#but its been in my drafts for like a week now and I keep laughing at it

[triona-tribblescore]

What can you say~ Hes got class >;)

[riddlesb1tch]

Loved You First

Azriel x reader

summary: reader and Azriel are in love with each other but too afraid to admit it. What happens when reader gets asked out on a date and is seemingly very interested in the guy?

Loosely inspired by "Loved You First" by One Direction

warnings: this is so fluffy its borderline cheesy. Actually no, it is cheesy. Enjoy the cheese my loves!

a/n: the results from the poll are in!!! and Azriel very obviously won lol so here is a fic that has been in my drafts for like a year and I haven't had the motivation to finish.

Had my chances,

Could've been where he is standing

That's what hurts the most, 

Girl I came so close,

But now you’ll never know, 

Baby, I loved you first 

Ever since you joined the IC a decade ago, you and the spymaster have been close. Rhysand had walked into a coffee shop one day where he found you, sipping on your coffee while lost in a book on the history of Prythian. Rhys had taken a liking to you after a lengthy conversation about the inaccuracies both of you had spotted. He invited you to dinner with the inner circle where you met the infamous Shadowsinger. 

The first time you met, a hum or two of acknowledgement is all you got from him. You felt like he hated you after that first meeting but the rest of the IC had taken a liking to you which led to you being invited to many more dinners. Eventually, he started speaking to you like you weren’t his enemy but was still closed off, keeping the conversation about you and providing as little information about himself as possible. Initially, you weren’t too fond of the spymaster due to his closed-off nature and the vibe you got that he didn't particularly enjoy your company, but everyone in the IC spoke fondly of him and he wouldn’t have been friends with all the kind people in the inner circle if he wasn’t nice himself. Then, you realized soon that he had built up many walls around his heart to prevent himself from getting hurt.  So, you decided to give him a fair chance and struck up a conversation at one of the dinners about a book both of you had read called ‘The Name of the Rose’. It was a safe territory that got him to be surprisingly chatty with you. Suddenly, his whole demeanour changed. He turned his body towards you, asking you questions about your theories while you were reading, proposing his own. The moment you saw his eyes light up when you two agreed on who the culprit should have been, you knew this male was the most precious being you had met.

Since that dinner, you and Azriel were like two peas in a pod, always together, relentlessly teasing each other, chatting amongst yourselves which led to infinite inside jokes. During the inner circle dinners when everyone would be talking about their weeks, random gossip from here and there, and sharing stories, you and Azriel would be sitting together, commenting on the conversations happening around you in the other’s ear and laughing to yourselves. 

Rhysand often said you two were like little kids. 

Both of you often got teased by the other's name by the rest of the IC. According to them, you two should have started dating the moment you met. Feyre even said you two reminded her a bit of Cassian and Nesta with the way you disliked each other during your first few meetings but quickly became inseparable. 

And in a way, they weren’t wrong. 

When your chemistry was that good, you couldn’t help but fall for the spymaster. He was always there for you when you needed him, and you were the first person he let himself be truly vulnerable with, always coming to you after a mission gone wrong. You saw a side of him that no one had seen before: the childish, playful side that took every opportunity to make you laugh, to snatch up the last piece of cake or candy, a side that played pranks on you, a side that loved to laugh wholeheartedly. It was his genuine smile, the boisterous laughter that you loved the most, and did everything in your power to hear it as often as you could. 

The only problem that seemed to be standing in the way of you confessing was that he didn’t seem interested in you. Little things he would do made you think he viewed you as nothing but a friend, such as ruffling your hair, his incessant teasing about how no one would want to date you, and the fact that he never said anything to you about it. You knew the spymaster wasn’t exactly a talking about his feelings kind of person, but then he wasn’t afraid to confess kind of person either, which left you confused and sad that he didn’t reciprocate your love. 

Recently, at a coffee shop, you had been asked out by a fine gentleman who had struck up a conversation with you. He complimented your features, telling you how he loved your hair, and soon, asked you on a date. 

Since the thing with Azriel was never going to happen, you didn't see a reason to turn down the very handsome male who was interested in you. 

“Awesome! There's this restaurant near the rainbow ‘Velarian’, ever heard of it?” he asked. 

You nodded with a shy smile. 

“Perfect! I will pick you up tomorrow at 7 pm, milady.” He gallantly bowed, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles, making you blush. 

“Will do,” you replied. 

The male left after getting his coffee, throwing a wink your way before taking his exit. 

“Y/n, what’s taking you so long?” Azriel stalked into the shop, seeing you standing there staring at the door and smiling like an idiot. A smile of amusement took over his features. 

“What are you smiling about?” he asked. 

“I just got asked on a date!” you replied cheerfully, snapping out of your daze and clapping your hands together. 

His whole world went silent. It had finally happened, the moment he had been dreading: someone was going to come in and take you away from him and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because he was too afraid to tell you how he felt. And how could he when you seemed so excited at the prospect of getting asked out? He mentally chastised himself for not going inside with you so he could chase away the male as he’d done countless times before. He could not stand the idea of you dating someone else so he did something he shouldn’t have and threatened any male enamoured by your presence from getting close to you. But when you had that smile on your face when you looked more excited than you had in a while, how could Azriel ruin that by telling you the truth about his feelings? 

So, he conjured that playful lilt back into his voice despite his heart rejecting the playfulness and furrowed his brows. “Hold on, someone actually wants to date you? Like without getting paid for it?” he said in a surprised tone. 

You punched his shoulder hard, making Azriel laugh out loud. 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” you said with a frown. 

Azriel nodded. “You’ve told me a few times,” he stated. 

“And yet you can't seem to understand it.”  

Understandably so, Mor was very excited when you told her you got asked out on a date and you both set to figuring out your hair, makeup, and outfit for the night. 

“So what's his name?” Mor asked while she put up your hair in different ways, trying to figure out what looked good. 

You blushed slightly, looking at Mor in the mirror. “His name is Damien,” you said in an almost whisper. 

It killed Azriel that this other was able to make you blush like that when it was his right to bring that colour to your cheeks. 

“Oh my, look at the blush!” Mor teased. “I don’t even think I need to put any blush on you if this is how pink you get from just his name!” 

Mor laughed out loud and you hid your face in your hands in embarrassment. 

“Mor, stop,” you chastised, and both of you erupted in giggles.

Azriel watched as the two of you chattered excitedly, wanting to but not having the guts to ask you to not go on the date. So he did the only thing he could and watched you go on a date with a male you met in the coffee shop. 

You looked stunning in a little black dress with spaghetti straps and a wide neck, displaying the beautiful necklace you wore with a reflection of the Velaris night sky captured into a little globe. Your hair was hanging in loose waves down your back and framing your beautiful features, and a beautiful diamond bracelet adorning your wrist that matched the sparkle of the necklace perfectly. Your eyes were lined with kohl and shining bright with excitement as Azriel took you, his heart breaking the brighter your smile got. 

“Wow, Y/n, who knew you could look like a female,” Azriel teased, making you roll your eyes and slightly chuckle. He smiled, moving closer to you with his hands in his pockets. “Good luck on your date, n/n. Have fun.” He moved his hand to ruffle your hair but you ducked, stopping him mid-movement. 

“Please don’t, I spent hours on this hair and I can’t have anything ruin it,” you grimaced. 

“Of course, my bad,” Azriel replied, stepping away from you. 

A gentle rapping sounded on the door and you turned to your friends one last time for a check. They shot you thumbs up before you opened the door and greeted the very attractive male. 

“Ready to go?” Azriel heard his rich, deep voice, feeling a pang of jealousy shoot through his chest. 

You smiled, stepping down carefully and closing the door behind you.

You didn't return till the next morning, hair messed up, heels in your hands, and his scent all over you. 

“So I guess the date went well?” Mor smirked, sipping her coffee as she eyed you walking in. 

You smiled sheepishly before slipping off to your room for a bath and some much-needed rest. 

The next few days, Azriel had been extra broody and everyone was confused about why. He wouldn't talk to even you and mostly kept to himself. 

“Y/n, I think you need to talk to Az,” Cassian said while leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Why?” you asked with your brows furrowed, continuing to butter the bread. 

“He's been…moody these past few days. Like more so than usual, and it's worrying all of us. He won't talk to us, barely looks us in the eye, and he’s been training non-stop. I don't think the training dummies can take much more of this,” he joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere but you could hear the worry in his voice. 

You huffed in amusement before turning to Cassian and nodding. “I will speak to him today. Thank you for telling me.” 

You made another sandwich for Azriel and plated both of them before heading up to his room. The room was shrouded in darkness meaning the Shadowsinger was upset about something, and that concerned you because he didn't come to you this time about whatever was bothering him. 

“Az?” you called out into the darkness. When you didn't get a response, you slowly tracked your way to the bed, estimating from memory how far it would be and avoiding obstacles on the way. 

You set the plates of food down on the bed when you found it, feeling around for Azriel whom you felt sitting with his legs outstretched, leaning against the headboard. Your hand came in contact with his shoulder first and you rested your palm there gently, stroking it soothingly. 

“You okay, Az?” you asked. 

A grunt of acknowledgement was the only response you got. 

“Hey, what's wrong?” you asked, carefully sitting down on the bed next to his legs. “Talk to me.” You took his hands in yours, squeezing to tell him you were there for him. Slowly, the shadows receded from around the room, once again cloaking the room with light and letting you get a view of the spymaster. 

Azriel looked horrible with tired bags and messy hair. His eyes were red as if he had been crying and his shoulders slumped from exhaustion. You reached a hand up to gently stroke his cheek. His eyes lifted to yours and you could see the pain in them. Your heart broke to see him like this and wanted to do everything in your power to take the pain away. 

“What's wrong, Azzy?” you asked softly. 

He opened his mouth to tell you but stopped himself and shook his head. “I can’t tell you.” 

You slightly laughed at that. “Come on, Az, we’re not kids. You can tell me and we can have a mature, adult conversation about it.”

Azriel sighed, dropping your hands and getting up from the bed. 

“You won’t understand, Y/n,” he said and you heard agitation in his voice. 

You turned to where he was standing, your feet firmly planted on the ground and hands fisting the bedsheets at your sides. 

“Then make me understand, Az,” you said softly. “Something has got to be very wrong because you haven’t spoken to me in days, you haven’t spoken to the rest of the family, you’re training yourself to death, barely eating, barely sleeping. I mean, is all that worth it when you can talk to me and we can work it out?” you questioned. 

“It's worth it if it means you’re happy,” Azriel said so softly you barely heard it. 

“You’re miserable, Az,” you said, getting up from the bed and walking up to him. You reached for his hands, giving them a firm squeeze. “I can never be happy knowing something is bothering you. Please tell me.” 

Azriel looked at your concerned face, at your hands holding his, and the feeling of rightness in his chest. Maybe it was reckless, maybe he’d been building up to this moment for a long time, but his chest physically hurt from holding onto what he desperately wanted to say. 

“I love you,” he blurted. 

Your face went slack and his heart stopped. 

“W-what?” you gaped. 

Your grip on his hands loosened, eyes looking up at him in utter disbelief. 

But Azriel was not going to take that back. He’d said it and it felt fucking incredible to be able to admit it. 

“I love you,” he repeated. 

“Really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’ve been in love with you since we talked about ‘The Name of the Rose’,” he admitted. “And it's not right that you’re with whats-his-name now because, Y/n, I loved you first. I have always loved you and I cannot hold it in any longer.” 

Tears collected in your eyes from his monologue. 

“I love you too, Az,” you said. 

It was like he could breathe again. Hearing you say those words to him was the utmost bliss he had ever experienced and Azriel did not want this moment to end. He now stood as stunned as you had been when he’d said that to you. 

“R-really?” he stuttered out. 

You laughed, grip tightening on his hands once again. Nodding, you replied, “Ever since the day you let me hear your laugh and see your smile I’ve been in love, Az,” you admitted. 

Not wasting any more time, Azriel smashed his lips on yours, pulling you closer by the waist. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down, running your fingers through his hair. 

You both pulled away, panting but grinning all the same. Azriel rested his forehead on yours and took a moment to just breathe you in. Then, he pulled away and asked, “What about whats-his-name?” 

“Oh, the date went horrible. I hated him. Literally one of the most pretentious and presumptuous males I’ve ever met. At the end of the night he asked when our second date was and I said ‘Never. And just in this universe. There is not a single parallel and/or alternate universe where I would consent to see your face again’, then left,” you stated proudly.

Azriel laughed out loud at this. 

“Damn, my little heartbreaker,” he said and kissed you again. “Wait then why did you come home the next morning with hair all messy and heels in your hands?” he asked. 

“Oh after the date, I saw one of my friends coming out of the restaurant and I hadn’t seen her in a while so we spent the entire night walking and talking along the Sidra,” you chuckled. 

Azriel gaped at you. 

“You mean to tell me that I brooded for nothing?” he exclaimed. 

You pursed your lips and nodded. “Yeah. take this as a sign to work on your communication skills.” 

Azriel laughed, making you laugh along with him before he pulled you into another kiss. 

From behind you, you heard a loud whistle then cheering followed. Your entire family stood in the doorway of Azriel’s room, watching the two of you in each other’s arms. 

“Finally!” Mor clapped her hands together. 

“Both of you were insufferable moping about each other,” Cassian said and both of you held up the finger for him. 

Everyone laughed at that and you and Azriel hugged tightly.

tags: @thelov3lybookworm @sarawritestories @berryzxx @milswrites @lilah-asteria

Masterlist

[vscabarca]

Can we get one with reader x gavi going out with the team to eat and reader sitting on his lap but its all sweet and cute and pablo gets shy about it? Thank you!

Ballon d‘Or - pablo gavi

summary: you accompany gavi to the Ballon d‘Or ceremony.

genre: fluff

a/n: thank you anon for the request:3 I changed it up a bit because I have something similar already in my drafts, hope you still like it!

———

„hermano do you bring your girl to the ceremony?“ Pedri asked Gavi as they walked back from practice.

„Yeah I asked her to accompany me.“ Gavi already smiled shly when he thought about you meeting his teammates for the first time. He had been invited to the Ballon D‘Or ceremony, taking you with him as a plus one alongside other Barça players.

Gavi and you had been together for two months now, everything was still pretty fresh. You‘ve only met his closest friends like Pedri or Fermin when they came over to play Fifa.

It was your first time attending such an prestigious event. Additionally to that you would meet some of his team mates and friends, so you were already nervous the week before flying to Paris.

———

„hermosa we‘re gonna be late!“ Gavi shouted towards the bathroom, tying his dress shoes in the meantime. You were applying your lipgloss and looked in the mirror a last time before heading out.

„Coming!“ You chimed, grabbing your purse with all the essentials.

Gavi looked up from his phone, staring at the beautiful girl in front of him. It almost seemed like he was hit by cupids arrow once again.

„Baby you look stunning.“ A grin crept upon your face at your boyfriends words, happy he liked the dress just as much as you did.

„Now I don’t even want to go anymore! I want to keep you all for myself.“ Gavi‘s hands snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

„Don’t worry, I‘m all yours.“ you mused and closed the short gap between you and Gavi with a passionate kiss.

During the kiss, your fingers found their way into his hair as he cupped your cheek. You sighed into the kiss, then breaking apart to catch your breath.

„you‘ve got my lipgloss on your lips now.“ You grinned, already wanting to wipe it away with your thumb, but Gavi was quick in shifting away.

„Not yet, I wanna kiss you again.“ He whispered impatiently, already pulling you in again by your waist. The kiss was tender and delicate, both getting lost in the sweet feeling of each other.

„Mhm, baby we‘re gonna be late if we don’t leave now.“ You said between kisses. Gavi only grimaced and fixed your ridden up dress by slightly pulling it back down. This time, you wiped away the remaining gloss from his lips and pecked his cheek a last time before heading out.

Hand in hand you‘ve made your way to the venue, posing for pictures on the red carped. Not long after you two met some of Gavi‘s teammates, emerging into light conversations until the event started.

The event went smoothly, you even saw Messi receive his eighth Ballon D‘or.

As the ceremony was over, all the players and their partners had been invited to a dinner.

You sat between Lewandowski and Gavi, having a nice dinner while you listened to what they were saying.

„You alright?“ Gavi spoke lowly, scooting a bit closer to you. His hand wandered to your waist, drawing soft circles on the fabric of your dress. You felt flustered by his actions, leaning your head towards his, so you could speak to him without being heard.

„I‘m perfect.“ Your fingers smoothed out the collar of his tuxedo.

„You really are.“ Gavi leaned in and gave you a quick peck, not trying to attract too much attention towards the young couple.

His flirting made you laugh out loud and only then did you realize how loud you actually laughed. You put your hand over your mouth to stiffle the sounds but Gavi laughed even louder as he saw how you reacted. The whole Barça table turned their heads towards you two. All having loving but confused smiles on their faces.

„What did Pablito say to make you laugh so hard?“ Araujo asked with a raised brow, probably assuming the worst.

Gavi and you suddenly became shy as you realized all his friends caught you being silly teens in love.

„Stop teasing those poor kids! look how shy they are now.“ Anna, Lewandowski‘s wife, scolded him in a funny way.

„I‘m not teasing! I think those two are the sweetest together!“ Ronald tried to defend himself, sending you a heads up over the table. You knew it was just a joke, so you just waved him off with a smile.

Gavi didn’t really care that all his friends looked at you two and secretly pulled your chair closer to his.

„No I mean it, you really are perfect.“

„Oh sush, look at you.“ You said and grabbed his chin to kiss him properly, not caring if anyone was watching.

[minhosbitterriver]

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 50 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first long-fic! It took me an eternity to get this done, but I'm actually very proud of how it turned out! Also, my very rough draft for this was accidentally posted a few days ago, so if you saw that...no you didn't! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, use of they-them pronouns for Y/N, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

When Jeongin stepped through the door he had once shared with you, a sense of dread already coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing with every breath. He knew you'd kept your promise to move out by the end of the week, but the reality of it hit harder than he could have imagined. The front hallway, once cluttered with a chaotic jumble of shoes that you always left haphazardly by the entrance, now stood painfully bare, save for his own neatly aligned row of frequently worn sneakers. The absence of your presence echoed louder than any argument ever had, and suddenly he found himself longing for those moments of trivial annoyance—wishing, with a deep, aching desire, that he could quarrel with you about it just once more.

He kicked off his sneakers, setting them carefully amongst the rest of his now lonely footwear. For a moment, he stood there, hesitant, almost willing to call out your name, hoping against hope that you might answer from the bedroom or kitchen, your voice cutting through the oppressive silence that now smothered the apartment. But he knew better. He moved forward with heavy steps, not even bothering to put on his house slippers. The silence that greeted him as he wandered further inside was a deafening reminder of what he had lost. You were gone, and with you, the vibrant energy that had once filled these walls had vanished too.

The living room—once a collage of your combined tastes—was now stripped of the personal touches that made it home. The furniture remained, the couch where you both had laughed and argued, the coffee table marked with rings from careless mugs of tea during lazy mornings. Yet, all the little decorations, the framed art you insisted on hanging, the plants you’d tried so hard to keep alive—they had all disappeared with you. The emptiness was jarring, like a canvas half-painted and abruptly abandoned, leaving every wall and surface barren, the once warm and cozy atmosphere now reduced to a cold, unfamiliar space.

By the time Jeongin reached the bedroom, the last thread of his fragile composure snapped. The bed—where countless memories had been woven—was stripped down to its bare mattress, the sheets gone. The framed photographs of the two of you were turned face down on the bedside table, as if you couldn’t bear to look at them one last time. His eyes moved to the corner where your ridiculously large collection of stuffed animals had once spilled over, crowding half of the bed. That too was empty now. An overwhelming wave of loss washed over him, dragging him to his knees. 

Jeongin's breath came out in shaky gasps as he looked around the hollow shell of what had been your shared sanctuary. You were truly gone. Though he had been the one to end things between you, a decision made in a moment of confusion and pride, he was still hopelessly, painfully in love with you. The realization of his own foolishness crashed over him with unbearable weight, suffocating him in the silence that was once filled with your laughter, your presence, and your love.

Jeongin couldn’t summon a shred of resentment toward you, even if he tried. He understood, all too painfully, that everything that had unraveled between you over the past year was nothing but a sorrowful consequence of your grief. You had once been a soul overflowing with light, always searching for the silver lining amidst the clouds, a spirit who could find a glimmer of hope even in the darkest of times. You, who would often conspire with his mischievous best friend, Seungmin, forming a relentless duo to tease him until he’d feign a pout, forcing you to shower him with kisses until he laughed again. You, who came home every evening brimming with stories about the children you counseled at the school, your eyes alight with passion and care for each of them. All that Jeongin had loved so deeply about you seemed to have been buried alongside your sister, Nari, and this loss was a truth he still grappled with, even now.

As he crawled onto the empty, cold bed that had once been a warm sanctuary for both of you, Jeongin curled into himself, his body folding inward as if trying to shield himself from the harsh reality. His sobs came in ragged waves, tearing through him so violently that he trembled, his breath hitching with each shaky inhale. He missed you more than words could convey—he missed everything about you. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, its tones shifting with your moods: soft and lyrical when merely amused, and loud, unrestrained when joy truly overwhelmed you. He missed those sounds, the ones that used to fill this now desolate space with life and love.

He missed the lazy afternoons you'd spend together, brainstorming new exercises for his music therapy sessions. Those moments would often devolve into impromptu concerts, filled with your carefree, barefoot dancing across the living room floor and his voice following your lead, blending into a harmony of shared happiness. It was in those moments that everything felt right in the world, where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in your own little universe of melodies and movements. He missed those afternoons like one misses the warmth of the sun after too many days of rain.

He missed teasing you in those quiet moments when you were deeply focused, often catching you sticking your tongue out ever so slightly—a quirk of concentration that never failed to endear him. He’d gently pinch it between his fingers, earning himself a mildly exasperated huff as you’d swat his hand away. But he knew that a smile would inevitably creep up on your lips, and you’d turn away to hide it, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and affection. It was the kind of simple, tender moment that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond, a bond that now felt irreparably severed.

Every corner of this home whispered memories of you, and he was haunted by them all—the good, the bad, the ones that made him laugh, and especially those that made him cry. Your absence left a void that nothing could fill, a hollow silence where there had once been laughter and love. And even though he knew it was your grief that had driven a wedge between you, he couldn’t help but wish he could find a way back to you, to the person you used to be, and to the love that once made him feel whole.

The night that shattered your world was meant to be a day of celebration: your younger sister Nari’s high school graduation. Jeongin could still see you in his mind's eye that morning, almost vibrating with pure, uncontainable joy. Your eyes were bright, brimming with excitement, and your smile—so wide and beautiful—tugged at his heart each time it graced your lips. Nari was the center of your universe, your pride, your joy, your true soulmate in a world that often felt uncertain and cold. You had been more than just a sister to her; you had been her guardian, her comforter, her everything. You were the one who took on the weight of raising her through the chaotic turmoil of your parents' messy divorce, providing stability where there was none. 

Jeongin could recall countless times Nari would recount how you shielded her from the constant, venomous arguments that echoed through your childhood home. Despite your own young age, you found ways to distract her, to pull her out of the chaos—whether it was with whispered jokes or made-up games that filled her mind with something brighter than the screaming. To Nari, you were a star, someone who had hung the moon just for her. She often spoke with a mix of awe and adoration about the afternoons you both spent sneaking into the little ice cream shop on the way home from school, spending hours laughing over melting cones until you were sure your mother had left for work. 

Jeongin also remembered the quiet, tender moments he would witness after you had graduated and moved out. Nights when Nari would sleep over, curled up beside you, as if you were her very own safe haven in a world that could be so unforgiving. There was a beauty in how you held her close, how you seemed to provide her with an anchor when everything else felt adrift. Yet, no relationship, no matter how deeply cherished, is without its storms. For as vividly as Jeongin could remember the soft, loving moments, he could just as clearly recall the bitter weeks leading up to Nari's graduation—weeks marked by harsh words and heated arguments.

You and Nari shared many things—your fierce loyalty, your protective instincts—but perhaps most notably, the sharp edge of your words. When tempers flared, both of you possessed a mercilessly cutting tongue that could lash out with a force that left deep, stinging wounds. Jeongin hated those fights, hated the cruel things you would shout at each other in the heat of the moment, words that cut so deeply and yet meant nothing once the anger faded. The conflict had started when Nari began dating an older guy who had already graduated. Neither you nor Jeongin liked him, sensing the danger in his recklessness, his penchant for illegal activities that threatened to drag your sister down a path she wasn't prepared for. But Nari, stubborn and convinced she had found the love of her life, refused to listen. The tension between you both grew unbearable, each argument driving another wedge between you and your beloved sister, and Jeongin could do nothing but stand helplessly on the sidelines, watching as she slowly pushed you away.

The real fracture came on what should have been a night of celebration. Nari was supposed to have dinner with you and Jeongin to celebrate her graduation. She promised to meet you both, to share in the joy of her achievement, but instead, she turned off her phone and ran off with her boyfriend to a party that everyone knew would be dangerous. For hours, you and Jeongin called and texted, reaching out to everyone who might have known where she was, each unanswered ring heightening the tension, every minute stretching into a painful eternity. 

And then, the call came—the one that brought your entire world crashing down. Nari had been found dead inside her boyfriend’s car. Both were intoxicated when he decided to drive, his recklessness steering them straight into a tree. The impact killed them both instantly. 

Jeongin would never forget the sound that tore through you in that moment, a wail of agony so deep and raw it seemed to shatter the very air around you. It was a sound that would forever echo in his heart, a haunting melody of a love lost too soon and a pain that could never be soothed.

The piercing sound of Jeongin's phone ringing in his back pocket cut through the thick, oppressive fog of memories that had been drowning him ever since he stepped into the cold, empty apartment that was once alive with the warmth of your shared moments. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of his own heartbreak, his face still wet with a cascade of tears that seemed endless. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, letting it fade away into the void of everything else that felt lost to him. But something compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The screen flashed with a name: Chan. 

Jeongin’s first instinct was to let it ring out. He wasn’t sure he could bear the gentle, pity-laden concern he knew he would hear in Chan’s voice. The idea of facing someone else’s worry, of being forced to articulate the emptiness clawing at his chest, felt like too much. But he also knew that Chan wasn’t just calling for the sake of it—he was worried. Maybe that thought, the notion that someone still cared enough to reach out, was what finally convinced Jeongin to answer. With a shaky breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” His voice came out rough and broken, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass, a hoarse rasp that even he barely recognized. On the other end, there was a sharp intake of breath, a small hitch that spoke volumes, followed by the sound of Chan clearing his throat in that awkward, nervous way he had when he didn’t know how to approach a delicate subject.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Chan’s voice was gentle, tentative, as if afraid that anything more might cause Jeongin to shatter completely. The simple question, so innocuous yet loaded with care, brought fresh tears to Jeongin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his composure, not wanting to add more weight to Chan’s worry.

“As well as I can be...everything is gone.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, sinking like stones into the silence that followed. There was a sigh on the other end, deep and empathetic, filled with an understanding that was both comforting and unbearable.

“I’ll stop by later, yeah?” Chan’s offer came with a note of encouragement, trying to lift the heavy blanket of despair. “I can bring Minho so he can cook you some food, and we can figure out what comes next.” There was kindness in his words, an attempt to pull Jeongin from the pit he’d found himself in, but the weight pressing on Jeongin’s chest didn’t budge, didn’t ease in the slightest.

“Maybe another time, Channie, thank you,” Jeongin murmured, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been running a losing race against his own emotions. “I think I just need a few days alone.” The silence that stretched between them after was telling, thick with Chan’s unspoken disapproval. Jeongin could almost see the frown on his friend’s face, the way he’d be chewing on his lip, holding back what he really wanted to say.

Eventually, Chan spoke again, his tone carefully measured, almost as if he were walking on eggshells. “Right. Um, hey...Felix wanted to pay Y/N a visit to make sure everything’s alright and to help with the moving. The problem is, none of us really know where they moved, and we thought that maybe they might’ve told you or something?”

The mention of your name was like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of the knife that had already been embedded in his heart. Jeongin’s breath caught, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to spill over once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay composed, to not break apart all over again.

“No,” he sighed after a moment, rolling onto his back and staring up at the empty, featureless ceiling that seemed to stretch on like an abyss. “I thought you guys would’ve known... but maybe Y/N needs some time alone for a while too. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

The words felt hollow, a brittle hope that tasted more like ash on his tongue, but it was all he could offer. And in the silence that followed, Jeongin could only listen to the faint sound of Chan’s breathing, the weight of their shared helplessness settling in like a cold, unwelcome presence in the room.

Jeongin had clung to a fragile hope that, in time, you would reach out to the circle of friends who had once been your shared lifeline. He never imagined that you would confide in him directly—he knew all too well that the pain of his departure still festered like an open wound. You had made it painfully clear how much you resented him for breaking things off when you needed him most. He could still hear your voice, raw with anger and hurt, echoing in his mind as you stormed out of the apartment for the last time.

But never in his darkest nightmares had he expected you to vanish completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. There wasn't even a whisper of your whereabouts, not the faintest trace left behind to hint at where you might have gone. It was as if you had been erased from existence. When you left, you didn't just walk out of Jeongin's life—you walked away from everything that had tied you to this place. You resigned from your job as a school counselor, the one located just a short distance from Jeongin’s apartment where you had once found solace in guiding young lives through their own turmoil. Your phone number had changed, your social media accounts lay abandoned and untouched, gathering digital dust like forgotten relics of a past life.

For what felt like an eternity, each member of your once tightly-knit group of friends wore the weight of worry like a second skin, tirelessly searching for any sign of you, some confirmation that you were still out there, somewhere, still breathing. Nights were spent in hushed conversations and whispered theories, each one more desperate than the last, wondering if you were even alive. The silence you left in your wake was deafening, a void that consumed every bit of hope they tried to hold onto.

Yet, as the months dragged on and there was still no word—no signal, no letter, not even a single fleeting message—Jeongin and the others were forced to confront a harsh new reality. The absence of your presence became a palpable thing, a hollow emptiness that settled in their chests. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to understand that they might never see you again. And in that painful understanding, they had no choice but to piece together their broken hearts and try, however feebly, to move forward. 

But even as they moved on, a part of Jeongin remained anchored in that lingering silence, waiting for the day it would finally break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eight months had passed since you vanished without a word, leaving behind a void that swallowed everything and everyone you once knew. Jeongin found himself seated on a low stool in the center of his sunlit office, a space designed to cradle broken spirits. The room was filled with warmth, the soft, earth-toned walls bathed in a gentle, golden glow that made it feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos. Around him, cushions were scattered like islands of comfort, and the soft hum of a guitar rested against his body, its strings vibrating gently with each subtle shift of his calloused fingers.

In front of him, a small group sat in a circle, each person a vessel of silent sorrow. Some had their eyes shut tight, trying to shut out the world, while others stared ahead, their gazes distant, lost in the labyrinth of their own pain. Today’s session was centered around grief—a familiar theme that Jeongin had come to understand all too well. His eyes swept over the group, his expression soft and understanding, a silent invitation for them to share their burdens. Directly across from him, a young woman who had recently lost her mother sat rigid, her shoulders taut as bowstrings, her fingers anxiously picking at the frayed edge of her sleeve. Beside her, an elderly man kept his gaze fixed on his wrinkled hands, folded so tightly in his lap it seemed as if he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go.

Jeongin's fingers began to dance over the guitar strings, coaxing out a few gentle notes that floated through the room like a soft breeze on a warm day. The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—tender and soothing, a soft hand reaching out in the enveloping darkness. It was a song he had crafted with your help, your voice whispering in his mind, guiding the melody with your mesmerizing ideas and gentle critiques. He tried not to think of you now, of the countless hours you'd spent together creating this very piece, but the memory lingered like a ghost.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that barely rose above the delicate strumming. “Breathe in... and out. Feel the music as it moves through you.” His voice was smooth and warm as he began to sing, threading through the air like a comforting embrace. The lyrics were a balm for weary souls, speaking of finding peace amid the storm, of a quiet place where one could lay down their burdens. He watched the room with quiet intent, observing as the music began to weave its subtle magic.

The young woman’s shoulders, once so tense, began to loosen ever so slightly, her breath easing into a more natural rhythm. The elderly man’s grip on his hands softened, his fingers unclenching as if the melody had given him permission to let go, if only for a moment. Jeongin’s heart ached as he shifted the melody into a new key, a hint of melancholy now woven into the notes. His voice leaned into the emotion, allowing it to crack and falter in just the right places, like a mirror reflecting the fractures of a breaking heart.

He knew the power of those small imperfections—the way a slight fracture in the music could resonate with the cracks in a person’s soul, giving them the courage to confront their own pain. The room felt heavy with unspoken sorrow, yet somehow lighter, too, as if each note was drawing out a little of the darkness from within. And as he continued to sing, Jeongin allowed himself to feel the weight of his own grief, letting it pour into the song, knowing that sometimes, in the quiet beauty of shared pain, there was a kind of healing.

Moments later, a soft sob broke the fragile silence. The young woman's face crumpled as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets that caught the light. Jeongin’s heart ached for her, a deep, familiar pain unfurling in his chest. His mind flashed back to countless moments where he had seen that same expression etched across your own face—the anguish, the vulnerability. But he didn’t stop playing. Instead, he allowed the melody to swell, his fingers coaxing the guitar strings through the dark waters of sorrow and guiding them back toward a glimmer of hope, like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his voice a soft, comforting undertone to the music. “There’s no need to hold back here.” His words were a gentle invitation, a permission to release the emotions that had been held back for far too long. And as if on cue, the room filled with the raw sounds of grief—soft, stifled sobs, muffled cries, the quiet sniffles of those who had long forgotten how to weep openly. Jeongin continued to play, his music becoming a vessel for their pain, a safe harbor where tears could flow without shame or judgment. 

Across the circle, he caught a glimpse of the elderly man, his head bowed low, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words of the song. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to ward off a memory too painful to face. Jeongin’s gaze softened, and he let the melody shift, his fingers moving with practiced ease into something softer, gentler—like a lull after the fury of a storm. Each note was deliberate, a quiet caress to soothe the raw edges of the room's collective sorrow. He watched as the weight of grief began to lift, ever so slightly, and the room took a deep breath, exhaling the heaviness that had clung to them like a shadow.

When the final note faded into the stillness, Jeongin let the silence settle, heavy but not suffocating. He set his guitar down gently, his eyes meeting each person’s in turn, offering a silent acknowledgment of their pain. “Thank you for sharing this space with me,” he said, his voice a soft balm even as his own heart bore the scars of past regrets. Too often did Jeongin lose sleep over how he, despite his profession, had failed to help you through your own grief. “Grief is heavy, but together, we can carry it, even if just for a moment.”

The young woman wiped at her tears, her face still etched with the rawness of her emotions, but in her eyes, there was a faint spark—a glimmer of relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she felt a little less alone. The elderly man’s shoulders sagged, a heavy breath escaping his lips, as though a burden had been lifted, if only for a moment. Jeongin offered a small, gentle smile, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke of understanding and quiet encouragement. He picked up his guitar again, fingers brushing against the strings with a familiar, comforting touch.

“How about we end with something light?” he suggested, strumming a few upbeat chords, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Maybe a song that reminds us of hope. Even when it’s hard to see, it’s always there… waiting for us.” His words hung in the air like a promise, a tender reminder that there was light even in the darkest of places.

And so, with his voice soft but steady, Jeongin led them into another song—one that spoke of healing, of finding strength in the most shattered places, and of a quiet, enduring joy that could bloom even in the darkest seasons of life. This was a song Jeongin had written and composed in the wake of your absence, in the silence that followed your sudden departure. It was a song born of hope, crafted in those long months of not knowing, a song he had always dreamed of sharing with you. And as he sang, he let that hope fill the room, weaving through the notes, a quiet, resilient thread that held the promise of brighter days.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the group therapy session had officially ended, but Jeongin's office was still filled with the quiet shuffling of his patients gradually making their way out. This wasn't unusual; some of them often lingered, seeking a few more moments to connect or share their thoughts, and Jeongin never minded. He found these moments invaluable—an opportunity to touch base, to offer a final bit of encouragement or reassurance. 

As Jeongin turned to watch the last patient leave, he was surprised to find his friend Changbin leaning against the doorframe. Changbin’s muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it only grew wider when Jeongin’s gaze finally met his. "Bin," Jeongin greeted with a slight bow, his dimples appearing as he returned his friend's smile. He moved toward his desk on the opposite end of the room, a space that served as both his office and a therapy room within the clinic.

Without waiting for an invitation, Changbin followed him, settling himself comfortably into the leather chair meant for Jeongin. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jeongin let out a small huff of amusement at his friend's antics. He took a seat in one of the smaller chairs intended for his patients, his gaze fixed on Changbin. "What are you doing here?" Jeongin finally asked, watching his friend lounging back in the chair, hands interlocked casually behind his head.

Changbin's playful demeanor slowly shifted, his eyes losing their mischievous spark as they settled into something more serious. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on Jeongin's desk, the sudden shift in atmosphere making Jeongin's heart pick up a little in pace. He tried to keep his expression soft, maintaining a small smile even as he braced himself for whatever Changbin had come to say.

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence as Changbin seemed to struggle with his words, his brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You know how Yongbok and Hannie wanted to have a joint celebration for their birthdays this Friday, right?" Jeongin's brows knit together in confusion; he hadn’t expected such a mundane topic. Still, he nodded, waiting for the real reason behind Changbin's visit.

"Well, everything will be pretty much the same... but we wanted to tell you this before you showed up." Changbin paused, his worried eyes meeting Jeongin's increasingly anxious gaze. After a deep breath, he continued, "Y/N moved back here a little over a week ago and reached out to us almost immediately. We helped them settle back down, and we've been spending some time with them, catching up on everything. Yongbok and Hannie wanted them to be included in their birthday celebration, but we also wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're okay with that first."

Jeongin felt his entire world tilt on its axis, Changbin's words crashing into him like a wave he hadn’t braced for. A million questions stormed through his mind, so fast and furious that he couldn’t quite grasp a single one. "Wait." His hand shot up, signaling his need for a pause as he shifted forward, perching on the edge of his chair. His voice, tinged with betrayal and hurt, spilled out in a rushed breath, "What do you mean Y/N moved back here a week ago? Why am I just learning about this now?"

A look of guilt shadowed Changbin's face, his expression softening with regret. "Y/N asked us not to tell you for a little bit because they weren't ready to handle it yet... but now that everything's settled, they have a new job and everything—Y/N is ready to meet with you if you'd like." He hesitated, and a flicker of panic widened his eyes as he quickly added, "But you didn't hear that last part from me. Y/N wanted to be the one to reach out at some point today or tomorrow."

The silence that followed was heavy, all-consuming, wrapping around Jeongin like a thick fog. He struggled to wrap his mind around the news of your return, the idea of seeing you again so unexpectedly unsettling. The weight of your absence, the questions left unanswered, all resurfaced in that single moment, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face.

Jeongin didn't quite know how to feel about you moving back into town after leaving him without so much as a goodbye. The news of your return stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one more complicated than the last. On one hand, he understood your reasons for leaving—the desperate need to escape from everything that reminded you of your younger sister, Nari, and the weight of your relationship with him, which had grown heavy with grief and unresolved pain. He could see why you had to flee, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to every corner of the town like shadows that wouldn't let you breathe. 

But understanding didn't erase the sting of abandonment. Jeongin couldn't ignore the countless sleepless nights he’d endured, his mind spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He thought back to the moments when your relationship had still felt beautiful and safe, long before it had quietly begun to crumble beneath the weight of tragedy. In truth, he realized, the love between you had started to fray the very moment you received the devastating news of Nari’s fatal accident. It had unraveled slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what once was. By the time he officially ended things, the love you shared had already been gone, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

For months after you left, Jeongin had nearly driven himself to madness, caught in a vicious cycle of regret and self-blame. Every waking moment was spent agonizing over all the different ways he might have pulled you out of your grief. Could he have said something different, done something more? Could he have been more patient, more understanding? He had replayed these thoughts over and over, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. There was a time when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection without being reminded of his failure—his inability to be the anchor you needed in the storm of your sorrow. He blamed himself for your sudden departure, believing that if he had fought for you a little harder, if he had held on just a bit longer, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Slowly, though, Jeongin had begun to emerge from the shadows of his own grief. He had started to come to terms with the loss—not just of Nari, whom he had loved deeply through you, but also the loss of the future he had imagined with you by his side. He’d begun to accept that his own heartbreak, mixed with the suffocating weight of guilt, was something he needed to release in order to move forward. Jeongin had finally allowed himself to realize that in the grand scheme of things, staying by your side would have meant losing himself in the process, trying to bring back a version of you that had vanished the day Nari did. He’d come to understand that you were never going to be the same person again, and neither was he.

And now, just when he was starting to find a semblance of peace, you chose this moment to step back into his life. It felt like the ground he had just managed to steady himself on was beginning to shake once more. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was ready to face you again, to reopen wounds that were only just beginning to scar over. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—a hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity—about what this new chapter could bring. But whatever it was, it left him feeling unsettled, standing on the precipice of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

As his mind continued to swirl with a torrent of thoughts, Jeongin was startled by the bitterness that began to simmer beneath the surface of his heart. The resentment was unexpected, an emotion so potent that it almost frightened him. It clawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. But as his gaze lifted, his eyes locked with Changbin's, and he saw the concern etched in his friend's face. The anxiety in Changbin's sincere eyes was unmistakable, quietly tracking the cascade of emotions that flickered across Jeongin's vulnerable features like a storm passing through. 

Despite the sharp sting of betrayal—the feeling of being kept in the dark by his closest friends, who had not only hidden your return from him but also lied to him so they could spend time with you—Jeongin found a small measure of solace in Changbin’s quiet empathy. It was as if Changbin's presence anchored him, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t navigating these turbulent waters alone. In that brief moment, Jeongin’s chaotic thoughts cleared enough for him to take a deep, steadying breath. He slumped back into his chair, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, suddenly feeling the weight of his own exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, heavy with the burden of emotions he could no longer ignore.

"I don’t know if I’ll be ready to meet with Y/N before the party," Jeongin confessed in a low murmur meant only for Changbin’s ears. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, a raw and tender ache that clung to every word. He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind. "But I’m not going to stand in the way of Y/N joining the birthday party—especially since it’s not my place to decide that. I’ll still be there, and I want to be as civil as possible. So, please, don’t let anyone make it more awkward than it needs to be, or I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it."

His voice trembled by the end, his courage wavering as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Changbin's once more. There was a flicker of something fragile there, something almost hopeful, despite the tangled mess of his emotions. Changbin nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips, a small gesture of gratitude and understanding. He stood up, moving closer to lay a firm, reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder—a rare show of affection, knowing how Jeongin tended to shy away from touch, especially when his emotions were laid bare like this.

"I’ll talk to the boys," Changbin promised, his voice steady, grounding. It was the most he could offer in that moment, aware of how delicate the situation was. 

With that, Changbin turned and quietly exited Jeongin's office, leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, heavy with the weight of everything he was yet to fully comprehend. Jeongin remained seated, lost in the labyrinth of his own complicated emotions—anger, sadness, regret, and something else, something almost like a glimmer of hope—all swirling together in a chaotic dance that he had no idea how to untangle.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In the three days leading up to the eagerly awaited joint birthday party on Friday—an event hosted by Chan for Felix and Jisung—Jeongin found himself ensnared in a relentless spiral of anxiety and anticipation. The looming prospect of encountering you after nearly a year of absence gnawed at him with a persistence that bordered on torment. He grappled with a thousand imagined scenarios, each one an intricate tapestry of potential outcomes and emotional landmines. The uncertainty was a constant, unsettling presence in his life.

Jeongin’s small apartment, once shared with you, had become a labyrinth of memories and regrets. He often wandered its confines, the soft thud of his footsteps a mournful echo of the unease that had taken residence in his chest. The apartment seemed to sigh with each step he took, as if mourning the lost echoes of a time when you had been there. Despite his efforts to bury himself in work, the thought of you lingered like an unwelcome shadow, a constant undercurrent that refused to be ignored. He would catch himself staring at his phone, repeatedly re-reading the message you had sent him just hours after Changbin’s visit—a message that had become both a lifeline and a tormentor.

Your text, which read: 

Hey, Jeongin. It’s been a while. I know I left without much of an explanation and cut off contact... I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually. But I wasn’t in the best place back then, and I needed time to figure things out on my own. I’m back in town now, and I’d like to talk sometime if you’re open to it. No pressure—I just feel like there are a lot of things that were left unsaid between us. Take care!

Every time Jeongin read these words, a storm of emotions would churn within him. The initial formality of your greeting felt like a cold draft from a distant past, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between you. The passage of time loomed large, a reminder of the endless stretch of days that had passed since your sudden disappearance. He was struck by a poignant blend of nostalgia and pain, the abruptness of your departure a constant reminder of how unfinished your story had been.

Your apology, though a balm of sorts, stirred a complicated mix of relief and frustration within him. On one hand, it acknowledged the hurt you had caused, but on the other, it left a multitude of unresolved questions hanging in the air. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you sever all contact? Jeongin understood that you were not in a good place and needed space, but that understanding did little to soothe the sting of abandonment he felt. The sense of being left in the dark, coupled with a profound sadness over his inability to help you, left him grappling with a blend of guilt and anger.

The mention of wanting to talk now jolted him, a surge of conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. He was torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of reopening old wounds. The prospect of addressing the myriad of things left unsaid between you brought with it a flood of memories—regrets, unresolved issues, and a yearning for closure. Each re-reading of your message plunged him deeper into a whirlpool of complicated thoughts and emotions, the turbulence of his feelings both paralyzing and consuming.

Ultimately, Jeongin found himself unable to craft a suitable response, and so he chose silence. His decision not to reply was one shrouded in uncertainty, a choice that left him questioning whether it was the right one. The silence that followed was both a refuge and a torment, a delicate balance between preserving his own peace and the unresolved echo of your return.

The night of the party arrived under a canopy of crisp, clear sky, the stars shimmering with an almost mocking brilliance. Jeongin drifted through the evening like a specter, his senses overwhelmed by a world that seemed too bright, too noisy, and far too indifferent to his turmoil. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a chaotic jumble of discarded outfits—each one cast aside with a frustrated sigh and a sense of resignation. The fabric of his clothes lay strewn about like the remnants of a battle fought and lost against his own anxiety. Nothing felt right, and the more he tried, the more he was convinced that nothing ever would.

Eventually, he settled on a modest ensemble—simple, unobtrusive, and devoid of any hint of personal flair. As he dressed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and what he saw was a stranger staring back—an image of confusion and trepidation. He attempted a smile, one that was supposed to be confident and reassuring, but it fell flat, a mere shadow of what he hoped to project. By the time he arrived at Chan's place, his nerves were a live wire, sparking and fizzing with every heartbeat.

The apartment, already abuzz with the lively hum of music and the warm murmur of laughter, was suffused with the rich, inviting aroma of a feast. Jeongin took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping into the vibrant chaos. Felix, ever the beacon of warmth, was the first to greet him. His smile was a radiant crescent, eyes sparkling with the playful twinkle of a galaxy etched upon his cheeks and nose. Felix enveloped Jeongin in a tight, enthusiastic hug, and Jeongin could almost gauge the number of drinks Felix had indulged in by the exuberance of the embrace. As he disentangled himself from the fervent welcome, he was met with a slew of half-hidden concern and reassuring smiles that nearly suffocated him with their well-meaning pity.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the counter was a tableau of gifts—boxes and bags for Felix and Han piled high in cheerful disarray. Jeongin added his own contribution to the heap and then sought refuge in the cool solace of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water to soothe his parched throat. But then, as if fate itself had conspired to make this night even more unbearable, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.

You had been laughing lightly, a melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air, but upon spotting Jeongin, you froze mid-step. The sight of you was like a flash of brilliance in an otherwise dim landscape. You looked as radiant as ever, with a glimmer of the light that had once illuminated your eyes returning to them—a light Jeongin had once lost himself in with reckless abandon. At that moment, the gravity of his own emotions hit him with a brutal clarity. Despite having ended the relationship, he realized with a heavy heart that he was still desperately, achingly in love with you. Even after nearly a year of separation, the feelings remain undiminished.

You slowly composed yourself, though your body remained taut with the remnants of surprise. The smile you gave him was both disarming and electrifying, sending a shiver through him. With a polite bow, you greeted him, your voice soft and warm as you said, “I’m really glad to see you again, Jeongin.” The way you spoke his name made his knees feel weak, the sheer depth of his longing crystallizing in that single, familiar sound. He had not fully grasped how much he had yearned to hear his name on your lips again until that very moment.

Unable to find words, Jeongin merely bowed in return, his smile shy and tremulous. He watched you turn and leave the kitchen with a hurried pace, your earlier purpose forgotten. The realization dawned on him that he might need more than just water to navigate the emotional maelstrom of the evening.

Chan's party was a sanctuary of familiarity, a gathering of a close-knit circle of friends who had weathered years together. The night had unfolded in a haze of laughter and lively banter, and now, as Jeongin found himself pleasantly intoxicated from the endless rounds of drinking games, he couldn't help but revel in the camaraderie that had once again enveloped the room. It felt undeniably comforting to have everyone gathered under one roof again, especially you.

The past year had cast a shadow over the group's dynamic, your absence an unspoken void that lingered between them, palpable despite the silence. Yet now, with your return, the room seemed to breathe with a renewed vitality. It was as though the very air had shifted, carrying with it a sense of ease that had been sorely missed. Jeongin observed you from a distance, his gaze drawn to you as you reengaged with the group. He noted with quiet awe how you moved through conversations with an effortless grace, the same grace that had once been your hallmark.

It was apparent that you had emerged from the clutches of your grief, a revelation that stirred a profound admiration within Jeongin. The way you laughed, genuinely and freely, was a testament to your resilience. Though you had left without a word, seeking solace far away, you had returned with a newfound lightness. The laughter that now danced from your lips was a melody Jeongin had missed, a balm for the aching absence that had haunted him throughout the past year.

Jeongin watched with a bittersweet smile as you engaged with everyone—how your eyes crinkled at the corners when joy sparked within you, how they would occasionally meet his gaze with a fleeting, shy acknowledgment before darting away, leaving behind a gentle blush. Each moment was a delicate brush stroke on the canvas of your reunion, painting a picture of someone who had found a way to heal and reconnect.

The sight of you dancing playfully with Han to a song you both claimed had been crafted just for you was particularly poignant. Your movements were a symphony of carefree delight, a stark contrast to the somber image Jeongin had harbored of you. In these shared, joyful moments, as you reintegrated into the tapestry of old friendships, Jeongin felt his heart tugged with an intensity that defied explanation.

Though the effects of alcohol swirled around him, amplifying emotions and blurring the edges of reality, Jeongin knew that the depth of his feelings for you transcended any inebriation. The love he harbored was as real and potent as ever, a force that no amount of alcohol could replicate or diminish. He was falling for you once more, each glance and shared laugh reaffirming the connection that had never truly faded, only waiting for the right moment to reawaken.

Despite the undeniable truth of his lingering affection for you, Jeongin remained uncertain of how to navigate these turbulent emotions. For now, he chose to keep his feelings veiled in silence, retreating into the solitude of his thoughts. The haze of confusion was abruptly dispelled by the firm, reassuring weight of Minho’s hand settling on his shoulder, grounding him in the present moment.

Minho, his eyes glazed with the soft blur of alcohol—though not nearly as intoxicated as Felix and Han—clapped his hands together, a signal for attention. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, cut through the ambient noise of music and conversation. "Guys! Guys!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the increasingly inebriated crowd. The room fell into a collective hush, eager eyes fixed on Minho as he continued with a grin that spoke of mischief. "As per Yongbok’s request, we’re about to kick off a game of UNO! But there’s a twist: every time someone lands a Plus Four card, we all take a shot. And the loser—well, they get a revolting concoction of mixed alcohols and juices!"

The announcement ignited a burst of enthusiastic cheers, the crowd’s energy crackling with anticipation. Laughter and playful shoves accompanied the clumsy shuffle to the circular coffee table at the heart of the living room. Jeongin, with a flicker of hope in his heart, watched as you navigated the sea of friends. His wish to have you beside him was met with a hint of disappointment as you chose a seat directly across from him, nestled between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The seating arrangement became a familiar circle of camaraderie and chaos: You directly across from Jeongin, Seungmin to your right, Chan to Seungmin’s right, Felix to Chan’s right, Jeongin to Felix’s right, Minho to Jeongin’s right, Han to Minho’s right, Changbin to Hyunjin’s right, and Hyunjin bridging the gap between you and Changbin. The table soon overflowed with the raucous sound of drunken laughter, mischievous plotting, and playful bickering.

Jeongin found himself in an unexpected streak of triumph, his luck seemingly endless as he conquered each round of UNO. The others began to whisper suspicions of cheating, their playful accusations accompanied by slurred speech and tipsy frustration. Chan’s voice, tinged with exasperation, rose above the din. "How is it even possible that you’ve been winning non-stop?" he demanded, his words distorted by a chorus of drinks and Seungmin’s relentless strategy.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, a gesture that had become almost automatic in the face of such claims. Han, who had just suffered the fate of the foul concoction, gagged dramatically as he placed the empty cup down with a groan. The room’s attention shifted to you as you slammed your palm onto the table, a spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. The gesture was a beacon of playful challenge, and it made Jeongin’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Stand up then, if you’re not cheating," you teased, your voice laced with both suspicion and amusement. The room buzzed with agreement, and Jeongin could not suppress the smile that tugged at his lips as he rose to his feet. He had sobered somewhat since the game began, the action feeling less consequential for him than for the others.

Throughout the night, the games were interspersed with moments of easy banter between you and Jeongin, a reminder of the lighthearted days before the heartache had set in. Each playful remark, every shared glance, and the way you laughed at his jokes tugged at him, rekindling memories of warmth and affection. The realization of how deeply he missed the feeling of being in love with you clenched his heart painfully.

As Jeongin turned around slowly to prove his hands were empty, he couldn’t resist a smirk. "You didn’t empty out your pockets," you persisted, your stubbornness both charming and exasperating.

He met your gaze with a playful smirk of his own, the words slipping out before he could fully process their impact. "Come on, baby, don’t be like that," he said, his tone teasing.

The room fell silent in stunned unison, the playful atmosphere abruptly shifting to one of surprise and second-hand embarrassment. The weight of Jeongin’s unintended endearment hung in the air, leaving everyone, including him, to grapple with the sudden shift in the night’s delicate balance.

Jeongin’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from your face, a pallor of shock and disbelief that spoke volumes in the charged silence that followed. The name he had unintentionally let slip—a relic of a time when you were together—seemed to strike a chord deep within you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes revealed a heartache that cut through the pretense of composure you so desperately tried to maintain. The expression of hurt was almost palpable, like a silent scream against the fabric of the night.

You managed to reassemble yourself with a stubborn facade of mischief, your smile a delicate mask that barely concealed the storm within. Your words, though laced with playful banter, seemed to cut through the tension with a sharp edge. "I just think it's unnatural how many times you’ve won," you remarked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Jeongin’s slip-up hung in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to sour the atmosphere of the gathering. Despite your attempt to downplay the incident with a light-hearted quip, the sting of the old nickname echoed like a ghost of past intimacy, making the room feel suddenly foreign and strained. The previously buoyant mood had shifted, leaving behind an undercurrent of unease that neither the laughter nor the playful jabs could dispel.

Jeongin could feel the churning turmoil within him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The game continued around him, but he found himself withdrawing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Each stolen glance, each forced smile, was a reminder of the painful reminder of how things had changed. The night, which had started with such promise, now felt heavy and laden with unresolved emotions.

As the hour grew late and the laughter waned, the group, sensing the shift in energy, collectively decided it was time to call it a night. The revelry that had marked the evening dissolved into a subdued murmur as everyone prepared to leave. For Jeongin, the end of the night came as a relief, though it was tinged with a sense of lingering regret and an unspoken wish for things to be different.

As Jeongin made his way through the dimly lit apartment, exchanging farewells with the departing guests, he caught a fleeting glimpse of you darting out of the building. His heart, already heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions, quickened its pace as he instinctively sought to follow. With an urgency driven by both concern and an aching need to make things right, Jeongin scrambled to retrieve his jacket and pull on his shoes, the night air already beginning to bite at his skin as he hurried after you.

He managed to intercept you just as you stepped out onto the cold street. Your name slipped from his lips before he could catch it, a desperate utterance that hung in the frosty air between you. You paused, your breath visible in the night’s chill, and both of you stood there for a moment, hearts racing in unison. Jeongin's breath came in ragged bursts as he caught up with you, the weight of his impulsive actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Let me walk you home,” Jeongin implored, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The words, simple yet laden with his longing, seemed to hang in the air, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation of your response. Your eyes softened, reflecting a tempest of emotions as they met his, and your lips parted slightly as if struggling to find the right words.

Instead of speaking, you turned and began walking forward, your steps deliberate yet hesitant. Jeongin, interpreting your silence as tacit consent, fell into step beside you. The street stretched out before you, unfamiliar and shadowed, and the air between you was charged with unspoken sentiments and lingering regrets. Walking side by side felt oddly reminiscent of days gone by, a bittersweet echo of times shared with friends, now tinged with the ache of what had been lost.

In the week since Jeongin learned of your return, he had been trapped in a cycle of conflicting emotions. The pangs of missing you, of realizing the depth of his feelings that still burned despite everything, battled with the frustration of your unexplained departure. Each time anger threatened to overwhelm him, guilt swiftly followed, a reminder of the suffering you must have endured. His internal struggle was a storm of longing and resentment, a turbulent sea he had yet to navigate.

As he stole glances at your profile in the dim streetlight, the familiar contours of your face brought an unexpected rush of grief. Memories of your younger sister, Nari, flooded his mind—her laughter, a joyful sound that once filled the air, her enthusiastic embraces that had always greeted him with warmth. Your eyes, once so bright with shared mirth, now seemed dimmed by her absence.

The realization that Nari would never again tackle him in playful greeting, that her laughter would never again ring out, was a heavy burden. It pressed down on Jeongin’s heart, a reminder of the irreplaceable void left behind. The twinkle that once danced in your eyes when you laughed at Nari's jokes was now a distant memory, a reminder of how deeply her loss had affected both of you. As you walked together through the unfamiliar streets, the weight of these lost joys seemed to bear down on Jeongin, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Engulfed in the whirlpool of his own somber reflections, Jeongin barely noticed when you came to a halt before an old, weathered apartment building. Absorbed in his tumultuous thoughts, he continued forward for a few steps, his mind adrift in a sea of regret and longing. It was only when the melodic sound of your giggle reached his ears, a playful echo that cut through the fog of his melancholy, that he realized he was walking alone. With a start, he turned, his face flushing with a sheepish smile as he moved to stand before you.

You were standing there, your knuckles clenched tightly around the strap of your bag, a telltale sign of the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. Your lips were caught between your teeth, a nervous habit that Jeongin had come to know all too well. The sight of your distress mirrored his own internal turmoil, causing his foot to tap restlessly on the pavement as he waited for you to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy shroud that seemed to settle between you.

After a few moments of strained silence, you released a shaky breath and offered him a small, timid smile. "It was good to see you again," you said softly, the words tinged with a trace of the anxiety that laced your voice. It was the same sentiment you had voiced earlier in the night, when you had first reappeared in Chan's kitchen after an eight-month absence.

This time, Jeongin’s response came with a gravity that reflected the depth of your absence. "I’m glad you came back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the months spent apart, yet softened by a flicker of genuine contentment.

Your smile, though hesitant, shone brightly against the backdrop of the night. It was a beacon that pierced through the haze of Jeongin’s heartache, and despite the unresolved tension, he couldn’t help but return it with a warm, albeit uncertain, smile of his own. The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a delicate balance between the urge to bridge the gap and the inability to articulate the depth of your emotions.

As you cast an awkward glance back at the entrance of your apartment, Jeongin understood that you were grappling with the same indecision that plagued him. "This is me," you said, your voice betraying a trace of nervousness as you cleared your throat. "My place is a bit of a distance from our—sorry, your apartment. If you’re comfortable, I can offer you my couch for the night."

Despite the initial reluctance that had gripped him, the prospect of spending more time with you, however fleeting, was too inviting to resist. Jeongin found himself smiling softly, a gesture of acceptance that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Your genuine, wide smile in response seemed to illuminate the night, lifting the veil of uncertainty that had surrounded him. With a renewed sense of hope and a lingering trace of longing, Jeongin followed you inside, each step towards your apartment a tentative step towards mending the fragile thread that connected your hearts.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your new apartment, though modest in size, exudes a quiet charm, nestled in a serene part of town far removed from the familiar streets you once traversed with Jeongin. The moment he crosses the threshold, he is enveloped by a dissonance of emotions—a strange fusion of comfort and estrangement. The space is distinctly different from the apartment you once shared, yet your presence lingers in every corner, making Jeongin feel both intimately connected and like an outsider peering into a world that has shifted just out of reach.

The living room, modestly furnished, reflects a minimalist elegance. A soft, neutral-colored couch rests against the wall, draped with a knitted throw blanket that adds a touch of warmth. This room is a far cry from the eclectic mix of your past home—a space once filled with a vibrant blend of your belongings and his—but it still bears the subtle imprint of your personality. A small shelf brims with books, many titles familiar from your old collection, but new ones have also appeared, whispering of the changes and growth you’ve experienced in your absence. The windowsill cradles a few houseplants, their greenery a delicate contrast to the sprawling flora that once filled your old living space. They are smaller, more contained, reflecting a more subdued chapter of your life.

Jeongin’s gaze drifts to the walls, bare and unadorned, stark in their emptiness. Gone are the framed photos and art prints that once animated every corner of your shared apartment. The absence of pictures—particularly those of the two of you—leaves an unexpected sting, a painful reminder of what has been left behind. Instead, there is a single framed photograph of your younger sister on a side table by the window, surrounded by a cluster of candles. It stands as a quiet tribute, a poignant memorial that tugs at Jeongin’s heartstrings, reminding him of the grief that ultimately drove a wedge between you both.

The apartment is imbued with a subdued quietness, a stark contrast to the lively energy of your former home, where laughter and soft music once intertwined to create a vibrant ambiance. Here, the atmosphere is more solitary, introspective, as if the space has been intentionally crafted as a sanctuary for healing—a refuge from the chaos of the past. A small kitchen table, cluttered with a few empty glasses and a half-read book, suggests many solitary evenings spent with your thoughts, lost in the pages or gazing into the distance, ensnared by memories.

The kitchen itself bears no evidence of the late-night culinary adventures you used to drag him into, those joyous moments of laughter and flour-covered countertops. As Jeongin takes in the scene, he is overwhelmed by a complex weave of emotions—nostalgia for what was, sorrow for what has been lost, and a poignant ache for the version of you who now stands before him. The differences are striking, revealing a careful, deliberate solitude you’ve constructed around yourself in this new space. It feels as though you’ve created a bubble of tranquility, a place where you can breathe freely from the weight of the past, and he wonders if there is still a place for him within it or if you have moved on to a new chapter without him.

The emptiness of your new apartment weighs heavily on him. It’s not merely the physical void but the absence of the vibrant, unfiltered you that he used to know. Standing there, a guest in what might have been his world, Jeongin is acutely aware of how much has changed and how deeply he still yearns for the comfort of what once was, now replaced by the stark reality of what is.

As Jeongin steps into your new apartment, he takes in its subtle details with a blend of curiosity and nostalgia. You move about with a quiet, almost anxious energy, as if the mere act of tidying is a way to manage the fluttering tension between you. Your hands, unsure of their purpose, engage in small, inconsequential tasks: smoothing the corner of the knitted blanket draped over the couch, adjusting the book that rests on the kitchen table, and shifting a houseplant slightly to the left. It is evident that you are aware of his gaze, but you strive to give him space to absorb his surroundings.

The silence stretches until you break it, your voice soft yet resolute. "It's not much, but... it's mine." There’s a delicate balance in your tone, a mixture of pride laced with vulnerability. You glance at him, seeking to gauge his reaction, your eyes reflecting a world of untold emotions. As you move towards the small kitchen area, you open a cabinet and retrieve two glasses. "Do you want some water? Tea? I think I have some wine if you'd prefer that." Your words tumble out in a gentle stream, an attempt to fill the quiet with something tangible, yet they carry an earnestness that reveals your underlying uncertainty about where you both stand.

Jeongin watches you, his gaze softening as he observes the careful grace of your movements—each gesture imbued with a quiet protectiveness, as if you're safeguarding something tender within yourself. The silence deepens for a moment before he responds, his voice subdued and tentative. "Water's fine." It is clear that he is navigating this new terrain with caution, his tone reflective of the delicate balance between past familiarity and present distance. You nod and move towards the fridge, your back turned to him as you pour the water.

Jeongin’s eyes wander around the apartment once more, deliberately avoiding the back of your head as you focus on the task at hand. When you hand him the glass, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver through him. It’s a sensation he’s not quite accustomed to after all this time apart. He accepts the glass with a quiet "thanks," savoring the cool water as it soothes his dry throat. 

"Let’s sit," you suggest, motioning towards the couch. There is a steadiness in your voice that carries a quiet confidence, reminiscent of the times you had managed to ground him amidst the chaos. Jeongin follows you and settles beside you on the couch. The cushions feel foreign and different from those he remembers, amplifying his sense of longing for the comfort of the home you once shared. 

For a brief moment, Jeongin is at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the tangled emotions in his chest. He is unsure where to begin, but you gently ease the tension. "How’s work been?" you inquire, your voice a soothing balm to the heaviness in the room. "Are you still at the same clinic?" 

Grateful for the opening, Jeongin nods. "Yeah, still there. We started a new program recently... working with kids who've been through some really tough stuff. It’s been challenging, but rewarding." He watches as your eyes soften, a sign of the empathy and kindness he’s always admired in you. The sight of your genuine smile, the one he’s missed so dearly, is like a balm on a wound that has long ached. 

"That sounds so nice. You've always been so good with children." Your compliment is heartfelt, and Jeongin feels a pang of longing.

He responds with a light-hearted joke, "That’s more your area of expertise," referring to your work as a school counselor. You chuckle softly, taking a sip of water, and Jeongin senses there’s more you wish to share.

"And... what about everything else? How have you been holding up?" Your question is gentle but probing, and Jeongin’s grip tightens around his glass.

"It’s been... different," he admits. "The apartment feels empty without you there. Like something’s missing."

Jeongin hadn't intended for his words to emerge with such raw intensity, but they tumble out before he can rein them in. He watches as they land upon you, the way your gaze falls and a shadow of sorrow flits across your face. "I'm sorry," you murmur, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room. "For leaving like that. I didn’t know what else to do."

Your apology strikes a chord deep within him, a resonance of shared pain and regret. "I know," he replies softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "I don’t really blame you. We both had to figure things out." The atmosphere between you shifts, the earlier tension giving way to something more tender—like an old wound beginning to mend. 

Jeongin sits beside you on the couch, his nerves stretched taut, a wire humming with unspoken words. His hands are clenched in his lap, a desperate attempt to hold himself together as the silence stretches, thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn to you, to the way you hold your glass of water—fingers wrapped around it as if it were a lifeline, anchoring you to some semblance of normalcy. 

He recognizes that look in your eyes—the one that signals you are about to reveal something profound, something that has been weighing on you. "When I left," you start, your voice so faint it nearly dissolves into the air. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat. He had no clear expectations for the evening, but he can feel that whatever is coming will be laced with pain.

"I didn’t really have a plan," you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I just... needed to get away." He watches as your eyes drift to the water in your glass, your reflection shimmering and distorted. The impulse to reach out and offer comfort is almost overwhelming, but he remains still, his focus entirely on you.

"I ended up halfway across the country," you say, your voice gaining a faint thread of strength. "I reached out to Lily. You remember her, right? From college?" Jeongin nods, a wistful smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. He recalls Lily’s vivacious spirit, her constant care for you, and feels a pang of gratitude that she was there for you in a way he couldn't be.

"She didn’t ask questions; she just told me to come," you add. Jeongin’s heart clenches at the image of you in a strange, distant place, the weight of your grief looming like an oppressive storm. He loathes the thought of you feeling so alone and adrift, needing to travel so far for solace.

"She lives in this tiny coastal town," you continue, your voice lightening slightly as you recall the memory. "For a while, I thought maybe that was what I needed—being somewhere far away from everything." Jeongin can almost visualize it—a serene seaside town where the waves gently erase footprints, a place where time seems to stretch indefinitely, offering a balm for the wounded soul.

Yet, beneath the surface of your words, Jeongin senses an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The coastal retreat, while soothing, evidently fell short of the healing you sought. His heart aches, burdened by the realization that he wasn’t able to provide the support you needed, even as he too was grappling with his own struggles. The distance between your shared past and the present feels vast, and he yearns for a way to bridge that gap, to be the anchor you needed, even though he was floundering himself.

You pause, and Jeongin watches as you swallow hard, the movement of your throat a testament to the weight of your words. "I eventually realized that it wasn't enough," you say, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I needed more help. So, I checked myself into a grief recovery program..." The words falter, and Jeongin feels a tightening in his chest, the emotion reflected in your wavering tone. "A place where people go when they've lost someone and don't know how to keep living."

He stares at you, his vision blurring as he grapples with the magnitude of your suffering. He's known grief, but seeing it through your eyes—so raw, so utterly consuming—is a new experience for him. Guilt crashes over him like a relentless wave. He wasn't there for you. He couldn't help. He didn't even know how to begin.

Jeongin opens his mouth, an apology poised on his lips, but you continue, your voice cutting through the silence with a quiet determination. "There were days I wanted to leave, but I stayed. I wrote a lot. I planted a small garden there, just to feel like I was nurturing something again, you know? And slowly, I started to remember things without feeling like they were completely breaking me."

His hands tremble in his lap, the truth of your words stirring a deep regret within him. He should be happy that you found a way forward, relieved that you began to heal, but instead, he is overwhelmed by the ache of not being there for you—by the realization that he had abandoned you when you needed him most. His eyes search yours, desperate for some sign that you don’t harbor hatred towards him.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ended things when you needed me. I didn’t know how to help you through it, and I—"

You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips. "I didn’t know how to let you help me, either. And I wasn’t ready to accept Nari’s death and move on yet. That’s why I left." Your words settle into the spaces between his ribs, a cold weight pressing heavily on his chest. He wants to explain, to tell you that he was lost too, that he struggled to keep his own head above water while watching you drown. But he stays silent, knowing that this moment belongs to you, just as much as it does to him.

"I needed to find a way to live with the grief," you say softly, "to not let it define every part of me. And maybe I needed to see if I could come back and face everything, including you."

Jeongin’s heart skips at that, a flicker of hope igniting within him. There is a softness in your eyes that he hasn't seen in so long, a hint of something that almost resembles hope. He takes a breath, feeling a slight loosening of the weight of his own regrets. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you—missed this, even if it wasn’t always easy."

You nod, and he sees a myriad of emotions dance across your face—relief, uncertainty, and perhaps the faintest trace of affection. There is much to unpack, many layers to explore, but for now, this moment of quiet honesty, of shared pain and cautious hope, feels like a tentative step towards understanding.

Jeongin notices his hand is closer to yours than he had realized, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to reach out, to touch your skin once more. But he doesn’t. Not yet. For now, he is content to sit beside you, to listen, and to cherish the hope that this—whatever it is—might be the beginning of finding each other again.

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[amoebagrl]

“i wanna be the one you think about at night”

college au!abby anderson x hyper fem!reader

abby keeps seeing this cute girl all over campus, and when she goes to the first lecture in her new class she finally gets to talk to you!! ♡

warnings: none except for abby being whipped for 30 minutes straight

wc: 735

part one of two

an: my first fic on a new blog!! how exciting ♡ so sorry this is so bad, i’m a little nervous to write 😭 also this is alittle loser!abby oops! song is flaming hot cheetos by clairo!!

not proofread!

(basketball!abby created by the lovely @elsweetheart)

grunting, as she sets down her heavy backpack, she sees you standing in the doorway

you’re the mystery girl. her mystery girl.

you’re just walking into the class, anxiously searching for a familiar face when you lock eyes with her. you’d seen abby anderson before, i mean, she’s the captain of your university’s basketball team.

you quickly scanned the room, looking for anyone else you knew, but ultimately decided on taking a seat next to her.

“hi!” you quickly smile and wave, setting down your pink tote bag at the seat right next to hers.

“oh, um hey” she says, freaking out internally “you’re y/n right? i’m abby” she asks, smiling. “yeah, i am” you laugh “you play basketball here, right?” you question

“yeah- um i do. i’m the captain actually” she clears her throat. what. the hell. she knows me?!?? stay calm abby.

“cool! i’ve always wanted to see you guys play but just haven’t really gotten a chance” you admit, sheepishly, toying with the trim of your baby pink sweater

“i mean, we have a game tomorrow night… that’s if you want to come, of course” “really? i’d love to come!” you chirp

“if you’d want to go earlier i could- i could pick you up, like when i’m on my way… like you could watch us warm up and everything. it sounds boring so if you wouldn’t wanna-“ “yes! omg of course that sounds fun!” she freezes for a second, almost shocked at the fact that you’d even want to see her play

“really?” “yeah” you grin. she’s kind of cute you think to yourself

she stands there for a second, and then fumbles for her phone “can i have your number? so i could text you all the times and… stuff” “sure!” you pull out your phone, which has a baby blue case with little bunnies on it, “here” you take her phone, typing in your number and adding your name, with a little ‘♡’ after it

she hands you your phone back, with her contact now saved “so i’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?” “yeah!” you blush, and turn to take out your laptop

that whole afternoon, she stares at your contact in her phone, drafting about 101 texts she doesn’t dare send.

unbeknownst to her, you’re doing the exact same thing.

the next day your phone ‘dings’

abby: hey, is 4:30 alright? i have to get there earlier and stuff

you: yeah that’s perfect! :) this is my dorm btw

*1 attachment*

abby: i’ll see u then

you: see u!! ♡

a heart???? does that mean anything?? she thinks, mind racing.

you panic, checking the time. “ITS ALREADY NOON?? I NEED MORE TIME TO GET READY” you squeal, alerting your roommate, dina, who was in the middle of doing some homework

“oooo getting ready for who??” “you’ll never guess. not in a million years?” “who?!” ellie, dina’s girlfriend, asks sitting up from dina’s bed “um how long have you been here?” you ask the auburn haired girl, startled. “ummm too long. anyways who is it??” “abby anderson.” you say, quietly, almost in a whisper.

“abby… anderson?” she asks, brows furrowed. “yes… sorry els i know you hate her or whatever” you wince “hate is an understatement. did you know what she said to me in freshman gym??” “ellie, please” dina warns, clearly having heard this story plenty of times

“yeah fine” she shrugs, pulling the duvet back over her head.

“okay so where is she taking you??” dina asks, turning to face you. “well… to her game tonight. it’s not a date or anything!” you say, ignoring the brunettes eye roll “that’s very boring. anyways you should wear that new jean skirt you got last week” “i was thinking of wearing that! with what top though? the pink one? “that’s really flowy?” “yeah!” “and then the white sweater over it!”

“dina. you are literally my fairy godmother” she shrugs off your compliment, “i’m just that good” she brags.

you nervously sit on the edge of your bed in the shared dorm, as ellie and dina already made their way to some party

two sharp knocks on your door echo through the room and you quickly sit up and make your way over to the door, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and you turn the knob.

the door swings open, revealing the muscular blonde in front of you.

“wow.” she breaths out

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[captainsophiestark]

No Way To Know For Sure Part 2

Daniel Sousa x Reader

Masterlist - Part 1 - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Also written for @ghostofskywalker as a part 2 to the fic you let me adopt a while ago! I've had this in my drafts since all that AI stuff and I'm happy to have rediscovered and finished it 😄 Hope you like it!

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Now that you've decided to move to LA with Daniel, there's a few loose ends left to tie up in New York.

Word Count: 2,174

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed dramatically as I sared straight ahead out the window, watching all the people bustling around the streets and the familiar, giant buildings hovering over them. I'd been gone for some time now, but New York hadn't changed.

Jarvis, currently in the driver's seat of the car, was positively buzzing, and I could tell he was struggling not to say anything. Even the great city of New York couldn't keep me distracted from all the ridiculous energy he was projecting.

"Alright, Mr. Jarvis, spit it out," I said, at last turning from the window to look at my friend. He glanced at me, lips pursed tight to try and hold back a smile before he had to turn his gaze back to the road.

"I'm sorry, it's just... I must admit, I'm rather excited. Since Mr. Stark has been spending more time in Los Angeles, I've missed seeing all of you here in New York. Having you regularly in Los Angeles as well as Rose and Chief Sousa... well, it will be a delight."

A smile made its way onto my face despite my best effots. I'd wanted Daniel to drive me in to the office this morning to put in my transfer request for the LA office, but he had a meeting with an informant he couldn't move. I hadn't really wanted to resort to Jarvis, only because I knew he wouldn't be able to stay calm about my decision, but now I had to admit I was happy to be here with him.

"It'll be wonderful to get to see more of you too, Mr. Jarvis," I said with a smile. "You, me, Ana, and Daniel should set up a regular double date."

"Oh, that would be lovely!" Jarvis turned to give me a big smile as we at last pulled up in front of the New York SSR. He hopped out and ran around to open my door for me, beating me to the punch of opening it myself, something we'd turned into a bit of a competition. "Ana will be delighted at the idea too, I'm sure."

"Maybe we can even invite Howard," I said, my voice serious even though I was cackling in my head. I got out of the car and stood, smirking at Jarvis' less than enthusiastic expression as I continued. "He can bring along whoever he's brought home with him on any given week."

"That may be the single most horrifying suggestion I've heard in my entire life."

I cackled, clapping Jarvis on the shoulder as I walked past him and towards the entrance to the "telephone company".

"Thanks for the ride! I promise I won't let Howard crash any of our couples' nights, unless he finally gets a girlfriend who sticks around for more than a few weeks."

"At this point in Mr. Stark's life, a few days would be impressive," he called after me. I laughed, then turned back at the door to give Jarvis a smile.

"I'll see you back in LA!"

"I'm looking forward to it!"

I smiled and waved before finally heading through the door and back into the familiar hallways of the New York SSR. Daniel would be picking me up later, after I got everything sorted out for my move, and then who knew when I'd next be back in this place and this city. We had plenty of friends here and the other half of the SSR, so it's not like I'd never see the city again, but for the first time since I'd started working here I had no idea when I'd next be back. I tried not to let it get to me, but stepping into the currently-empty bullpen of the place I'd spent so much time in the last few years drove the knife in a little harder.

I'd intentionally arrived before most of the other agents got here, hoping to avoid a lot of hubub about my transfer request. No matter how nostalgic I felt being here, my decision had been made. I loved Daniel and the life I'd started building with Daniel in LA enough that nothing could make me want to leave it. Not even my favorite pizza place on the way between here and my former apartment.

"Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in."

Of course, I couldn't get away with avoiding Chief Jack Thompson, especially not when I had to turn my transfer request papers in to him. He came striding out of his office, a massive grin on his face as he crossed the bullpen towards me.

"Long time no see, Agent."

"I saw you two weeks ago, Jack."

"Yeah, but in LA. You've been on-loan for a while. I haven't seen you as my agent, in New York, in a long time."

I just rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, enjoy the next half hour then, because as soon as these papers are finalized, I'm officially Daniel's agent."

"Now hold on a minute, I have some serious concerns about you leaving that we need to address before I finalize anything. I mean, is it really appropriate for a chief to be dating one of his own agents? Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me."

"Jack. You are the one who sent me there, you meddling mother hen, with the exact hope that this would happen. I will literally fight you in the middle of the bullpen if you want to use that against me now."

Jack held up his hands. "Alright, relax. Your transfer's basically already finalized, I just need your signature next to mine. Then you can go run off into the sunset with Sousa and leave the greatest city in the world behind like it's nothing."

"Alright, you went to Ithica for college. At least I'm leaving for another interesting city, even if it's not as good."

"At least we can agree on that last part."

I snorted, but I couldn't totally keep a smile off my face either. Jack and I had actually kind of become friends in the past few months, especially in the wake of Daniel leaving, and I was surprised to find a little ping of sadness in my chest at the thought of leaving him behind with the rest of this city. If you'd told me a few years ago I'd be missing Jack Thompson, I would've laughed in your face.

Jack pulled the transfer papers out of a file on the nearest desk where they'd apparently been waiting for me all morning, setting them down in front of me. In turn, I handed him the papers I'd filled out since I last saw him, then glanced at what was in front of me. True to his word, they only needed my signature to be finalized.

"We're gonna miss you around here," he said, his voice unusually serious. I glanced up to find him holding out a pen to me, a small smile on his face. "Seriously."

"...I'm gonna miss you too, Jack."

We held each other's gaze for a few moments, maybe the first time we'd had a sincere exchange in my entire time working here. Finally, he cleared his throat, looking away as I finally took the pen from his hand.

"Alright, that's enough of that sappy crap. You bring a box to clean out your desk? I don't want to have to waste agency time clearing out whatever garbage you left in there before you went to LA."

"Don't worry, I've got a plan for all my leftover trash and scribbled notes I don't need anymore."

"I don't like the way you said that. What do you-"

"Oh, thank goodness!"

I straightened from signing the documents after finishing the last one to find Peggy coming through the doors into the bullpen, looking slightly more frazzled than usual. She shook her head at me as she approached, dropping her stuff at the base of the desk and putting her hands on her hips.

"I thought I'd missed you. I can't believe you were planning to just duck in and duck out this morning. What were you planning to do if Thompson hadn't called me to tell me when you were coming in? Just leave for Los Angeles without a goodbye?"

"Actually, Daniel and I were planning to invite the two of you to dinner tonight for a real goodbye. I'm just trying to avoid causing a scene in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of the SSR's workday."

Peggy and Jack both scoffed, the sounds eerily similar. I raised an eyebrow, but Jack leaned in and snatched the papers off my desk before I could comment.

"Alright, I'm gonna go process these since you don't want to hang around here. By the time you're done with your desk, I'll be done with these."

I nodded, watching Jack's back as he headed back into his office. As soon as he disappeared through the doorway, I turned back to Peggy.

"I need you to get him out of his office for, like, five minutes between when I finish cleaning out my desk and when I head out of here. I'm gonna put all the papers and stuff I don't need in his desk."

Peggy grinned. "I'll make sure you have the window of opportunity you need."

"I knew I could count on you."

We snuck a high-five before Jack could notice, then I headed over my desk to start the packing process in earnest. There really wasn't much I needed to get, since I'd brought most of the things I needed with me to LA the first time, but a handful of the things I'd collected found a temporary home in my bag. Even better, the stack of trash I was planning to stick in Jack's office was substantial, and just like Peggy'd promised, she dragged Jack away from his desk long enough to give me just the opening I needed.

I stepped out of his office and back into the bullpen after finishing my mission, and a moment later, Peggy and Jack came around the corner to join me. I smiled at the both of them.

"Desk's been cleared. Papers are done. I think... I'm officially all finished up here."

"You sure I'm not going to find some trash you forgot about when I try to put somebody else at your desk?" Jack asked, hands on his hips. I rolled my eyes and sighed, responding without missing a beat.

"Of course not, Jack. You're not going to find any forgotten trash in my desk. Come on."

All true, technically. Peggy grinned at me, but I managed to keep a straight face as Jack put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"...I guess this is it, then, huh?"

"I guess it is."

I sighed, looking around at the empty bullpen one last time. I hadn't been working out of this office for a while now, and it's not like I'd never be back. But something about having my desk packed, ready to head out the door with the last of my roots pulled up still hit me a bit.

"I'm... gonna miss you guys," I said, shaking my head as I turned back to my two friends. Jack rolled his eyes, since we'd already exhausted his reserve of sincerity for the day, but Peggy gave me a soft smile.

"We'll miss you too. And you can expect regular visits from us in the winter, when we're sick of the snow and need to use our friends for access to the sunshine in Los Angeles."

I grinned. "As long as you promise to bring real pizza with you whenever you visit."

"Deal."

We shared a smile, and thankfully, before any of us could get any sappier, Daniel walked through the door, his meeting with his contact apparently over with.

"Hey," he said, giviing me a smile as he walked over to join us. He leaned in to give me a quick kiss, then pulled back with a smile. "You ready to go? Our favorite breakfast place is waiting for us."

I smiled, then gave Daniel a nod. We were technically on vacation, so we'd planned to spend the rest of our day on a tour of all of our favorite places in New York city.

"We'll see you guys for dinner tonight, right?" Daniel asked as he took my hand, the two of us taking a few steps towards the door.

"As long as you're buying," called Jack, and Peggy nodded. Daniel shot him a thumbs up as I rolled my eyes, and just like that, Daniel and I were standing on the threshold of the New York SSR.

"You ready?" Daniel asked, leaning in to whisper to me. I took a deep breath, sparing one last moment of reminiscing for the place I'd spent so much of my life in over the last few years, then turned to Daniel with a smile.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

He smiled back at me, giving my hand a quick squeeze before we turned our backs on the office, officially and completely moving forward together. It still stung a little to be leaving, but not nearly as badly as it could've, since I knew and loved where I was heading.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[s0ulspen]

long game

[ day 5 Of Shuriri Week ]

@shuririweek @mal-urameshi @neptoons1998

a/n: I wasn’t gonna post today but I’d drafted this up!

Shuri has never been the biggest fan of phones. They’re not very convenient, limited as well. The most use she’s found for it is Google searches and why do that when she has her own AI?

But she somehow found herself waiting for her phone to ring. She’s in her lab, all alone, it’s too late for anyone but her to be in here anyway.

Her phone finally vibrates against her metal desk and she picks it up immediately. She smiles much wider than she should at the stupid screen. They’ve been keeping in contact for the past year, ever since Riri was sent back to MIT after the war. She and Riri call once a month if they’re both lucky. And today happens to be their lucky day.

“Wassup, Shuri.” Riri smiles, she looks as beautiful as ever, Shuri thinks. Her thick hair is pulled back into a sleek bun that Shuri has yet to see her in until right now. Her face is clear with subtle eye bags beneath them that Shuri has noticed have been beginning to worsen.

She’s got her phone on the wall behind her desk and is dressed in an oversized sweater that allows the fabric to slip a little past her shoulders.

“Hey,” Shuri smiles as she watches the scientist work diligently on a worksheet of some sort. She has this gentle crease in between her brows when she’s focused, Shuri wants to tell her she thinks it’s adorable but she holds herself back.

“Sorry for not calling you last month, I’ve been real busy.” Riri apologizes quickly, looking up momentarily to make sure Shuri understands what she is saying.

“It’s fine, I was busy too.” It’s not a lie. She was very busy but she had to make sure to clear her schedule on the day they were supposed to call and her heart sank a little when she was sent a text instead.

“How are you? I know the Royal duties are a lot. But you’re doing okay, right? You would tell me if you weren’t, right?” Riri asks while

keeping her eyes on her assignment.

Truth is, having the throne is not as bad as Shuri had imagined. She barely has time to do things she’s like but she knows it’s what her mother and father would want for her, what her brother would want for her. It’s what her people need. That’s what keeps her going.

“I’m okay,” Shuri honestly says. She wishes she could spend the rest of her days watching Riri, being with her makes her feel like herself. Not like she’s a queen or just royalty but like she’s Shuri and nothing else.

“I’m glad.”

“And you? I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself on campus.”

“I went to a party last week, shit was ass. I don’t drink like that so it wasn’t really my thing. I do wish I was in Wakanda using your cool ass tech.” Riri mentions, hearing a small laugh escape Shuri’s mouth.

“Mhm, I bet. How’s the progress on your suit?”

“Good, slow but it’s moving,” Riri admits, finally putting her pencil down and giving Shuri her full attention. It almost makes the Royal nervous.

“You lookin’ a lil tired these days, you been sleeping?” Riri questions. She herself knows how much time equations and models can take to make, as a scientist they understand that they don’t get much sleep but it doesn’t stop them from being concerned for each other.

“M’fine, I just have long hours of training and building.” Shuri sighs as a soft yawn sneaks its way out of her mouth.

“Mhm, yeah. You really gotta start taking your own advice, Princess.” Riri says with some sass in her tone. Shuri doesn’t have a rebuttal instead she chuckles because she’s afraid that if she says anything it won’t come out coherent.

She isn’t sure if it’s the rasp in Riri’s voice or the title. It’s not very accurate since she’s been crowned Queen but since Riri’s known her, it’s stuck to her like glue. Just like Riri has.

She pops up in the royal’s brain involuntarily, when she sleeps, and when she eats. It’s all consuming but a part of her doesn’t mind at all and the other is trying to fight it because, at the end of the day, they’re just friends.

“Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? You-“ Riri begins.

“But we just-“

“No, I can tell you need sleep. I want you to talk to me when you’re full of energy and got some comebacks ‘cause this ain’t the Shuri I know.”

“You’re irritating.”

“Whatever…g’night, Princess. Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight.”

Riri hangs up and the only thing Shuri can think about is her friend. She knows now that she’ll play the long game. And a part of her, a rather big part of her doesn’t mind at all.

[axelsagewrites]

Lucerys Velaryon*Date

Pairing: Modern!Luke x Gn!reader

Other charecters: Jace, Aegon, Aemond, Bran, Jojen

Summary: Luke finally goes on his date with his study buddy but realises as he's walking round the mall he's being stalked

Word count: 2041

Part two to Study (here) but can be read alone as just a highschool Luke going on his first date with his crush

Masterlist Here

A/N: You can't tell me modern Aegon doesnt make mean girl references and is a himbo

Luke spent every minute of the rest of the week counting down the time till your date. When he told his friends about it the pair didn’t believe him at first. Bran and Jojen had gave Luke all the advice they could think of. Bring mints and gum and brush your teeth first and make sure to use mouth wash. However, none of the three had any clue what to do after that.

This didn’t matter because luckily, or perhaps unfortunately, his uncles and brother had been there when he had secured himself a date. And none of the three had stopped talking about it. at first it was mostly just some banter and teasing but the day before the trio all joined to lecture their new protégée on how to date and how to do it well.

“Don’t let them pay for anything or you’ll look cheap,”

“Don’t go on your phone too much but enough that they think you have friends,”

“Pull their chair out for them,”

“Wear nice shoes. It’s the only thing they’ll notice,”

“Make sure you kiss before the dates over or its basically went bust,”

If not for all three of the boys long dating history Luke would have thought their advice was crazy. But it had worked for them? Hadn’t it? is this just how dates are? Jace even gave him a list of topics to bring up in the conversation died. But it was things about sports and indie music artists which Luke knew nothing about.

“If it comes to it just smile and nod,” Aegon told him. “You just need to look like you’re paying attention,”

Jace had insisted to their mother about dropping him off at the mall where he had agreed to meet over text. These texts were all drafted by Jace and Aemond however, even they didn’t trust Aegon to do the talking.

When they arrived Luke’s legs suddenly felt like jelly, and he sat staring into space. Jace put a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, you got this,” he said, for once being sincere, “Text me if you need me,”

“I know what im doing,” Luke mumbled as he clambered out the car to look for you.

It didn’t take too long for Luke to find you inside just by the entrance to The Red Keep shopping mall. Luke was already on the verge of blushing when he saw you. In school you had always been wearing a hoodie or comfy clothes but just like he had you had spent the whole night before picking your outfit, “Hey,” You greeted when you saw him, walking over and giving him a quick hug that made his heart flutter. “I was starting to think you got lost,”

“My brother took me,” Luke said with a faint flush. Jace had taken so long to actually get out of bed this morning he was now 10 minutes late. “I really need to get my driving licence soon,”

It wasn’t much of a joke, but you laughed anyway which made him smile. “Laughing is good. It means they’re into you,” Aegon had told him. “Well, when you do get it, I expect to be the first person to get a ride,” your voice snapped him back.

“Of course,” Luke grinned as you began to walk the mall, “As long as you promise to tell me what turn to take. I get lost easy,”

“Okay,” you said, your voice light with a hint of laughter, the sweet sound of it swimming in Luke’s head, “Left turn in three, two, one,” you said before grabbing his arm to steer him into a store so you could look at a few things.

However, when you walked in Luke felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Ur doing great dude – JoJo

Luke looked up with narrowed eyes before he started to try scan the mall to see if his friends were in fact stalking him. That’s when he saw Bran and Jojen sitting at the opposite side of the mall at the fountain, waving at him to turn around.

When he did, he was met with your confused face, “Are you good?” you asked.

“Um yeah sorry I thought I heard something,” Luke said with a sorry smile as he turned his attention to the novelty sunglasses you were holding, “You suit them,” he joked.

“They’re for you,” You grinned as you placed the martini shaped sunglasses on his head. “I’m more a flamingo person myself,”

“Nah if you get to pick mine, I pick yours,” Luke said as he scanned the stall before handing you the cactus ones and gently placing them on your face. He blushed when your soft skin brushed against his fingers, “Perfect,” he grinned.

“Let’s take a picture,”

As Luke and you continued window shopping around the mall he sent Jojen a text telling him to go home but they clearly didn’t listen since Luke kept getting them snapping him pictures of himself on snapchat, “Is everything okay? you’ve been on your phone a lot,” you asked causing Luke to blush bright red.

He’d broke one of Aemond’s rules, “Nah its just my friends being weirdos,” Luke tried to play it off, slipping his phone away and praying he hadn’t come off as an asshole.

Luckily you laughed, “Don’t worry mine are the same. I’ll be getting interrogated when I go home,” Luke couldn’t help but chuckle since his brother was defiantly going to do the same, “Im shocked they didn’t follow us here,” you joked.

Luke’s eyes widened before he quickly tried to act cool again and failed, “What that’s crazy who would do that?” Luke blushed as he looked around the mall for a distraction, “Hey wanna get food?”

Changing the subject had worked since now Luke stood beside you ordering in the food court. He had made sure to get his wallet out before you could grab your own money and he thought it was adorable the way you blushed when he paid for you. at least he had finally started doing this date right. “I’m gonna go grab us a table,” you said while Luke stayed to wait for the food.

“I was gonna pull your chair out for you,” Luke mumbled without thinking and blushed pink when you called him out.

“I can pull my own chair out,” you rolled your eyes with a playful smile before turning to find the table.

Luke spent the next couple minutes trying to remain calm as he checked his messages from Jo and Bran and waited for the food.

I actually think it’s going well btw they’re amazing guys

Luke carried the tray of food over however he stopped in his tracks when he saw the table a couple behind yours. Three shit eating grins were facing right at him. Luke swore under his breath as he took his seat across from you, but you looked none the wiser to the fact his family had managed to track him down and were now intently staring at his every move.

He had sat his phone on the table which had turned out to be a mistake since the thing kept buzzing. “Someone’s popular,” you joked as it lit up again, “Who’s texting so much?”

When he looked at his phone he rolled his eyes, “Just a couple idiots. Ignore it,” he said tossing his phone into his jacket pocket, “I wanna spend time with you not my screen,”

The blush that spread across your cheeks almost made him not see Aegon mouthing at him to look at his phone. “I’ve got an idea,” you said, standing and taking the tray over to the bin.

“What’s that?” Luke asked as he helped you throw everything out.

“How about we run up and try catch the next screening of the Mario movie so that way we can shake off your stalkers?”

Luke’s face suddenly grew a bright shade of red, “What stalkers- “

“Please are you kidding me?” you laughed as you began to walk away with Luke towards the elevator, “We’ve got like 5 people tailing us. Bran and Jojen were staring at me while I ate,”

“I didn’t even see them,” he admitted as he got into the elevator with you, “Why not the stairs?” he asked as he pressed the 3rd floor button.

“So, they can’t see us,” you grinned.

Your friend had been on shift at the movie counter and with the promise of copying your math homework agreed to tell Luke’s family and friends the movie was sold out if they came up. Luckily the movie was loud enough to drown out the complaints of the mouthy unlikely group trying to sneak in.

Luke knew the classic yawn stretch over the shoulder trick from movies but despite how well the date seemed to be going he just couldn’t muster up the guts to do it. Aemond would probably be internally screaming if he could see Luke’s constant awkward glances as he debated trying out the trick during the prequals.

When you glanced back, and your eyes met Luke’s face flushed and his eyes shot back to the screen to pretend to watch the weird comedy advert that was on. He didn’t see you roll your eyes, but he did almost shiver when he felt the soft skin of your hand touching his. Luke glanced at you with a shy smile as he took your hand properly into his. The way your lips curved so perfect made him forget all about his stalker situation. Then the lights dimmed, and Luke’s attention went back to the screen. That was until your head moved to rest on his shoulder and he internally melted.

“That songs gonna be stuck in my head for the rest of the week,”

“How about the rest of my life?” You laughed along with Luke as the lights in the theatre brighten up so you could try stumble out of the tightly packed seats. Your hand still in his.

As you walked out of the theatre and to the elevators Luke couldn’t help but think how lucky he had gotten and how many more of these dates he craved. It was cliché but he noted how perfectly your hand fit in his.

“Do you think they’re still here?” You asked. Luke hadn’t realised he was rubbing his thumb back and forth over your skin, but the feeling made it hard for you not to flush and keep your smile cool.

“Well, Jace is my ride, so I’d hope so,” he said, “Do you need a lift home?”

“Nah I’m getting picked up by my folks. Can’t wait for the interrogation,” you joked, and Luke grinned.

“At least they didn’t stalk you,” he said.

Your sweet laugh was still magic to his ears, “Yeah but they text me five minutes ago to say they’re close by,”

Luke didn’t want the night to end but truthfully neither did you. “I guess I should walk you to the parking lot,”

“Suck a gentleman,” you teased.

On your walk the conversation flowed easily and luckily without interruption from Luke’s stalkers. When you arrived at the glass doors that led to the parking lot you stopped him suddenly and walked to the side, just out of view of the car park. “You good?” he asked.

“Yeah um” You said, glancing at the door, “I just didn’t want my parents to see me yet. I had a really good time today,”

“Me too,” Luke smiled, eyes only on you, “We should do it again sometime,”

“I guess this is me,” you smiled back at him but didn’t move.

Luke didn’t feel nervous anymore as he looked into your eyes. That was until he noticed your eyes glance at his lips. He swallowed a slight lump in his throat when he glanced at yours. they were so perfect. When he looked back at your eyes, he noticed how your smile had reached them. With one last deep breath Luke started to dip his head.

He was fully prepared to be hit or slapped or kicked as he closed his eyes, lips brushing onto yours. but instead, he felt you step closer, your lips moulding to his for a soft but sweet kiss. It only lasted a couple seconds but Luke had got drunk off your touch in that time, your hands still in his.

You pulled back with a shy grin, having to bite your lip to contain yourself but that just drove Luke wild, “We should do that again sometime,” he mumbled, still in a dazed.

“Maybe on our next date,” you grinned, “Just maybe somewhere more private,”

“I’m sure I can figure something out,” he smiled. Your phone buzzed and you pulled it out to see a text from your parents, “Should I walk you to your car?”

“Walk me to the edge of the car park and wave otherwise they’ll haul you in with us,”

Luke did as he was told without complaint despite his hand suddenly feeling empty when you had to let it go. He waved with the same hand that had been blessed with your touch and his eyes were glued to the car when it drove off.

A car honk brought him back from his bliss. “Get in loser,” Jace yelled from the front seat.

“We’re going shopping,” Aegon pipped up from the back with a grin as he leaned over and opened the door for Luke to clamber in.

Aemond sat in the passenger seat up the front, because he could not fathom letting anyone else control the music, “Someone looks happy,” he said.

Luke rolled his eyes as he buckled into his seat and Jace started to drive off. “Did you see where my friends went by the way?”

“I gave them a lift to the Starks’s,” Jace said as he turned the music down much to Aemond’s protest. He was a bit surprised, but Jace had been used as Luke’s and his friends personal taxi service for the better part of a year since his parents got him his car.

“Enough about they virgins,” Aegon said causing Luke to roll his eyes. “Tell us everything,”

“Spare no detail,” Jace added with a grin as they set off home.

Luke was in for a long night, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you.

Taglist: @justrybca @clairacassidy

[gothicprep]

so, apparently marvel is in disarray. ahead of the marvels coming out this weekend, variety dropped a bomb on the studio's somewhat dire state of affairs, as the franchise has hit its first real rough patch since the release of iron man 15 years ago. among the issues: jonathan majors, whose domestic violence arrest continues to hang over marvel's plans to make his character the thanos-like heavy for the next sequence of movies, the weak box office projections for the marvels (which some have said is tracking lower than recent bombs like the flash), the unending flood of hashtag content on disney plus which is overwhelming audiences who are finding it harder to keep up with the interlocking stories that have served marvel so well over the years, shoddy visual effects, spiraling budgets such as the reported $25mil an episode for she-hulk, a show that looked terrible because of the shoddy effects work aforementioned, behind the scenes chaos as kevin feige works to slash budgets and kill projects that aren't coming together. one movie at risk is the forthcoming blade reboot with mahershala ali, which has gone through rewrite after rewrite including reportedly one draft in which blade was the fourth lead in, quote, "a narrative led by women and filled with life lessons".

that last line has provided a lot of laughs for people like jay gothicprep, and critics who insist that marvel's efforts to diversify the lineup have led to much of this disaster, indicative of disney's overall failure with things like indiana jones and the dial of destiny or animated projects like strange world or lightyear. while this is potentially true (i guess, it's possible) it doesn't seem true because this certainly wasn't the case when black panther and captain marvel were both cracking the billion dollar mark a few years ago. rather it just seems, more simply, that marvel has run its course. marvel was hit by a double-whammy of endings. the thanos storyline that'd dominated the first ten or so years of the project came to an end. at the same time, the pandemic began and disney plus started flooding the zone with content, creating a natural break point for audiences that had no desire to watch hours of tv to understand 1.5 plot points in whatever the next movie that's coming out is.

this preamble is getting kind of long, and i have a lot more to say, so i'm going to continue to thought dump about this under a cut.

first of all, i'm still laughing like a week later at the women led life lessons description. no one has disputed that it happened. that description is the funniest thing i've ever read in a trade industry report possibly ever. what in the hell, my friends. did a writer even talk to a producer about what blade was? it's a movie about a guy with a sword who kills vampires! it's pretty straighforward! that sounds like something i want to see! there were three of them already, and two of them were pretty good!

anyway, i think you can take that incredibly ridiculous description of a draft that maybe wasn't the main draft – this movie has been through tons of writers and directors – and see some of the real problems with marvel's creative direction, which is that they've stopped making movies that highlight the core concepts of their characters. there are other problems as well, but when's the last time they put out a movie that was like, "iron man. he's a guy in a metal suit and he fights a bad guy." or "spider man. it's a guy in a spider suit with spider powers. he's got girlfriend problems and he fights crime around manhattan and maybe there's dr octopus." they don't do that. their recent stretch of movies have all been these impenetrable multiverse stuff with ties to tv series that you haven't seen and maybe won't ever see. there was a whole 25 minute section in black panther 2 that was setting up armor wars and ironheart. and like. who needs that sequence, which was boring and looked like total garbage? and now armor wars is being redeveloped lol. they've just departed from a lot of the core concepts that powered their earlier films.

they have some other problems. they've leaned into a slate of characters that is not all that well-known or inherently super popular, even for marvel being able to deliver on making billion dollar films out of guardians of the galaxy and such. maybe with the exception of spider man, which they don't get a full cut from because sony owns the actual movie rights. then there's the fact that the streaming series, by all accounts, aren't great but you *feel* like you need to have seen them. they're all real big problems. marvel needs to go back to making movies that are named after a character who's a superhero with a clear concept. guy with spider powers fights crime in his neighborhood. even though those movies got kind of repetitive, they did well enough because they didn't stray too far from the character concept.

i think, too, as a viewer, when you have a studio churning out so much stuff that's not good, you get the impression that the superhero industry feels entitled to your time and entitled to your money while not delivering.

this summer also represents an interesting counterpoint to what's happened with marvel and dc. the sheer amount of stuff that you devote every waking minute to keeping track of the damn things got exhausting and made movies stop feeling like events. this summer we've had barbenheimer and the eras tour, and those have been both big events and felt exciting. barbie was a chance to be campy, oppenheimer was a chance to see something serious and cinematic, the eras tour was exciting for fans of taylor swift who couldn't afford to spend $3k on taylor swift. and they felt this way because they were all unlike anything you'd seen at the movies in recent years. they had a high standard of quality, and going, it genuinely felt like people were there because they wanted to be, not because they were being force marched by a cultural behemoth to be there. you can't summon that same kind of energy for a marvel movie when it both feels obligatory and you expect it to be bad.

it also feels like there's a certain contempt for the audience where it concerns quality problems. i mean, i don't think that this is the intention. marvel isn't saying "we can deliver this stuff that's garbage and people will see it anyway". but one of the things i thought was the most damning about that variety story was the fact that, on some of the marvel tv shows, the final effects were inserted after the shows were released. so if you watched the show on opening night, you probably didn't see the final effects work. the arrogance involved in that is insane. it speaks to a total vanished pride in putting out a good product.

even some of marvel's better regarded films were heavily edited and heavily worked on right until the end, in part because kevin feige would come in and fix things, so stuff would have to get reworked. that's why effects deadlines were super tight and people were always crunching at the very end of this. there was that incredible quote from sam raimi from a couple months before the second doctor strange came out where he was like, "i think it's done but i'm not sure. marvel, they work on their movies until the very end." the director didn't even know if his own movie was locked or not because he clearly wasn't the one making the decisions about what the final print would look like.

that can work if you're making two movies a year and have a supervisor that comes in during the process and says, "i need you to redo this, in this way". but when you stretch that out to three movies a year, plus god knows how many episodes of television, there's no way to do that and make it a high quality product.

an instructive lesson comes from the book "disneywar", which chronicles michael eisner's time at disney. and one of the things in this book was the development and deployment of "who wants to be a millionaire" in america. bob iger is head of abc at this time. the guys making this show do it for a week. audiences love it. it's putting up huge numbers. everybody is excited. it's crushing it in the ratings. and the people who made it wanted to keep doing special week or two week long engagements that people would show up for. and iger was like, "no. i want this every week, three times a week, forever." and audiences got burnt out on it quickly, because it was something that only really worked as a special that ran for a week and disappeared for a few months. that's what the disney plus strategy feels like with marvel.

[prismaticfaery]

Secrets

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Description: Soap had a feeling that you and Ghost were a thing. TW: Pregnancy!!

Rating: Everyone

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for like two weeks now, be gentle with me because I’ve never posted any of my writings online before. Let me know if you like it and I may write more Ghost x Reader! I have a whole slew of ideas for “Reader”!

(BG/N)= baby girl name/(BG/MN)= baby girl middle name

You had grown used to the smell of antiseptic and latex gloves, the nonstop wandering around the sterile and white hallways, the metallic smell of blood from wounds being stitched and gunshot wounds being treated. Sometimes there were even babies coming into the world, the jingle of a lullaby being played over the loudspeakers. Such was the life of a military hospital doctor.

Heaving a sigh, you pulled your cardigan around you and lifted yourself from your seated position behind your desk. Your last patient’s notes were finished and now it gave you a small moment to catch your breath and finally eat your lunch, until a knock on your door pulled you from your reprieve.

“Hey, your next patient is here, he needs clearance to go back to PT after the gunshot wound to the leg,” the blonde nurse poked her head through the crack of the door.

“Thank you, I’ll be there in a moment,” you sigh, grabbing your white coat from its position on your desk chair.

Fixing your hair after putting your coat on, you grabbed a pen from your desk and placed it into your coat pocket. Making your way down the hallway, you grab the clipboard from the blonde nurse, giving a quick knock on the door before entering. You stiffened when your eyes caught the attention of none other than John MacTavish— Soap, and Ghost, whose dark eyes watched your movement, his face obscured by his skull balaclava.

“Yeah I know, he can be pretty scary,” Soap heaved a breath as he relaxed on his hands and hunched his back on the examination table.

“Okay MacTavish, you know the drill, lift your pant leg,” you let out a breathy laugh, pulling on a small pair of sterile latex gloves.

Almost instantly, the pant leg of the brawny male was lifted up, revealing a neatly covered gunshot wound. Gingerly peeling the adhesive that framed the gauze, you could hear quiet hisses from the man as his leg hairs were being yanked. Once the gauze was off, you gave an audible noise, impressed at how well the wound was healing.

“It looks great, continue what you’re doing Sergeant. I’m approving you for your PT, but no missions quite yet, I would like to keep monitoring you weekly,” you looked over at Ghost, quickly handing him the signed paperwork for Soap’s PT approval, in which he nodded in thanks.

That gunshot wound had been a nasty one, nearly touching bone, but he was lucky enough that it hadn’t. A nasty infection could have landed him in much worse of a position.

As Soap placed the gauze back on his leg, pressing down on the adhesives, he grunted a thank you. As he straightened his back, he took a quick look down at you as your eyes scanned the clipboard, and then entered any notes or data into the computer that stood on the other side of the room.

“You’re about to pop, aren’t you, Doc?” Soap nodded to your swollen belly.

Ghost clearly stiffened at the question, seeming uncomfortable in his little corner of the room.

“Oh. Yeah, not much longer now,” you looked down, hardly able to see your feet as they were completely covered by your belly.

“A little girl, right?” You nodded, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

As the two soldiers started filing out of the room, you noticed that Ghost stopped at the door, waiting for you to come out before he left. How courteous, you thought as you neatly stacked your paperwork and files and held them to your chest. Ghost towered over you by well over a foot and his aura was dark and intimidating. His gloved hand reached out, palm resting on your cheek, and his thumb brushing against your temple. However, as soon as he felt your eyes settle on him, his cold glare became soft.

“Have you eaten yet?” His question was simple, but your breath caught in your throat, scared to answer with anything but a “yes”.

“I will once I’m done with Soap’s paperwork,” you can hear a sigh heaving from behind his balaclava.

“Please, as soon as you’re done. How are you feeling?” Ghost dropped his hand to his side, his eyes looking you up and down, your hand reaching out to grab his.

“Simon, I’m fine. Save for the sore feet and feeling like this baby is about to fall out at any given moment,” you give him a very assuring smile.

“L.T., you comin’?” The thick Scottish accent of Soap could be heard from the nurse’s station at the front.

Quickly releasing your hand from Ghost’s, you turn to make your way down to your office, stealing a glance to the side of you only to meet Soap’s confused and almost questioning gaze.

You and Simon were private with your home lives, and given Simon’s anonymity when you first met, you wanted to continue that for the sake of him. You two had chosen to never marry in order to keep prying eyes away. Even though Soap was trustworthy and had even seen Simon’s face, there were things you had decided to keep in the dark even with Simon’s growing friendship with Soap. Maybe even uttering a word of the baby’s gender in the past was too much and it had you biting your tongue now.

***

Soap had a suspicion about the doctor and Ghost for a while now. There were mornings that Ghost had to show up late due to unforeseen circumstances, and he’d never be in the mess hall for any of his meals, given that he had a residence on the base. Was it due to his relationship with the doctor? Of course he’d want to be a part of anything that had to do with the baby so that could be why he was late some mornings and here lately, it was once a week: doctor’s appointments to check on the baby. Yeah, it seemed logical.

But what really set off the alarms in his head, was when you had been out on maternity leave to finally have the baby. It was only hours after his appointment with you that your water had broken according to Captain Price, who had let Soap know that his next check up would be with a different doctor. Ghost stopped showing up to PT for nearly two weeks.

***

About a month later, your presence graced the office. Soap had shown his face again with fresh wounds that needed to be checked on. As he waited in the exam room, he could hear the nurse inform you of your “next patient”, to which you chuckle. Knocking and entering the room, you shut the door quietly and began pulling a pair of gloves on.

“MacTavish, aren’t you sick of this place yet?”

“Nah, I could never be. Looking good, by the way. You lose weight?” MacTavish motioned his arms to make a fake belly, a goofy smile forming on his face.

“A whole six pound baby,” you laugh as you begin examining the gash on the man’s eyebrow, “this is going to need stitches.”

After calling a nurse in to stitch up Soap, you began entering notes on the computer. It was mind blowing how many visit notes you had to scroll past in order to fill in this visit’s notes for the bulky male. Completely accident prone, this one. As you wrapped everything up and the nurse cleaned up and made her way out, you handed a care sheet on stitches to the injured male, who in turn folded it up and stuck it in his cargo pants. You pulled a pen from your white coat, clicking it and writing down on a prescription pad. Soap probably didn’t need painkillers but after the lidocaine shot around the stitches wore off, he would definitely be sore.

You didn’t realize that as you pulled the pen from your pocket, a picture of your newborn baby girl had dropped to the floor. Of course Soap noticed this, but you had already left the room. As he got up and bent down to pick the picture up, he smiled. Your tiny newborn was bundled up in a swaddle blanket, with a pink knitted hat on her head while she soundly snoozed inside a hospital bassinet. There was a small black announcement board with the date of the baby’s birth, her height, and weight. In pretty script on the top of the board was the baby’s name:

(BG/N) (BG/MN) Riley.

[teaandransacking]

Heyyyyy <3

I just wanted to ask if you could write a Lockwood x reader where the reader can't sleep because she had to much coffee in the day because of pervious nights events and she needed the energy. So Lockwood cuddles with her until she falls asleep

Love flames xxxxx btw happy easter xxxxx

Of course! Thank you for the request <3

How much coffee can someone drink before the caffeine in it starts to give them adverse effects?

You stand in the kitchen of Portland Row, staring at the back of the tin of coffee. The only warning is: can lid and edges may be sharp after opening.

Fat lot of good that is, you think, snorting, and you’re about to spoon out another heap of coffee grounds into your mug when you notice your hand shaking a little.

Maybe it’s time to switch to decaf coffee. Or tea.

The kitchen door opens, interrupting you, and Lockwood saunters in. It’s the only way to describe his walk - although if Kipps is nearby, swagger works better.

He sniffs the air as he comes to stand next to you. “Not coffee again. Have you not tried tea?”

You shoot him a withering look. “Don’t you have any other jokes?”

He grins. “None you’d laugh at.” He takes a mug and a teabag from the cupboard, and looks at you again, and you get the feeling that he always sees more than you want him to. “Seriously, are you okay?”

You take a deep breath and sag against the kitchen worktop. “I keep thinking about the haunting last night. I expected it to be scary but instead, it was just…”

Letting your eyes drift closed, you picture the child ghost, scared, lashing out to protect itself from whatever, or more likely, whoever, had hurt it in life. 

“Sad,” Lockwood finishes, softly.

“And I don’t want to sleep, so.” You salute him with the empty mug.

He gently takes the mug from your hands. “I think I’m going to confiscate this and the tin of coffee. It’s about a hundred years old, anyway - definitely past its use by date.”

You chew your lip. “If you’re going to take the coffee away, I’ll need another way to stay awake.”

Lockwood shakes his head. “You’ve been awake for what, now - over twenty four hours? You need sleep, darling.”

The endearment makes your stomach flip in the most delicious way.

“But-”

“No buts.” He pushes aside his own mug. “What can I do to make you less afraid?”

A memory surfaces, but you hesitate.

He sees it. “What is it?

His voice is so gentle and his brown eyes are warm and bottomless.

“My mum used to curl herself around me, when I couldn’t sleep as a child.” Your face heats. “But I don’t-”

Lockwood nods, as if it’s settled. “That’s what we’ll do.”

You stifle a surprised laugh. You’ve been yearning after him for weeks and all you had to do was develop a little bit of insomnia?

Except it’s not really funny, is it? Not when you think back to the naked fear on that little visitor’s face.

“Are you sure?”

“I need my agents at full health,” he responds, but his tone is feather soft. He holds out his hand, palm up, and you put yours over it. His fingers curl around yours, and just that bit of contact sends every fibre of your being into a flurry of sparks.

Will you get any sleep with him so close?

“Where?” you ask.

“Your bed? If that’s okay, of course,” he adds.

That he’d repeatedly check with you is such a balm to your tired soul. “Yes. That’s perfect.”

Lucy and George are out. Lucy’s been drafted in as a deputy researcher today, so it’s just you and Lockwood at home. He leads you up the stairs to your room, and they creak under your steps, but it’s a happy, familiar sound.

You push the door open with your free hand.

“Pyjamas?” Lockwood asks.

“Nah.” You’re already wearing comfy clothes. Now that you’re faced with your bed, you’re exhausted. Tiredness drags at you with heavy hands. You yawn hugely.

“Excellent sleep prep,” Lockwood teases gently, as you toe off your slippers. 

You’re hesitant to get into bed, but he says, sensing your discomfort, “You go under the covers. I’ll go on top of them.”

“Thankyou.”

He inclines his head, says nothing, just waits for you.

You slip under the covers, but then your whole body tenses up. What if you dream of that small, sad face, frozen forever in fear?

Lockwood climbs on to the bed and settles in beside you.

“We put the child to rest,” he reminds you.

You turn to face him. “I’m afraid I’ll have a nightmare.”

Whisper-soft, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll stay here, so if you do, you can wake me up and tell me about it.”

You wouldn’t, you think. He always looks so tired. You wouldn’t wake him. You’d do anything to get him the rest he needs.

Maybe this will serve you both.

You snuggle up to him, as much as you can with the sheets and quilt between you. His lips are warm against your hairline. He folds his hands under his cheek and you do the same, facing each other like kids on a sleepover.

“Okay?” he asks.

Perfect. But you just say, “Yes. Thanks.”

But you can’t bring yourself to close your eyes.

Lockwood clears his throat and begins, “Did I ever tell you about the time George and I found a stray cat? It had this awful smell, and we decided to bathe it…”

The story is hilarious and sweet by turns, but you don’t hear the end. You fall asleep to Lockwood’s deep, soft voice and the feel of his warm body snuggled up to yours.

And in the morning, when you wake, rested, he’s snoring softly next to you, and it’s your new favourite way to wake up.

[bobgasm]

present day | the chest [01/04]

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x reader word count: 2062 warnings: loss, grieving, backstory,

summary: in which you find some old letters while cleaning

author’s note: sorry this took so long, i wrote a 15k oneshot that consumed my life momentarily

the chest | sincerely, | the namesake

The house was quiet when you arrived just before nine. Thankfully, it didn’t stay quiet for long. You set up your speaker, played the top 100, and got to work.

You’d always hated cleaning, but found it calming and therapeutic when you were stressed. Your mum had always sounded crazy when she said it was therapeutic, but now you were a firm believer in her method to madness.

Your dad and his siblings had been busy over the last couple of weeks trying to pack up the house. They’d gone room by room sorting and organizing your grandpa Michael’s belongings. Getting rid of old bedding or donating old clothes and furniture. The house was now bare, aside from the last few pieces of furniture that your dad would be taking to your place in the coming days.

Great-grandma June had been a spitfire of a woman. Growing up, she’d told you stories of her childhood. How her family had immigrated from Ireland in the early 1930’s. How she’d met her husband not long before he got drafted to fight in the war. How they relocated from Boston to San Diego when she was pregnant with your grandfather, Michael. 

She’d been your best friend when you were younger. You always loved going to her place to bake cookies or help her in the garden. She’d never seemed old to you. Always keeping up with you and your siblings whenever you went around to visit. 

When she passed away in early 2016, it had been a shock to everyone. Her son, your grandpa Michael, had moved in with her in her final days, and once she passed, he had to reason to leave. He missed his mum. 

Now he was being moved into a care home not too far away, and the house was being stripped and cleaned for auction. He needed the money from the house to pay for his stay at the care home, and while this house held memories you’d cherish forever, you knew you’d still have them. Even if you didn’t have the house.

You started cleaning in the kitchen and slowly made your way through the rest of the house. Making sure every room was spotless before heading up to the attic to make sure nothing else had been left there.

There were a few boxes of board games and a chest with old toys. You took them back downstairs and put them in your car, figuring you’d ask your dad what you should do with them later. Just wanting to get them out of the house for the time being, since the agents would go through tomorrow to take pictures for the listing. 

You gave the attic one final sweep after dusting and found a small chest tucked away near the overhang of the roof. You almost missed it, but it looked out of place. Carefully, you pulled it from its spot and opened it, sitting on the floor as you pulled the stack of letters from inside.

The papers were frail and wilting around the edges. Some of the writing was illegible, but from the few you could read, you wondered who Bob and Evelyn Floyd were. Were they friends of Michael’s, or of June?

The first letter was dated 1944, from Bob Floyd to his darling Evelyn. He expressed his fears, his sorrow at the loss of his brother, and his elation for their expected baby. 

You swiped at your eyes after finishing the first letter, and was already picking up the next. You felt weird for reading their private letters, but why were they in the attic of your family’s home?

The next letter was one that Evelyn had written back. Her words were sweet and expressed just as much sorrow and elation. Asking Bob if they could name their child after his brother if the baby was a boy, or if he liked the name Louise if they were a girl.

Your heart felt heavy as you opened the next letter, almost laughing as Bob told Evelyn the story of how he got his call sign, Pirate. Because he was nursing a little bird back to health and it sat perched on his shoulder while he taught. But then the tears were back as he pondered if he’d be a good father, before professing he couldn’t think of any better names for their baby then their own. Evie Louise, or Robert Lonnie Floyd.

By the time you reached for the next letter, the tears rolled down your cheeks with no intervention from you. Even if you wanted to stop them, stop reading the letters, you couldn’t.

It was when Evelyn wrote about your great-grandma June that you sobbed. Placing a hand over your mouth as you read how Evelyn watched Amelia while June was in hospital giving birth to Michael. 

They’d become friends. June and Evelyn were friends, and that was why the letters had been in the attic.

Had Evelyn asked June to give them to her baby? Why hadn’t she?

The next letter was from Bob telling Evelyn he’d be home soon. That he had a mission to complete before he’d be home, but he’d tell her more when he knew.

You couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your stomach. Dear god, please let Bob come home safely. He has a new baby, for crying out loud!

You wipe at your tears and try to get a hold of yourself before starting on the next letter, but your attempts and gaining control of your emotions are futile. Evelyn is asking whether Bob received her last letter, and that she’s worried because she hasn’t heard from him in a while. 

She gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Robert Lonnie Floyd. Evelyn and June are planning a joint Christmas for their kids, and she’s hoping that they’ll all be together if Bob and June’s husband can’t make it. She hopes they do make it, though. 

The letter is signed by Evelyn and Robbie, and your tears fall faster. Your heart aches, because you can see the next letter in the chest. It’s typed out, rather than handwritten like the rest, and you know. You know what’s coming, but you still torture yourself by reading it.

It’s from Fleet Admiral Blair, and he’s telling Evelyn that her husband, Robert Floyd was killed in action only a few days after she sent her last letter.

You wished things had ended differently for them. You wished Bob got to meet his son, and that Evelyn never had to live through the pain of losing her husband. You wished you knew why June had their letters. 

Carefully, you put the letters back into the chest and closed it. You dried your face with the hem of your shirt and tried to calm your breathing. 

You didn’t know what to do. Did you call your dad and ask if he knew about the letters? Did you go and see your grandpa and ask if he knew about them, or if he knew where Evelyn and Robbie were? Since he was born about a month before Robbie, surely they were close? That they had grown up together?

Rising to your feet, you tucked the small chest under your arm and climbed back down the stairs. Tucking them back up before grabbing the last of your things and locking up before climbing into your car. The chest of letters sat on the passenger seat as you drove to the local watering hole, The Hard Deck, and pulled into a free park. 

The first thing you wanted to do was have a drink for Bob and Evelyn, and their son wherever he may be. Then, you planned on enjoying a burger before you decided what to do next. With the time being a little before eight, it was too late to bother your grandpa Michael. It could wait another day. The letters had already been sitting in the attic collecting dust for a good seventy years. Another day wouldn’t seem like much in the grand scheme of things.

The Hard Deck was a hotspot for the local Navy men and women. It wasn’t your first choice, but since Bob had been in the Navy, you felt like having a drink somewhere he might’ve frequented. Especially after a long day of cleaning.

You’d been here a few times before, when you were home for college break and wanted to see if any of the Navy guys looked good enough to let them buy you a drink. Sure, there were some strikingly attractive men, but their egos were on a whole other planet. Each time they proved to you why you should stay away, and you’d heeded their warning. 

Today, you were here to celebrate Bob and Evelyn Floyd. Today, you were grieving their love, their lives. 

You ordered a drink. Just a beer since you still had to drive home. Picking at the label as the moisture softened it until all the edges were loose. 

“Rough day?” The bartender asked you.

You looked up at her and gave her a weak smile, hoping you didn’t look as rough as you felt.

“Something like that,” you admitted. “I found some old letters in my grandfather’s attic while cleaning today. They’re from World War Two.”

“Love letters?”

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a sip of beer. “It seemed like my grandfather’s mom was looking after them for her friend, possibly to pass them on to her son. I don’t know if she forgot, or the son moved away, or why they were still sitting there after seventy-odd years.”

“Wow, that’s, wow,” she said.

You chuckled out a small laugh. “Yeah, I feel kind of bad for reading them. Like they weren’t meant for me. But my great grandfather fought in the war, too. I thought maybe they were theirs. Now I feel bad for invading their privacy, but also for their loss. He died, the husband. After the wife had just given birth to a little boy.”

“Oh, that’s heartbreaking.” She placed a hand over her chest as you swiped at your eyes.

“I felt like I needed to have a drink for them, you know? In case the world forgot about them.”

She smiled at you and handed you a napkin from nearby. “That’s sweet,” she said. “You sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

You dabbed at your eyes with the napkin, willing yourself to stop crying. You gulped down more of your drink, letting your eyes fall back to the bar. Reading the sign that was hung up and barely able to crack a smile. Remembering the first time you saw the sign and had witnessed a few Naval officers carrying out a patron because of it. 

You looked up when the bartender came back, placing another beer in front of you.

“Courtesy of the man in the glasses,” she told you.

Your eyes quickly found the man in the glasses slowly turning away. Dressed in a neatly pressed khaki uniform. Barely a strand of hair out of place. A solemn nod in your direction, all the acknowledgement he needed that you’d received his gift. 

“Oh, that was nice of him,” you told her.

“I thanked him for you,” she continued, offering you a smile. “He’s not expecting anything in return, either. Wanted me to make sure you knew that.”

“Huh? That’s new,” you replied, finishing the last of your first beer before toying with the new one. “Usually they all want something.”

She chuckled at your reaction. “Normally I’d agree, so trust me when I say it’s all good. Can I get you anything else, hon?”

“I’m good, thank you.” You replied with a smile. “How much for the first beer?”

“He took care of that, too.”

“Cute bastard. Thank him again for me, will you?”

She laughed. “Of course. Hope you feel better, hon.”

She left you to enjoy the next beer, and you savoured it. Unlike the first where you couldn’t drink it fast enough, you took your time with this one. Hoping the cute guy with the glasses would come back to the bar so you could strike up a conversation and thank him yourself. 

The kindness of a stranger was always something you found weird. But there was something about this stranger that had you finding it endearing. 

[justdillydally]

Will You Still Love Me? (Gwayne Hightower x OFC) 2

https://www.tumblr.com/justdillydally/759136953047433216/will-you-still-love-me-gwayne-hightower-x-ofc-1?source=share Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: The tourney commences. Rhaella was reunited with her cousin and her guise as a minstrel was short lived.

Chapter Rating/Trigger Warning for the chapter:  Teen and up audiences, non-graphic description of violence (they're in a tourney)

Note: I finally had a rough draft on how things will go in the story. It’s a slow burn as I mentioned and it looked like I might need to turn it into a trilogy if people still reads this. The first part (WYSLM) will have around eight or so chapters. I try to be fateful to the canon but I have to tweak up some details to make it work in the fic. Thank you for the kudos and reblogs from the previous chapter. I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this one!

@deniixlovezelda @loverslikeghosts

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Sunlight stretched across the field, once barren but now vibrant with a multitude of tents adorned with colorful banners bearing the coats of arms of the competing knights and noble houses. As the dew evaporated from the grass and the morning birds serenaded the new day, the arena buzzed with life. Spectators filled the stands, the clamor of preparations mingling with the excitement in the air.

Rhaella had hurriedly left the Red Keep as soon as she broke her fast, despite Princess Rhaenyra’s insistence that she stay in bed until the babe arrived. Dressed in a full-length gown of bronze and black, with intricate red embroidery, she made her way to the Royce tent. Her eyes danced over the elaborate designs of the Great Houses' tents, a stark contrast to the simpler attire of the smaller houses. The sounds of clanking metal, neighing horses, hushed conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter created a lively backdrop.

Finding the Royce tent was easy; its bronze fabric with black iron studs and the flag proudly displaying their sigil made it unmistakable. She lifted the flap and stepped inside, her gaze quickly taking in the unfamiliar faces. Two men stood by—one older, and the other around her age—while the only familiar face was that of her cousin, fully armored.

“Willam!” She greeted him with a broad smile, noting the similarity in their dark hair and shared features.

“Rhaella.” His voice was warm, and he welcomed her with an embrace. “You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you.”

She stepped back, her eyes assessing the changes in him. “And you’re a knight now. I’m impressed.”

Willam stood tall with a grin. “You should hear the tales of my exploits, cousin.”

She bit her lip, stifling a laugh. “I can only imagine the heroic stories you’ve accumulated.”

“Where is Ser Qarl?” He gestured to a boy, who promptly fetched chairs from the corner.

“I sent him to wait in the arena. He’s doing his duty well as my protector,” she assured him, wary of whom she could trust in King’s Landing, a place teeming with intrigue.

The boy arranged the chairs, and Willam addressed him. “Make sure my steed is ready, Allard.”

The older man bowed and left, while the boy returned to polishing Willam’s helm.

“How is Runestone?” Rhaella inquired as she took a seat opposite her cousin. Leaving home had been hard, but it comforted her to know it was in capable hands.

“Still standing, my lady. Leowyn is managing things efficiently in your absence.”

Relief washed over her, but concern quickly followed. “And Uncle Gerold? I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Is he aiding Leowyn?”

Willam’s expression grew serious. “He’s been occupied with the Hilltribes near the Gates of the Moon. Last I heard, they were driven back near Kingsroad.”

A worried look crossed Rhaella’s face, but she had a smile to cover it. “I’ll return to Runestone after my name day. I’m eager to help in any way I can. I miss the Vale.”

“You’ve missed the Vale, and not your charming cousin?” Willam’s smirk was playful, aimed at lightening the mood.

Rhaella laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Of course, I miss you too, but King’s Landing is so different from home.”

“We all miss your presence at Runestone. We look forward to your return,” he said earnestly.

The blare of trumpets and the roar of the crowd signaled the start of the tourney. Their conversation halted as they both stood.

Looking up at Willam, Rhaella placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes brimming with pride. “I bid you good fortune in the tourney, Ser Willam.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” Willam bowed gracefully.

With a playful smirk, Rhaella added, “Show them what a Royce is made of.”

“I shall do my best not to disappoint,” he replied with a grin.

As Rhaella prepared to leave the tent, she froze. Her heart raced as she caught sight of Ser Gwayne Hightower on his steed, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Instinctively, she ducked back inside the tent, her hand clutching her chest.

Willam’s concerned voice broke her reverie. “Lady Rhaella, is everything alright?”

Turning sharply, she met his worried gaze. Hesitation marked her tone. “It’s—it’s that Hightower knight.”

Willam’s eyes widened slightly as he opened the tent’s flap to scan the field. “Ser Gwayne Hightower? Are you hiding from him?” He closed the flap and returned to her.

Her fingers fidgeted, and she avoided his eyes. “He might have a reason to suspect that I’m a minstrel.”

Willam’s lips twitched in amusement. “Pray tell, dear cousin?”

Rhaella hesitated, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for the right words. Finally, she sighed. “Long story short, I needed money.”

Willam’s snort was barely restrained. “You needed money? And you chose to become a traveling bard?”

“I was training near the Roseroad. Ser Qarl and I needed to eat but had little coin.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she reasoned to him.

Willam’s amusement faded. “Just the two of you in the woods?”

Rhaella straightened, her voice defensive. “In King’s Landing, they don’t train ladies in combat. I use riding as an excuse, and Ser Qarl helps me practice.”

Willam’s tone grew serious. “It’s dangerous, Rhaella. People might start whispering about you and your sworn sword.”

She met his gaze firmly. “We’re not far from King’s Landing, and Ser Qarl is loyal. He’d never act dishonorably. You know that.”

Willam shook his head, sighing. “I’m not questioning either of you, but you’re the heir to Runestone. You need to be cautious.”

Rhaella’s expression softened with understanding. “If I’m to defend and rule Runestone, I need more than just words and courtesy. I’ll be careful, cousin.” She nodded in agreement.

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The stands buzzed with excitement as lords, ladies, and smallfolk alike filled the seats, eager to cheer for their champions. The vibrant colors of the banners fluttered in the breeze, and the noise of anticipation mingled with the occasional burst of laughter. Rhaella, having missed the early matches, finally made her way to the royal box.

King Viserys and Queen Alicent turned to her as she approached. “Where have you been? You nearly missed House Royce’s turn,” the King inquired, a hint of reproach in his voice.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Rhaella replied softly as she took her seat beside Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. “Princess, My Lord” she greeted them with a nod before turning her attention to the arena. The royal box was filled with the royal family, save for the toddlers and Princess Rhaenyra, who was resting as advised by the Maesters. Behind them, the small council lords occupied their seats.

A flutter of anxiety gripped her. What if Ser Gwayne doesn’t recognize me at all? After all, I’m not in my usual attire, and my hair is styled differently. The gods must be merciful if that’s the case.

Down in the arena, Ser Willam Royce charged against a knight from House Bettley. With a resounding clash, Willam’s lance struck his opponent’s helmet, though the opposing knight managed a hit on Willam’s shoulder. Despite the blow, Willam remained steadfast on his stallion, while his competitor was thrown to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Rhaella clapped with enthusiasm. Willam was announced the victor, and the arena cleared for the next match.

Her heart skipped a beat when the announcer declared the next bout would be between Ser Gwayne Hightower and Ser Erren Appleton. Rhaella held her breath, hoping for a distraction or change of fate.

Before the match began, Ser Gwayne Hightower guided his steed toward the royal box, his visor raised and a grin playing on his lips. “For the Lady Rhaella Targaryen,” he called out, his voice carrying across the arena. “Her beauty is an inspiration to minstrels. May I have this favor?” He raised his lance, the sun glinting off its metal.

Rhaella felt the eyes of everyone in the box, especially the Queen, on her. “Ser Gwayne,” she said, her voice steady as she accepted the ribbon and flower. Despite her irritation, she managed a polite smile as she fastened the favor to his lance.

Their gazes locked, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. The cheers of the crowd and the scrutiny of the royal box faded into the background. Her pulse quickened, but she forced herself to remain composed, even as her lips tightened into a thin line.

As Ser Gwayne resumed his position and lowered his visor, the match commenced. Rhaella watched intently, her eyes tracking his every move. Despite her disdain for the Hightower, she couldn’t deny his skill. His strikes were precise, unhorsing his opponents with apparent ease. Each victory was followed by a growing sense of frustration and begrudging admiration from her something she won’t admit openly.

When the matches paused for an intermission, Rhaella headed toward the edge of the tourney grounds, planning to catch up with her cousin. But fate had other plans. Ser Gwayne appeared, his stride confident and his eyes twinkling with amusement. He approached her with a smirk.

“Lady Targaryen,” he greeted, bowing slightly, though his tone was more teasing than respectful. “I should thank you. Your favor seems to have brought me good fortune.”

Rhaella raised an eyebrow, her voice without warmth “Perhaps you should. I’m sure it was entirely my favor that kept you from falling off your horse.”

Gwayne chuckled, nodding. “It’s possible my skill had something to do with it,” he said, “but your favor certainly didn’t hurt. I must admit, you’ve surprised me, Lady Targaryen. I hadn’t expected a minstrel to secure a place at the royal box.”

“And you were too eager to believe that’s all I am,” Rhaella retorted, her shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug.

Leaning in slightly, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re not as discreet as you think, my lady. A lady hiding behind a minstrel’s guise?” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval.

Rhaella stiffened, her discomfort barely concealed. She forced a polite smile, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Is it praise you seek, Ser Gwayne? Surely winning a few matches should be sufficient.”

Gwayne’s smile widened, his gaze lingering on her. “Victory is sweeter when noticed by those who appreciate it. You were watching closely, weren’t you?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. Her lips curled into a smile yet her eyes were set ablazed, it reminded Ser Gwayne of Rhaella’s father. “I was watching the tourney, Ser Gwayne, just as everyone else was. You simply happened to be part of it.”

“And yet, you seem to be quite invested in my performance. Perhaps you enjoy the thrill of seeing me unhorse my opponents or is there something more?” Gwayne replied smoothly.

Her nose crinkled in the accusation. “I watch the tourney to appreciate the fine display of skill by knights. Your victories are impressive, but hardly a matter of personal concern to me.”

“You agree, it is impressive?” Gwayne’s grin widened, finding satisfaction with the reaction he was stirring within her. “And yet, you seem to be quite engrossed. It’s as if you are here to support me and not your own House.”

Rhaella never saw a reason to detest the Hightowers until Gwayne. The Queen has been dutiful to the King and despite her aloofness, she was kind to her and let her play with her children.  “Your confidence in yourself is admirable, Ser. You have more rounds to win, after all. It would be a shame if you were to lose.”

“I will certainly do well with the favor you bestow upon me,” he replied. The silence stretched between them as he gave her a slight bow. “Until the next round, then, Lady Targaryen.”

“Ser Gwayne.” She curtsied, her eyes following him as he walked away. Enjoy your victory until you can.

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Back in the royal box, Queen Alicent sat beside King Viserys who was busy conversing with Lord Corlys and the other Lords in the small council. The discussion of their favorite knights from the tourney was the main subject of their chattering.

Queen Alicent caught sight of her brother, and the unmistakable Heir of Runestone. Worry etched on her face, trying to decipher what the two could be talking about. Her fingers tapped the chair, watching Gwayne smiled at Rhaella. How did Gwayne know her? She has not been in Court when he last visited the Capitol, and she was with Gwayne since he arrived yesterday.

[crossroadsandloudmusic]

HOT DAMN ITS BEEN A MINUTE! I know I’m sorry y’all life has just been all up in the way for the past couple weeks/months but I’m back now! It’s late where I’m at so I will get started with the Matchmaker post as soon as I can but for now please enjoy this head cannon thing I wrote for y’all, it’s been in my drafts forever now but I figured sure why not, let’s finish it up and post part 1! Terribly sorry about my sudden disappearance but I have found that nothing quite fills the void more than being on here and sharing experiences with all of you! Thank you for you patience I do apologize once again, you have all been tremendous and I love you for it.

Without further ado let’s get in to it!

Recently I went to the fair and the entire time I could only think about how the Hashira would act. Therefore I decided to write and I hope you all enjoy. (Me from the future here, went to the fair and had an amazing time! Enjoy some pictures! More at the bottom)

Btw this is all based on my opinion and has no actual evidence to back it up.

Warnings: Sanemi traumatizes entire fair. But no seriously like heights, someone almost falling off a ride. That’s it tho.

PLEASE ENJOY!

The Hashira at The Fair

Part 1!

Kyojuro Rengoku:

I love Rengoku, everyone knows that. He is my comfort character, my baby daddy, if you will. So maybe I am partial but I think he would be one of the funniest characters at the fair, let me elaborate.

In my belief, he would be in charge of the entire operation. He buys the tickets, he organizes it, he rallies everyone together, but most of all he is there to ensure that everyone has a good time AND a safe time.

“Seat belts everyone!” *in ms. Frizzle’s voice*

Think I’m playing? Absolutely not. Rengoku is on the ball when it comes to height requirements and restrictions, too tall or too short that’s too bad.

Seatbelts? Don’t make me laugh. Before the ride starts Kyojuro is running and making sure all seatbelts are up to code and are fastened. He does not care if you battle some of the most violent and horrid demons there are, you will be safe at the fair.

Will question the structural integrity of the rides themselves.

Kyojuro. They are consistently taken down and put up in a span of a week, there will be stuff missing and there will be issues. It’s best not to ask.

Nevertheless he does end up having a good time. He throughly enjoys the rides that are as follows: The Scrambler-you get into these little booths and it moves around really fast in almost a star shape pattern. Whole lot of fun, one of my favorites. The Alien Abduction- it’s just an alien ship shaped building that spins around really fast. The g force sticks you too the wall. Really fun, kinda dizzy afterwards (much like sleeping with Kyojuro). And then finally The Nitro. It’s essentially a huge swing, but it’s like a swing on steroids. It’s really fast and sends you really high, this one is prolly my favorite.

Kyojuro is pretty tame when it comes to trying all the rides and when it comes to others being too short or too tall for one of the rides, he feels that he should stay beside them and keep them company so they don’t feel left out. He really wants to make sure everyone had a good time.

On terms of food served at the fair, I think he would really enjoy funnel cakes. That isn’t to say he didn’t eat atleast one of everything. (Him and Mitsuri spent a lot of time trying the fair food. They ate 6 funnel cakes. The poor people working at the food trucks were beyond stressed with how much they were eating and buying. The lemonade guy couldn’t keep up😔).

On the subject of games, Kyojuro enjoyed the darts and ring toss. Extremely good at both and as a result came home with a ton of stuffed animals. The biggest one being a stuffed sloth. Very much enjoys his sloth and let’s it sit next to his bed. (Cuddles with it sometimes, but nobody knows). Won a ton of prizes for Shinobu and Mitsuri. Gave a bunch to Gyomie as well for the kids at the orphanage. After a short talk it was decided that they come back the next day to bring the kids.

In conclusion these are the same people and you can’t tell me otherwise. 12/10 had a great time and will be coming back.

Uzui Tengen

Oh man, Uzui Tengen and his wives at the fair. Be still my heart.

Number 1. BEFORE WE GO ANY FURTHER I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT HOW GOTDAMN CUTE THIS SHIT FINNA BE.

Number 2. Let’s not lie to ourselves or anyone else by denying that Tengen and the girls are literally the cutest relationship I’ve ever seen.

So y’all already KNOW that they gonna be having the most fun, well almost. Let me explain.

Ok so we know that Suma can be a little skittish, and Makio kinda makes it worse if I’m not gonna lie simple because when Suma does get nervous Makio can be a little harsh.

Which then results in Tengen feeling more of babysitter rather a husband taking his wives out for a fun evening. I know you maybe wondering where I’m going with this but please, bear with me.

The Ferris Wheel. A staple of the amusement industry, all with its bright lights and soaring heights, it’s no wonder it’s one of the most iconic and recognized piece of fair equipment. That being said, if you have never riding on a Ferris wheel, I do not recommend it for the faint of heart. Not it is not fast, and no it doesn’t sling you around like some of the rides, but if you have a fear of heights or just not prepared, the ride itself can be a bit jarring.

Therefore, when Tengen and his wonderful, beautiful, lovely wives all got on to the ride, it was at that moment Suma had begun to sweat. First the booth went up and then stopped, and then again, and again and again, till they were at the very top of the ride. Of course Tengen wasn’t nearly as impressed because he could jump higher than the peak of the Ferris wheel but still he acted as if he was enjoying himself. Everyone was except for Suma.

Suma clung to Tengen’s arm, this in return caused Makio to fuss. As the two of them got into it, the booth started to sway back and forth. This of course caused Suma to become even more scared.

The rest of the ride was spent trying to calm both of them down.

Btw Kyojuro was sweating the entire time as they were not adhering to the rules of The Ferris Wheel.

Absolutely shameful.

Eventually the Ferris wheel ride ended. Suma in tears, Makio still fussing all the while Hinatsuru and Tengen desperately tried to separate the two.

Rest of the evening went off without a hitch, every one of the girls got a large stuffed animal. (Tengen won these at one of those strength games. Yk the one with the big hammer and a bell at the top). (He broke it).

They all four took really cute pictures together, in fact they got several with all the hashira! 11/10 wonderful evening will definitely be coming back to the fair, next time he will be prepared for if and when Suma gets scared on the Ferris Wheel or other tall rides.

Gyomei Himejima:

Oof alright.

So.

He’s a big man, like a VERY big MAN.

7 feet 2 inches and HALF! THATS A BIG DUDE.

And I’m sure you could already understand that yes, he unfortunately wasn’t allowed on many of the rides. But☝️. He found other ways to enjoy the fair!

Let me tell y’all, this man is a BEAST at fair games. Ring toss? Boom, undefeated. Darts? Bodied. Cornhole? Didn’t even faze him. Dunk the clown? Dude shoulda just stayed in the water bc either way he was gonna get there with Gyomei throwing strikes every time. He was doing so well that carnies were getting mad. Not only that a crowd had eventually formed around him; watching in utter astonishment as the giant man (blind, giant man, was ABSOLUTELY BRUTALIZING THESE GAMES).

More specifically…the dart throwing incident.

Let me set the mood for ya. Kinda give you a bit of a visual explanation as to better explain the where, when, who, for this scene.

The sun had long set, the cool night air filled with laughter and excitement as the fair continued into the evening. Lights, music, the cacophony of peoples voices, and the smell of fried foods are what make up the atmosphere of the game booths and rides. Except for one game at the far end of a long and winding path of fair games. There an unusually large man stood with three darts in his hand. One by one he carefully picked them out and threw them towards the board. Each bullseye had a little red balloon in the center, every line had a number of prizes one could win. But if one were to hit directly in the center they would win a large prize. You had three chances to win a big prize, the target to the left, the target in the middle, and the target to the right. If someone were to hit all three bullseyes they would not only win three big prizes but they also win an extra three chances.

Kyojuro explained the rules to Gyomei and handed him the darts. Not a moment after that three distinct pops could be heard ring out in the surrounding area.

A hush fell over the people who were waiting patiently behind him, even the woman who ran the booth seemed amazed at Gyomie’s win. She allowed him to pick out three large stuffed animals and handed him the darts back.

Once more balloons were blown up and set into position, Gyomei played again.

POP!

POP!

POP!

The woman turned to see that once again all the balloons had been popped, all three darts sat perfect in the center of each target. She was flabbergasted! She couldn’t even speak, it was rare as it was seeing someone who could hit all three targets but dead center 6 times in a row?!?! She shook her head looking at Gyomei and then back at the board, once more at Gyomei and then again back at the board.

Once she regained her composure she removed the darts, filled the balloons again, and handed the darts to him.

“Well done! Let’s see if you can do it a third!” She said, she eyed him closely as she was sure something was amiss.

Now the line of people behind him turned into a small group surrounding him, they all whispered and talked amongst themselves as they watched him carefully.

Silently Gyomie picked out his darts and threw them one by one.

POP!

POP!

POP!

The crowd erupted in cheers! He had done it again! The woman now clearly sweating as Gyomie had only spent 1 dollar and had won 9 prizes! Suddenly the people that stood next to him began throwing dollars and quarters at the woman, screaming that she give him the darts and let him play again.

As more commotion began to erupt, more people were gathered to the booth to watch him play. Some of the other fair goers even went as far as placing bets on Gyomie, wagering when the woman running the booth would eventually kick him out as she was running out of balloons and prizes.

Gyomie played a perfect game 6 times before Kyojuro thought it best to go play another game. He won 18 prizes from that game alone😐. They went to the ping pong in a bowl game, he won 12 goldfish.

At the end of the night Gyomie had more prizes THAN ANYONE IN THE HISTORY OF FAIR GAME PLAYERS EVER WON. So many in fact he stood next to the Caterpillar roller coaster for the kids and gave out a toy for every kid that came by.

That night Gyomie became more than a Hashira. He became a martyr, a light for those who had been burned by sleazy fair games, never again would they lose hope as it was he who came and won them all.

13/10 he had an amazing time, but cried when the lady said he was too good and needed to play another game. He felt bad and later came back to apologize and she gave him a hug. He cried once again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He is immediately kicked out.

Jk jk but like fr tho👀 he acted a fool.

Not even gonna lie to y’all, yall see this man, no but do y’all really see this man. He is 5 foot 10 inches of pure malice. (He’s soft baby on this inside but this is not important to the story). Straight menace behavior, DO NOT TELL ME IM WRONG.

He cut every line, and when people tried to protest to this he only turned around and glared at them with his cold eyes🥶 most people would stare back and tremble in terror, one man even began to weep as he looked into Sanemi’s eyes. The man later mumbled that he had peered into hell and hell peered back. (The man was traumatized for lack of a better term, needed therapy, he’s doing better now tho).

Sanemi rode every ride and played every game, he even got into a fight with one of the clowns! (In Sanemi’s defense the clown had it coming). But besides all that Sanemi found most enjoyment out of terrifying the other participants on the rides. In one instance, he turned to the woman sitting next to him and offhandedly mentioned that the seat she was sitting in didn’t latch all the way. As it was theses seats for this specific ride had a bit of give to them when you pushed the pull down part of the harness. She instinctively pushed the bar and it moved a bit before clicking, she turned to look at him and before she had the chance to alert the ride operator, the ride began to swing.

Once the ride had finished the woman was convinced her life had nearly ended due to a faulty ride harness. She immediately got off the ride and ran into the crowd, but her fear wasn’t entirely that of the ride’s seats, it was partially because as she started to scream and beg for dear life, Sanemi erupted in laughter. The scariest part was being seated next to him for the entirety of the ride.

This some how only fueled his behavior. Next he wanted to take it to the next level. He wanted to scare everyone, the people on the ride, the operators, even those who weren’t riding. Each ride he got on he made an effort to terrify everyone. Whether it be him yelling that ride was falling apart or dropping pieces of nuts and bolts close to the operators. This only aroused his hunger. He needed to take it one step further.

There is a ride called The Umbrella, The Octopus, The plane ride, whatever you want to call it, it’s the same ride. It’s giant tower that has a bunch of swings hanging from it, first it starts of slow and low to the ground, it is then risen off the ground and high above the pavement in which it begins to swing faster. This is a VERY tame ride compared to others as it isn’t extremely fast and it’s also not extremely high when compared to the Ring of Fire (one of Sanemi’s favorites although it did make him slightly sick) and the Ferris Wheel (got bored and started throwing nuts and bolts off the side, surprisingly didn’t hit anyone but as people noticed what they assumed were parts that had fallen off the ride, left the line in search of something “safer”). Sanemi cut to the front of the line and went to find the perfect swing, one was wrapped in caution tape and the seat belt was no longer there. Quickly and quietly he removed the tape and sat down, wrapping what little remained around his waist as it then would appear he did have a seatbelt on. The operator came by and only glanced at Sanemi before going to start the ride. He sat back and chuckled knowing he was going to enjoy this more out of any other he had been on that day. Slowly the ride started and before long he was hoisted several meters from the ground, swing softly through the cool air. He took in a deep breath to savor the moment, it was relaxing being so far up from the chaos, listening to the music and watching the bright colorful lights. Without a moments notice he slipped from the seat and began to scream.

The people below looked up to one of the most horrifying sights there was to see, up in the air a man hung from his swing, his hands gripping to one of the chains that held the swing. He writhed and kicked his feet as he yelled for someone to help. Most if not all began to scream and point. Others got the attention of the operator who hurriedly tried to lower the ride. Every passenger aboard that night gripped their seats and cried. Soon the whole fair watched with bated breath, parents shielded their children, others ran to get help, most stared in shock. The whole while Sanemi cackled in between screams.

The authorities were notified and by the time they arrived with paramedics on scene, the ride had ended and Sanemi was nowhere to be found. This was because he fled and hid himself within the crowd, he caught up with Kyojuro and Gyomie. He played several games with them, all the while Kyojuro was blissfully unaware of the Sanemi’s failure to abide by the rules of the fair rides the main one being, KEEP HANDS AND FEET INSIDE THE RIDE AT ALL TIMES. (Truth be known, Sanemi did in fact have his hands in the ride with the only exclusion being his entire body).

(Sanemi also wanted to play the strong man big hammer game but Tengen had broken it earlier so it was still under repair. He was a tad disappointed and this is what I choose to believe started this entire fiasco).

10/10 had a glorious time at the fair and might come back again someday, he narrowly avoided being escorted off the premises on several occasions so the fact that he didn’t is considered a win in my book. He also single handedly traumatized, horrified, terrified, and scarred an entire group of people spreading to several rides and the riders, operators, as well as the people below the rides themselves. All of this, without being caught by Kyojuro. Truly inspiring.

[grogusmum]

Halloo, Hazel! 💚 OK, Din and Grogu have one Earth week to visit here (ignoring the how or why). Please and thank you:

First meal you share together? Either home cooked or favorite restaurant; and

One souvenir for each of them to take home, as a reminder of you.

Hey Maggie May! Thank you for playing with me! 💚 I'm sorry this is getting to you Sunday morning, I was getting sleepy and wanted to give this the attention it deserves!

So this is not connected to AGalaxy Far Far Away, but a new take on Din and Grogu on Earth...

This was written on my phone, in my drafts, and barely edited... sorry 😬

Din put Grogu down to let him stretch his legs after a very long journey in the N-1.

"I've gotta get a new Razor Crest," Din sighs, shaking his head slowly . Grogu has much to say on the matter and does so.

"We need to stay here for a few rotations, week tops, then we can finish our journey. Then will give this thing back to Peli."

Din looks around, he needs to feed the kids that's task number one, as if Grogu knows exactly what he's thinking starts complaining and looking for something to eat in the tall grass they find themselves in.

Suddenly, they hear someone laughing and calling to someone else. Din looks, and there is a human with, well, a four-legged animal with fur, reminding him of a fuzzy massif. It catches a disc in its mouth that seems to have been thrown by the human.

Soon, they are out of the tall grass dotted with flowers, and in more manicured grass, there is a large square cloth on the ground and a basket on top of it. A picnic, Grogu recognizes it right away and hustles over.

"Grogu," Din calls, "kid no!"

Before he knows it Grogu has the basket open and is digging into the sandwiches and fruit he finds.

You throw the Frisbee one more time and then head over to have your lunch. You were planning on meeting a friend with their furbaby, but they canceled last minute, so its a picnic for you and Molly, your pitty mix today.

Molly bounds over seeing strangers in her basket.

"Molly!" You shout in surprise. Then, putting on your best alpha dog voice, "Leave It!"

Molly stops only 10 feet from the picnic basket thief, a small green, something, in a little tan coat. Then Molly growls at the armored person.

"Sit-stay." You say, treat in hand, knowing your good girl will follow your directions. When she does, you praise her and give her a bit of chicken.

Din's hand lowers from his blaster.

"I am very sorry, Grogu, is only a child. We've been on a long journey, and he is very hungry. I will happily reimburse you for the food."

You have no idea who or what's going on, but you're incredibly intrigued.

"No problem, I have extra anyway."

Molly watches Grogu hustle up, reaching for her. She gives the little green fella a sniff and Grogu giggles and coos delighted. Molly gives him a big wet kiss that bowls him over. Grogu laughs and scrabbles up.

Instant best friends.

You smile at the whole exchange, comfortable with Molly's behavior with little ones, and since this very usual one is behaving just like a toddler, you knew she would be fine.

"Soooo, Comic Con?"

"Um, I don't... we are here for a week, then heading off world." Din points to the n-1 behind him.

You blanch, hoping it isn't too noticeable.

"Well, okay... wanna sandwich?"

Din hesitates, then takes off his helmet, "Thank you."

Did the sun just come from behind a cloud? This guy is gorgeous, you think... keep cool. Keep cool. You pull out drinks and two more sandwiches not decimated by Grogu. As you eat, you watch Molly, who is now giving Grogu a ride.

"So, um where are you staying?"

"We haven't secured lodging yet," Din says, biting into a sandwich, and then looking at it pleased.

You put a bowl of cut fruit down between you.

"This," Din swallows," is very good, thank you. I insist on giving you some credits."

"Credits?"

He pulls some large discs out of a pouch in his belt. You are not sure what to do. Are they really from "off world"?

"Um, those won't spend here."

Din looks down at the Calamari Flan, then takes out some imperal credits and shows them to you.

"No," you say apologetically.

"Well, huh..."

"Listen, I have a small finished, sort of, basement apartment, I've been renting it to comic con folks for years, and it's available. You can stay there, it's clean and safe."

"You are too kind," Din stammers.

You have no idea what they are, how they got here, but you feel you should help them.

"Not a problem!"

So the week goes along. You have work, but after you take them to see the sights of your little corner of Earth. Molly and Grogu can't hardly be separated, and you've fallen for the little green bean, too. You teach him to throw the frisbee, and somehow, despite having such little arms, his throws sent the frisbee straight and far, and Molly loves it! And Din, well, he’s... oof. You are soon thinking about him after you say goodnight and wonder if his lips are as soft as they look.

On the second to last day, you take a chance and kiss him goodnight.

Which in turn had leaves Din a little dumbstruck, he thinks about your lips pressed against his until he falls asleep and then he dreams about them.

Today is their last day, on Earth or whatever...

Though somewhere during the week, you'd started to think that they were truly aliens from another galaxy, and it just made you laugh at how wild that was.

"We will miss you," Din says, stepping into your space.

"We'll miss you," you tell him, looking into his warm brown eyes. You are never going to forget them.

Din dips his head down, bringing his mouth to yours. Your lips meet his, and become hungry. Your arms wrap around his neck, and the kiss deepens further.

When you break away, you are both out of breath and warm from the tips of your ears to the tips of your toes, your lips tingling.

When it's time to say goodbye (for now, Din insists) you give Din the necklace you've been wearing, it's a two inch long quartz crystal with a piece of abalone shell wrapped to the top of it. (Grogu finds it very interesting, but he's given the frisbee, which he's delighted by)

Din prys Grogu from Molly, who licks Grogu and whimpers. Grogu whines and reaches for you and Molly. You blow him a kiss, and hand Din a cooler of sandwiches, fruit, and drinks as Din settles his son in the cockpit.

He puts on his helmet and his gloved hand goes to your cheek.

"Goodbye," you whisper, eyes glistening. Din takes your chin and tips it up gently by one finger-

"Until our paths cross."

"Until our paths cross," you smile as a tear slips down.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! 💚

[saintseed-family]

“Thorny, darling, yer still up?”

It was long after sunset, and they had been in bed for hours, but Thorn was still working, the pages of the journal illuminated by the pinprick of magical light coming from his finger.  Janus couldn’t move very fast with his heavy belly and the numerous pillows they had added to the bed to support him and the cub, but he made an effort to roll and face his husband.  Thorn turned another page in his book and nodded, scribbling something down.

“I think I have the details down,” he answered.  “Want to cast the spell as soon as I can.”

They were nearing the sixth month.  The time a normal orc pregnancy would be over.  Visits with Thorn’s mother had confirmed, the cub was nowhere near fully developed right now - firbolg slow, not orc quick, Janus reminded himself.  If Janus went into labor now, they could easily lose the child.  Thorn had been hard at work drafting a spell to do something that, as far as they could tell, no one had done before - trick the body into extending the pregnancy beyond its natural conclusion.

Janus trusted Thorn, and trusted his magic.  It had saved his life before, and it helped the people in their village every day.  They had promised they were going to do everything they could to give this cub the best shot at a good life, and Janus knew Thorn had taken that especially personally as a magic user in tune with a goddess of life and growth.  Lately he seemed close, looking into things like transmogrification spells, into the gender changing spells some used to transform or the medical magic that helped people regrow limbs, as well as ancient maternity magic his mother was a specialist in.

“When you think you’ll be ready?” Janus asked.

Thorn paused his reading for a moment, ears cocked as if he was hearing something far away.  Then he turned to face Janus.

“I’m ready right now,” Thorn said.

“What, really?” Janus said, surprised.  He was expecting a few more days at least.

“I’m at a point in my crafting that I’ll only know for certain it works by casting it,” he admitted.  “We could wait a few weeks and try it out on the goats before they kid for the summer but…”

“But you don’t know how long I’ve got left,” Janus finished, scooting his body up to a sitting position.  “Yer mother said cubs run a tight schedule.”

Thorn kissed Janus on the forehead.

“I can explain what the magic will do if that will ease any nervousness you may have,” whispered Thorn, though they were the only two here in the dark bedroom.  “I know it can be unnerving to trust untested magic.”

“I trust you with my life, and I trust you with our cub,” Janus answered, “...But it never hurts to know.”

“In simple terms,” Thorn began, “Science tells us that when a baby is almost ready to be born, the parent’s body is preparing to soften and stretch in places to assist with labor, and those changes eventually cause the baby to move into the birth canal.”  Janus nodded.  He still felt really new to all this, but at this point he had read many books on the subject.  “This spell will assure your body that it is not time yet for those preparations to begin, keeping your body as it is and delaying it for as long as we can while also allowing the baby to continue to grow.”

“So we’re sort of… extending the time in the oven,” Janus mused.  “To let the little one finish cooking.”

Thorn laughed.  “In a sense.  I also wove in enchantments to help with the pressure and pain,” he continued, “Since we’ll be pushing your body far past what your species is equipped to do.  And something to soothe your poor skin from getting too stretched out.”

Janus thought about the discolored stretch marks already appearing on his belly, and nodded.  If he was going to get bigger, there would certainly be more of them.

“If this works, you should immediately feel a difference in the tightness you’ve been feeling in your belly,” concluded Thorn, “and I will need to cast it every day or so to keep the enchantment going.  Right now we can be flexible with it, but the longer we cast it the more imperative it is that we keep the spell on a tight schedule so you don’t immediately go into labor as soon as it wears off.”

“And this won’t affect th’ cub?  Won’t freeze them up too?”

“The spell will not touch our cub at all,” Thorn assured.  “It’s a bit of a mess from out here determining where you start and the child begins, but the spell is tailored to target only you, and it knows you as well as I do.”

He felt confident that Thorn knew exactly what he was doing.  “Alright then, what do I need to do?”

Thorn shuffled some pillows so he could move forward on the bed, closer to the foot of it.  “Lie back a bit with your belly exposed.”

Janus did as he was instructed, pulling down the covers of the bed and pulling up the tunic he was sleeping in.  Once he was in place, Thorn placed both hands just above the belly button.

“Ready, my darling?”

“Ready.”

Thorn began to whisper in the breathy language of his people.  Janus had heard him use Sylvan a few times for religious ceremonies, and it always sounded as though the words were being carried away on a breeze.  But here in the darkness of their silent bedroom, those words seemed to hang in the air, still breathy and soft, but at the same time powerful and full of reverence.

As he spoke, Janus could see Thorn’s hands begin to glow with the sunlit-golden magic his family was known for, illuminating his belly through the night air.  It felt warm, and relaxing, and Janus found himself almost drifting off in the comfort of it.

He had no idea what Thorn was saying, he didn’t speak Sylvan, but he could feel the gravity of the magic and the intense love Thorn put into every word.  And when he was finished, Thorn leaned forward and gave the crest of Janus’ belly a gentle kiss.

From his lips spilled out a tendril of magic, almost like a vine, wrapping around Janus’ belly in a spiral pattern until the entire thing was covered.  It flared brightly, and then went out, leaving the two of them once again in the dark.

Instantly Janus noticed he felt different.  Lighter?  Less cramped.  It was hard to explain, but it was though he had loosened a belt that had been tightly buckled around the biggest part of him.

“Did it work?” Thorn asked, scrambling to rejoin his husband at the top of the bed.  “Did you feel it?”

“I felt it!” Janus said, amazed, “Feels like my body… relaxed a bit.”

“Wonderful,” Thorn said with a heavy sigh, and Janus realized his face was suddenly so tired,  “And I’ll be happy to keep casting it as we continue on, as long as you need it.  You both have my full and unwavering support, darling…”

It seemed for a moment that Thorn nodded off right there, and Janus had to pull him gently down into the bed to get him back to the pillow and under the covers.

This spell was most likely very powerful, he would have to remember to ask how much energy it took, since it would need to be cast every day,  But for now at the very least the relief and pride at the spell being cast properly had clearly washed over him, and Thorn needed to sleep.  Janus did too.  After being certain his husband was tucked in, Janus settled back into bed himself.

And he felt a new form of safety and warmth he had never experienced before settle over him like a blanket.