips.

to luke's surprise, your relationship didn't really change much after putting a label on it. (the changes that did occur were that now he can kiss you freely, which he was thankful for, and that you were even more touchy with him, which he was extremely thankful for because he loved having you next to him at all times. he was so smitten with you.) he realized then how blind he'd been the entire time because you were so very obvious about your feelings for him, he was just too stuck in his own head to notice it.

he started being outwardly affectionate with you, gaining more confidence while he was on your arm. his favorite thing to do was to wrap his arms around your torso and bury his face into the crook of your neck. he loved hearing you erupt in giggles when his curls tickled your skin. he was drunk on you and you didn't mind one bit.

you even said that you were more attached to him than he was to you (he looked at you like you had three heads because it couldn't have been further from the truth.)

he took you on little picnic dates and made you jewelry that you wore proudly, and you wore his clothes (he would be lying if he said that his heart didn't skip a beat when you walked out of the aphrodite cabin sporting his hermes sweater) but above all, luke loved the way he could talk to you about everything. he told you about his mom, his dad, his doubts and his insecurities, and you listened. you would sit there, hands in his hair, while he laid on your chest. he didn't know the last time he felt safe, but with you, he always did.

iii. all of my friends think i've gone crazy, but they don't know me like my baby.

luke tried to ignore the fact that there were running bets from campers about how long you two would last, but it was getting to him. he'd heard it all; a week, two weeks, three months. he fought the urge to roll his eyes when he heard the jingling of drachmas being passed around when you and him were seen together after someone lost their bet.

it's been two months but people still believed that you two were going to break up soon. the idea of it made luke feel sick. he couldn't imagine a life without being yours anymore. truth be told, he was wholly yours the minute he met you, but after every kiss, every hug, every second with you, he was just falling deeper in love with you.

it was a little scary.

"hiya, baby," you greeted him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

you started calling him the pet name a few days into dating and luke actually whimpered when you did it the first time. you loved getting these reactions from luke and his little sounds (both innocent and not-so-innocent) only spurred you on. when he's with you, luke turned into this mush, always wanting to be held by you or touching you in some way.

"hi," he mumbled, leaning up to place a quick kiss on your lips.

you hummed happily before resting your hands on his back, "baby, you're tense. are you okay?"

"yeah," luke replied, but his furrowed eyebrows said differently.

"no you're not," you walked in front of him, wrapping your arms around his torso, "what's going on?"

luke sighed, "everyone thinks we're gonna break up-- or more specifically, everyone thinks you're gonna break up with me."

"do you believe that i'll break up with you?" you frowned, loosening your hold on him. "did i do something that made you think that?"

"no, no," he said, quickly. he pulled you closer to him, not wanting you to let go of him. "i just-- i dunno. everyone says i'm not good enough for you, and i know i'm not, and it's getting to my head a little bit."

you looked up at him, removing your hands from around him to reach for his face. you brought his face down closer to yours to pepper kisses all over it; his cheeks, his lips, his scar, his jaw. "i think you're perfect."

"you have to say that 'cause you're my girlfriend," he playfully rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop a goofy smile from forming on his face due to your kisses.

"yeah, i am your girlfriend," you reminded him, placing a longer kiss on his lips now. your lips moved together, making luke's hands wander to your lower back to push you closer to him. you pulled away, breathless, "listen to your girlfriend, baby. i'm not going anywhere so don't worry your pretty little head about it."

there were still moments when the voices of the other campers bounced around in luke's head, but you were always there to quiet them with your reassurance and your love for him.

eventually, people stopped talking about you and luke and accepted that you two weren't breaking up anytime soon (they were about six months too late, in luke's opinion). he even managed to win over your siblings later on (kind of; they still don't talk to him unless they have to but they smile at him now, but luke isn't picky; a win is a win)

luke was happy and in love and it was all thanks to you.

[xanasaurusrex]

hi, i love how you write, could you please write some clarisse x daughter of hephaestus drabble? like some love triangle kind hephaestus, aphrodite and ares, but the sapphic version with ares and hephaestus, please ♡

clarisse and hephaestus!daughter hiding their relationship clarisse la rue x hephaestus!daughter!reader a/n: hi!! thank you sm for reading my other stuff, and yes ofc! so this was originally meant to be a drabble, but as you can see from the word count i got carried away. i had an idea and then i just kept writing it, and i couldn't stop. honestly clarisse x hephaestus!daughter is a favorite pairing of mine i love ares children with hephaestus children! ok thanks sm for requesting, i hope i did your request justice! warnings: enemies to lovers, weird transition from enemies to lovers, making out, mentions of getting stabbed, mention of weapons, secret relationship wc: 2k+

a child of ares and a child of hephaestus getting together isn't impossible, and also definitely not unheard of, but it's also definitely not common.

ares kids and hephaestus kids have a sort of natural rivalry that they're sort of inducted into from the second they're claimed.

since hephaestus is married to aphrodite, and yet aphrodite is having a longstanding affair with ares, hephaestus kids tend to not trust ares kids very much.

that was how it was for clarisse and y/n for quite a while.

their relationship was as hostile as any other relationship between a hephaestus kid and an ares kid, but they just felt drawn to each other. there was just something there that they couldn't deny.

everything changed the day they first kissed. they had gotten into an argument after clarisse claimed that the armor that y/n had made for her was faulty.

y/n claimed this was 100% untrue, because she had made it herself, and she didn't half-ass armor making.

it was late in the day, early evening. y/n had finished her dinner early, since there was a sword that she had to have finished within the next two days, the production of which she was still very behind on.

clarisse had caught up with her and cornered her in the forge, and started making the angry accusations.

"the straps are loose, and the whole thing almost fell off me while i was getting stabbed at. i call that faulty, y/n," clarisse sneered.

y/n scowled at clarisse. "then you must've knocked them loose or something, because i know for a fact that i fastened on those straps myself, and they were not loose," there was a fierceness in her voice that would've made anyone else fall back, but only made clarisse get further in her face.

"they were loose, and i almost died because of it!" clarisse snapped back.

y/n rolled her eyes as she went to put her mallet back from pounding down on the metal to create the sword shape. "come on, clarisse, stop being so dramatic. you were in the sword practice area, you wouldn't have died,"

"you don't know that!"

"yes i do!"

the two paused their arguing and stared at each other. there had always been something electric between the two of them, that was something nobody was able to deny, not even the two of them.

after a few seconds of the stare down, clarisse surged forward, her feet stomping loudly on the ground of the forge as she pushed y/n up against the wall. her nostrils were flaring, and her eyes were full of fire.

and as much as she hated it, clarisse couldn't help but look down at y/n's lips.

they looked so deliciously kissable, and yet they were pulled into a sneer at clarisse. she did everything she could to banish the temptation to kiss y/n right now, because that was so not what was going to happen.

"get... off me," y/n breathed out, panting heavily. her teeth were clenched, and her eyes closed tightly, as if warding off unwelcome thoughts.

clarisse could understand the feeling.

clarisse didn't move. the two of them stayed where they were, eyes flicking between their lips and back up to the other's eyes.

eventually y/n closed her eyes again, tigher this time, saying, "clarisse, you need to get off me and leave or something is going to happen,"

clarisse stayed where she was.

the two of them continued to stare at each other for a few seconds, their breaths speeding up and hitting each other in the face, hot and harsh.

everything changed within the span of about two seconds.

surprisingly, it was y/n who surged forward first, her hands grabbing onto clarisse's face and pulling it close to hers, their lips making contact.

the second their lips touched, they both knew that their relationship would never be the same again. they weren't exactly sure how, because there was a good chance that they would just act like this never happened.

but right there, in the moment, they wanted to enjoy it as much as they could.

clarisse's hands found themselves snaking around y/n's waist, holding her tight and pulling the two of them closer together. y/n moved her hands from cradling clarisse's face to wrapping her arms around her neck.

the air in the camp forge felt hotter than y/n had ever experienced it being, and she knew it had nothing to do with the fires raging in the hearths, and much more to do with the daughter of ares, who was currently pressed up against her, kissing her with so much fervor it was making her dizzy.

they both pulled away for a millisecond with the intention of getting some air before going back in, both of them feeling hungry for the other, when of course, an interruption struck.

"y/n!" a voice called from the distance.

they both shoved away from each other dramatically, y/n accidentally banging her hip as she tried to jump backwards, unaware that she was as far back as she could go. they made eye contact for a few more seconds, staring into each other's eyes with the kind of intensity that would even make the gods quiver.

"y/n!" the voice called out again, causing y/n to avert her eyes from clarisse, being worried that if she looked at her for even a second more, she wouldn't be able to look away.

when the voice finally entered the forge, it was revealed to be one of her siblings, looking for her for advice on something to do with a weapon they made.

when y/n's brother entered the forge, he could immediately feel the tension in the space. he shrank unto himself, noticing that clarisse, the widely known volatile daughter of ares, and his older sister, who had a rather funny look on her face. come to think of it, clarisse had the same funny look on her face. like they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't have, but that couldn't be. he couldn't even fathom a thing they would be doing together that would be wrong.

he then saw clarisse's caught expression morph into one of anger. she snapped to get y/n's attention, before saying with as much conviction as she could muster, "just make sure the next armor isn't faulty. i would prefer not to die, and even if i did, i'm sure you don't want it to be your fault,"

and even though this was clarisse who was talking, there was less conviction in her voice than she had hoped. in fact, it almost sounded a little weak. like she was out of breath. which she most definitely was not. no way did a simple kiss rob her of her breath.

(it most definitely did)

y/n stumbled through walking her younger brother through what he had asked, only half focusing on his questions and giving half-thought out answers. she knew she was going to regret that when he tried to forge whatever it was he was wanting to create the next day, but at the moment, y/n couldn't find it in herself to care.

she had just kissed clarisse la rue, and she was sure it had been the best kiss of her life. granted, there hadn't been many, but she couldn't imagine another kiss topping the one she had just experienced.

there was only one problem.

the best kiss of her life had been with... who it had been with.

the next week was particularly awkward between the two. the usual animosity that had come to be expected at camp half blood between an ares child and a hephaestus child was absent between the two, and instead they avoided each other at all costs.

y/n spent most of her time in the forge, crafting anything but the specific style of armor that she knew clarisse favored, and instead found herself self-consciously forging beautiful spears that, despite the expert craftsmanship, she knew would never rival the spear that clarisse's father had given her.

her siblings were becoming increasingly worried about her, since she hardly ever left the forge. when she did, she seemed preoccupied, and irritated about something. they had asked what was going on, but she had refused to disclose anything.

similarly, clarisse was doing everything she could to keep y/n out of her head as well.

she hardly ever left the training fields. she was singing dummies with her magical spear left and right, day and night. specifically the first day after the kiss, people would see clarisse violently taking down whole fleets of dummies within seconds, and were hesitant to train that particular day.

clarisse took more breaks than y/n did, mostly because she wasn't able to spend every waking moment at the training areas, partially because her body wouldn't allow it, and also the harpies that patrolled the camp at night weren't particularly fond of it. if clarisse had the energy to fight them off, she might've attempted it, but considering she spent most of her days training her body in an attempt to train her mind away from thinking about y/n, all that she could really do was sleep.

over time, though, the two of them were forced together in certain situations.

since they were both the heads of their respective cabins, whenever the counselors of each cabin were needed, they needed to be in the same room, and they had to be accustomed to that.

they were also shoved together quite a lot when their campers got into tousles, which happened quite often considering the animosity that was practically drilled into their heads from the second they were claimed and put in their right cabins.

to say that their relationship was complicated would be a gross understatement.

there was something that drew the two together, often finding themselves in situations that could rarely be explained.

like the time about a month after the forge incident (that neither of them had told anyone about) when they both went to the bathroom at the same time unknowingly, and found themselves mere centimeters from each other.

"do you ever think about it?" clarisse asked. it occurred to her that she had no memory of getting this close to y/n, but she wasn't really complaining.

before the kiss they at least interacted. it was mostly negative, with the two yelling at each other or complaining about the other for whatever reason, but they were near each other quite often due to this. after the kiss, and after the two started avoiding each other like a damn hellhound, that clarisse was really missing her company.

she was starting to think that maybe she had only ever bickered with y/n to get the scraps of her attention that she was desperate for.

there were times when this sounded like a completely logical explanation, and there were also times when clarisse had this thought and she forced herself to banish it, telling herself that she didn't need y/n's attention. why would she? they had never been friends, had never even really been acquaintances.

and yet, throughout a lot of clarisse's life, y/n had been one of the only constants.

the first day clarisse showed up at camp half blood, she was there, welcoming her. though clarisse had been rather hostile to her that day, which now that she thinks about it, may have been what caused their more intense rivalry, y/n still insisted on showing her around the camp, showing her all of her personal favorite spots.

"think about what?" the sound of y/n's voice broke clarisse from her trance, and brought her back to the present.

clarisse blinked once, and then y/n was in focus again. clarisse sharply inhaled at really seeing y/n up close, seeing all the intricate details of her face.

she was sure she had never seen anything so beautiful.

"the kiss," clarisse clarified. her fingers, as if with a mind of their own, began seeking out y/n's fingers. "because i do," she murmured. the tips of their pointer fingers touched, and it was as if electricity zinged up their spines. "i don't really want to," clarisse admitted, her head turning to the side as she did everything she could to avoid looking y/n in the eyes. "but i do. i can't help it."

y/n cleared her throat, utterly shocked at clarisse's admission "sometimes... sometimes i think about it, too," she confessed. "o-occasionally,"

the two were silent for a few seconds, before clarisse finally gathered up the courage to look y/n in the eye again. the eye contact was searing, and intense, and before they knew it, the two were leaning closer to each other.

there was no denying it anymore, since they had both admitted it.

they didn't know what happened, when it happened, or even why it happened, but there was something between them. something that was magnetic and uncontrollable... and somewhat addicting.

they were milliseconds away from kissing. their lips were just barely grazing, when the sound of voices startled the two apart.

as electric as the two of them felt around each other, they both knew that this was the sort of situation they didn't want to be caught in.

this need to not be caught like this was only furthered when it was a group of aphrodite girls that walked into the bathroom, looking at the two of them curiously, instantly clocking how close the two were standing. they obviously noted the taut tension in the room, and clarisse and y/n watched as the girls' eyes flitted between the two of them, their previous conversation having come to a halt.

clarisse, so fast y/n wasn't sure she hadn't just disappeared into thin air, turned around and slammed the stall door behind her, locking it with a heavy click.

y/n was left there with a shocked expression on her face, staring at the aphrodite girls, looking a lot like a deer caught in headlights.

she hesitated for only a second more before pushing past them and leaving the bathroom all together. she felt slightly guilty about leaving clarisse in there, but she was the one who had abandoned her first, so she didn't feel too bad about it.

after this, everything changed for clarisse and y/n.

they started meeting up in secret to spend time with each other away from camp. this spending time with each other consisted of talking together, laughing together, and yes... kissing.

it took a while for them to become official, but when they did, they both found themselves happier than they had been in a while.

it was noticeable, too. almost everyone at camp, chiron and mr. d included, that the two were acting... happier.

there was just something in the air around the two of them. whenever they were close to each other, it felt like the air became electric. no one could really place what was happening, since y/n. and clarisse had decided to keep their relationship a secret... at least for the start.

it was a complicated decision they made. people often forget that camp half blood is a large collection of teenagers. and teenagers like to gossip.

it's not exactly uncommon for two demigods to get together, and then everyone has something to say about it, which puts a strain on the new relationship.

it was y/n who suggested the idea.

"i just think... i want to enjoy this," she said while twirling a strand of clarisse's hair around her finger. she adjusted herself where her back was leaned against the rough bark of the tree in the woods at camp. clarisse was laying down as well, with her head in y/n's lap. "i mean, you've seen what happens. everybody has their own opinion, and then they get into fights and then they break up," y/n took a deep breath. "i really don't want that to happen to us,"

clarisse was quiet for a minute, her eyes flitting around at the trees and leaves and branches above her head. "okay," she said. "i don't want that to happen to us either. i want to enjoy us," she said.

y/n smiled, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. she started to lean back up, but clarisse kept hold of her cheeks and pulled her down for a kiss on the lips. they both smiled into it, giggling slightly, enjoying being the teenage girls that they are.

so there they sat, enjoying each other's presence. enjoying being in love, although they hadn't said those three large words quite yet, but they would before long.

because the gods knew that these two were hopelessly in love with each other, and were going to be together for quite a while.

[sungbeam]

nonidol!jeong yunho x f!reader

yunho might have been the superstar out of the two of you, but you have always been the center of his universe. (you — it's always been you.)

▷ genre, warnings. bffs2l, childhood friends 2 lovers, pining, popstar/singer au, swearing, fluff, humor, angst, hurt/comfort, kissing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety/nervousness, they physically cannot be apart for too long sorry they've got Attachment Issues low-key..., one kiss (is all it takes—)

▷ word count. 16.3k (guys,, this was supposed to be only like 6-8k i swear 😭)

▷ associated tunes. keep smiling (demxntia), gone too long (lullaboy), tear in my heart (twenty-one pilots)

a/n: hope u guys like this :'))) i had one of the scenes from here stuck in my brain for awhile and so i had to build the rest of the fic around it, and it turned into this monster, so uhm yes... also much love to @jaehunnyy tysm for reading thru it for me 💖

THE DAY YUNHO'S ALBUM hit the Billboard Hot 100, you knew that you were going to need a lot more hands on deck than just you, your roommate, and Jeong Yunho himself.

“There's not enough albums, not enough time in the day, not enough of you!” You exclaimed with your fingers shoved into your hair as you took in the landscape of chaos before you on your living room floor. “Yunho, why couldn't you be ambidextrous?”

His eyes widened, body frozen where he was shoving a slice of beef jerky into his mouth. “Mwe? Pwhy are pyu yellinh ap mwe por?”

“I'm not yelling at you; I'm just wondering why you weren't born with eight arms instead of just two.” There were simply too many albums for him to sign before his agent came to pick them up in two hours, and there were also too few albums for the amount of demand. You always knew your best friend would make it big one day, but you also thought he would have had a whole team by that time.

Technically, you were his team—you, your roommate Trinity, and Mingi who was at his grandmother's for the long weekend. Mingi was five texts away from driving back down to help you guys four hours ago though. But his family needed him right now, and Yunho was firm in ensuring Mingi didn't have to come down and help. We got this, he'd said. It'll be easy, he also said.

Sure. Easy.

“We can't just forge his signature?” Trinity joked in a sleep-deprived daze as she leaned back against the couch cushions. Her mouth opened wide in a yawn. “I'm kidding. Let's not ruin his career.”

Yunho swallowed his bite. “That would be nice.” He cleaned his fingers on the Wet Wipe he had handy by his thigh, then picked up his black Sharpie, spinning the writing utensil between his fingers. “Now where were we? Album number fifty-six—?”

This had taken place just four months after Yunho released his second album, Aurora. It had been nearly a year and a half since Yunho debuted himself onto the music scene, and it was about time people finally began to recognize your best friend for all that he was—multi-talented, charismatic, handsome (on some occasions; you wouldn’t let him catch you slipping up there, though).

Within the next year and a half, Yunho skyrocketed into further altitudes of fame.

There were plenty of changes that occurred, many evolutions to Yunho's team and additions to his discography, but you were always a part of it. Even with your own career dealings, you would drop anything to be there for him, and him for you. Between the morning show interviews and late night recording sessions, there were also the research presentations and study session pick-me-ups.

“Are you sure you don't wanna come with?” You asked from where you were stationed in front of the bathroom mirror, putting on the final touches for your look this evening.

You could hear Trinity's fingers clacking away at her keyboard at the speed of light through her open bedroom door. “I'd love to, but I unfortunately did screw myself over by procrastinating on this paper. Have fun though, and tell Yunho congrats for me.”

Tonight was the album release party for Yunho's third full studio album entitled Youth. It was something he had been working on for years now, only recently having become satisfied with the tracks he chose and produced for it. Due to his sudden rise in fame, the release party was said to be hosting a myriad of big name celebrities and figures in the music industry. And of course, you. You were no one special, in hindsight, but Yunho couldn't begin to imagine celebrating a milestone without you by his side.

By eight o'clock, you were ready to head out.

You bid Trinity goodbye as you hustled out the front door of your apartment and down to the street below. Yunho and Mingi and everyone else would already be at the party; you would arrive on your own via Uber. You wished you could've been with him to get ready like all the other times, but your schedule had been unfortunate as of late. You were lucky enough to have gotten off of work this early.

As you sat in the backseat of your ride, you anxiously fidgeted with your phone in your lap.

(You were, without a doubt, excited to arrive at the party. Due to yours and Yunho's ever-busy and ever-conflicting schedules nowadays—yours because of work and PhD candidacy stuff, Yunho's because of rehearsals for his upcoming world tour—it had been awhile since you were able to hang out in person. You missed your gentle giant of a best friend.)

A loud vibration from it made your heart leap into your throat, and your face lit up in the dark with the incoming notification.

rockstar 🤟: pls tell me you've left the house

You snorted and typed out a swift reply. If I told you I was still in my pajamas…

rockstar 🤟: then i would call u a liar cuz u don't go to work in pjs, weirdo rockstar 🤟: just getting antsy tbh rockstar 🤟: need my star here w me :’)))

You couldn't help the touched pout that came to your face. I'm almost there, don't worry. And who are you calling a star when that's you? He always got a little sappy when he was nervous.

rockstar 🤟: im literally not having fun here without u hurry up :// your phone: isn't this UR album release party 😭 yun, why aren't u having fun? rockstar 🤟: just hurry up your phone: aish okok 🤧 eta 8min mr. impatient

You knew it was the jitters making him say things like that. Once you got there, you hoped you could help reassure him that he could stop worrying for just a second to enjoy himself. Even if Yunho worried about the album and what people thought, you were just as nervous. You hadn't even heard the entire thing—he’d been cheeky and didn't tell you he added a song to it last minute, but you'd listened to everything else.

You just hoped that people would continue to celebrate him and give him the love he deserved.

When your Uber driver pulled into the drop off loop at the front of the venue, you thanked him on your way out and threw the strap of your small purse over your shoulder. Already, however, as you were met with the residuals of flashing camera lenses and frantic paparazzi calls just a little ways down the driveway, the anxiety slowly began to settle in the pit of your stomach.

You could see the celebrities going up the entrance with people asking them to pose for their cameras, to say a word into their recorders.

Immediately, you turned on your heel and began slipping your way to a side entrance. The last thing you wanted was for dozens upon dozens of people to be staring at you, wondering who you were and why you were important. There were definitely people who knew you—you were plastered all over Yunho's social media because that was just what best friends did. But compared to everyone else walking up that driveway? Not a chance. You were nobody, and that was ay-okay to you.

Just as you thanked one of the employees coming out the side door for letting you in, you felt your phone buzz in your hand again, this time with an incoming call.

You picked it up and squeezed it between your ear and shoulder. “You're gonna need to speak up—the kitchen is super loud.”

“You're here finally!” Yunho said to you through the phone. “I was starting to get worried.”

You chuckled as you ducked out of the kitchen and into the main lobby to get to the elevators. The party was taking place somewhere on the seventh floor… if you could get there without getting lost. “Hey Yun, do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Calm down, man.”

The elevator sang its arrival and you stepped inside to the sound of Yunho sucking in a deep breath, then exhaling slowly. “I am calm… wait, are you in the lobby? Let me come down and get y—”

“I just got in the elevator, so don't worry—and I really don't think you should be leaving your own party, rockstar,” you teased. “Man, Mingi and Hwa really pulled out all the stops for this place,” you marveled quietly as you gave the elevator carriage a thorough look. It was made of marble and mirrors, every surface polished and crisp, like that of a tailored suit if tailored suits were made of crystals.

“Yeah, it's really great,” he agreed. “Remember the release party we threw for Crescent?”

A fond laugh tumbled out of your lips as you stepped out of the elevator and onto the seventh floor. Your mind filled with memories of his debut album's release party hosted in yours and Trinity's living room with three extra large Domino's pizzas, root beer floats, and a cheap disco ball. It had been a party for four that night—you, Yunho, Mingi, and Trinity—but your friends didn't need the fancy shit to have fun. “Definitely leagues away from this.”

There was a bouncer at the far end of the hallway, and you were certain now that you were in the right place.

“I kind of miss it,” Yunho murmured. You heard the sound on his end shift, simultaneous to watching the doors in front of you crack open and see Yunho's head pop out into the empty hallway.

“I kind of miss it, too,” you said into the phone, your eyes locked on his and a smile blooming over your features at the sight of your best friend, in the flesh.

There was a tender gleam in his eyes as he took you in and said something in a low tone to the bouncer. He stepped out into the hallway, letting the doors behind him shut fully.

“Slowpoke,” was his greeting to you as he scooped you into his embrace. The smell of his cologne was something familiar and delicious, and permeated your senses.

“Worrywart,” you quipped back, wrapping your arms around him to reciprocate.

When you both pulled back, he kept you at arm's length so he could take a better look at you. “I can't believe you're calling me the worrywart! I do recall that one night when Aurora hit the Top 100—”

You silenced him with a look and a playful punch to his shoulder. You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as he tilted his head back in a jovial laugh. “Quiet, you. For once, I can't believe you're more nervous than I am.”

He gave a sheepish grin, fussing with the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt, adjusting the chain he wore on his collarbones so the clasp sat right at the hollow of his throat.

You softened. Oh, he was really nervous.

“This album's just big for me; you know that,” he said, almost like he was trying to brush it off.

“I do.” The two of you began slowly making your way back towards the party doors. “Though, I'm excited to hear this mystery song that you snuck on there. I'm sure everyone will fall in love with the album, just like I did.”

He peered over at you then, and you couldn't understand why you were unable to read his expression then. It was… different. “Really?”

You blinked. “Of course,” you replied automatically. “I mean,” you added, “it's you, Yun. What's not to love?”

Yunho seemed speechless for a second, but moments later, he was breaking into a soft-cornered smile. “You always know what to say, Yn. Come on, there are some people who are dying to meet you.”

“Dying to meet me?” You laughed as the bouncer let the two of you into the party.

The party room was a rented out lounge space with wraparound windows that looked out at the skyline in the valley below. The main lights were kept low and warm, illuminating strategic places throughout the space to highlight the prohibition-like interior design. It was something out of a 1920s speakeasy with its velvet couches and dark mahogany wood finishes.

Yunho took you over toward the side of the room to get food first. There was a variety of snacks and small bites on the buffet table, and there was a bar counter shoved into the far corner where a bartender served drinks.

“I've pretty much socialized with everyone in this room already,” Yunho murmured to you as he shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. “Meaning I can bug you for the rest of the night.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “There has to be, like, fifty people here. We still have the whole party left.”

“Yeah, but I have more fun with you anyway,” he said with a shrug. He reached for one of the little serving cups that held a little roll of rice armed with a slice of wagyu beef on top, all wrapped together with a strip of nori. “Now these—these are fucking amazing, dude. You have to try one.”

You snorted, but grabbed one of the little cups. “How many of these have you eaten already, Yun?”

He tapped his cup against yours like he was clinking glasses together. He chuckled, averting his gaze. “We don't have to talk about that…” His eyes caught onto someone nearby, and he perked up, shoving the entire bite into his mouth so he had a free hand to flag down whoever it was. “Mmh!”

You nearly choked on your own bite as you watched your best friend, who's cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk's, flap his arm around in the air to get this person's attention because his mouth was currently occupied.

You turned your head to see who he was waving over, and nearly choked again, having to cup your hand over your mouth to prevent rice from falling out. Your eyes widened an alarming amount. “Mmno—!” You mumbled through your bite.

“What? I can't hear you,” he snickered. “Hongjoong hyung! There's someone I want you to meet.”

You made a crazed gesture—no, no, I'm not ready! How dare you ambush me with social interac—you swallowed the food in your mouth as Hongjoong made his way over. You had never met the famed Kim Hongjoong—legendary producer, prodigy musician, favorite model to ever strut down the Paris Fashion Week Runway. He dropped off the grid for a brief three-month hiatus until he suddenly reappeared, but in your best friend's Instagram story. At some point, Yunho had met Hongjoong and won his favor. Then again, it was easy for Yunho to win over anyone's favor.

No one really knew why Hongjoong disappeared like he had, but some speculate it had something to do with his new relationship status: single.

You were always starstruck seeing Hongjoong on Yunho and Mingi's social media, as well as Hongjoong's own platforms. Tonight was no exception.

Hongjoong's hair of the season was a simple light brown that complimented his skin tone and the warmth in his smile. You were used to seeing him in more extravagant garb, but tonight, he chose something very simple, but chic like Yunho.

Yunho and Hongjoong clasped hands in greeting. “What's up, man?” The latter chirped, eyes flickering over to you as you attempted to behave normally.

Yunho gestured toward you, his eyes twinkling as he swept his arm around your shoulders to bring you forward. “This is Yn. Yn, this is Hongjoong. He's the one who produced the album—”

“Now, don't downplay your own efforts, Yunho,” Hongjoong cut in with a knowing look. “You produced so much of it on your own; I fine-tuned and made a couple tracks, but the rest was all you, man.”

“I always tell him he's far too humble,” you agreed.

Hongjoong sent you a smile, extending his hand out. “Great minds think alike, Yn. It's very nice to meet the person this guy doesn't ever stop talking about.”

You laughed good-naturedly and saw Yunho's flushed sheepishness out of the corner of your eye. You shook Hongjoong's hand with a firm, confident grip. “Nice to meet you, too. You're—you’re incredible, by the way. I remember when Yunho posted a photo with you, and I literally screamed his ear off over the phone.”

Yunho winced and held a hand up to his ear, as if remembering the physical sensation of that phone call. “Yup, definitely damaged my eardrum that day.”

“Well, thank you; I'm flattered,” Hongjoong replied pleasantly. “So I'm assuming you've probably heard as much of the album as I have then?”

“I'm sure you've heard the whole thing,” you said. “Yunho has withheld one of the tracks from me, but I've listened to all the rest.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Oh? Which track did—oh.” As he and Yunho made eye contact, you watched as a silent understanding passed between them, and Hongjoong's mouth tugged upward in a teasing smile. “That song.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

Hongjoong flourished his hand as if to wave away the thought. “He just wanted it to be perfect, so we were working on it up to the last second. Nothing terribly concerning.”

Ah. You relaxed, but the curiosity still lingered in your mind's eye. “I'm sure it's great, nonetheless.”

“Oh yeah, you're gonna love—”

“Oh-kay! That's enough about the song,” Yunho chuckled nervously as he grabbed your shoulders and began steering you away from a clearly amused Hongjoong. “Let's go say hi to Mingi, hm?”

You threw him a look from over your shoulder, but went along with him toward wherever he'd seen Mingi wandering around. “What has gotten into you tonight?” You teased, though, you also hoped to know why he was so jittery. He wasn't even this nervous about dropping his debut album.

Yunho showed you a bright smile, the same kind of golden-retriever expression that the media knew him well for. It would have been enough if you didn't know him. “Again, it's an important album to me. And the song I added last minute is on the deluxe version, so I wasn't really confident in putting it on the original release.”

“Ah,” you murmured. You reached up to pat the hand that rested on your left shoulder reassuringly. “I'm sure it really is a great song, Yun, and I'm not just saying that. You can make an awful omelet, but you can't make an awful song.”

Your best friend bursted into laughter at the latter comment, and your heart soared to see the genuine smile on his face now. That was your Yunho shining through. “You're right—if I can't scramble eggs, at least I can write a song.”

Over the next hour and a half, Yunho took you on a tour around the room, jumping from friend to friend to introduce you to more of his world. For the most part, however, it felt like an excuse for you to bond with all his friends in teasing him about something or other. But he seemed content enough to see you getting along well with the other people close to him.

He had met plenty of your friends at your work, so it was only fair that you got the same opportunity.

At some point while you were with Wooyoung and San discussing all of the rehearsals for Yunho's upcoming world tour, Hongjoong summoned everyone's attention to announce that it was time to listen to the album. It would be a rather casual affair with the Youth album playing in the background of the party, but you were certain people would minimize their conversations to listen in.

You craned your neck to peer around the crowd to see where Yunho had gone off to. “Wait, guys, did you see where Yunho went?”

Wooyoung and San joined your search, but quickly hustled you into a nearby booth to sit and enjoy the album with your drinks. “He'll find us,” Wooyoung assured you as the three of you slipped into the leather seats. “He wouldn't miss this.”

“He'll at least be here by the last song,” San said offhandedly, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

Your lips parted, your face morphing into feigned offense. “Wait. Did he let you guys listen to the deluxe edition song, too?”

“Maybe,” Wooyoung giggled.

San cooed at your pout. “Awwh, don't take it to heart, Yn-ie. It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”

You raised your drink to your lips, sighing before taking a sip. “Everybody talks about this damn song as if he wrote it for me.”

Unbeknownst to you, the two others at the table exchanged pointed looks between one another when you were looking away. It was a wonder how Yunho was able to keep this all a secret from you. Though, even San and Wooyoung knew how busy you could get nowadays, so perhaps it really was just that easy. Plus, they had all at one point or another been privy to Yunho’s feelings—

“Speak of the Devil,” you perked up at the sight of your best friend emerging from the crowd with the others—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Jongho (vocal coach and album feature), and Yeosang (PR management)—in tow behind him. “We were wondering where you had gone off to.”

Yunho grinned as the lot of them squished into the circular seating arrangement with you, San, and Wooyoung. “Sorry, had to go round everyone up. The album should be queued up and ready to go.” He chose to sit on the end of the booth to your right while everyone else filled it up from the other side.

You offered him a sip of your drink, and he gladly took the glass from you. “So San and Woo were just telling me about how their tour prep is coming. You guys are leaving—what was it—two weeks from now?”

He hummed, smacking his lips as he set the glass back down on the table. “Yeah, it should be just about two weeks,” he said. His arm came up to rest against the back of the booth seat behind you. “You know, you can still come to the first stop with us…” This was said with a very pointed look at you from Yunho, followed by similar expressions from everyone else around the table.

“And you know that day’s when my supervisor holds quarterly meetings that are mandatory,” you shot back. As much as you hated the timing, the day that Yunho and the team planned to fly to their first stop on his world tour, you were required to be present for a very important meeting at work.

The Youth World Tour was something Yunho had been looking forward to and preparing for a long time. Besides working on the Youth album itself, his working hours extended over the past year or so to get ready for this major milestone. You would definitely be able to meet up with them at one of the tour stops, you just weren’t sure which one yet.

Things at your workplace were a little rocky as of late due to shifting management, but you would play it by ear. For your best friend, of course you would make it work somehow.

Your ears pricked up at the sound of strings strumming overhead and your heart leapt out of your ribcage for a moment. “Oh my god, I love this song.”

“You and me both, Yn,” Hongjoong chuckled across the table from you, reaching over so you could bump fists with him, “you’ve got good taste.”

“You’re only saying that because you wrote this one specifically,” Yunho sputtered out a laugh while rolling his eyes.

“It’s a good message,” you said, picking up your drink to take a generous gulp of it. There was a little left at the bottom of the martini glass and you swirled the liquid around before handing it over to Yunho to finish. “I think this one will definitely make it onto my work playlist.”

Yunho draped the back of his hand over his forehead, setting the now empty glass on the table. “Wow, relegated to the work playlist. Is that all I am to you?”

“You are a mood maker,” you pointed out with a teasing smile.

“Bro, you're complaining as if Yn doesn't put her work playlist on for everything she does.” Mingi arched his brows over the rims of his sunglasses. (Why was he wearing sunglasses indoors and at night? You didn't know; he said something about looking cool.)

Wooyoung chuckled. “What? So let's say you're trying to sleep—”

“Yah, I have a different playlist for that! I'm not completely unreasonable.”

“Completely,” Yunho and Mingi said at the same time, then looked at each other with wide, excited eyes. They bursted out laughing at once, too, leaving you to deadpan at the two clowns to your eleven o'clock and three o'clock.

You sighed. “I hate you guys.”

That only made them laugh louder, spurring on the others to crack smiles and for you to do the same.

Yunho calmed slightly, his cheeks hurting from smiling. “Aw, you walked right into that one, Yn.”

“So you're saying you are, in some capacity, unreasonable—oh my god, don't hurt me!” Mingi shrieked as he shoved Yeosang's body in front of him like a human shield as you lurched forward and threatened to grab him.

Yeosang sent Mingi a dirty look as he wrestled out of his neighbor's hold. “Dude.”

“Jongho, protect me.”

The vocal coach popped the olive from his martini into his mouth. “If you can't handle the heat, hyung, stay out of the kitchen.”

You nodded, raising your pointer finger up. “Exactly.”

For the next hour, you and your friends shared good company and conversation, while also commenting on, praising, and enjoying the tunes from Yunho's Youth album. There were a good thirteen songs featured on the album, and while most of them were inspired by real life, you remembered the days and nights when Yunho would break out the white board under his bed to draw out a concept map of the storyline he'd created in his head for some songs. It was like a miniature Easter egg hunt for fans to piece together from album to album.

When the clock hit nearly midnight, you recognized the song that marked the end of the conventional album—track number thirteen, 22. It was a song that reflected and lamented on his early stages of adulthood, all the goods and bads, all the hopes and dreams he had left. It was something that tied the regular album with a satisfying bow, but you were also giddy to hear the secret fourteenth deluxe track.

But as his ethereal voice from 22 faded out, the same guitar chords from the first song of the album began to play.

Everyone at the table paused in confusion.

“Uhh, I thought you were revealing the hidden track tonight, Yunho?” Seonghwa asked from across the table.

Yunho tilted his body out of the booth to peer into the sound booth at the very back of the lounge, a furrow in his brow. “I thought I was, too,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Before anyone else could say anything, Yunho disappeared past the door to the sound booth. You frowned as Hongjoong excused himself to catch up with him, mumbling something about helping with any technical difficulties.

In retrospect, it wouldn't be the biggest deal if you didn't get to hear the song tonight. You would simply listen to it when the deluxe album dropped in about a week, but you wouldn't deny that you were a little disappointed. Everyone else at this table had already listened to it—why had Yunho not shared it with you yet? Did he think you would judge him or not like it? You didn't think you were ever so harsh a critic, but that would explain why he was so nervous all night.

Regardless, you remained positive.

When Yunho and Hongjoong returned to the table, the rest of you all looked on to them expectantly.

“Something wacky is going on with the system right now and won't play the file for the hidden track,” Hongjoong huffed. He passed Yunho a sidelong glance, and you saw how Yunho avoided his friend's eyes like the plague. “Sorry to disappoint, Yn.”

Everyone's attention whipped toward you, and you straightened like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, uhm, it's no biggie,” you said. You glanced over at Yunho who, if anything, seemed guilty. Or maybe it was just something apologetic. “Really—I can wait for it to drop officially.”

You didn't like how the air seemed to shift during this exchange, as if all the other boys were sitting on the edges of their seats, faces morphed into mixed ranges of confusion and disbelief.

You cleared your throat. “Anyone want more drinks?”

As the night waned and the party came to a close, you found yourself being helped into another Uber car to head home. After the supposed tech glitch, the remainder of the party passed by without a hitch. At the very end, Yunho popped open a theatrical bottle of champagne for all his guests to close out the celebration.

The backseat door closed just as Yunho ducked in with you, his hand waving out the window to San, Wooyoung, and Jongho passing by along the curb.

The alcohol had gradually made its way to your brain, and there was a light buzzing at the base of your skull that made you feel all warm and fuzzy. You yawned, leaning your head against Yunho's shoulder.

He chuckled, one of his hands coming up to gently pat your head. “Tired?”

“Mhm,” you hummed as your eyelids fluttered closed. “You didn't have to lie, y'know.”

You felt his shoulder tense under your cheek. If only you could feel the rapid beating in his chest, then he'd be as good as done.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied innocently, nimble fingers running over the chain links of his wristwatch.

Your eyes cracked open slowly. “Yunho.”

A beat passed, then he sighed. “Are you mad?” He asked quietly and his hand nearest to you found yours as he began to mindlessly inspect the chipped nail polish on your fingertips.

“No, silly. Why would I be mad?” When he didn't respond right away, you let out an exhale of your own. “I mean, I could tell you were nervous about me listening to the song all night. And if you weren't ready for me to listen to it yet, then I totally get that, and I'm okay with waiting. I just would rather you tell me that instead of make Hongjoong lie for you.”

He stopped playing with your fingers. “I'm sorry, for the record. Thank you for understanding.”

You hummed in reply.

The drive continued on with the accompaniment of a random radio station playing on low volume. You weren't going to fall asleep just yet with the alcohol still working its way through your system, but you kept your eyes closed nonetheless.

“I missed you, you know?” Were his first words to break the next silence.

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I missed you, too. I feel like we haven't seen each other in forever.”

He chuckled, the low sound rumbling through his chest and into your ear. “Texting can only take us so far. Isn't that crazy? We can't even survive a week without hanging out, but we're… we're about to be separated for so much longer timewise and distance-wise.”

You grumbled. “Don't remind me—wait. Has it really only been a week?” You peeked one eye open, a frown coming to your lips. “No way.”

Yunho smiled, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, stargirl. It's been only a week.”

“In-fucking-sane.”

“You're telling me.”

“How are we going to survive?” You pondered aloud, genuinely. If you couldn't fly out to see him within the first handful of tour stops, you and Yunho at the soonest wouldn't be able to see each other for three weeks. And if you couldn't escape your work duties and your PhD responsibilities, then it would be longer than that. “You're gonna have a closer relationship with your Valorant account than me.”

Yunho snorted. “I already have a closer relationship with my Valorant account than you.”

“Shucks.” You breathed out. “Guess I'll just text Hongjoong then. You know what he told me tonight when we were exchanging numbers? All eight of you nerds have a group chat and he gets ignored like a mom in a family chatroom.”

Your comment made a laugh tumble out of Yunho's mouth. “Did he make that analogy?”

“No, Seonghwa did when he overheard.”

A wheeze. “That tracks.” Yunho licked his lips as he turned his head slightly to glance down at you leaning on his shoulder. With his free hand, he warmed his palm over your head like he could keep you here forever. “So what's this about texting Joong?”

You shifted your position to get more comfortable and clung to his arm to press yourself closer. There was still a little ways to go before you reached your apartment. “I told him offhandedly that I wanna pick up a new hobby… something about crocheting or something, and apparently that guy is like… amazing at everything, so he's gonna help me out.”

“Ah.” The sound was quiet. “I'm glad you guys got along.”

You smiled to yourself. “Me too. He's really cool.”

“Not cooler than me though, right?”

You blindly reached over to pat his chest in warm reassurance. “Don't worry, big guy. I guess you're still the coolest guy I know.”

He clicked his tongue at you with a weak chiding, “Yah. You only guess? Don't tell Mingi that.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it.”

The Uber eventually pulled up along the curb outside your apartment complex. You lifted your head up from Yunho's shoulder and woke yourself up with a good stretch of your limbs.

He helped you out of the car, handing you your purse when you finally got your bearings. “Are you sure I can't walk you up? You look like your knees are about to buckle,” he chuckled.

You shook your head. The cool evening air was helping your brain to sober up. “No, no. Don't worry about it—I’m not as drunk as that one year.”

“Dear heart, how could I forget,” he teased. “Mingi still has the recording of when you begged to be bridal carried.”

Your face warmed at his mention of that memory and you wrinkled your nose at him. “I was gonna say ‘I love you’ along with goodnight, but I suppose not.”

Yunho froze. “What?”

Maybe you really weren't sobering up, because you didn't catch his strange reaction. “Nevermind,” you said flippantly. “Love you, Yun. Good night. Get home safe!”

He seemed to unfreeze, his lungs filling with breath again. A soft smile melted onto his pretty lips as he looked on toward you with a warm fondness. “Love you, too. Good night, Yn.”

He remained where he was outside the car door as he watched you dig your keys out from your purse and open the complex door. When you had one foot inside, you stopped, and turned back to him with a big grin on your face. “Hey!”

“Hey?” He laughed.

“I'm proud of you.”

For the thousandth time tonight, you made him lose his breath, his hold on reality. He swallowed—he wanted to kiss you. “I love you. Get some rest, stargirl.”

You waved to him in reply and he waved back. Then you disappeared through the door and left him there, his heart full and beating fast, the longing in his chest weighing heavier than before.

When you and Yunho were thirteen, you spent the longest period of time away from each other for the rest of your lives. It measured to about one summer break long when Yunho flew to South Korea to spend the entire vacation there and you could do nothing but chat with him via good, old fashioned e-mail.

Now that the two of you were older, even a couple days dragged on like an eternity. And because of your clashing and stacked schedules, a couple days almost always bled into a week.

A week since the release of Youth marked the inevitable release of its deluxe edition and the ever mysterious fourteenth track.

“Yn, wait, can you just help me finish this set of primers?”

You were this close to escaping the lab before one of your colleagues caught you. Taking a deep breath, you resolved to turn back and help them out. One less thing to worry about later, right? You could still listen to the track once you got home.

Except you couldn't, at least not right away. You saw the email on the bus ride home:

Hello TAs! One of your peers has unfortunately been involved in a motorbike accident early this evening. We have been informed that they will recover to full health, but because they are hospitalized, we will need to redistribute responsibilities regarding grades and as to who will cover their TA sections…

You skimmed down the email's contents, knowing you wouldn't be the one filling in as an actual TA. Because you were a first year graduate student in your first quarter, you opted to start off with grading work for now. But even if you didn't have to deal with a whole section of undergraduates, you could feel the blood drain from your face.

“You've gotta be shitting me,” you said, then slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized you'd said that aloud. You mouthed a sheepish “sorry” to a parent and her child nearby, then ducked your head to look at the contents once more.

There was no way they wanted—no, needed—all of those graded by tonight.

This was cruel and unusual punishment, but you knew you were going to do it anyway.

By the time you finished grading, shoveled dinner into your mouth, and took a therapeutically scalding hot shower, it was sometime past two in the morning. Thank fuck it was Saturday.

It was less than twelve hours later that you settled into the passenger seat of Yunho's Lexus sedan with a pair of shades covering your dehydrated, puffy eyes from the world and whatever paparazzi was stalking his car. Yunho glanced over at you with barely concealed amusement. “Well, good morning, princess.”

“You can't see it but I'm glaring at you,” you grunted as you strapped yourself in with the seatbelt. “I can't believe you wake up before noon now.”

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled, peeling his car away from the curb. After an unsatisfactory six hours of sleep, Yunho had woken you up with the obnoxiously loud sound of your phone ringing. You managed to negotiate for him to pick you up in two hours rather than half an hour—and now here you were. You never truly considered yourself a breakfast person and you would have happily slept all the way to lunch, but even through the exhaustion, you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you.

He would be gone by the end of the week, after all.

You leaned your head back against the headrest. “I used to have to lure you out of bed with the smell of bacon. Remember when you ate that entire plate of raw-ass bacon and pancake batter that Mingi made?”

Yunho let out a loud laugh that made you smile. He glanced over at you. “Bro,” he sighed, shaking his head, “you know I'll eat anything. Oh my gosh, I will never forget the horrified look on your face when you came out of the bathroom and found out what happened.”

“You looked like a kicked puppy when I told you that you shouldn't have eaten raw bacon,” you snorted. You'd felt so awful that Yunho was such a good eater who didn't complain; he didn't have any negative side effects afterward, thankfully, but you swore to never let Mingi in the kitchen or to let Mingi feed Yunho ever again, so long as you lived.

There was a café a few minutes drive from your apartment complex that the two of you liked to go to. It was a little hole in the wall, located on the second floor above a pet shelter, and the entrance could only be accessed through the stairs in the next-door alleyway.

Yunho adjusted the beanie over his bangs and you shifted your sunglasses up to the top of your head as you entered the establishment. There were a few people seated in the area to the right, but something you liked about this place was its hidden gem quality. (And the drinks and food they served, of course.)

“Hi, welcome in!” The barista behind the counter called before ducking behind the espresso machine. “Give me two seconds, and I'll be right with you.”

“No worries, take your time,” Yunho chirped back as he scoured the menu, eyes squinting and tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You had a general idea of what you wanted already, and you let Yunho know what it was before slipping off into the restroom.

By the time you emerged from the back hallway where the washrooms were, Yunho had finished ordering and was standing by one of the open two-seater tables by the far window with the soft autumn sunlight painting over his features. For a second, you stood at the opening of the hallway, just admiring him. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep making you envision the sunlight dancing around him as he sat down in one of the seats.

Heat rushed up your neck as your eyes met across the café. Gazes locked, you stood frozen, but a smile bloomed on your best friend's face like the coming of spring. It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

And then he made a face, cocking his head to the side like a puppy with a question. 'Why are you just standing there?’ He seemed to ask.

You shook yourself out of whatever strange daze you'd slipped into, then walked over to join him.

“You okay?” He asked as you took the seat across from him, a teasing lilt to his voice, yet there was still concern in the curve of his mouth.

You waved said concern away. “Yeah. I think I'm still waking up or something.”

“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. He frowned. “What time did you go to sleep last night?”

“Like… some time past two.” On cue, you let out a large yawn, lifting your sleeve up to cover your mouth. “It's okay. I'll just sleep early tonight or something. One of the other TAs got into an accident, so we just had to do some make-up work and I just happened to get home late as it was.”

You could already see the guilt manifest on his face for waking you up, and you were swift to add, “I'll be fine with food and coffee, so 's alright. What about you? How'd you sleep last night?”

“I slept decently,” he replied, leaning forward to rest his cheek against his fist. “I didn't end up dropping the deluxe album, so it was a little more restful than—”

Your brain took a second to catch up. The… the deluxe album… oh. Your eyes went from half-mast to wide open. “You—you didn't release the deluxe? Sorry, I was so busy yesterday that I didn't check my socials.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said with a sheepish smile. “But yeah, I told my manager that I still wasn't ready to release it to the public just yet. I don't know when I'll postpone it to, but it probably won't come out until while I'm on tour.”

Ah. There was that disappointment settling in the pit of your stomach again. This wasn't about you, but why did it seem like he was avoiding your eventual listening to this song? He was almost always sending you audio files without prompting, so what made this one different?

Nonetheless, it wasn't your song. You would respect Yunho's privacy if he wanted to keep this one to himself and his friends.

You unconsciously rubbed your arm. “Oh okay. Yeah, I mean—take your time, Yun. I'm glad you don't feel pressured to release it when you aren't ready.”

His expression softened to something tender that made your chest feel fuzzy. “You'll listen to it soon, I promise.”

The barista called out Yunho's order number, and your friend stood up to go retrieve it. You sighed as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt and peered over your shoulder as a pair of newcomers asked him for his autograph and a picture. You watched the pleasant smile spread on Yunho's face as he conversed with them as easy as breathing air, alongside the faint blush over his cheekbones.

No, you didn't know what had gotten into you this morning.

“No, no. You have to loop it through this piece here—yeah, there you go.”

You were so concentrated on following Hongjoong's directions that you didn't even register the sound of Yunho's front door opening and closing. Hongjoong clicked his tongue and scooted closer so he could direct your hands and the crochet hook himself.

“Uhm… hey?”

Both yours and Hongjoong's heads whipped up at the sound of Yunho's confusion. He stood at the entrance to the living room area where, scattered all around you and Hongjoong, were clothes, toiletries, and other essentials laid out for Yunho to throw into his bags.

Tonight marked the evening before Yunho and the team were to set off on the Youth World Tour. Tomorrow, they would fly out sometime in the afternoon, which meant that you would have time to send them off before heading to work and class. However, because you hadn't seen Yunho since this past Saturday when he dragged your ass out of bed for breakfast, you invited yourself over to his apartment to oversee his packing. Hongjoong just so happened to be swinging by Yunho's apartment and you asked if he was up for an impromptu crocheting lesson.

Hongjoong arrived some time while Yunho ran out to the Chinese place down the block to grab dinner, and the two of you had been hunched over the ball of yarn and hook ever since.

“Oh, you're back!” You exclaimed. In your distracted state, Hongjoong took the opportunity to take the crochet piece from you and subtly fix the mistakes you made.

Yunho's brows creased, eyes darting from you to Hongjoong as he slowly placed the takeout bags on the semi-cleared coffee table. “Yeah… Joong, when did you get here?”

You leaned forward to help clear off the rest of the coffee table and to also assist in unpacking all of the takeout containers. Yunho shucked the baseball cap he was wearing off to the side, carding a hand through his dark locks.

“Like… seven minutes ago,” he replied cheekily. His mouth curled into something mischievous as he locked eyes with Yunho. “I can leave, though, if you wanted to be alone—”

“Hyung—”

“I'm messing with you,” he snickered as he handed you the yarn and hook. “I only came by to drop off the emergency backup files hard drive and to give Yn-ie a sneak peek of her crocheting lessons to come.”

(Yunho's eyes narrowed a millimeter. Yn-ie?)

You set the unfinished crochet square down on the couch to walk Hongjoong to the door. “Are we still on for tomorrow, by the way?”

“What's tomorrow?” Yunho twisted around where he was seated on the floor to watch you and Hongjoong make your way to the front door.

“You,” said Hongjoong with raised eyebrows at your best friend, “are going on a plane with everyone else. Because I'm not leaving until the day after tomorrow, Yn and I are bonding over lunch after we see you all off.”

You and Hongjoong finished up finalizing plans in the doorway, followed by amiable farewells. Yunho called out a “good night” to his friend as Hongjoong slipped out the door, and left you and him to the apartment by yourselves.

You claimed the spot on the floor next to him and accepted the pair of wooden chopsticks he extended to you. “I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to invite him in. I probably should've asked,” you said sheepishly as you snapped the chopsticks apart.

“Oh, no, he's been over quite a few times, so it's all good,” he replied swiftly. “I just didn't expect you two to be so close.” He added a laugh at the end that sounded more nervous to him than it was supposed to.

“We've been texting back and forth, but I guess so. Nothing like the two of you,” you jested, lifting your eyebrows up and bumping your elbow against his.

Yunho grinned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You guys spend all that time together in the studio—WHA—NO! Keep those hands to yourself!” You shrieked, rolling out of the way to dodge his hands that threatened to tickle you into submission. Yunho had thrown his head back in a carefree laugh, a beautiful expression in itself, that had you reciprocating.

When you were sure he wasn't going to attack you (affectionately), you scooted back over to your original spot next to him. He smiled to himself at the sidelong glance you casted him, and he went and grabbed one carton of rice for himself and the other for you.

“Thank you for dinner, by the way,” you told him as you opened up your carton, his somehow already opened and spilling over with food.

You once again caught him with his mouth full, and Yunho swallowed the bite of food he had before replying. “Yeah, man. Of course.”

“I swear that I will definitely get the next meal we have—”

“Yn.” He touched the back of his hand against your arm to draw your attention to him. “You literally were the one to make sure I made it out of college alive, like, I can never thank you enough for how much you did for me then and continue to do for me now.”

You swallowed, suddenly blown back by the way he looked at you right now. “I did it because I care about you, Yun. It's not something I expect to be repaid for.”

“I know,” he said with a nod, lips pulled into a tender smile that made your stomach do flips. This was the look no one else got to see from him. Sure, he could fill stadiums of people who would see his big, bright grin that shone brighter than the sun, but… but this one, this smile, was yours. “That goes the same toward this meal, okay?”

Yunho notched his finger under your chin and tilted your head up slightly to meet his eyes. “Don't worry about it.”

You set your carton of rice and chopsticks on the table, he copied your movements, and you wrapped each other in your mutual embraces. The startling realization that you wouldn't see him for longer than a week from tomorrow onward rushed toward you like the coming of a tide to shore. Before you knew it, the water was up to your knees, and you—what were you going to do without him here?

“I miss you already,” you whispered.

You felt him squeeze you tighter, nose pressed against the side of your neck. “I won't be gone too long.” A promise.

“Thank god Seonghwa and Wooyoung can cook.” At the sound of his snort from above your head, you squawked out in your defense, “Who else is gonna make you bacon and pancakes in the morning when you’re dead tired?”

“Hey! I can fry bacon, I’ll have you know!”

You pulled away from him so he could see the look of pure disbelief on your face. “Okay, rockstar. I believe you.”

He scrunched his nose up at you. “That’s not very convincing.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Yunho scoffed, reaching over to flick your nose. You let out a sound of indignation and rubbed your nose, a scowl on your face at Yunho’s very pleased expression. And even if you were currently conspiring on how to get back at him, you couldn’t help but resolve something right that second—you would do everything in your power to see his show in two weeks’ time—to see Yunho in two weeks’ time.

The thing about cheap plane tickets was that the cheaper you bought them, the less “amenities” that it came with. The one you’d purchased specifically for two weeks in the future did not allow you a refund. This meant that if something were to arise, you would be a good several hundred dollars poorer, and your plans to surprise Yunho at his show would fall completely through the floor.

Good thing you weren’t about to let that happen, right? …Right?

“You’re sick.” Those were your roommate Trinity’s first words to you as you stumbled out of your bedroom and found her perched on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. She fixed you with an unimpressed look as she stirred around her morning coffee.

“I’m not—” Your own response was cut off by one very untimely cough into your elbow. You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste at the back of your throat. Great. “—sick.”

“And I’m Oprah,” she deadpanned.

“You could be.” Did you really sound as much like a dying walrus as you thought you did? Holy shit.

She stood up from her stool, setting her coffee cup on the counter, then walked over to you to direct you back into your room. “I’m not permitting you exit from this apartment until you're better. Back to bed with you.”

“But—”

“No buts! If you wanna still be able to fly by the end of this week, then you have to get better, Yn.”

You really, unfortunately, could not argue with that. Nearly a week and a half had passed since Yunho started touring. Opening night had been a massive success, as you’d seen the broadcast and read the reviews on social media. In the concert photos and videos slowly being released online, there was no doubt in your mind that Yunho belonged onstage. He was radiant as a diamond in each depiction of him, and he sounded better and better each night.

Suffice to say, you were beyond proud and happy for him.

In order to make your surprise successful, you informed Yunho’s team of your plans so they could help you get into the concert once you arrived. Your part consisted mainly of finishing all of your work ahead of schedule so you weren’t swamped when you got back. It was nearing the end of the term, meaning there was lots to grade and study, but when you had a goal, you were determined.

The only downside was that, between the long days and nights of work, your body couldn’t fight against the swift rush of early winter air that swept through the city in the past week. Your working hours stretched out longer and longer until your body just… gave up. Or at least, it was giving up.

After calling in sick to your workplace, you crashed back into bed for what you hoped to be a restful nap. Maybe when you woke up, this would all just turn out to be a 24-hour fever.

(It was not a 24-hour fever.)

You didn't even know what time it was when you woke up groggy and your head pounding like there was an active construction site taking place in your skull. Your bedroom was dark, and the world outside your window was also dark. The sound of your phone ringing drilled into your cranium, and you groaned as you felt around your mess of blankets and sheets for wherever that damned thing was—

“Hello?” You croaked into the receiver when you finally grabbed ahold of your phone.

There was a pause on the other end, and you were about to ask who it was when they responded. “Oh my god. You're sick.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of your best friend's voice and you shoved your face into the pillow. “I'm not sick.”

“Yn, sweetheart, you literally have the sexy sick voice.”

“You think I'm sexy?” You asked in a drowsy, unwell daze. “But anyways, I'm not—” You lifted your face into your elbow in time to practically hack out your lungs. You groaned. “Okay, maybe I am sick.”

Could things get any worse?

You could hear the frown in his voice. “You sound like my worst nightmare.”

“Am I sexy or your worst nightmare? You need to pick an adjective.” You whimpered as you struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position.

“At least I know it did nothing to that attitude of yours,” he laughed. He sobered for a moment when he heard you groan as the blood rushed to your head. “Hey, do you have meds with you? I can order some and have them there in half an hour.”

You waved him off, even though he wouldn't be able to see. “No, it's okay. I should have taken an ibuprofen before I crashed. I'm sure we've got extra Nyquil around here somewhere…”

You attempted to stand up, a swear falling from your mouth as the vertigo hit you and sent you tumbling back down onto the edge of the bed.

“Yn, I'm sending you medicine—and dinner. That one bistro near your apartment is still open, right? I'll let Trinity know that deliveries are on the—Yn?”

You lifted your head and broke out of your return to unconsciousness. “Hm? Sorry… I did not hear anything you just said.” You rubbed your hand down your face and scooped your phone up to make your way out of your room. You somehow made it to the door, and you leaned against the doorjamb as you pushed out into the dark hallway. “You don't have to send anything, Yun. Trinity's studying for her law school finals, so I don't wanna bother her. Plus…”

You opened up the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and bit back a sigh of disappointment. No cold medicine. There was pain medication, at least, so that should hopefully help you fall asleep again.

At your lack of words, Yunho asked, “No medicine?”

“No, I have some medicine,” you countered. “Just—not the right ones.” Before you could swallow any pills, you hacked out another lung into your elbow; you swore your coughs were sounding worse and worse.

“You know what? I'm flying home—”

You slammed the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. “Don't—what? Yunho, do not fly home. It's literally just a little—” You coughed, “—cold. You have another show in two days. If you show up on my doorstep, I'm not opening the door.”

From the silence on his end, you knew he wasn't in total agreement with you. Maybe the bottle slamming was a little much, but his statement had surprised you. It didn't make sense for him to drop everything for you when you were experiencing something so trivial as a cold.

Not unkindly, you said to him, “I appreciate the concern, but you have bigger things to worry about and care about.”

���You will always be the most important thing I care about.”

His admission was so sincere that your heart gave a violent palpitation in your chest. You struggled to swallow, and it wasn't just because your throat was sore. “And I feel the same way about you,” you murmured, “but I can take care of myself, okay? I'll be back to normal in no time.”

You heard a sigh from his end. “I know; you're right. I just… wish I was there with you right now.”

You could understand that—it was how you felt. But some things couldn't be helped, and Yunho needed to be where he was and you needed to be where you were. You could hold down the fort while he was gone taking over the world by storm.

You closed the bathroom door to give an extra barrier between your voice and where Trinity was studying in her room. After knocking back a couple painkillers, you seated yourself on the floor with your back against the bathtub and your knees pulled up to your chest. “You know what's kind of ironic?” You coughed into your elbow and wrestled down another one bubbling up in your throat. You shouldn't have been speaking so much, but you could deal with the repercussions later. “I think I freaked out when you said you were going to fly home, not just because that's insane, but also because I was going to surprise you by flying out to your show in a couple days.”

He sucked in a breath. “You were gonna come surprise me?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, swiping at your nose and tucking your chin to your knees. Then you had to go and screw it all up, and you couldn't even get your money back. You pretty much accepted that you weren't going to be better by the time the day rolled around, especially not for travel. “I'm sorry I couldn't come see you.”

“No, don't be sorry!” He cooed. “I'm—I’m really sorry you're sick and I'm sad you couldn't make it, but… but think of it this way, hm? As soon as you get better, I'll fly you out to whatever city I'm in and we can hang out and you can come to the concert. All you have to do is get better for me.”

You didn't know if your schedule would allow after this setback, but you were going to remain optimistic. With a small glimmer of hope peering through your chest, you replied, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said, and you could hear the fond smile in his voice.

“By the way,” you began, and had to clear your throat from how congested it was getting. Maybe some hot tea would do you good. You clambered to your feet to get out of this bathroom and do just that. “Was there a reason you called originally or was it just to say hi?”

A beat of hesitation passed between your question and his answer. “Ah…” There was a wince in his voice, “I, uhm, called because I wanted to know if you'd seen something online, but obviously you haven't 'cause you were asleep, but…”

Seen something online? Your movements with your electric kettle paused. Had someone posted something about Yunho? “What is it, Yun?” Who's ass did you need to beat?

“Seonghwa hyung found out that someone leaked the hidden track online a few hours ago.”

You leaned your cheek against your palm, eyebrows knitting together. “Shit, dude. I'm so sorry,” you said with a frown. That meant some rando on the internet had hacked into someone's files and leaked the song.

A sharp exhale from Yunho's end. “Yeah, I dunno. We're working on getting it taken down right now, but in the event it can't be done soon enough, I think I'm just gonna release the deluxe version in a couple hours.”

It seemed by his response that it wasn't the hacking that was his primary concern. Leaked, unreleased songs happened to every major artist in the industry, and it had most definitely happened to Yunho before this. But this time… this time felt different. You knew how hesitant he was to release this, and having the track get released to the public on terms that weren't his? Well, that just wasn't fair.

“You don't,” you said softly, reaching for a mug in the top cabinet to plop your tea bag into, “have to release it officially right now. You can still wait until you're comfortable.”

You heard sounds of shuffling on his end, followed by the sound of a door opening. You thought you heard Yeosang's voice as he murmured something to Yunho. The exchange was swift, but it reminded you that your time with your best friend here was limited.

“Do you need to go?” You asked, trying to cover up your hope that he didn't have to with nonchalance.

He hummed. “It's okay, I have a few minutes left. They want me to 'okay’ a couple things out on set, but that can wait. Uhm… as for what you said about releasing it—I,” he sighed, “I think this was the push I needed to finally drop it, y'know? I think either way I was going to be scared for—for people to hear it—for you to hear it. But uhm… yeah. That's all I wanted to say. I think it'll probably be released whenever you wake up.”

You poured the hot water of your tea bag, setting the kettle down gently. Letting the steam rise up to help clear your congestion, you could finally think a little clearer now. “I'm sorry this didn't happen on your terms.”

“I appreciate that. I hope you like the song—I… I really hope you like the song.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I'm going to like the song, rockstar. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”

He let out a small laugh and the sound of his happiness, however big or small, made your chest feel heavy. “I’ve missed you so much,” he rasped out. “So much.”

You pressed your forehead to your fist, willing the prickling feeling of tears at bay. “I wish I was there—I’ve wished I was there with you the moment you left. But I'm so, so proud of you. I know I've said this before, but you belong on that stage, Yunho. I'll be there… I'm always there in spirit.”

“You can't say that and expect me not to fly my ass home right now.”

You sputtered out a laugh, which was probably a bad idea, because it led to an utter disaster of a coughing fit. When you finally managed to get a reign on things, you picked up your mug of tea and took a couple ginger sips. It was still piping hot, but whatever scalding temperature it was at somehow soothed your throat and your head.

You set the cup down. “Again, I'll be there in no time, I promise.”

“You swear on your life?”

You sighed, but you pressed your lips into a smile. “I swear on my life.”

Yunho's departure from this call was imminent, and so you made further promises to get plenty of rest and to take care of yourself. You only did so when he promised to do the same for himself. Just after you both hung up, you received a text message from him: Stay up for five more minutes!! The delivery's almost there.

You huffed out a rough-sounding laugh, and bit your tongue around a smile. Of course he had still ordered you stuff. You shook your head to settle on one of the kitchen stools to nurse your tea and wait for the delivery to get here.

When the driver was safely out of bounds of your door, you poked your head out into the hallway to grab the paper bags seated on your doorstep. You had only expected medicine and maybe dinner, but not only were there cold medicines, orange juice, and hot soup from the bistro down the street, but there was a bouquet of flowers there, too.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you pulled everything into the safety of your apartment. Damn Jeong Yunho and his gestures. It didn't mean anything—they were just Get Well Soon flowers, but why did you kind of wish they were more than that?

The Youth album's fourteenth track entitled your space hit the charts at number two. By the time you woke up, still sick as hell, the track had been officially released for about eight hours. You rolled over in bed to guzzle down half a bottle of water and cold medicine, then grabbed your phone.

It seemed that social media blew up while you were asleep. The deluxe drop was trending under a couple different tags, and based on initial skims, you were happy to report that most had everything good to say about it.

Though, some of the commentary made you pause. He has to be seeing someone, said one user. Look at these lyrics. These could only be produced by a man in love.

You had to swipe out of the app at that point. Instead, you went over to yours, Yunho's, and Mingi's group chat together where Mingi and Yunho had waged a meme war while you were asleep after Mingi wished you a “Get Better Soon” message. You sent back your own meme in response and opened your music streaming app to find track fourteen.

The boys would probably all be asleep by now, so they wouldn't respond any time soon.

You found your space exactly where you thought it would be, at the very bottom of the deluxe album. You sat yourself up against your headboard, plugged your earbuds in, then hit play.

If only you knew how much it would rock your world.

Hongjoong was never wrong about his hunches. It had been about a week and a half since you came down with an awful cold and couldn't make it to your intended surprise show, and slightly less than that since the deluxe album dropped. Even before the tour started, life was a whirlwind, but now that the tour was only ramping up further from this point, it had been nothing short of a total rush.

Different cities every week, at least two nights a city—all of it took a toll on both the staff and artist involved. Hongjoong's hunch, however, regarded the artist in particular as he watched said artist keep his smile up to say goodnight to the remainder of the stadium workers who lingered for cleanup. Yesterday was their last show date in this city, and today, Yunho and his team had come by to help load everything up for transport to their next destination. Tomorrow, they would fly out and be in the next city to begin preparing for the next round.

But as Yunho began making his way toward the exit where Hongjoong was waiting for him, it was impossible to miss the immediate exhaustion that flooded his features. He carded a hand through his hair as he checked his phone, then pocketed it in the back pocket of his pants.

“Hey,” Yunho nodded to Hongjoong as he met him at the exit and they both walked out into the chilly evening together. There was already a car waiting at the curb to take them back to their hotel—there was still so much that needed to be done before they left for the airport tomorrow.

“Hey,” he said back. “Everything okay?”

Yunho glanced over at him. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine; just tired. I think it's a good thing I started packing before we came here earlier,” he mused. For him to pack early? A miracle.

Hongjoong bobbed his head in understanding. “Yeah, I get that, but that's not really—you know you can be honest with me, right? I know this has all been… a lot.” And Hongjoong would understand; he had been in the public eye for so long now, and all of that could be so incredibly draining. From catering to fans and journalists and sponsors, it could be difficult finding himself amongst all that mess.

Plus, Yunho had the added bit of being away from home for a very long time. From what Hongjoong understood, Yunho only used to tour relatively close to home, and when it was farther, it was during his school breaks. He also knew that you were an integral part of Yunho's sanity, and that even before he reached this level of fame, you were his rock, his anchor, his ground control.

Being away from you for so long was beginning to show. When Hongjoong brought it up offhandedly to Mingi, Mingi was swift to agree.

“I—” Yunho began as he slipped into the passenger seat and Hongjoong into the back of the car. He murmured a soft greeting to the driver before strapping himself in with a seatbelt. “—it definitely has been hard,” he admitted with a sigh. “I don't know, Joong. You know that rush you get while onstage, but it just comes crashing down a couple hours later? Like the adrenaline leaves you all at once and all you crave for is home?”

Hongjoong pursed his lips, watching Yunho lean the side of his head against the window as he watched the world pass by. “Yeah, I do,” he said quietly. “The moments between all the rush and excitement, you're no longer distracted from how much it all is.”

A nod. “Yeah.”

“You miss her?” It was less of a question and more so a statement. Hongjoong's hunches were never incorrect. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Yunho's quiet was answer enough.

Hongjoong played around with the back of his phone case. He knew you had listened to the song—he’d asked Yunho and you'd texted Hongjoong, too. Yunho reported that you gushed about the song and affirmed him in all his choices and lyricism as always, but he was certain that you didn't get it. But when you had run to Hongjoong questioning your own feelings and if Yunho had been scared to tell you if he was in love with someone, Hongjoong could confidently say that you did get it, just not one hundred percent.

There was still miscommunication in the message, but he knew that was only something that the two of you could sort out.

“Have you guys talked since last week?”

“Yeah, we have. She's been…” He pushed a breath out of his mouth, “... She's been working her ass off trying to make up for the amount of time she was sick. I don't even know how she isn't getting sick again. I mean—all the shit she has to weather through—I wish I could help.”

And he couldn't, not like how he wanted to, not from so far away. Maybe that was what was eating him up inside the most, besides the fact he believed his feelings to be unrequited.

The car pulled up to the back entrance of the hotel Yunho and his team were staying at for the time being. The two of them thanked the driver on their way out, and they were swiftly greeted by employees coming out of the back for their breaks.

When they reached the warmth of their hotel floor's hallway, Yunho said to Hongjoong, “I miss her so much.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his Youth World Tour hoodie, eyes lined in silver. “I worry about her so much, too. I'm sure she worries just as much about me and I know that she's more than capable about taking care of herself—’cause god, she was the one who kept me afloat all these years, and I—”

I love her.

He slapped his key card against the reader and shoved into his hotel room with Hongjoong trailing after with a sympathetic frown on his face.

“It just feels wrong sometimes when I can't be with her. Is that crazy?”

Hongjoong settled a warm hand on Yunho's shoulder as the latter sat down on the edge of his bed. “It's not crazy,” he said. He'd felt like that about a person, once upon a time. After everything Hongjoong had gone through with his last relationship, one might think he didn't believe in love, but he was still clawing for it. He wanted something that he could see manifesting between you and Yunho. He wanted to help you reach that.

He sighed and sat down next to him. “It's completely valid to feel this way, y'know? She's been a huge part of your life and your passions, and for you to see all this without her seems incomplete.”

Yunho nodded. “Yeah.”

“You can go home whenever you want, you realize that?” Hongjoong asked. “We have time built into each week to give you rest days, man. We can make that work.” It might be a little tiring for so much travel, but one trip back wouldn't hurt, especially when it could help his mental state more than simply powering through.

“I know,” he replied. “I don't… I just feel like I want her to see that I can do this, that she didn't put her trust and energy into someone who would fall so fast—”

“Do you seriously believe she would think about you that way?”

Yunho's expression shuddered, and he let out a shaky breath as he shook his head.

Hongjoong arched his brow. “Exactly. She would never fault you for needing a break. Being human is not a sign of weakness, Yunho. She's your best friend—I think she has more forgiveness and compassion for you than that.”

Yunho swallowed. Of course what Hongjoong said was right. You wouldn't look at him any different if he needed a break; it was just a thing about being kinder to himself. But sometimes it was hard to put that into perspective, and perhaps he just needed someone to do that for him.

With no good choice made without a decent night of sleep, Hongjoong bid Yunho goodnight.

As soon as Hongjoong slipped out of his friend's room, he sighed and mentally calculated what time it would be where you were. You should have been awake.

And awake, you definitely were.

You would be lying if you said you hadn't been listening to the song your space on repeat for the past week and a half. Even as you sat in one of the campus dining halls doing work and eating your crappy sandwich for lunch, your headphones were spilling with your best friend's gorgeous croons.

You questioned everything at the same time. You'd figured out two days after you first heard it that you were in love with your best friend.

The lyrics had resonated with you, and you had come to the startling conclusion that you felt the song's meaning toward Yunho.

All you could do since was freak the fuck out and tell Yunho that the song was incredible. You didn't know who the song was for or about, but you knew it was important to him because of how scared he was to release it. Had he been scared to tell you he was in love with someone? Why?

Sometimes you found yourself tearing apart the lyrics like a rabid trash panda.

I couldn't ever leave you behind They couldn't ever take me away Baby, if I could pick a heaven on Earth It would be anywhere in your space.

You broke away from your work and sandwich to the sound of a text notification. Suddenly remembering how loud your vibration ringer was, you silenced it, then opened up Hongjoong's message: I know you're probably moping and eating a shitty sandwich—what. You glanced down at said shitty sandwich that sat in its equally sad plastic container. How did he know…? —and he's not doing well either. He's miserable, dude.

Everything slowed for you, and it was no longer about your so-called epiphany. You felt your entire body and mood drop at the news. You'd seen social media posts commenting on Yunho's stage presence and brightness never fading, but there were always the one or two who noted something along the lines of him seeming too tired or that perhaps he didn't have enough stamina for this.

The latter comments made your blood pressure spike, but there was, unfortunately, some truth to it. You just didn't think it was this bad.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles against your eyes. You hadn't been doing the best, clearly, and you knew that it was largely because you missed him. Being away from someone you considered home for so long meant that you were bound to get homesick.

You didn't know what to do. There was so much work to be done, and you had just caught up. On top of that, you were short a few hundred dollars from the last time you tried to fly out.

Another message buzzed in from Hongjoong: I think you guys really need to talk.

The organ in your chest rattled around in its cage; it longed to be with its partner. You were starting to understand that now.

The song playing in your ear was slowly petering out, and all you could hear was his voice.

And I've kinda been wanting to ask if we can Skip the 'why’ and get to the 'our’ Because baby, I love your space But I love ours more.

Yunho had not flown home that week. Some emergencies had sprung up as soon as they landed in their new city, and all bets were off to be able to go home. All that he could do was buckle down and get comfortable. Even so, he knew how to make the best out of a situation.

As he stood at the very center of the main stage, he held a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright spotlights shining down on him now.

“Is that better?” Hongjoong's voice echoed throughout the near-empty stadium.

From one of the balconies, Jongho cupped his hands up around his mouth to scream at the top of his lungs, “LOOKS GOOD, HYUNG!”

“Jongho,” Yunho chuckled into his microphone, “did someone not get you a headset, bro?”

A beat passed, and then, “NO.”

Mildly amused laughter cropped up around the stadium in reaction to the youngest's troubles. It was little moments like these where Yunho could forget for one second just how tiring all of this amounted to become. His smile was genuine, and his tongue darted out to trace his teeth—

“Jeong Yunho, put your damn tongue away.”

Yunho's eyes went as wide as saucers, his expression morphing into something like childlike surprise as he immediately retracted his tongue into his mouth. But in the split second it took his brain to process the words that had been said, he also recognized the voice who'd said them. From the big screen, any one of the staff members or you could see the way his face stretched into the widest grin possible, his eyes lighting up like spotlights.

He lifted the mic in his hand up to his lips as he tilted his eyes up to the sound and lighting box far up in the stands. From where he was onstage, he could just make out the shape of you in the box next to Hongjoong—the sneaky bastard. “Ln Yn, get your ass down here right now,” he said, hardly able to contain the excitement in his voice.

You didn't need to be told twice.

You raced down the stadium steps from the box, your legs carrying you as fast as humanly possible without falling. Yunho leapt off the stage and left his microphone behind to meet you in the middle.

Somewhere between the pit and mezzanine, you flew into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around. The glee on both of your faces was enough to make everyone stop and appreciate the tangible love before them. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you pursed your lips to subdue them. You squeezed him as tight as you possibly could; his arms held you firmly around your waist, head tucked into the joint between your neck and shoulder.

“You're here,” he croaked with tears in his voice now. You heard him sniffle, and only held him tighter. He felt the added strength and let out a sob. “I missed you so much.”

Oh, for fuck's sake—you started bawling like a baby. “I—” you sucked in a breath, “—I heard—so I booked a flight—”

This only caused his body to tremble harder. “Oh god… Yn… I…”

You sniffled and brushed your hand over the back of his head in an attempt to get both of you to calm down. “Hey, don't worry about it, okay? It doesn't matter; you know I'd drop everything for you.” When his only response was to press his wet eyes against the heat of your neck, you blinked away your tears. “Plus, I missed you, too, rockstar.”

Yunho let out a watery laugh, gently setting you down onto solid ground. You both looked like a hot mess and a half: snot dripping out of your noses, eyes red and drowned in salty tears. The adrenaline rush from the surprise had trickled out of your system, but your heartbeat continued to rattle around in your chest with reckless abandon. His messy, damp hair; the wobbly shine in his dark brown irises; the way he smiled at you with that something on his face… he was everything to you.

“Glad to know the feeling's mutual,” he said, nudging you with his elbow, then pawing at his eyes to wipe the tears away.

“Good to see you, Yn!” San piped up from the stage with his microphone. He had picked up Yunho's microphone from where he'd abandoned it to come meet you.

You laughed, lifting a hand up in a wave. “Hey, San! Hi everyone!”

Chimes of greetings from all the other boys and staff members cropped up from all around the arena.

Yunho brushed a hand through his hair and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Did all you fuckers know about this?”

Mingi was perched on the ledge of the stage. His grin seemed to be the widest after watching your reunion. He tugged the microphone attached to his earpiece closer to his mouth. “Don't tell us you're not grateful now.”

“Nah, I'm just surprised Wooyoung was able to keep his mouth shut.”

Wooyoung didn't need a microphone to let you all know of his offense. You could hear his squawk of disapproval all the way from where you stood—crazy how acoustics worked.

Yunho heard your laugh from beside him, and he glanced over at you to catch the fond look on your face. He hadn't stopped smiling for the past five minutes, and it didn't matter how much his cheeks hurt. You were here; that was all that mattered.

“This place is—” you marveled as the two of you began walking down the stairs together toward the stage. The backs of your hands brushed against one another, breaths away from touching, from lacing, from being together. “—huge. It's so much more—” You felt your lip wobble again, “I don't even know why I'm getting emotional. It's all you dreamed of as a kid, wasn't it?”

The tears pricked at the edges of his eyes again, and the two of you looked back at each other with equally wet eyes and bright smiles. “Yeah,” he nodded, swiping at his eyes.

“You deserve it.”

“All thanks to you,” he said with a sniffle, hugging you to him again. You were solid and real beneath his fingertips—he was so happy you were here. This was where you belonged; none of this felt right without you.

When you finally reached the bottom of the pit, Yunho had to run back up to the stage, and you went through the aisles until you found your perfect seat. It wasn't long before Mingi bounded up the steps to come join you. He brought you in for a long awaited hug of his own.

“What's good, Yn?” He asked with a soft chuckle as he pulled away and settled in the seat to your left.

Just ahead, Yunho appeared onstage with his microphone in hand, and the two of you lifted your hands in sync to wave to your best friend.

You adjusted your bag in your lap, and clasped a hand on Mingi's shoulder. “This is surreal. Does it feel surreal?”

Mingi's lips pulled into a smile as nostalgia made his vision cloudy. “It does, every single time. I'm glad you're finally here—we’re all very happy that you're here now.”

You bumped your head against his shoulder and let it rest there for a moment, and his hand came up to gently pat your head to tell you he understood. You didn't need to say anything.

For the next hour and a half, you and Mingi got to watch Yunho and everyone else run through the last of the day's lighting checks. Periodically, someone else from Yunho's personal team would come and sit with the two of you, then leave quickly when they had something else on their to-do list.

At last, when the session wrapped up and everyone was sent to go home for an early night, you rushed down to meet with Yunho again.

He waited for you to be at his side before leading you down toward backstage. “There's a couple things I need to grab in my dressing room before we can head back to the hotel.” A thought suddenly interrupted his thoughts and his eyes widened. “Do you have accommodations? Please tell me you do.”

“Don't worry—I promise I'm not sleeping on the streets,” you teased. You'd figured all of that out pretty last minute with Hongjoong and Mingi's help.

Yunho nodded, a smile coming to his face. “Okay, good. I was gonna offer my room and I could sleep on the pullout couch.”

The thought of sleeping in the same room as him made your skin warm, and if you hadn't realized your feelings for him before, you would be confused as to why you were so flustered at the thought now. It wouldn't be the first time you had a sleepover. But this would be… different. Oh lord.

The backstage hallways were scarce and dimly lit in order to save energy, but it was enough to guide you and Yunho's way to the star dressing room. You swallowed as you reached the door—the facade plastered with a pretty, gold star with his name on it—and followed him inside.

“Hey, Yun?” You asked him as you lingered by the door and he rushed around to grab his things. The room was decently spacious, and definitely larger than all the other ones from his past tours.

“Mhm?”

“Could we… talk about something?”

He glanced back over his shoulder as he threw things into his bag. “Yeah, ‘course.”

You toed at the polished ground, fingers twisting and wringing in front of you. “It’s about the song. The, uhm, the your space one.”

His movements paused. He looked up and connected gazes with you through the vanity mirror in front of him. Yunho cleared his throat and ducked his head to zip up his bag. “What—what about it?” He asked, shouldering his bag and meeting you back at the door.

He seemed unable to look you in the eyes directly now as he closed the door behind the both of you as you stepped out into the empty hallway.

“I just,” you stammered. Blood rushed up to your face and you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “I needed to know—I didn’t need to know—it’s your life and your song, and you have every right to have feelings for someone without me knowing. And I think I’m asking this for selfish reasons, but… are you seeing someone?”

The question caught him off guard, his eyes blowing wide open. “Wh—no. No, I am not seeing anyone. Why do you ask?”

“The song—I know I shouldn’t be indulging in what people on the internet say, much less in the opinions of those who don’t even know you, but I couldn’t help but agree with them when they say the lyrics, the—the feeling of the song—you’re in love, and I—” Your breath caught in your throat as you choked on the words lodged there: And I am in love with you.

Yunho pushed an exhale out of his mouth and stepped toward you. So much shone in his eyes right then, and it didn’t matter how much light there was in this damn hallway, his eyes would always glitter like twin diamonds. “I am in love with someone. Yn, I’m in love with you,” he said. “I thought that the song would make it obvious, which is why I was so scared for you to hear it, but I realize now that this was just something I should have said outright.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest and it wasn’t from the nerves anymore. God, your knees felt like buckling from the force of the tenderness in his eyes alone. “You’re—you’re in love with me?”

“I am,” he nodded. He slowly reached for your hands and clasped them within his own. “I’ve been in love with you since that day you ran out of Science Olympiad practice to come to my audition; I’ve been in love with you from the moment you yelled at me for not being ambidextrous and I had beef jerky in my mouth—”

“I did not yell at you!”

He broke out into a cheeky, yet fond grin, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face with his hand. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t imagine what life was like before I was in love with you—and yes, you did yell, but you can yell at me as much as you like, and I would still be head-over-heels for you.”

Your lip curled in on itself at all of his words, at everything he was revealing to you now. You wished you had known—oh, god, you wish you had known. You didn’t know if things would have been different, but for some reason, you had a feeling that all paths might have led here nonetheless.

You squeezed his hand between your own now. “You’re everything to me, Jeong Yunho,” you rasped out, unable to put strength behind your voice for fear of all of the emotion about to spill out. “And I’m so stupid for taking so long to figure it all out, but I’m in love with you, too, and I’d be damned if I let another day pass without you knowing that.”

Something washed over him in that moment, and he laughed, leaning over to cup the back of your neck and rest his forehead against your own. It was ridiculous, the fact that both of you were giggling and smiling at such a precipice of emotion, but it felt right.

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips as he murmured, “Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“Then come kiss me, rockstar,” you said, looping your arms around his neck. You drew him down to your mouth and felt his body mold against your own. Every crevice and curve slotted so perfectly with one another, and the heavy longing in your chest slowly eased.

“You guys have been incredible for me tonight—” Yunho beamed as he walked toward the front, center stage and looped the electric guitar strap over his head to the sound of the roaring crowd, “—so I've got a little surprise for you.”

One of the staff members had set out a mic stand and bottle water for him, and he approached both items to fit the microphone into place. Tonight was the Friday night concert being held in this city, and the energy was dialed to one thousand in all the best ways.

He held onto the microphone with one hand. “This song is dedicated to—written for—my best friend in the world, the love of my life, my stargirl. I'm sure you know it—you crazies debuted it at number two on the charts—this is your space.”

His smile tugged up wider at the reaction he received. If anyone in the crowd didn't know the song, they were about to fall in love.

Yunho laughed, shaking his head, as he began checking to make sure his guitar was tuned with practiced, nimble fingers. “Oh, by the way—” he pointed up at the accessory he wore, the crocheted headband holding his hair up and out of his face, with a row of stars across its band, “—she made this for me. Isn't it cute?”

The stadium echoed in choruses of “aw” and cheers.

He could only duck his head with a smile, eyes twinkling with fondness and tenderness at the thought of you. You were in the crowd, but you could be up here with him in spirit. “Yeah, that was me, too.”

After you and Yunho left the stadium yesterday, hands intertwined and a new page in your relationship turned, you’d gone back to his hotel to share a restful evening in one another’s presences. You revealed later that night that you spent the four or five days you were bedridden practicing your crocheting skills until you were able to make him a headband. A row of three stars studded the length of it—stars for your rockstar.

Yunho struck his fingers down the strings of his guitar with a gentle rocking motion from his opposite hand to let the sound reverberate around the stadium. The crowd cried in love as his soulful, beautiful voice filled their ears with love of his own. And as his fans filed out of the stadium for the night and headed home, Yunho could finally return to his home. Because you were here now… no matter how far, no matter the distance, the two of you would always find a way to be in the other's space.

a/n: pls remember to reblog, comment, and send asks if you enjoyed!

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet

[transhawks]

Maybe I want too much but like three and a half years after the reveal you think more people would write a canonly accurate Dabi, in which he's less wanting revenge over the abuse and more just upset and obsessed with being discarded. Like I've resigned myself to fanon Dabi being everywhere but sometimes I pause and just wish people could be okay with the idea Touya adored his father and his motivation is being thrown away by him, not that he was "pushed" to be better, because we know Endeavor did the exact opposite in canon.

I don't know, I just like that dynamic more. I like the Dabi who screams in jealousy that Shouto has amounted to nothing even with abuse and seems to even wish he could have been in Shouto's place despite knowing what his kid brother has been too. I like the rage at being replaced and cast aside, I like the entitlement that comes from being so close and so far to fulfilling his father's dream and the yearning to be looked at. And yeah, I also like the uncomfortable idea that for the first three or years of fatherhood Endeavor actually had a kid who loved him before he ruined it all.

It makes all the more ugly how it turned out, and far more human to realize how much Dabi craves his father's attention and when this is now such a core part of his character, why am I rarely able to see it in fic? Why are people so against portraying a Dabi who loved his father and wished exactly to be what he wanted at one time? I don't think this Endeavor apologia, wanting to see the canonly written dynamic between them? It just feels like we can't leave 2020 in characterization.

[raitonsfw]

Pregnancy kink with subby satoru. That's the thirst. That's it.

sure thing!

18+ mdni, smut, fem!pregnant reader, pregnancy kink, riding, slight subby!gojo (i tried but i feel like he's still just satoru gojo iykwim)

as soon as you waddled into the room, satoru was already lying on his back– waiting patiently for you to straddle him. and of course, you couldn’t say no to your man all pliant for you, his dick nearly bulging through his sweats; your hormones practically screamed at you to just climb on top of him and grind against him already. he didn’t even need to beg for you, though you wouldn’t of minded if he did, a quiet whine leaving his throat as you started to climb onto the side of the bed. 

“...didn’t take you long this time, –toru.”

his big hands held your waist as you got on top of him, thumbing at your sides lightly. you didn’t have much on; just one of satoru’s big shirts and a pair of panties that frankly you wanted off but couldn’t quite reach to take them off. your baby bump got in the way, but it was worth it for the way your husband looked at it, a doe expression painting his face as he lifted his blindfold up. his fingers trailed underneath (his) shirt, rubbing your tummy lightly and you smiled to yourself just watching him– before pulling his sweats down to his mid thighs. 

his cock laid thickly against his tummy and you had to swerve your hips just right to get his tip to rub against your clothed clit, a slight grunt falling from his lips with a whimper of ‘c’mon baby– need to be inside you. let me make you feel good…’ his turquoise eyes glanced up towards your own eyes now, half lidded and already so out of it.

“move my panties to the side f’ me? can’t do it myself, darling.” you breathed out, leaning back a bit on your legs to let his hands roam underneath you. 

he pulled your panties over enough to slip his cock into your arousal– but not before dipping his finger into your entrance, reveling in the way your body relaxed into his touch with a shuddered whine. and as you finally felt his cock nudge against you, it was his turn to shudder; to let out a broken string of your name as you sank full down onto him. 

satoru’s hands wouldn’t leave your bump, even going as far as to rub it while you rolled your hips against him, his cock driving into you further with every slight bounce. his hair had already become so disheveled, his blindfold plastered on his forehead pushing it up into a fluffy mess. his eyes would occasionally glaze over, staring up towards the ceiling before falling to your face again, then to your bump– even hiking up the shirt to gaze at his cock disappearing into you.

“god, wanna get you pregnant over and over…you look like a dream on top of me– carrying my kid…” satoru groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he took the initiative to thrust up into you now as you sped up in your movements. 

he loved seeing you pregnant– that’s what spurred these moments, the thought of you just taking what you needed from him because you couldn’t help it. and he didn’t help your case either, since he was the one normally pleading for it; for you to just come and ride him until he was red in the face and babbling nonsense as you milked his cock dry– like you wanted another kid from him.

“n-need anything honey? oh fuck– right there…rightthere– h-here, want you to cum with me…”

a/n: i really like writing pregnant!reader for some reason... keep em coming!

[star-girl69]

Music To Watch Girls To

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

sypnosis: is it wrong to be obsessed with clarisse? obviously not!!

a/n: i cant just write a drabble what is wrong w me it’s always gotta be a full fledged fic damn anyways i don’t like this one that much so don’t crucify me, but i hope you all enjoy!!

Music To Watch Boys To - Lana Del Rey

warnings: FRIENDS TO LOVERS GOOD LORD, all clarisse know is be mean to her friends, like girls, and lie, reader is a little insane this time…., it’s not watching clarisse train bc i got struck with inspo but you all will like it dw, there’s still muscles and watching clarisse fight, swearing, violence, mentions of weapons, reader is an honorary ares cabin member bc i think it’s cute and i do what i want, y/n gets hurt like 20 times ITS FOR THE PLOT OK, kissing!!!!, like angst for half a sec not rly tho, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

The only word you think of when you think of Clarisse is fuck.

It describes your feelings about her so accurately. The first time you saw her, you knew you had to have this girl. And the first time you heard her talk, she was calling some Hephaestus kid a dumbass for not fixing a dent in her armor correctly.

She was an asshole, a bully, whatever, and she was also the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. But, thank the Gods you became close friends with her brother Matty, and then Carrie, and then you practically knew everyone in the Ares cabin like your own siblings.

Even just friendship with Ares kids is an intense rollercoaster.

They admired your for your deadly skill with a bow, a few of them even openly claiming you were probably the best at camp. They were loyal and fierce, protective, funny and everything you could want in a replacement family. Your mortal parent went down a dark road after your godly parent went back to Olympus, and you had never felt that love that everyone craved.

Clarisse hated you at first, like she does everyone, until one day at the bonfire you were sitting with her and a few of her siblings, the fire was hot and it was never the same. You still remember her eyes on you, feeling intoxicated under the moon. Besides, the nights are made for secrets.

And it became a tradition.

You would look at each other next to the fire, and never speak of it again.

The rest of the time, she was like any friend. That same loyalty, focus, but sometimes you could swear she seemed to look a little longer.

After the arrival of Percy Jackson, Clarisse was especially on edge. She was supposed to be training, but she was instead sulking and ranting to Matty and Carrie.

“And he really thinks he killed that Minotaur? Doesn’t matter. That’s what everyone else thinks.”

“Talking about the new kid?” you ask, sitting on top of the picnic table next to their cabin.

“Oh, yeah,” Carrie mumbles. “Talking all about the new kid.”

Clarisse stops her angry pacing to send her a harsh glare.

“He’s just a baby, Clarisse.”

She slams her hand down on the table next to you, pointing her finger in your face.

“He’s a liar,” she hisses. “I’m gonna make him admit it.”

“Hm, okay,” you say, pressing her foot against her stomach and pushing her back. “And that’s totally logical. But have you considered that he actually killed the Minotaur?”

“I’ll punch you.”

“Oh, you love me, Clarisse,” you smile, sweeping your arms out in a big circle. “I’m the brightest part of your day.”

She glares at you.

Matty coughs to hide a laugh.

“Just ignore him!” you say. “I don’t get why you’re so obsessed over him anyways.”

“I’m not explaining myself to you,” she huffs, stubborn as ever.

“Okay, Clarisse,” you say, drawing out the words.

You miss Carrie and Matty shooting each other looks.

—-

Chiron announces the next capture the flag game later that day, and the next morning you’re heading off to the Ares cabin with your bow and armor in tow.

You walk in. They’re all adjusting their armor, polishing their weapons. A few smile at you and wave, but you head straight towards the back. Clarisse is there, helping some of her younger siblings pick out weapons from the secret weapons stash the Ares kids have curated over the years.

It’s Danny’s first game. He’s only twelve.

She looks up at you for a moment, which is about as much acknowledgment as you’re gonna get. You sit at the end of someone’s empty bed, right next to Danny.

“How you feelin’?” you ask. His face is twisted into a stone cold mask.

“Excited,” he says, like he practiced it in the mirror.

“Well, I’m scared.”

He looks at you and frowns.

“You’re the best archer in camp. Matty says so.”

You shrug. “I may be the best archer, but I’m nowhere near the best fighter.”

He nods, thinking hard like the whole world is suddenly starting to make sense.

“Hey, if I promise to keep a look out for you from the trees- will you watch out for me on the ground?”

He doesn’t need your assurance. He’s a child of Ares, they’re prebuilt with the lust for battle. But you know how to play all of them like a fiddle. They like feeling important, and he’s only twelve. It doesn’t hurt you to give this to him.

You stick out your hand and he grabs it.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Y/N,” Clarisse says. You realize she’s been standing there for a while. “Are you here to distract everyone or for a reason?”

“You know, I would welcome you into my cabin warmly.”

Her face remains stone cold. Danny runs off. Clarisse can be some sort of halfway nice, but rarely, and most of the time everyone just knows her cruel words, her ruthless tactics in battle, and her misleading words and smiles.

“You’re no fun,” you pout.

“You’re the one who sticks around. No one’s holding you hostage- you can leave.”

“I need a dagger.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking. “Wow, you actually came here for something? What happened to yours?”

“Broke,” you shrug. “The handle fell off. Weird, whatever.”

She hums, looking through the daggers hung on the wall. “This one.”

She hands it to you. It’s similar to your old dagger, except a lot sharper and a lot more sturdy. But it’s the same style you’re used to. You wonder if she knows that or not- Ares kids do notice everything.

But for Clarisse to actually do something like that with intention is rare.

“I like it,” you say. “Thanks!”

She hesitates for a second.

“Keep it.”

You look at her. “I can give it back.”

“I already told you to keep it. Don’t be pathetic and make me reassure you.”

“Okay, Clarisse,” you roll your eyes.

—-

Your position on capture the flag is always the same.

Carrie, Matty and Clarisse hunt in the woods on the ground, and you get thrown up into some random tree to shoot arrows at anyone you see.

The idea is, they see the arrow coming from up above and look to the trees, only for Clarisse, Matty and Carrie to ambush them on the ground.

It’s only the third game you’ve employed this tactic, so the blue team is starting to catch on.

After Chiron gives his speech you could probably say yourself, you head over to the three of them, holding your arm out to Matty and the red bandana. He ties it around without saying a word, Carrie reaches over and scolds you for not tying your armor tight enough.

“Blah, blah, blah,” you say. “I’ll live.”

“Yeah,” Carrie snorts. “Because I fixed it.”

“Shush,” Clarisse hisses. She finishes talking to a few more of her siblings, and they take their companies off into the woods. She turns back around. “I have a different plan today.”

Carrie and Matty grin dangerously.

There’s something in between the three of them, some sort of matching glint in their eyes.

“Okay, did I miss something? Why are you guys being so… scary?”

“You’ll see,” Clarisse says, her eyes dark.

Gods, it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

—-

The great thing about being up in the trees is you get to see everything.

You get to see the way Clarisse grins while she fights, the way she whips her spear around like it weights nothing, the way sweat forms at her brow- and the way her muscles flex. That’s the best part.

Her arms, her legs, her stomach, every part of Clarisse is just lean and toned muscle.

It makes you want to betray yourself in a way that would permanently embarrass you.

You follow them, of course, even though you have no idea what the hell is happening or what the plan is. There’s a reason she’s not telling you the plan. Why?

When you walk past the woods where you normally hunt, you start getting fidgety.

“Ok, guys, seriously. Tell me what’s going on.”

You realize you’re heading towards the side of the big hill, starting the climb up through the trees and rocks.

Clarisse turns around.

“Stop. Worrying.”

You grit your teeth. “I’m not worried. I’m just confused.”

She sighs, signaling to Carrie and Matty.

“You know,” she mutters. And they leave, so it’s just the two of you.

They spit up, making their way on the farthest two ends, all leading to the same ledge.

She grabs your wrists. “Stop cracking your fingers. It’s annoying, and you’ll hurt ‘em.”

“Then tell me what’s going on.”

She lets go of one of your wrists, but keeps her tight grip on the other, forcing you to keep pace behind her.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, Y/N. Don’t worry. I’m not going to put you in danger, obviously.” She laughs, as if the idea is ridiculous. “You’re a damn good archer.”

“Oh, my Gods. Did you just compliment me?”

She tenses up, finally realizing she did it.

“D-don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, I won’t. It will just be our little secret, won’t it?”

You bite your lip as you smile so you don’t burst out laughing.

“Sure,” she mutters, and you don’t miss the way she stares at your lips. She clears her throat, finally letting go of your wrist. “Percy Jackson-”

“Who’s a baby.”

“-attacked us last night.”

You raise an eyebrow, walking next to her. “Did you attack him first?”

She doesn’t answer that.

“I doubted you would join us. I just didn’t want you to be alone in the woods.”

“Why?”

“Hm, I saw Annabeth as we left the bathrooms. She knows, she knows we’re gonna get revenge so Luke’s gonna go straight for the flag because we’re not in the woods.”

“So you’re just sacrificing the entire game for revenge? Against a 12-year-old?”

“Revenge,” she mutters, thinking over it. “That’s a fun word.”

She smiles, looking at you.

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter.

—-

The rest of the walk continues in silence, until you can see Carrie and Matty in the distance, both waiting for Clarisse’s signal. She grins.

“Now, why don’t you just stay behind me and draw an arrow, and tell me if anyone’s coming. And when he’s distracted, you’ll sneak around behind him and block him from escaping, hm?”

You look around the forest. “Okay. But, Clarisse-”

She smacks her hand over your face. “I don’t need your morality right now. I just need you to keep those pretty eyes open and be our lookout.”

“Fine,” you hiss as you throw your hand off her mouth.

“Thank you,” she smiles, sarcastically. “Was that so hard?”

You mock her under your breath, but she signals to Carrie and Matty. They all start walking forward, trying for stealth, but your feet make sink into the gravel. He hears them. He sits up.

You don’t know anything about Percy Jackson, except for the fact he supposedly attacked the three musketeers you call your friends and possibly killed a Minotaur.

True to your word, you stay behind Clarisse, watching as she lifts her helmet off, throwing it to the ground.

Her spear sinks into the dirt.

“Flag’s that way,” Percy says. “It’s not here.”

“We know.”

You start walking out from behind her. His eyes flick between all four of you.

“Yeah, glory’s fine.” You can feel her eyes on you. “Revenge is more fun.”

She looks up at her spear, slamming it down, and you hear the familiar crackle as it lights up. Red hot electricity.

She laughs a bit.

He scrambles for his sword and spear, forgoing his helmet. They close him in. You walk around Carrie and behind him. His eyes move between you and Clarisse, but there’s nothing he can do to stop the four of you from surrounding him.

“No maiming. It’s like the one rule.”

His stance isn’t even close to correct.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll lose dessert privileges for a while,” she fake frets, looking up at her spear. She smiles and looks back at him. “I’ll live.”

Her face twists into a mask of focus and she swings out at him. He manages to dodge her first hit, and block the second with his shield.

She looks at Carrie and Matty. They lunge forward, attacking him together, and he certainly is a demigod- he has a natural talent.

But you can only really focus on the way she lifts her spear back over her head.

She grunts and spins, shocking him, before jabbing forward at his armor, making him fall back over the log he used to be laying on, right at your feet.

“I’m actually not interested in maiming or killing you, believe it or not,” she says, standing over him. “I just want you to admit you’re a fraud. It’d make me feel better. Are you feeling up to that yet?”

The way she holds her spear, the way she says it’ll make her feel better- you miss the way he swings out with his shield, hitting you in the shins.

“Fuck,” you hiss, leaning down to touch your burning leg. “Oh, fuck, that hurt.”

Percy grunts and takes off running.

“Y/N,” Matty says, a silent question in his concerned voice.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, shaking your leg out.

Clarisse glares at his retreating figure.

“I guess he has a fucking death wish,” she whispers, voice full of a deadly promise.

She grunts and launches herself over the log, Carrie and Matty following. You straighten yourself and take off running after them. You leg does burn, but you still manage to keep pace. Besides, Matty is already far ahead, surprising him and knocking him down from the path, making him tumble through the woods and land on the beach.

Matty and Carrie wave their swords at him from the right. He pants and breathes heavily, backing up, but when he turns around to run- Clarisse is there.

You draw your bow again, out of habit.

The arrows you use aren’t actual arrows of course, but filed down to little circle rocks at the end. They won’t kill you, but they fucking hurt.

You can’t help but giggle as he falls onto his back, scared just by Clarisse being there.

She laughs too, before all three of them launch into an attack.

They push him back, towards you, and you step back with them, waiting for the perfect moment.

But your eyes drift up to Clarisse. She’s hanging back for just a second while Matty and Carrie jab at him. She looks… proud. She looks really fucking proud that you’re laughing at this 12-year-olds misery.

But Clarisse was right. Revenge is fun. And you hate it, but you can’t stop it.

You smile back at her, and it’s like those nights at the bonfire, you know you’ll never speak of it again. It doesn’t matter. Right now, there’s angelic music playing in your head, and you’re watching her. You’re watching her, the sweat on her brow, the way her hands clasp her spear.

Her face twists into something else.

“Y/N!” she shouts, but Carrie and Matty pushed him too far, you didn’t move back enough- distracted by her- and you slam into each other, a tangle of limbs and metal.

He does this awkward sort of flip over you, landing a few feet behind you. You drop your bow in favor of catching yourself, and it gets caught on his shield and dragged along with him.

It’s a blur, you yelp as you go down, Percy groans.

They’re all standing there, tense and watching the way Percy stands up with your bow in his hands. His stance is nowhere near correct, it actually makes you cringe more than your bruised side after the fall.

Why the hell are you the one who keeps getting hurt?

Percy let’s out a breath. “Why don’t we all just walk away and forget this happened?”

“You just made that impossible,” Clarisse hisses.

You just want to get an ice pack on your leg and sit down. You’re tired. You want to boss Clarisse around as payment for bringing you here.

“Okay, okay, just stop. This is stupid, all of you. He’s, like, 12. He didn’t do it on purpose, you’re just attacking him for no reason.” Carrie and Matty look at the ground. Clarisse glares at you.

You turn around and face Percy. “Just go, okay.”

He looks between you and Clarisse.

“O-okay,” he breathes.

You can feel her move, hear her footsteps in the sand, her spear cutting through the wind. She comes around you, and Percy gets scared, so he raises up the bow and let’s it go- pointed straight at her face.

But it never hits her. It hits you, of course, because you have the worst luck in the world.

It hits you right in the chest, and it doesn’t kill you, but Percy is strong and it knocks the wind out of you.

Clarisse throws her spear to the ground and catches you, screaming your name at the top of her lungs.

Gods, this was so stupid. All of it. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he meant to stop her from attacking him. Because Clarisse is bloodthirsty. She cares about no one else but herself.

You were stupid to think she ever did.

But even through all of this, everyone treating you like a rag doll, you stare into Clarisse’s eyes. She’s frozen. She’s watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, she’s watching the way you press your hand into your chest, trying to breathe, she’s looking at the fear in your eyes.

You’re terrified. And Clarisse looks the exact same way you feel.

You mouth her name.

Carrie and Matty are gathered around you, telling you to just breathe, take a breath in, but you can’t.

Clarisse let’s go of you and ignores your hands trying to hold her back, ignores Carrie warning her.

Oh, Gods, you’re in love with her and she’s just your friend, but it all hurts and you just need her right now.

Percy tries to scramble away from what he’s done, but Clarisse grabs him by his shirt and holds him up.

You think she’s actually going to kill him- then the conch sounds.

You all turn around.

The blue team runs to the beach, sticking the red flag into the ground. They all cheer loudly, Luke and Chris at the center of it.

Clarisse throws Percy back down on the ground.

She picks up your bow. Matty helps you stand up, you can breathe now, and you’re really fine. You just couldn’t for a minute. You don’t look at Clarisse, even though you want to.

—-

The four of you end up at the sword practice field, sitting on picnic tables like you did that one day.

Matty touches a few scratches on his arms from where he burst through the woods, scraping himself on something thorny.

Clarisse walks towards a dummy and starts attacking it. She lets all her anger out on it. They didn’t win, and her revenge is incomplete so, its not even worth it. You could have told her that from the beginning, but whatever.

Clarisse can do whatever she wants. She doesn’t listen to you, she doesn’t care about you- not as much as you want her too. Not as much as you care about her.

She’s so wonderfully in her element it makes you want her more. This is where she belongs, in the field in the sun, with her spear in her hands. She belongs here, where she feels closest to her father and farthest away from her responsibilities, from the constant battle it is for her to keep her emotions in check.

Even after a minute of her obliterating the dummy, she seems better. Finally, after another minute, she slows down until she stops.

You don’t stop looking at her until she turns around and looks at you. She breathes out.

“Are you okay?” she asks, sitting down on the opposite end of the bench.

“Fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

She hums.

“C’mon, Matty,” Carrie says. “Let’s go back to the cabin, I’m thirsty.”

You’re not ready to get up yet, you’re too comfortable here on the bench, it’s too easy to breathe in the valley.

Clarisse flexes, stretching her spear over her head, and you watch her. Of course you watch her. You don’t think you’ll ever just be able to look at her in passing- you’ll always have to focused, you’ve always have to have your eyes totally and completely on her.

Like she’s some book you have to study. Like she’s all you’ve ever wanted to look at.

“Stop staring at me, weirdo,” she mumbles.

You sit up straighter. “I’m not. You’re just flexing dramatically all over the place, of course I’m gonna take notice of it.”

“Okay, sure,” she taunts, and you remember what happened, you remember how you felt when she walked away from you to continue with her revenge.

“I-I’m gonna go back to my cabin.” You don’t wanna be around her, not right now at least. “See you later, Clarisse.”

She stands up immediately. “I’ll walk you.”

“No, thanks, it’s fine.”

“Y/N, you got hurt because of me.” She crouches down and tugs up your pant leg. “How’s your leg? Your side?”

Matty, Carrie and Clarisse too, sometimes, are always touching you and doing things for you. It’s sweet. They aren’t good with the words, but they show you they love you, and that means more than anything else.

If she hadn’t done what she did, if she really cared about you, then you wouldn’t mind her touching you like this. You would love it.

“Clarisse- get off of me,” you shake your leg out, which hurts a bit, but she lets go and stands up.

Her face twists into one of anger, her fists clenched.

“I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry you got hurt. I feel really bad about it, so just let me do this for you.”

“It’s not about that,” you mumble, cursing yourself and hoping she doesn’t hear you. Of course she does.

“Then what’s it about?”

You try to turn away, but she clamps her around your wrist and tugs you back towards her.

“What’s it about, Y/N?”

She holds your hand to her chest.

You both know what it’s about.

“Just stop, Clarisse,” but your body betrays you and you make no move to push her away. She notices, of course she notices, and she pulls you closer. “We’ve been dancing around each other for months.”

She blinks and her grip on your wrist loosens.

“And it was fun. It was a fun game, okay, Clarisse. But you can stop playing it now. You showed me today that your care more about yourself then you ever could me. I’m sick of it.” You tug your hand away. “I’m so sick of it, Clarisse.”

She grips you tighter again.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m running around looking like a fool, and you think I care about myself? You think I don’t care about you?”

Your breath is a little shaky again.

“You could have helped me and you chose revenge.”

“For you.”

“What?”

“He slammed his shield into your leg, knocked you over, and then shot you in the chest. Of course I wanted revenge. Not for me, it was about that at first, but then, Gods, did you do something to him?”

You laugh. She smiles, staring at your face like she’s seeing you for the first time.

“Like, he just kept coming after you, I don’t get it. But I… I like you. Like, like you. And I don’t know what that means, but I don’t really care. I just… want you. I want to be near you all the time. And I go crazy when you’re with someone else. I want to touch you all the time, hug you, hold you… I want to kiss you so bad I think I’m gonna fucking explode.”

Fuck is always the first word you think of when you think of her. It used to be because she made you so angry with the secrets, but now it’s just the things the says make you wonder how much more you can fall in love with her.

“Well, I don’t really want you to explode,” you roll your eyes. “That’d be too messy. Besides, I-”

“You’re always such a fucking worrier.”

She plants her hands on your face and presses her lips to yours. You can feel the slight desperateness she won’t say, but she’ll tell you with her body. You can feel everything she won’t show, won’t say. How beautiful you are. How scared she was. How much she wanted you and for how long.

You feel it all just by her lips, and you can’t help but wonder what more she can tell you.

She pulls back and smiles.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it.”

“I’m the light of your life, Clarisse.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, grabbing you tighter and kissing you again. You grab onto her arms, smiling. You always wondered what he muscles would feel like against you.

There’s only one word to describe the way it feels.

Fuck.

—-

clarisse when she accidentally told y/n she has pretty eyes: PLEASE DONT NOTICE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

y/n my ladybug not noticing: 🧍‍♀️

—-

y/n and clarisse just being insane together WDYM YOURE LAUGHING WHEN A KID FALLS OVER STOP

—-

clarisse: bitch stop WORRYING

y/n: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME SHUT UP

—-

clarisse and y/n both pretending that clarisse giving her a dagger wasnt literally a declaration of love and also clarisse throwing her spear down to catch y/n???? bitch she’s in LOVE

—-

taglist:

@jazhandzzz

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss

[storiesfromafan]

I'm Sorry Baby - Benny x Reader

A/N: I am back! And with Part 4 of my Spitfire series. This one was fun to write...as I am throwing myself into a bit of smut 😅

Also, want to thank @strayrockette for reading and advising on my attempt at smut 😂 I appricate her opinion.

Warning: my attemtp at smut after 10+ years, which even then might not have been good. So please, go easy on me 😅 also, might be grammer and spelling mistakes.

Tag list: tagging those that previously comment, in case you were looking forward to the next part haha.

@redwitchbitch1 @bellesdreamyprofile @cherryaustin

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A few days after his return, and you pretty much throwing him out, Benny had been staying in a motel. He had been thinking everything over, trying to work out how to get back in your good graces. So, here he was at the bar, currently sitting with Johnny. With a short glass in hand, half full of amber liquid, Benny's poison of choice. He was having a talk with the one person he could talk too. One married man to another.

“What did ya expect, kid? Her to welcome ya back with open arms?” Johnny chuckled taking a sip from his glass.

“Nuh...but I didn’t think I’d get the door shut in my face” Benny sighed.

Johnny softly laughed. “She’s hurtin’. If ya could have heard her” – a look of guilt crossed Benny’s face – “Well, ya get what I mean...”

Benny nodded, taking a sip from his glass, eyes looking off into a void.

“Look kid” Johnny began, sitting up and leaning in, “woman are tricky. Wives are trickier. In a relationship there is two of ya. Not just you, or her. The two of ya. Yeah, she told ya to leave. But it was you who made that choice”.

Again, Benny nodded his head.

“But I’m not sayin' it’s your fault. It’s both of ya's fault in some way. Why hadn’t you been goin’ home at a decent hour?”

Benny shrugged. “Dunno, I’ve always been here, I guess...”

“You guess?” Questioned the Vandal leader. “You’re crazy about the spitfire, yeah?”

“Yeah” was all Benny said.

“Then you should have been goin' home to her. The club will still be here the next day. The knuckleheads will still be knuckleheads. But your woman, she ain’t somethin’ to take for granted” Johnny pointed his finger at Benny as he said that.

And he knew Johnny was right. Benny was crazy for you, had been since he saw you. He was crazy for your sass and attitude, for your fire. But also your caring and warmness to him. You were something special, something he had taken for granted. Benny was determined to get you back, one way or another. He would fight for you, fight for your relationship.

“What do I have to do to get her back?” Benny asked the older Vandal.

“I’d say get on ya knees and grovel” Johnny downed the last of his drink. “A woman with her spirit, she ain’t gonna just roll over. Your gonna have to show her what she means to ya. Or pray for a miracle”.

Getting up, Johnny patted Benny on the back laughing. He knew his younger Vandal was in for a fun time. But he wished him luck, and hoped it all worked out. Benny stared at the last of the liquid in his glass, before downing it and placing the glass on the table. Now he had to think of what he could do to win you back.

Finally it was closing time at the salon. Your feet were aching, and you had a small headache from listening to client after client either gossip or complain about life. You loved your job, but women could be so catty. And then there was Benny, and his reappearance a couple days ago. How it weighed on your mind and heart.

Betty had called you last night to let you know where he’d been staying, and how he was going. Apparently she’d seen him that day and he didn’t seem himself, lost in his thoughts. And that he hadn’t gone to the bar for long. She thinks he was riding most of the night, or back in his motel room. She believes he was thinking of you, and your relationship. You thanked her for the information before ending the call.

Part of you felt guilty, and missed him like crazy. But that fire in you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, for him to realise what he did and learn a lesson. You helped the owner clean up while she handled the till and books. You both conversed on the day in the shop, laughing at bits of gossip you’d both learned about other clients.

“So, how are you doing?” Sophia – salon owner – asked peering over at you, as you swept.

“Yeah, I’m alright” you replied off handedly.

Sophia nodded. “I heard Benny’s back, I take it he came home?”

You nodded. “Yeah...but I didn’t let him back in. I need my space”.

With that you collected the hair and moved to the back, where you’d dispose of it. The conversation done with, for now. Sophia wasn’t blind. She’d see how the week without your husband effected you. And how closed in and shut off you’d been. But Sophia also saw how happy you’d been when you got with Benny. Compared to your ex, this relationship was much better and you were the happiest she’d seen you.

With all the end of day chores done, you and Sophia headed out the front door. You were the last, closing the door and locking it for your boss. She always struggled to get the lock secure, so you just do it, since it seemed to like you. Sometimes you’d even be the one to lock up, and gave Sophia an early mark.

“Well, that’s a sight for sore eyes” Sophia said softly.

You’d just secured the lock, before turning to the woman, that was looking to across the road. Following her gaze you were greeted to the sight of your husband, who was leant against his parked bike. It reminded you of when he’d pick you up after work, seeing him after you’d finish work. How he'd light up when seeing you coming towards him, and how you’d greet him with a sweet kiss. But now you weren’t sure what to do.

“Are you gonna go to him?” Sophia questioned, turning back to you.

You shook your head before heading to your car, Sophia followed, as her car was next to you. Once coming to the cars she stopped you, she gave you a soft, small smile.

“Look Hun, can I give you some advice?” – You nodded for her to go – “there will always be fights in a relationship. But I know how much that man means to you, and no doubt it’s the same for him. So, don’t let this fight stop you from being with him, alright?”

You let her words sink in before slowly nodding your head. “I’ll try not to Sophia...but right now, I need some time...”

She nodded. “I know, but don’t take too long. He’s too good looking to stay away from” she teased with a wink, which made you softly laugh.

You hadn’t laughed in a little while at a teasing remark about Benny. Maybe you were already beginning to get over it. But you would give it a little more time till you were completely ready to have Benny back in your house and your bed. With a see you tomorrow, you both got in your cars and left. Briefly you looked to Benny as you drove out of the car park, and headed home.

Benny had watched the whole time you left the salon, to getting to your car. He could see how you and your boss talked, and saw how the woman had looked to him first. And when you looked to him, he felt his breath catch in his chest. You didn’t look mad or upset, it was more a blank stare at him. And he understood you still needed time. But he would make sure to be close by, keeping an eye on you and looking out for you, ready for whenever you needed him. It was one way to show you he was there, and not going anywhere from now on.

The little things will show how I care, he told himself.

Benny watched you drive off, not moving to go after you, not yet anyways. Taking out a cigarette, he placed it between his lips before lighting it up. Taking a long drag, he removed the cigarette before releasing the smoke. Benny smoked the cigarette but didn’t enjoy it as much as he usually would, it was just a way to distract himself and fill time. It was you that he was craving more then the cigarette. Craved your attention, your smile, your lips, your warmth. He craved you wholly.

The following day you arrived at work just before nine, you knocked on the door and Sophia let you. With a morning to each other, you put away your bag and got ready for your day to begin. It was going to be a relative busy day, which you didn’t mind. It was yourself, Sophia and another woman named Ella. Between the three of you, you could get a good amount done.

When your first client showed up, an older woman who was a bit of a stick in the mud, you wasted no time in getting her set up in your chair. Draping the cape over her, you made pleasantries. Though you know she did not like you, just your work. She was a stuck up woman, who you knew talked about you behind your back. But you did your best work, that way she couldn't run you down on it.

It was just after ten, the salon bustling with activity, when a delivery man came into the shop, in his hand a lovely bunch of flowers. He stepped into the shop, a little shyly. You watched him in the mirror before you, thinking those flowers had to be from Sophia's husband for her.

Sophia spoke to the young man, taking the flowers before thanking him. He didn't waste time to leave the shop and move on to his next delivery. One of the clients, being nosey, asked Sophia if they were hers. She was looking at the beautiful flowers before spotting a card. A look of surprise crossed her face, before a small smile crossed her lips.

“Mrs Carpenter, I wish they were, but they're not for me" mused Sophia.

All the women in the shop looked to Sophia, then around at each other. All wondering which of them they were for. Some probably hoped their husbands had sent them flowers on a whim, to surprise and cheer them up as they got their hair done. But they’d be wrong.

With the flowers in hand Sophia stepped around from the counter. She moved across the room and came to stand beside you. She was smiling at you as she looked at you in the mirror. They were for you. You should have guessed from the various flowers that you liked, making up the arrangement.

“Seems these are yours Hun" commented Sophia, holding out the flowers for you. “Why don't you go put them in some water out the back. And read the card. I'll take over for you while you're gone".

Reluctantly you finished cutting the piece of hair you held in your fingers. “Ah, sure...” you replied, unsure and uneasy.

Taking the flowers from your boss, you slowly moved from the floor and into the back. All the time questioning who would have sent you flowers? You didn't wait, taking the card from the flowers and laying them on the counter by the sink. You held the small envelop in your hand, reading your name before turning it over. You took a moment, looking at it once more before shakily opening the seal.

Slowly you removed the card, and taking a breath before finally reading what it said:

Flower's for my girl, my wife.

I hope they brighten your day,

Just like you will always brighten mine.

Love Benny.

Your heart skipped a beat reading his words. Words that he couldn't always say. Word's he knew you needed to read. For Benny knew how your days at the salon could be. He had seen how you come home, tired and drained. How you would have good days and bad days. He would listen to you tell him about the bitchiest women, who were the worst to deal with. But also how joyous you were when you had a day of nothing but sweet, lovely women.

Benny sent you a reminder that you were the brightest thing in his life, just as he was yours. You smiled softly, clutching the card delicately in your hand. Your chest aching with thoughts of your husband, and missing him. Maybe it was time to start working on getting your relationship back on track. Yes, this was the start. But you would make sure that man knew he had some serious work to do if he wanted you back completely.

Fixing up the flowers in a make shift vase. You walked back onto the salon shop floor, silence rolling in when you came back. All eyes watching you as you placed the flowers on the front counter. They noticed the sparkle in your eyes, along with a small smile on your lips.

“Take it the contents of that card were good, huh?” Teased Sophia, various women giggling.

You rolled your eyes. “If you must know, it was...”

Sophia smiled brightly and giggled. “Guess he made a good peace offering".

“It's a start" you retorted before taking back over working on your client, leaving Sophia to go off to do what she had to do.

Locking up on your own tonight, you noticed no Benny waiting across the road today. Which surprised you. None the less you got into your car and drove home, the radio on softly and you hummed along. Your flowers were sitting on the seat next to you, every time you looked at them you would smile softly. You wondered where Benny was. Was he at the bar? Would you have to go to him? Or could he have changed his mind?

Turning onto your street, you slowly came closer to your house. Your concerns and worries died away upon seeing the person on your mind. He had parked his bike across the road, again he was resting against it. As you pulled into the drive way, you could see him watching you, cigarette between his lips.

Benny had chosen to wait for you at your shared home. He knew to wait outside rather then just waltzing inside. He didn't want to upset you, especially after sending you flowers at work. It could have got either way, in his favour or made it worse. He hadn’t long lit a cigarette and taken a few drags, before your car turned onto the street. He watched as you approached, and turned into the drive way. But Benny never moved, he was going to see if you would invite him in, back into the house and into your arms.

Getting out of the driver seat, you leant back in and grabbed the flowers. Once you were out and the door closed, you looked to Benny. Still he lent against the bike, but he straightened up once seeing the flowers in your hand. Looking to them, you brought them closer to you. After that you walked up the few stairs to the porch – the same ones Benny climbed before you slammed the door in his face – and came to the front door. You used your keys to unlock the door and pushed it open.

Crossing the threshold, you paused a moment. Then you turned around to look at your husband. You kept your face blank, but there was a calmness to it. You looked at Benny for a few minutes before closing the door, but kept it propped open. It was a way to tell him that if he wanted, he could come in. You were calm and ready to talk.

You crossed the lounge room and entered the kitchen. Placing your bag on the counter by the door way, you moved over to the sink. You placed the flowers down before fetching a glass vase. You proceeded to put some water into it, then began to undo the wrapping to the flowers.

Mean while, Benny had watched your every move from car to front door. When you stood in the door way looking to him, he was silently hoping you would call out to him to come in. When you didn't, and began to close the door, Benny thought he would have to try again tomorrow. But when the door was left open a bit, he released the breath he had been holding. Hope bubbled in him.

Benny stood up from his position against the bike, stretching out his arms as he began to walk towards the house. Taking one last drag of the cigarette, Benny removed it from his lips and flicking it away. The smoke slipping from his lips as he walked up the path to the stairs. Up he went, boots landing on the porch. He stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath before pushing the front door open slowly.

You weren't in the lounge room, but he could hear you moving around the kitchen. He closed the door before taking off his jacket and hanging it up the door. Benny crossed the room to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. He lent against the wood frame, watching you silently.

You had most of the flowers in the vase, you were just putting the remaining in and moving them around when you felt his eyes on you. It sent a shiver down your spine. Who would speak first? How would this all go?

When you had finished, you picked up the vase and moved to place it by the window on the counter. You would figure out where to put them later, for now you had to have a conversation with your husband.

“Do you like them?” Benny softly asked, when you placed them down and stared at them.

“Yes" you replied, “I like them a lot, actually...”

He nodded, though you couldn’t see it. “Good...I remember you sayin’ how you liked those kinds of flowers...”

It was awkward, but it was something, right? To know Benny remembered what flowers you liked, it showed he had been listening. And he did, majority of the time. Slowly you turned around, choosing to lean against the counter. For the first time in days you took a good hard look at Benny.

He looked tired, maybe he hadn’t been sleeping properly. His clothes – different to what you’d last seen him in – were deeply wrinkled, most likely worn when sleeping or trying to sleep. From the way he was leaning, you could tell Benny was uneasy. Not because of you, but for what could happen between you right now. He was guarded, yet trying to keep his defences down just enough so you in turn would let yours down. You could tell he didn't want to fight, he wanted to sort this out like adults. No more running, for either of you.

“...I’m sorry for leavin' baby" Benny said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have taken off like I did. Nor did I want to worry ya".

You nodded your head. “I know...”

“When I bring up leavin'...its somethin' in me that switches when a fight gets too much" Benny tried to explain. “I know its not an excuse, but I want ya to understand. But I promise I wont do it again...if I do, you can kick me out".

You chuckled. “Like I'd want you to go...” you said softly. “But Benny...you gotta know it did hurt. You just up and goin', no word of where ya were or if you were alright. I was worried sick".

Benny moved from the door frame to you, but stopped himself from pulling you to him, to hold you close and kiss away the hurt he caused. He looked at you with soft, guilty eyes. Waiting for you to give him the ok that he could touch you, hold you.

“I’m sorry for worryin' you, baby. If I could take it back, I would" Benny said softly, hands itching to rub up and down your arms.

“I know Benny...” your voice was soft, fragile. You looked at your husband with hurt eyes, only killing him more. You then looked to his hands and back to his baby blues. That was all Benny needed, for he stepped closer and pulled you to him.

Benny wrapped his arms around you, holding you closely to him for the first time in what felt like forever. Having you close felt right. You rested your head against his chest, your hands gripping his t-shirt. A few tears, that you hadn’t realised that had risen, escaped down your cheeks, they a mix of hurt but happiness.

“I’m sorry baby" Benny whispered into your hair.

You stood there for a few minutes, just letting Benny hold you and whisper sweet things into your ear. You felt better. You felt a part of you healing. Just like it was for Benny. Reluctantly Benny pulled back, moving to look at your face. Seeing the remints your tears left, he brought a hand up and whipped them away.

“Benny, you know we need to have a long talk, right?” You questioned softly, afraid he might get spooked.

He nodded. “I know, baby. I am ready for it...”

So, with a deep breath and standing where you were, not waiting to leave his space, you began. You told him how you'd been feeling, how him staying out effected you. That you wanted him to come home more, but not to take him away from the club. Benny heard you, he agreed to it. He told you how he adored that you respected his ties with the Vandals, and not trying to entirely change him, which made you laugh. Music to his ears after so long. Benny didn't ask much of you, as you had been perfect the whole time.

“I guess Johnny was right...” muttered Benny as he moved from you, as you crossed to the kitchen door way.

“Hmm?” you asked turning back to Benny.

“Johnny...I spoke to him the other day. I asked him what to do" Benny paused, gauging your reaction, with a nod he knew to go on. “He said I should grovel, or show ya what you mean to me...”

You held in a laugh at the suggestion of grovelling. “Is that why you sent flowers?”

He nodded, “but I meant them and what I wrote, baby. As well as watchin’ out for you, I wanted you to know I wasn't goin’ anywhere".

You smiled softly, moving to stand before your man. You cupped his cheek with one hand, thumb stroking his stubbled jaw. It was rough but soothing. You enjoyed feeling of it rubbing against your skin, be it your cheek, neck, inner thighs.

You moved your hand to back of Benny's head, gripping it firmly. You stared into his eyes. “I wouldn't mind you on your knees...but not necessarily grovellin’...”

You saw realisation flash in Benny's eyes when your words sunk in. Holding his head firmly, you pulled your husbands head down. Pulling his lips to meet your own, a firm closed lip kiss. The feeling of his lips against yours feeling like home. You closed your eyes, savouring your lips reuniting.

You moved to grip his hair, pulling a little. Causing Benny to groan in the most delightful way, which you had missed. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you close as he removed his lips for just a moment. Adjusting the angle, Benny brought his lips back to your waiting ones. This time it was a feverish, slightly open mouth kiss. Over and over, short and sweet. But soon Benny went in for a longer, deeper kiss.

He didn't wait for permission, his tongue delving into your mouth, seeking out your own. Tongues colliding, caressing the other in a fast paced dance. You moaned into his mouth, which only made Benny return with his own. Stepping forward, Benny backed you up against the small table in the kitchen. The edge digging into your backside. Without breaking the kiss, Benny picked you up and set you on the tables edge.

Your other hand moving to cradle is cheek, while its partner ran threw his hair before pulling it occasionally. That only spurred Benny on further. His hands moved to your slacks, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper. Pulling away from the kiss, you both took a moment to get some much needed air. And in that time Benny silently instructed you to lift your hips. You did, and he removed both your slacks and underwear, leaving you sitting in bare from the waist down.

Benny wasted no time falling to his knees, as you both had mentioned. This kind of grovelling was not for forgiveness, but for your own pleasure. Benny would worship every part of you, if it would make you happy.

His rough hands moved up your calf muscles, slowly over your thighs, pushing them open wider. His eyes drinking in the sight before him, Benny placed kisses along the inside of your thighs before coming to his destination. Slowly – tongue flat – he licked at the opening of your sex. Tongue finding your hard nub, applying the right amount of pressure as he caressed it. You moaned, head tilting back, as one hand moved to Benny's hair.

Benny worshipped you with his tongue, bringing moans and praises from your lips. When he would change movements with his tongue, you would pull his hair lightly, encouraging him further. Then when he added a finger inside of you, and then a second after sometime, he had you a mess upon the table. Your free hand moved to clutch the edge of the table, trying to ground yourself. Your man knew how to worship at your alter.

“I-I need you, baby" you managed to get out, between moans.

Reluctantly, Benny moved his head back. His baby blues, now dark with desire, staring at you as he licked his lips, tongue taking in your essence that had been resting there. After a brief moment of watching you, he rose to his feet, standing between your legs. Without delay, your hands moved to Benny's jeans. Undoing the button before pulling down the zipper. You pushed his jeans and boxers down his hips.

When he was freed from its confines, you wrapped a hand around his member. Slowly moving your hand up and down the shaft. The way Benny's breath caught in his throat, before a small strangled noise came from his parted lips, such noises pleased you. He leant in and captured your lips once more, sloppily and mindlessly at your touch and ministrations.

“Baby, I want you" Benny sighed against your lips.

You hummed in approval. “I want you too".

You guided him to your sex, Benny's hands coming to hold your hips. His tip brushed against your nub, drawing out a moan. He was teasing, but you'd allow it. You brought your hands up to his neck, one resting there while its partner tangled with the hair at the base of his neck.

Finally lining himself entrance, Benny began to enter you. The way he felt, stretching you, you sighed as you gripped his hair. That action cause Benny to buck his hips, finally sheathing himself completely in you. You both moaned in satisfaction of being one again.

Benny moved in, taking your lips into a deep kiss. He drew back his hips before snapping back into you, over and over. At first a gentle pace, but with your hold on his hair and nails at his neck digging in, Benny picked up speed. Before long you were head tilted back, moaning, as your husband slammed into you. His lips upon your neck, sucking and biting, while he too made beautiful sounds.

With the rise in pleasure that Benny was giving you, and feeling, it had to come to an end. The tension rising and twisting in the pit of your stomach. You tightened around him, only adding to Benny's please, and making him move more vigorously.

“Cum for me, baby" Benny said with a groan, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. No doubt there’d be bruises later. “Ya gotta cum for me".

You nodded your head, whimpering at his words.

Benny placed his forehead to your own, his eyes staring deeply into yours. The pressure just building inside you both. Finally he hit that spot, and you tipped over the edge. You cried out, clenching tightly around his member, while you let your release wash over you. With a few more sloppy thrusts, Benny finally found his release. Buried within you, his seed coated your insides. His hands moving to the edge of the table, while catching his breath.

You opened your eyes, which had closed at some point, to look at your husband. He looked gorgeous, breathing heavily, trying to calm down after your vigorous activity. When his baby blues found yours, the smile that graced his perfect lips, melted your heart. You smiled right back at him. You both sharing a tender moment.

Those lips met with yours once more, but this time a chaste kiss. Pulling back, Benny reluctantly removed himself from you, which made you whimper at the lose. But with a promise that he'd gladly make it up to you later, you giggled with joy.

You watched as Benny pulled his boxers and jeans back up, fastening them before turning to you. He helped you down from the table, legs a little shaky from how well he had taken care of you. With some work and help, you had your own underwear and slacks back on. You kissed Benny's cheek to say thank you.

“Remind me to thank Johnny" you said off handily.

“Why's that baby?” Benny asked, confused.

You smirked. “For givin’ you the idea to grovel" was your reply before laughing.

Benny shook his head, pulling you close to him. “Oh”.

“And Benny" you said after a moment of silence. He waited for you to go on. “Next time you leave me, and hurt me, I will castrate you". Then you chuckled.

Benny softly laughed. “But what about kid's, baby. I'm gonna need them”.

Wrapped in his arms, you pondered Benny's words. “That is true...I will just take one then. You can give me kid's with just one, after all".

“Yes ma’am” Benny said in humour.

You both roared into laughter. Though you told him, as you laughed, you were serious. And it would be smart not to test you. Benny just continued to laugh before scooping you up over his shoulder, and carrying you off to your shared bedroom. Not without a small smack to your backside at you sassing him, as he walked up the stairs.

[chvoswxtch]

Court baby i've waiting for this moment! I have this idea for a fic living rent free in my head. Its Frank x fem!reader. They were in a very cozy and confy moment when the snap happened and reader was blipped! You could write how Frank deald with those five years and with reader coming back. With a lot of angst moments and flufly and maybe spicy after she comes back. I would love if you accept this request! Thank you, I love you ❤️

i'm not gonna lie to you, the blip is my least favorite marvel storyline, but I love you so I put myself and frank through it just for you 🖤

I would say sorry that i'm about to emotionally wreck you but in my defense, you did ask for this so...enjoy or don't

warning: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, guns, & alcohol, heavy angst, very brief allusion to suicide (blink and you miss it) word count: 4.1k

the blip.

A split second. That’s how quickly Frank lost you. He turned his back for a second to refill his mug of coffee, and when he turned back around, you had vanished seemingly into thin air. At first he thought maybe you had gone back into the bedroom to grab a sweater or something. It had been a bit chilly in the kitchen, and you were always cold. But then a few seconds turned into a few minutes, and Frank didn’t hear any shuffling or soft footsteps. He didn’t hear anything at all. The crisp silence had an icy sense of dread trickling down his spine, and when he didn’t hear your sweet voice responding to his cautious calls of your name, he went into a full blown panic.

You were gone.

Year One.

This wasn’t happening again. It couldn’t be. There was no way he had survived losing Maria and the kids just to find you, to let your endless patience and irrevocable empathy fill the gaping void in his chest, only to lose you too. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frank didn’t consider himself a good man; he was well aware of and acquainted with his demons. But he didn’t deserve this.

Did he?

It was forty-eight hours before anyone even knew what happened. One giant asshole snapped his fingers, and half the universe’s population ceased to exist. Frank had stopped believing in God a lifetime ago, and he certainly didn’t believe in aliens or otherworldly creatures. He had seen first hand during his time in the Marines that mankind was the real monster. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in it, because it happened, and not even the fucking Avengers could stop it. Hell, half of them were gone too.

Two weeks after the snap, news broke that Thanos had been killed, and that the Infinity Stones were destroyed, but the remaining members of the Avengers were trying to come up with a way to bring everyone back. For months Frank was glued to every news outlet, frantically waiting for even the smallest of updates. Anything was something. He refused to believe that the snap was permanent. The Avengers were going to find a way to bring everyone back. They had to. 

Your pillowcase had stopped smelling like your shampoo, and Frank found himself using it and your body wash just to keep your scent on the sheets. He burned your favorite candles and read your favorite books. He wouldn’t stay gone longer than fifteen minutes in case you finally came home. He wanted to be there when you did. Frank kept himself busy with little projects around the house, things that you had mentioned changing or updating that he had promised he would get around to and never did. Frank swore to himself when you came home, things would be different. 

He would take that trip you wanted to go on. He’d take you to the shelter to pick out a dog like you had been talking about. Maybe you two would finally start a family. Whatever you wanted, he’d give you. He’d find a way to give you the goddamn moon and every single star in the sky if you wanted them. 

As soon as you came home.

But then a year went by, and nothing had changed. The anniversary of the snap came and went, and everyone seemed to give up hope on bringing everyone back, or they just decided to move on and accept that no one was coming back.

But Frank couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe you were really gone.

Year Two.

The worst part about the snap was that Frank couldn’t collect his vengeance in blood like he had with his family. The one who took you from him was already dead, and even if he hadn’t been, Frank had no way of reaching him. Thanos was a Titan, someone who was revered as a God to those that followed him, and Frank was just a man. A man poisoned with rage and an insatiable thirst for revenge. So, he did what he was good at. He punished. Even though half the universe’s population was gone, that didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters left on Earth.

Frank killed without mercy or prejudice. There was no sin too harmless for his wrath. His fists collided with skin and bone until there was nothing left but ivory fragments tainted crimson and torn flesh. He didn’t stop, not even when his destructive blows caused his own knuckles to crack. It had gotten to the point where he hardly reached for a gun anymore unless he absolutely had to. He preferred to use his hands or serrated steel. He wanted to inflict every ounce of pain that he felt inside on whoever was stupid enough to get in his way.

It was like he wasn’t even mentally present anymore. His conscience had been shut off somehow, and all that was left was a relentless killing machine. Whenever he ran out of targets in the city, he moved on to hunt in the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He lived primarily out of his van, or whatever dingy motel he came across on the road. He hadn’t stepped foot in your home in almost a year. He couldn’t. It was haunted by your memory, and he couldn’t desecrate the home you two had made together with what he had become.

You would be ashamed of him. You would be disgusted and horrified by the things he had done. That thought echoed in his head as he watched the water continue to run red while he stood under the weak spray of the shower head. He didn’t know what town or even what state he was in. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, or what month it was. He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were gone, and he had nothing left.

Nothing left but the white hot fury that infected his veins and had him seeking out blood like water in the desert.

Year Three.

Frank couldn’t visit you, not like he could Maria and the kids. He couldn’t even have the closure of burying you, because there wasn’t a body. There was no final resting place for you, and he didn’t think that was fucking fair. Today was your birthday, and Frank had been drowning himself in whiskey trying to dilute the painful memories that played in his head like a haunting home movie. 

The angelic sound of your voice as you read him whatever book your nose was buried in that week, your fingers slipping through his dark tresses while he laid his head on your chest and listened in pure content. The feeling of your soft lips on his heated skin and delicate noises of pleasure as your bodies connected like they were made for each other. Your melodic laughter, the silkiness of your skin, slow dancing in the living room with the moon acting as a spotlight. 

All the words he never said. All the promises he didn’t get to keep. All the dreams that wouldn’t come true.

Somehow Frank found himself in a church. He couldn’t remember the last time he stepped foot in one. Maybe it was Sunday school back when his parents still forced him to go. He had stumbled in, his heavy boots thudding along the aisle, the only other sound coming from the amber liquid sloshing around in the half empty bottle in his hand. He stopped when he got to the front, looking up at the stained glass depictions of angels, until his weary eyes landed on the savior that was nailed to the giant cross.

Frank glared at him for several minutes before hurling the half empty bottle right at the head of the statue, causing a firework explosion of shimmering shards of glass to rain over the altar and various candles that had been lit for loved ones that had passed on. His rough voice boomed throughout the empty space.

“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take me, huh? Why not me? She ain’t never done a goddamn thing wrong. I’m the one you want. I’m the one that deserves it. I’m the goddamn killer here, huh? I’m the fuckin’ Punisher. So you bring her back, and you take me!”

Frank started grabbing bibles from the pews and hurling them at the statue with all his strength. In his inebriated state, some of them flew right past the statue and knocked over other small figurines and candlesticks. He let out a guttural war cry every time he threw a new one, and by the time he ran out of steam, he was panting heavily, and tears had formed in his eyes.

Dropping to his knees, he looked up at the melancholic face of the statue that matched his own, and he did something he hadn’t done in years. 

He prayed.

“Please. Please, just bring her back. I’ll take her place…I won’t fight…just…just bring her back. I’m beggin’ you…I’ll do whatever it takes, alright? Just…you can’t…you can’t do this to me again. You can’t. I may deserve it, but she don’t…okay so just…just…”

Frank was tired. Three years without you was too long. He hadn’t been able to find the peace that he had found after Maria and the kids. He spent a year waging war on everyone, and it did nothing. He spent the last few months drowning himself in booze, and it didn’t help. Nothing helped, and there was nothing to keep him going. You were gone, and you weren’t coming back, so what the hell was he still getting out of bed every morning for?

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Frank pulled out a revolver and stared down at it. There was only one bullet in the chamber, and it wasn’t meant for anyone but him. If God wouldn’t bring you back, then he would go to you.

As soon as he cocked the hammer, a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank.”

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Frank squinted his blurry eyes before turning back around, shaking his head with a dry laugh.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Half the goddamn universe gets wiped out, and I get stuck with the fuckin’ altar boy.”

“Frank-”

“Mind your fuckin’ business, Red. Just cause there’s only one bullet in this chamber don’t mean I won’t handle your ass.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few cautious steps towards where Frank was on his knees in front of the altar.

“You’re drunk-”

“And you’re fuckin’ relentless. Go home.”

“Look, whoever you lost-”

“Whoever I lost? I lost everyone, Red!”

Matt didn’t flinch when Frank suddenly rose from his knees and stormed over towards him, his loud voice booming in the silence as they stood barely an inch apart. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, his lips pursed as he grit his teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s lost everyone you’ve ever cared about, Frank?”

“Then what the hell are you waitin’ on, huh? You too much of a fuckin’ pussy to do it yourself, huh? That it? You need me to do it for you?”

Matt carefully reached out to place his hand on Frank’s arm, lowering the gun that was in his hand while he spoke in a calm voice.

“I don’t want to die, Frank. And I don’t think you want to either. You just want the pain to stop. But if you do this, it’s permanent, and you’ll never know if she came back.”

Frank shook his head and blew a puff of hot air out of his lips, his dark brows scrunching up in pure annoyance and frustration.

“She ain’t comin’ back-”

“You don’t know that. She’s not dead, Frank. She’s lost. Maybe she’s with Karen and Foggy. Frank, someone came down from another planet and wiped out half the universe. Is it so crazy to think that could be undone?”

The anger that was simmering inside Frank from Matt’s intrusion seemed to be burning through the alcohol in his system, and Matt’s question was igniting a tiny ember of hope that Frank wasn’t prepared to tend to. His body physically deflated as he dropped his head between his broad shoulders. There was a heavy tide of tears on his bottom lash line threatening to flood at any moment.

“Don’t do that.”

“You have to have faith, Frank-“

“I don’t, Red.”

“I do.”

Frank didn’t know when Matt managed to slip the revolver from his grasp, but he didn’t feel the weight of a permanent decision in his palm anymore. Matt had planted a tiny seed of hope, and what if’s were taking over Frank’s brain like wild ivy. 

What if there was a chance you could come back? Matt had a point, you weren’t dead. Not really. Even if the probability of it happening was one in a million, didn’t Frank owe you the same unwavering patience you had always shown him?

“Look Frank, just…give me a year. One year to show you things can be different. If you still want to make that call in a year, I won’t stop you. I’ll leave you alone. But Frank…you’ve gotten through this once before. You can do this again. If not for yourself, just try for her.”

A year. A year was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Frank had already been without you for three years now. 

What was one more?

Year Four.

Matt’s apartment was fucking obnoxious due to that goddamn billboard across the street, but it was better than the shitty motels Frank had been staying in. He still couldn’t step foot in the home he had shared with you. It had been three years now, and even though he wasn’t fully convinced you could come back, he couldn’t let it go. Everything that was you was there, and if he sold the house, that meant every trace of you and your existence was gone.

Matt had one rule for Frank staying with him; no killing. For a week, Frank lounged on the couch trying to figure out what to do with himself. He would start to read a book, but could never get more than a few pages because he remembered how much you loved to read, and then he would get stuck staring at the pages while memories of you played on loop in his head. There wasn’t a TV because Matt didn’t have use for one, and Frank didn’t care to watch anything anyway. It didn’t take long for Frank to go stir crazy. He had never been good at staying idle.

While Matt was out making the world a better place, Frank had managed to find a construction job. Busting down walls all day long allowed him to get his pent up anger out while not breaking Matt’s golden rule. Most days it felt like Frank was on autopilot. He woke up, went to the job site, smashed a sledgehammer through a wall until his hands bled, came home, tried to sleep, inevitably had a nightmare about losing you, and laid on the couch staring blankly up at the ceiling until the sun rose.

Every single day was a repeat of the last until they started to blur together. Frank didn’t speak to anyone at the job sites. He didn’t speak to anyone at all. Between Matt’s busy court schedule and his nightly patrols, they didn’t see each other often, and even when they were home at the same time, Frank still hardly spoke to him. He wasn’t sleeping, he barely ate, and on the days he had off, he didn’t leave the couch. He felt like a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

Matt knew what he was going through. Hell, he had been there himself after the second time he lost Elektra. He knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved most in this world, and that had happened to Frank twice now. He did his best to be patient, but after four months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Matt was fortunate that he’d had people that helped him combat his depression to find his way back to himself, but Frank didn’t have a soul in his corner.

Except for Matt. 

And even though Frank wasn’t shy about not wanting Matt’s help, Matt didn’t care. Frank could be stubborn, but he didn’t have the energy or the drive to match Matt’s stubbornness, and Matt used that to his advantage. He was relentless in pushing Frank to participate in life again. He purposely antagonized Frank, even if it meant being reduced to a human punching bag, because that meant Frank was still in there somewhere.

Matt started small in getting him out of the apartment, like guilt tripping Frank into joining him on trips to the grocery store.

“You’re not gonna help your blind roommate get groceries? You know, a lot of items don’t come with braille labels. So when I die because I accidentally put bleach in my coffee instead of creamer, you have to say nice things about me at my funeral.”

“You don’t need labels, Red. You got that goddamn bloodhound nose. Would you stop lookin’ at me like that? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine. Get your fuckin’ jacket and let’s go.”

After a while, he even managed to get Frank to join him at Fogwell’s from time to time.

“No wonder you became a goddamn lawyer. All you know how to do is fuckin’ argue, makes sense you made a livin’ outta it.”

“I’m not arguing, Frank. If we got in the ring, you would lose. That’s a fact. You don’t know how to box, you just know how to run at people and slam them into things. And you’re too bulky to move as fast as me. None of that is an argument, it’s a simple observation.”

“Why don’t you observe your ass in that ring so I can shut you the fuck up, Red.”

The more time they spent together, and the more Frank put in an effort to move forward one step at a time, the less empty he felt. The nightmares still came every so often, and there were days where the weight of your absence was too much for him to bear, but for the first time in four years, he didn’t feel so hopeless.

He could think about you without breaking down. He could see something that reminded him of you, and it warmed his heart instead of ripping it out. He had finally reached a point where he had slowly crawled out of the deep pit of grief that he had been digging for the past four years.

As much as he hated to admit it, Matt had helped him find a semblance of peace.

Year Five.

The sound of a dog barking caught Frank’s attention. He pulled his head out from under the hood of his truck, looking over at the grey and white pitbull that was standing a few feet away from the front door of the house you and Frank had lived in together that he’d finally moved back into six months ago. He glanced between the front door and the dog with his thick brows furrowed.

“What is it, Daisy?”

The dog turned her head when she heard Frank’s voice, the movement so fast it made her long velvet ears flop. She turned her attention back to the door and continued to bark. Something inside had caught her attention. Eyeing the front door warily, Frank rubbed his grease stained hands off on a small rag and walked over towards where Daisy was, kneeling down beside her to gently scratch that spot between her ears that she loved.

“Hey, shh shh shh. C’mon now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? What do you think is inside, huh? You smellin’ that-”

The sound of the front door opening caught Frank’s attention, and he instantly snapped his head in the direction of it. All of a sudden, his warm brown eyes went wide, and time seemed to freeze in that very moment. 

“Sweetheart?”

His quiet whisper was dripped in disbelief. There you were, looking exactly the same as the day you had vanished, looking between Frank and Daisy with an expression of surprise and perplexment.

“Frank?”

God, your voice. It had been five years since he had last heard it. That was all the confirmation he needed that this was real. You were real. You were really home. 

Without wasting a second, Frank stood and ran over towards you, tears filling up his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your frame and hugged you as tightly as physically possible. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and he was terrified this was just a vivid dream, but then he inhaled the scent of your shampoo intermingled with your perfume, felt your hands gently pressing against his back, and heard your soft angelic laughter.

“Frankie…baby…you’re crushing me.”

Frank pulled back only slightly, bringing his large hands up to cup your face to study your features, taking in every single inch of you. He caught the way you frowned softly, looking up at him in pure concern when thick tears streamed down his cheeks. You lifted your hand to delicately brush them away with the featherlight touch of your fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Baby, why are you so upset?”

As you ran your hands through his long grown out curls, a crease of bewilderment nestled in between your brows when you took in his appearance.

“Wait…what happened to your hair? It was just short five seconds ago…and you didn’t have a beard. How…how did you do that? And when did we get a dog? Frank, what-”

Five seconds ago. 

Is that all it was for you? Frank could see the visible disorientation on your delicate features, and he had a lot of questions of his own, but right now nothing mattered but you. He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every emotion he had felt in the past five years into it. He kissed you like the world could end at any moment, because for him it did the day you vanished.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a deep exhale of relief.

“You…you were gone, sweetheart. You were gone a long time…a long goddamn time.”

“Gone? What-”

“I’ll explain everythin’, I promise. Just…just give me a minute, please. Just let me hold you for a minute, can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

Frank had always been able to read you like a book, and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t just confused. Hearing you had been gone for a long time infused you with a sense of panic and uncertainty. But you trusted Frank, and you knew whatever hard truth he was going to tell you, he wouldn’t let you go through it alone.

“Okay.”

As Frank embraced you again, you suddenly felt a pair of paws on your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the happy dog wagging its tail while looking between you and Frank. Reaching down, you gently pet the side of her face with a soft smile.

“Hi there, precious.”

“Daisy.”

Glancing up at Frank, your lips parted slightly when Frank told you her name. A soft smile covered his lips, the first smile to do so in five years. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear slowly.

“You always said if we got a dog and it was a girl, you wanted to name her Daisy.”

Tears welled up along your bottom lash line as you looked up at Frank, a gentle smile covering your lips. After a moment, you glanced away from Frank to look at Daisy again, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Daisy.”

Frank gave your waist a light squeeze, leaning in to press a soft lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And we’ve been waitin’ a long time for you. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[transvampireboyfriend]

Teacher AU

Eddie who studied to be a music teacher but right before graduation Corroded Coffin takes off. It's fast, they have to mail him his diploma to avoid a crowd of fans at his classmates' ceremony.

But it goes as fast as it comes, a few years of touring and then popularity wanes. Eddie is not bothered by it, neither are the guys, they enjoyed it while it lasted, yet they all knew they couldn't live like that for the rest of their lives, so it's all for the best.

Eddie lives off of album and merch sales and writing songs for other bands and artists now. This is when his best friend, Chrissy, tells him she heard the music teacher was retiring at her old pre-school.

Eddie applies for the vacant position, fearing they won't like his former star status but ultimately, after a good interview, he gets the job.

Steve who became a pre-school teacher and started teaching as soon as he could. He lives with his best friend, Robin, and coaches the town's junior basketball teams (both boys and girls) on his off time.

Steve who's nearing his thirties and getting a little frustrated with his love life. No matter how many dates, no matter how many 6 month relationships, no matter how many 1 year and a half and moving in together debacles, he still just never quite fits his partners, he never feels that thing, that excitement everyone talks about. No matter how amazing the person. Robin calls him an idealist, says he's being naïve. Steve sticks by his instinct to hope for more.

Steve who stares (a little slack-jawed) at the new music teacher for a good minute when he comes pick up his kids. Trying to take in the wild hair pinned up by a pencil, the glasses around big cow eyes, the tattoos peeking out of his long sleeves, the dimples.

He was aware Mrs. Wallace retired and a new teacher was brought on, he just hadn't expected his heart to race at the mere sight of him.

Steve completely misses his name, has to ask him to come again when those beautiful brown eyes get a mischievous sparkle and look expectant, like he got stood up waiting for an answer.

"I said it's nice meeting you" the new teacher repeats

"Oh! Of course! You're very nice. I mean it's very- It's nice meeting you too" Steve says and forcefully shuts his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line.

The new teacher's smile just gets bigger and he nods and leads the kids to his class.

Robin thinks it's beyond funny that Steve doesn't know the new teacher's name, but she refuses to explain, refuses to tell him what it is and encourages him to find out on his own.

Steve approaches the guy in the teacher's lounge at lunch.

Beyond whatever the hell makes Steve's brain functions jump ship when he's around him, Steve does think it was rude of him to stare and not even introduce himself when they first met.

His mother may have been real shitty, but she didn't raise someone impolite.

"Hi," Steve starts, making the other man look up at him from underneath his glasses. Steve looks away for a second to avoid getting lost in those eyes.

"I think I owe you an apology," Steve starts, the other teacher raises his eyebrows and lowers the book in his hands.

"I'm sorry?"

"That's my line," Steve points out, he's rewarded by a small laugh and dimples, "I was rude," Steve explains, "I was staring and I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Steve." he smiles and extends his hands to the other man.

"I know." the guy says, smiling big enough to show his teeth, but gently taking Steve's hand in his own "I told you, they were nice enough to put all the names in my schedule, remember?" he says,

Steve freezes.

How come he didn't think of that? His schedule is the same, all schedules for teachers have everybodys' names. They even distributed new schedules for everyone when the hiring decision was made, Steve just hadn't bother to look at it yet, knowing the important bits hadn't changed.

Steve would facepalm if his dominant hand wasn't otherwise occupied.

"Uh-" Steve starts, thankfully the other man cuts him off,

"Hey," he says, with the kindest eyes Steve has ever seen, and still gently holding Steve's hand, "It's cool. I get it." he tells Steve,

Then he asks, "Are you a fan?"

Steve stares again.

Excuse him?

Judging by Robin's smirk accross the room, Steve's face must be as red as a ripe tomato.

Steve yanks his hand back.

Well, that's presumptuous. Just because Steve isn't very good at thinking whe he's around him, doesn't mean that- Sure, Steve came prepared to flirt with him, but he does not appreciate beaing treated like he's easy.

Steve frowns at him before turning around and promptly walking away. He guesses he'll have to go check his schedule if he wants to know the name of this jerk.

[sports-on-sundays]

and I can change / CL16 / Part 2

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - Charles would do anything to convince you to forgive him. He'd do anything to revive his family.

Warnings: Again, Y/s/n is 'your son's name'. And again, his age is unspecified- you decide what you think. crying (LOTS of crying), mention of drunkenness, mention of sex, mention of cheating, broken relationships, broken family, censored cussing

Requested?: Yeah! Requested by some sweet souls who read part 1! @barcelonaloverf1life @architect-2015 @emz2092 @cilliansgirl @lunamelona @lightdragonrayne @leclercgirl16

Author's Note: You guys asked for it, so I gave it! I hope you enjoy! Same song as inspiration. Also I'm thinking after this part I'll write a part 3, and then after that maybe a little epilogue, to wrap this up. Tell me what you think. Also, this is the link to part 1 / and the link to part 3

"Y/n, people change.

"And I can change, too."

You lay on your bed, engulfed in the darkness of the room surrounding you. The darkness seems to go deeper than just your surroundings- deeper, and into you.

Over and over the scene plays through your mind. Those words that Charles had uttered. The way he had clutched your hand in both of his, as if it were his only lifeline. In that moment, the desperation his eyes had denoted was incredible.

Charles, why? Why couldn't you let go? You're making it all so much more complicated.

But you know what he would say. Why? Why, Y/n? Because this isn't just about myself. Don't you see the brokenness in our son? Don't you see it?

Guilt washes over you, and then rage.

I shouldn't be the one feeling guilt. He should. He's the one who messed up our family. He's the one who's fault it is!

The way he cried, though.

The desperation.

The thing is that he is feeling guilty. Or at least so it seemed.

But does he really deserve a second chance? Do you?

Your phone rings at 12:00 A.M. On the dot. Charles has always been on the dot. Unless he's drunk, that is.

Why is he calling?

Right when I'm thinking about him, too.

Although this really isn't too surprising, when you consider it. For the past week and a half or so, you've stayed up until roughly 2:00 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, thinking, unable to convince yourself into peace and slumber.

And now a call comes.

Charles, why?

It feels terrible as you answer. "Charles. Don't call me."

"Y/n," he says in a calm voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you snap, trying to keep it down. Your son is sleeping (hopefully) in the next room.

"For reacting so emotionally. I'm sorry. For years this has weighed on me, but crying and begging won't get us anywhere."

"We're not going anywhere, whether you cry and beg or not." You hang up.

A month after that call where you rejected Charles for what you hoped would be the last time, there's a knock on the door on a Saturday. You walk to it, and freeze when you look through the peephole.

Why is Charles Leclerc here?

Anxiety hits you. The house is a mess, you've got no food to give him, you look like a mess in your pajamas and unbrushed hair-

How can he just show up at your door like this?

It's obnoxious.

You honestly are about to pretend you aren't home, but then Y/s/n suddenly runs in, squealing, "Mama, who is it?! Is it the mailman?"

You sigh at your son's strange fascination for the mailman. You're not completely sure why he enjoys the young, dry, monotone mailman, and for years just assumed because he was generally a nice bloke, and little kids are weird, until you realized with an ounce of dread that the mailman resembles Charles, in a way. After that, you've never encouraged his enthusiasm for the mailman, just in case that was the reason, whether conscious or not.

"No, no," you sigh, unlocking the door. "It's not the mailman, love."

"Who is it, Mama?"

As you swing the door open, you murmur, "Well, love, none other but your father."

"Daddy!" the little boy, still in his Lightning McQueen pajamas, squeals, running to hug his father. You glance away, staring at the floor.

Charles hugs your son, kissing him, and exclaims, "Aw, there's my little buddy! How are you, man?"

"I'm good, Daddy! Are you coming to live here now, Daddy?!"

"Ugh- Not quite..." He picks up your son, and looks to you, immediately saying, "Sorry it's such short notice."

You grit your teeth, murmuring, "You mean no notice?"

"Right," he nods with a quick exhale.

While the presence of your son is a burden for you, preventing you from showing your true feelings, it may be an advantage for Charles, to get across what he needs to get across. Whatever that may be.

Because this is all just a game. Everyone with their own different motives. Y/s/n wants Mama and Daddy to love each other because he wants one place to live. Charles' motives are unknown, but probably are just manipulative and selfish- about making himself feel better. And your motive? You don't want to relive the past, so will avoid Charles at all costs.

Charles' and Y/s/n's motives align more with each other than your's.

You look at your son. Who you love so much. He looks at you with hope. Charles looks at you with... a very similar expression.

These two.

How can you love one and hate the other?

They're both family, as much as you hate to admit it. Because one of them, you wish you could erase.

No. But you don't. Because if you'd never met Charles, Y/s/n would never have been born. And you can't even begin to imagine your life without him.

You hold the door open, and gesture to the couch. "Sit down, Charles. I'm going to get dressed, and then put the kettle on." You say all this through gritted teeth.

How can he just walk in as if he owns the place?

He nods. "Thank you, Y/n." You watch in the doorway to the hall as Charles sits down on the couch with his son on his lap. You watch as he says softly, picking up a toy car from off the rug, "This car is awesome, Y/s/n. Where'd you get it?"

"Mama got it for me! For my birthday!" Y/s/n takes it from his father's hand with much pride, and starts driving it across Charles' chest, up onto his neck, and eventually onto his cheeks. The whole time, Charles laughs, his hand on his son's back to keep him from tipping off his lap.

"That's a super cool car. Does it have a name?"

"Uhhh," Y/s/n frowns. "Zoom! Because he goes zooooom!"

"Oh, it's a he?"

"Of course," Y/s/n says, as if this fact should be obvious. Then he giggles, "Because girls smell."

"They smell?! No way. Girls don't smell."

"Yeah, they do," he crosses his arms, frowning at his father. "You don't know any girls. You only know... Uh, Cah-los."

Charles laughs out loud. "The only person I know is 'Cah-los'?"

"Yep! And Uncle Arthur and Uncle Lorenzo, but that's it!" your son claims in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Their conversation continues, but you finally turn to leave and get yourself fixed up. You quickly shower, brush your teeth and hair, put on moisturizing cream, perfume, and deodorant, and put on a beige hoodie, grey sweatpants, and slides, before going to make tea. The whole time, you mind swirls.

Why is he here? Why is he here on a Saturday? Why is he here, without even asking to come? It's so... obnoxious.

You finish making two cups of tea, finding with awe as you make them that you remember exactly the way Charles likes his tea, and you're doing it automatically.

Because I used to do this so much.

You walk back in with the tea and see the two boys sitting on the rug now. Charles is tickling Y/s/n's tummy, and both of them are laughing- Charles with more of a chuckle and Y/s/n with more of a squealing giggle. When Charles sees you, he slowly stops, saying with a little sigh, "Alright, bud. Mama's back with my tea, and I mean to drink it."

"But Daddyyy!"

"Nope!" he grins, standing up, ruffling his son's messy hair. He then walks to you, and you hand him his tea. He lights up when he tastes the tea and looks at you, muttering softly, "My God, you remembered how I like my tea...?"

"Don't jump to sh*t, Charles," you murmur, soft enough for Y/s/n not to hear.

"Right," he sighs, sitting down again on the couch.

You set your tea down, walking to your son. "Alright, love. I want you to go in your room now, okay? Remember the Lego plane you were building? Why don't you work on that? I want to see it once it's finished, okay? And if you need anything, call, okay? Don't come in here. Just call, and one of us will come."

He looks questioningly. "Why, Mama?"

"Me and your father have important things to talk about. And if you don't listen, there will be consequences."

He blinks, pouting.

"I'll turn on your storybook audio for you. Come on." You bring him to his room and get him set up, until you're sure he's completely distracted with the Legos and the storybook. Only then do you come back to the living room and sit down awkwardly next to Charles.

He's still wearing his red windbreaker from when he was outside, and a black scarf hangs loose around his neck. His hair is a bit messed up, but he looks perfect, like always.

Too perfect.

"Let me take your scarf and jacket. And your shoes."

"Right," he says with a swift nod, handing you his scarf, coat, and sleek black boots. You put them by the door, and sit down, viewing the cozy grey sweater adorning his frame. You have a passing thought, considering how much unnecessary money he might have spent on such a garment.

"So?" you ask in a tense voice. "What is this all about, Charles?"

"There are some things we need to work out. You're right- one of the many things I've done wrong to you is always being a f*cking coward. You're right. I didn't say what was on my mind, and I faked it, and I kept quiet, because I didn't want to upset you. But now I see that the only thing I can do now is speak up, be honest, and be a man. You rightfully left me because I wasn't being a proper man. I wasn't being your proper man. I was being a terrible husband and a terrible father. But now we need to uncover what's true- we both have different views, both of which are likely exaggerated or incorrect in different ways."

"I don't care, Charles," you say quickly, flat out trying to ignore his admittance to wrong. Perhaps because you don't want it to be true. Because if he's sorry, that means you have to forgive him.

"So you're telling me you'd rather believe lies, just because it makes you feel better? What kind of thinking is that?"

You hate to admit that he's right. So you say nothing.

There's silence. But then he says, "So tell me what happened."

"You know what happen-"

"Tell me, Y/n." His voice isn't rude, but definitely firm.

You swallow, shaking your head. You don't want to work this out. You want to forget Charles. But clearly, that's impossible. "You were irresponsible. You'd get drunk, never be home, never help me. I'd be all on my own... You... You'd use me for your own pleasure but never show true, selfless love... Then you came home drunk saying stuff about a pretty woman and sex and getting pregnant... So you cheated... And I divorced you because I couldn't take it any more." You can't believe it, but you're trying not to choke up as you whisper, "Charles, what we had seemed perfect. Until you messed it up." Your mouth tastes like poison.

Charles stares down, his eyes swirling with everything but empty, at the same time. "Y/n," he whispers. "I was terrible. You're right. I was never around because I was immature and scared. I didn't understand. To get away from it, I drank and had fun with friends."

Your lip curls. "You're not the victim."

"And I never said I was! I was scared of being a father. I was scared of messing up. I wasn't ready and I let everything happen too quickly. I was a coward and I left you. Even though you divorced me, I was the one who left you. That's what happened. I was stupid. I was a terrible person. It's all my fault."

"Why would you be any different now? There's no way for you to prove that. Before the marriage you were fine. It was when we married that you went downhill. It was like... you couldn't stand me."

He looks torn apart. "I loved you. I... I... I still do. I knew I wasn't being a good husband or father and to forget about it, I drank."

"And why wouldn't you still do it now?!"

"Because I don't. I feel more guilt now than I did then! I feel more responsibility now than I did then! And that was my greatest fear! Responsibility! But now I don't drink excessively! Now I don't avoid reality! Because I need you... Our son needs us. Together. Don't you need me?"

"Not the you I know."

"You don't know me anymore. I'm not the same person I was." His voice is so uncommonly firm, it slightly shocks you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

He goes on, "That night, I didn't cheat. I was intoxicated. A young woman was trying to seduce me, but I refused because I had you. You, my beautiful wife, both inside and out. I wanted to convey to you that I said no because you were my wife. However, I failed to communicate this properly, and the next morning, I had completely forgotten the conversation. I chose not to tell you because I thought it would be better if you didn't know. I was afraid you would be angrier with me for being in that situation. I was a coward, and I didn't want you to be upset with me. I didn't realize for years that you believed I had cheated. If I had known, I would have assured you that I didn't cheat, just like I am doing now, and that I never would. Because I didn't. Despite all the mistakes I made, cheating on you is something I would never, ever do. I have always loved you, and only you, far too much for that."

Your hands tremble in your lap as you stare at him, listening.

Now you're the one getting emotional.

Charles leans in close to you- too close for comfort- and whispers, "I've changed... Please. I just want a second chance... To right my wrongs and give you and our son the lives you deserve. I need to give my all to you... I need to make it up to you... It's... It's crushing me."

"Why do you need a second chance?" Your voice, for once, isn't aggressive. It's gentle. Softer. Your voice cracks as you say, "You should have done it right the first time."

You see him swallow. "And you know what? I didn't. I f*cked up. I f*cked up everything. I f*cked up your life and I know it. I'm sorry. I wish I could go back in time and fix it and make it all better. I was stupid, Y/n. I was terrible. I hurt the most beautiful woman and her baby in the world. I'm the least." He takes your hand again in both his, but this time it's a gentler grasp.

"But you're not. You're famous. You have so many fans."

"Do you know how many times I've thought I don't deserve all this? If only I could share it all with you."

"Charles," your voice cracks again, and an unexpected, terrible longing fills you. "I want to believe you, but I can't. I'm broken, Charles, because of you. I can't afford to let you break me again..."

A tear rolls down your cheeks, and immediately he reaches up with his thumb, gently wiping your cheek, "No, Y/n, please don't cry... I don't want you to cry because of me any longer... Please..."

"Charles, I can't do this..." more tears fall.

There's hurt and confusion, but mostly longing and guilt in his eyes. "Please... If you'd only trust me, then we could make this right. I could make this right, after all I did wrong."

You can hardly believe yourself as you let your broken, silently crying self fall into Charles. You allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder, and you allow his arms to wrap around you, giving you his warmth. "Charles..."

"Yes...?" There's a painful hope in his voice.

"I don't know if I can do this..." you cry into his shoulder now.

He whispers right in your ear, "Just give me a chance. Let me be there for you... Let me prove to you... Let me..."

You can't give him a yes or a no. Two sides war inside you- the mask and the face. You feel him stroke your hair as you cry, at the same time as remembering stroking his hair when he was drunk and needed comfort.

This is some sort of paradox, isn't it?

"Charles," you murmur, leaning away after you've gained control of yourself. "The answer is 'I don't know' right now, okay... Consider it... better than hating your guts with an adamant 'no.'"

As he gazes into your eyes, he leans closer. Softly, he places a tender kiss on your cheek and whispers, "I'll be ready whenever you are. And I'll never, ever stop waiting for you."

Weeks pass, and Charles can't understand why, after all that happened that day, still you insist on avoiding him like the plague.

Well, the reason is just that- avoidance. You're avoiding Charles because you don't want to face the possible truth. You're avoiding him because you don't want to make big decisions. You don't want to try again. You don't want to...

Well, you don't want to fall in love again.

And on that day, the way he treated you...

It reminded you of the man you married, and not the man you divorced.

And that scares you. Because you'll never forget the man you divorced.

So you're stubborn and resistent, and you're avoiding him.

So you sit, staring at the screen of your cell phone. Rereading the text on it. Over and over.

Charles Leclerc: I'm sorry for such a long text Y/n but you probably won't read it anyway, so what does it matter? I need to talk with you and you're doing exactly what I've done, what I'm apologizing for. For years I avoided this stuff and one of the reasons we split was that i couldn't stand up and address and tell you my problems. I was being a f*cking coward. And I've said sorry more times than I can count. I thought you might be on the road to forgiveness, to giving me a second chance. I know you felt the same way as me when you leaned into me and let me hold you when you cried- there's something more here, and I don't want you to ignore this. Can't we just try this? Please Y/n? I'm finally willing to step up, be a man, work through all this sh*t with you. Talk about it. I'm finally willing to be brave, and as soon as I am, you're doing the same thing you've yelled at me for years for doing- staying silent.

Charles Leclerc: I love you, Y/n, and this is a problem I desperately want to fix, but the truth of the matter is that you're being a f*cking hypocrite.

Me: How does it feel to be in the position you put me in for years?

You feel mean for typing that, and you're not sure how much you mean it. Maybe you meant to be kinder.

But the anger took over and your thumbs did the talking.

Charles leaves that message on read.

You sit in the cold metal chair, surrounded by pudgy, middle-aged parents and their gross kids all around you as a lone young mother sitting by herself. You're only here to see your son, and none of the other aspects of this situation bring you an ounce of joy.

All of a sudden, a shiver runs down your spine as a firm hand gently lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps up, meeting the gaze of Charles Leclerc. A look of disdain crosses your face, causing your heart to ache as you bluntly ask, "Why are you here?"

Charles takes a seat beside you in the vacant chair and casually remarks, "I've come to attend my son's school concert. And you?" A glimmer of amusement dances in his eyes.

Your jaw tightens in pure irritation, and you manage through gritted teeth in a tense, quiet tone, "Why did you choose to sit next to me?"

Charles hesitates, his expression softening, as he makes an effort to hold your gaze. "Well... Because I..." He swallows and says, "I'm not going to give up on you. That's why. So I figured I'd sit down next to you to watch my- our- son's concert. So..." Abruptly, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The veins in his hand are visible as he clasps yours tightly.

Your muscles tense, yet for some reason, you don't pull your hand away.

So throughout the whole school concert, Charles sits, gripping your hand, and seems to refuse to let it go.

And the moment the teacher is done on stage after the little production, thanking people for helping and the kids for doing such a great job and other stuff you don't listen to, Charles turns to you and says, "So, we have some minutes to spare."

Your eyebrows scrunch together. "Come again?"

He chuckles, but it doesn't feel called for. "You weren't listening to her? She said the students can be picked up from their classrooms by their parents in fifteen minutes."

Your jaw clenches again. "Charles, why?"

"Because I know you want it," he says incredibly earnestly. The inside of your heart melts as the outside hardens.

"But I don't think I do."

"But I know you do. Now come on." Your ex-husband stand up, pulling you up with him.

"Where are we going?" you ask. "And please let go of my hand. You've been holding it so long, it's starting to get sweaty."

He clicks his tongue and doesn't respond to either of these, then guides you down various hallways until you reach the school's exit. Finally, he sits down with you on a bench outside the school, and releases your hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's just hang out here for the next ten minutes, okay? We should talk," he says awkwardly, facing you.

"I don't get it. Charles, there's nothing you can do to-"

Charles interrupts, holding your face gently, gazing into your eyes. "Please, don't. Don't say that," he pleads, his thumb brushing your cheek. "There's something we can do. We can make this work... Please..."

His desperation, his begging, makes you want to cry. "Please just let it go... Let me go..."

"No, I don't want you to be trapped... Don't you see you'll be more free with me? You won't have to work as hard.. I'll take care of you and our son... I'll take half the work in the house you have to deal with... I'll... We'll... I just want you to believe that we'll be happier... I'm not saying we need to jump to anything today. I'm just saying, let's be kind to each other... Let's go out to eat sometimes, or go to our son's events together. Let's act just a little bit more like a family, even if we aren't yet. I just want to- I need to- I- I- I..." He trails off. His hands fall off your cheeks, and his shoulders slack. His head goes down.

It's like just the hard look in your eyes alone crushed him.

Like that alone is the huge weight he's bearing.

"F*** me, Y/n... F*** me," he whispers, his hands in his lap trembling. "I don't deserve you. I hurt you. Doesn't matter how much I changed. I still have to live through the consequences of my actions, don't I?" He seems to be talking more to himself, but you have no idea at this point. "Just f*** me." He exhales shakily, before suddenly standing up. He stares you right in your eyes, and your heart breaks when you see the hurt, the destroyed desperation. "It's fine, Y/n." He's trying to keep a level face. But his voice cracks. "I'll leave you alone. I'll let you go. I can see all this is just hurting you more. I never meant to hurt you more. I never meant to bring up the past to hurt you. I wanted to help you... I wanted to help you heal..." He drags a hand over his face. "But clearly I f***ing didn't. Clearly I messed it up again. I f***ing messed up again." He swallows. His eyes glimmer with wetness as he practically whispers, "The last thing I want is to hurt you. So I'll drop it. I'm just being selfish again, aren't I? I think this would be better, but you don't. And that's hurting you. And I never wanted to..." He swallows, his nose crunching up. Suddenly he yells, "I never wanted to hurt you ever again, because I love you, for f***'s sake! I love you, but I did hurt you, because, in the end, no matter what, I'm going to f*** it up anyway! So bye, Y/n!" Suddenly he turns on his feet. Like he doesn't want you to see him cry again. But you can hear the tears in his voice when the last thing he calls back is, "It will go back to normal, and we can pretend none of this ever happened! Pretend I'm a stranger! It's the best for you, anyway, apparently, and all I wanted was the best for you!"

You stare in shock as you watch him get in his car and drive away. You remain seated, gaze straight ahead. Tears well up in your eyes, and your body quivers, yet you manage to compose yourself, rise on unsteady legs, and compel yourself to return to the school to pick up your son.

But that just wasn't right.

I should have stopped him. I should have called him back. I should've.

How far can revenge go before it's gone too far?

For days, the guilt, the hurt, the rue- they weigh on you. Every moment of your days, it consumes your thoughts. Regret and confusion and anger fill you in every step, engulfing your every move. And if you thought you weren't getting any sleep before, now it's even worse.

You long to fix it, but you are unsure of how. Despite everything... You can't see how Charles isn't being honest. You want to have faith in him. A small part of you may even want to love him, just a little bit.

You're also fearful. Fearful of reaching out to him, because you don't know what you'd do. You have no idea.

But now you're dropping your son off at Charles's house. You swallow, and suddenly, on a whim, when you see Charles walking outside, waiting for Y/s/n, you get out of the car, too.

"Mama?" your son asks with a confused expression, still maintaining a little smile on his face.

You smile back down at him and say, "I'm walking you up to your daddy's house today, is all."

He shrug and nods, apparently accepting this.

He's such a good kid.

As you approach Charles, your smile twitches while you study him, but you say softly, "Hey, um... I... We..." Your tone sounds weak.

"Yes?" Charles asks, looking up. He looks perfect. As always.

Your eyes lock.

Please, Charles. I don't know how to say this. Please just understand.

His eyes remain blank. You let out a sigh.

And suddenly, you hug him.

Charles seems taken aback for only a moment, before he immediately hugs you back and says softly, "Hey... Want to come inside with me and Y/s/n?"

You nod. "Yes... Yes, please."

So Charles leads the two of you up to his flat. You sit down together on the couch, once again.

Last time you did this was the moment Charles cried out to you.

"Y/n, people change."

You swallow at the memory.

Is this another paradox? This time, will I be the one crying out to him?

Y/s/n is about to hop on the couch between you, but suddenly Charles scoops him up and says, "Hey, hey! I didn't get my hug from you yet, did I?!"

Your son giggles, getting comfortable on his father's lap, before giving him a big hug. "I scored a goal, Daddy..."

"You scored a goal?!" he grins. "Seriously?"

"Yeah! Mama cheered me on! I scored a goal when I played football!"

Charles looks so bright. Happy with his son. So proud. He doesn't get to see him as often as you do. "No way. You've got to be joking. Was it the winning goal?"

"Yep!" your son says proudly.

You find yourself smiling.

"Oh yeah, what was the score?"

Your son shrugs. "Dunno! But we won!"

You smile and mutter softly, "I think it was 4-1." Y/s/n plays in the little league team affiliated with his school.

"Yeah, but my goal made it 2-1, so I won it," he brags to his father.

Charles grins. "Oh, I'm sure it did. You know, I don't know where you got that talent for football from. Do you think Mama is good at football?"

Your son just shrugs with a grin, enjoying the affirmation from his father. "Dunno! But Mama is good at cuddling and playing with me."

Charles laughs. "Yeah, your mama takes good care of you." He glances at you with sparkling eyes, before looking back down at his son.

The two continue babbling on about sports and football and what not, until Charles finally ruffles his son's hair and says, "Well, buddy, I reckon it's time for me and Mama to have some alone time."

Y/s/n frowns. "Aw, why?"

"Because I want to talk with Mama about things that you won't care about. Boring grown-up stuff. Doesn't sound very fun, does it?"

Y/s/n shrugs, still looking uncertain.

"Hey, don't look so down. How about this? I'll go put on Cars for you. How's that sound?"

Your son grins at this, immediately jumping up, his demeanor changing abruptly. "Yeah, yeah!" he squeals, and you watch as Charles leaves with him to go set him up with that in another room.

But soon Charles is back. He gently shuts the door behind him as he enters the room, and immediately sits down next to you, facing you once more. "Hey, Y/n..." he says in a tentative but gentle tone.

You swallow. "Hey, Charles..." You feel yourself getting nervous again. "You're so... You're so good with Y/s/n."

He smiles. "You are, too."

There's no, And I'm sure we'd be even better with him together.

Charles meant it when he said he'd give up on it.

But you move closer to him. You take his hands. "This is a lot for me, Charles. I'm scared. I'm having issues with trust."

He nods slowly. "I know... I know..."

You swallow, and hug him again.

He holds you, hugging you back. He kisses your cheek. He whispers, "I understand if you're afraid. I understand if you're scared, or if you're having issues with trust. I'm so deeply sorry I've broken you like that."

Y/n, people change. And I can change.

The words come crashing into your mind like a ton of bricks, emerging from the depths of your memory.

"Charles-" you break in, your voice cracking. "Those words have haunted me."

"What words...?" he mutters softly.

You swallow. Breathe slowly. And you whisper, "You said to me 'Y/n, people change. And I can change.'"

"I have changed," he whispers.

"But," your voice cracks. "You said a lot of other s***, too. I remember, during our honeymoon..." A tear rolls down your face as Charles continues to hold you. "You said I'm yours and you're mine. You said we'd be forever. You said you'd do anything for me. You said we'd have three kids together, and you'd never stop loving me, and we would be a happy family. You said we'd grow old together, Charles. That's what you said. But all those promises- they were broken... They were broken."

"You didn't want them to be," he whispers calmly. "But don't you realize? Perhaps those promises were not broken, but rather, they have just not yet been fulfilled."

You look up at him, blinking. More tears roll down your cheeks. Charles gently wipes them away.

"I want to be able to fix what I did wrong. I want to be able to fulfill those promises I made to you. That's what I want, Y/n."

"Charles..." you breathe.

He looks so perfect.

"Yes?" he asks gently.

Your lip quivers, and you lean into his shoulder, and you sob.

And he lets you.

For however long, he holds you there, rubbing your back, letting you weep. Finally, you get a hold of yourself, and slowly pull away. You wipe your wet eyes with the backs of your hands, before sighing. "Charles, if we were to do this... If I were to give in..." You sniff. Your voice cracks again as you utter, "Please, don't hurt me again. I can't survive it again. I can't let you put me through that again..."

He pulls you to him again and whispers in your ear, "I won't. I won't. I won't let you down this time. Please don't be afraid of me... I want to love you... Let me love you... If you'll just let me, we can fix this... We have have a relationship in which we communicate more. Oh, Y/n..." he sighs. "Don't you realize how much I care? I- I would give my life for you."

You blink, staring at him.

Everything looks so promising. That's why you're scared.

It almost looks too promising.

"You say you would give your life for me. But would you really? Maybe you would you give your life for me if it meant losing it. But would you give your life to me while you're still alive? Would you clean the dishes? Would you help me when I'm sick? Would you grab an extra ingredient from the store if I needed it? Would you drive Y/s/n to school when you could? Would you really? You're gone half the year, as it is."

His jaw clenches, then un-clenches. "I would do anything and everything I could do for you. I want to share my life for you. Until death. And I'm one hundred percent sure on that. I've had years of thinking about this." There's hope in his lovely eyes.

So much hope.

You sigh, staring down at your lap.

"Y/n. I'm sorry. Please. Not only do I need your forgiveness. But your son does, too." He hesitates. "And I hope you know no matter what happens, the guilt of what I've done to you will weigh on me my whole life. That's why I want to fix it."

You gently slip your hand in his and whisper, "Please don't hurt me."

He wraps his fingers around your hand, holding it. "I won't."

You nod slowly, another tear rolls down your cheek, and it feels like all the molecules in your body are being ripped apart as you barely whisper, "Okay, Charles. We can try this again."