#100 years wouldn’t change this love

[this-blog-needs-a-new-name]

[releaseholiday]

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[sapphossparenoterbook]

It Beats For You

You reunite with Rio Vidal, and discover the origins of her magic.

Rio Vidal x Fem!reader, fluff, mention of death (not main character)

You hadn’t seen Rio Vidal in years. There, of course, were rumours that the woman who had helped you hone in on your magic had died somewhere in Eastern Europe with Wanda Maximoff, and had worked alongside the deceased Scarlet Witch on a power hungry quest for more magic. 

Of course, you’d never believe it, deciding instead to hope and pray that your master and ex-lover would have been wise enough not to side with such a chaotic and corrupt force. Sure, Rio was corrupt, but she knows not to mess with forces like The Darkhold. 

Now, here she stands… in the corner of your grandmother's retirement home room? 

“Rio? What are you doing here?” You ask her. 

She’s dressed in an all black outfit as she turns around, black eyeliner, black pants, black headscarf, black shirt. And you could swear she flinches at the sound of your voice. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve put it off for long enough—I can’t break any more rules for you, Y/N.” 

“What?! What do you mean, I haven’t seen you in years, how have you broken rules for me—?” 

She disappears, and you hear your grandmother's heart monitor die out. 

~~6 months later~~

It’s been months. You’ve scoured your books, the internet, everything. There isn’t a known spellbook or encantation that Rio could have learnt to be able to control death. Except for one thing, she’d managed to overthrow Lucifer and become the ruler of hell. For that to have been true, she must’ve died. 

The only obituary for any woman named ‘Rio Vidal’ in the area was over 100 years ago. Which meant she’d lied to you, the entire time you were with her. 

She was never a green witch, or she was, but before she became the personification of death. The point is, she wasn’t ever a green witch when you were with her-she wasn’t a witch at all. She’d lied. 

You’re writing this all out on an old typewriter you were given by Rio herself, a big ‘R’ engraved on the side of it, constantly reminding you of the original owner, when you hear a voice. Is it in the back of your head, through telepathy? Or was she brave enough to finally show up to your house again?

“Is it really that big of a deal?” You hear her sardonic voice, slightly whiny, mainly just that familiar breathlessness she gets when she’s trying to be funny. Normally with a well-timed innuendo, this time with just pure mockery. 

“I dunno, clearly it’s not important enough for you to be here, just good old fashioned telepathy for me, darling? Who am I kidding, you’d never visit me in a million years–except for when I die” You say, not bothering to turn around. Her self preservation is much bigger than any dregs of love she has left for you. 

Suddenly, you feel your chair being roughly spun around by someone-or maybe someone’s magic. 

“Surprise, milady.” 

“How did you– no, why did you come here?” 

“I was in the neighbourhood! Did you miss me?” 

You look her up and down, it’s a different outfit to the one you last saw her in… a detective's outfit. 

“Saving Agatha?” You ask, lifting an eyebrow and grabbing the dangling detective’s badge around her neck reading the inscription on the gold part. It’s so obviously fake, if the purple witch can’t figure out she’s under a spell with just this little prop, then what’s the point in even trying?

“Yeah… don’t get jealous, baby. I’m sure she’ll leave some for you” 

“Don’t be a dick, she wouldn’t touch you with a 10 foot barge pole, not anymore. And if she does, she’d probably just run off to steal someone’s magic.”

You let go of the badge, letting it swing as you spin back around to the old typewriter. Rio walks around the room, studying how much it’s changed, before thrumming her fingers against the door frame and walking around the other rooms of your apartment. You know she hasn’t left, you’re much more attuned to your magic since she left you, and you don’t need to track the girl through the house. Your magic will do that for you whilst you focus. 

“I can read everything you write on that thing, y’know. I put a charm on it before I left you. All those cringey love letters you’ve never sent me? Read them, baby.” She tells you telepathically from the living room. 

“Well then why didn’t you come back? If you wanted to keep tabs on me?” You think back to her. Suddenly she’s teleported back to your side, looking down at you with this weird look in her eye, an emotion you never thought you’d see on her face. Regret. 

“You thought I didn’t want to come back?” 

“Were there any signs for me to have thought otherwise?” 

She sinks to her knees next to you so that she's level with your face, and reaches out with both hands to gently hold it, thumbs rubbing your cheeks like she used to all those years ago before she left without a trace. 

“I was always coming back, just had some things to do for a while. Promise” She mumbles, leaning down and kissing your cheek. 

“You still could have told me, asshole” You mumble back sighing happily at the familiar feeling of her lips against your cheek. She doesn’t let go, hands moving between you cheeks and your hair as she seems to want to grab at all of you, memorise the things she would have forgotten–the texture of your hair, and skin, the smell of your shampoo that you never change, the feel of the soft puffs of air from your breath on her face. 

She can tell, by looking at you, that you’re doing the exact same, neither of them want to move away, which is a little victory for Rio seeing as she can remember all those times that you wouldn't move from the typewriter for even a second when you were busy back when she lived here with you.

“You changed the bathroom floor?” 

“The grout got mouldy.”

“My eucalyptus?” 

“Dead. I didn’t know I had to move it to a bigger pot.”

“Hmph.That was expensive.”

“Should’ve taken it with you then, I always told you I can’t look after plants.”

“You were supposed to use your magic to listen to it’s every need. It makes it much easier, being able to talk to them.” 

“Well, I didn’t know how to do that when you left…” 

“So you know how to do it now?” 

“Are you gonna keep asking me these stupid questions, or will you move on to anything important?” 

“-Are you single?” 

“Yeah–” 

You’re cut off from your sentence with the familiar feeling of one of Rio’s firm, needy kisses. The ones that you'd learnt long ago not to fight for control, because she’d always beat you in that. 

“I missed you so much, baby” She mumbles against your lips as she pulls away only be a millimetre, as if not wanting to back away too far for fear of you pushing her away. 

“I missed you too, darling.” 

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Prophecy (Lucien Vanserra x Rhys! Sister)/(Azriel x Rhys! Sister)?

Part 2,

Part 3 (Lucien's Version)

Part 3 ( Azriel's Version)

AN: I’ve had this idea for a while but after hearing “The Prophecy” on The Tortured Poets Department I was finally feeling inspired to write it. You guys have no idea how much that album is about to influence my writing. Also I have no idea how this is gonna end lol.

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right? 

Warnings: smut, unrequited love, situationship, fluff, Lucien is literally and angel I love him sm, did not edit (I am tired)

Word count: 3734

“Please, I've been on my knees. Change the prophecy. Don't want money just someone who wants my company…”

I had known the youngest Vanserra for a while now. I can recall the first time I met him on a lovely day  in the spring court when I was visiting with my brother. The man was more than charming, his words nearly had me buckling at the knees. It was around the same time that I had found out that my brother's close friend Azriel was my mate.

I remember the bond snapping like it was yesterday. We were celebrating solstice in the Hewn City and my feet were nearly black and blue from the amount of drunk men stepping on them while dancing. I was about to ask my brother to take me home when Azriel stepped in and quite literally swept me off my feet. He let me stand on his toes and waltz around the room with him all night to ensure that he himself wouldn’t hurt my feet. At some point in the night the bond snapped and I had never been so happy. 

Azriel and I had been friends for over 100 years and I had secretly harbored feelings for him for at least 75 of them. To have my brother's best friend as my mate felt like fate. I didn’t tell him that night, something I have regretted for the last 400 years. 

Not long after that he rescued Mor and any sparks I thought he felt with me that night were long gone. From that day on all he did was pine for her. I couldn’t blame him, Mor was astonishingly beautiful. For a long time after he saved her I resented her, I felt like she had taken my mate from me. It wasn’t until I realized that she wanted nothing to do with the shadowsinger that my hatred for my cousin dissipated. It wasn’t her fault that Azriel was so smitten with her. It was my fault for not telling him, but now it had been so long since the bond snapped that it seemed weird to bring it up.  

So I sat dutifully by his side whenever  he needed someone to rant to about Mor. It practically ripped out my heart to  hear him talk about how in love with her he was. I was the only person he would open up to like that.  He would spend hours asking me for advice on how to woo her, and I grinned and bore it because, at the end of the day, I got to spend time with him.

I had been playing the girl best friend for hundreds of years. The moment I started to feel like he might be losing feelings for Mor in walked Elain. The beautiful sister of my brother's mate. What's worse? She seemed interested in Azriel as well. 

Elain was easy to hate. Not just for her flirtations with Azriel but for the way she treated Lucien, her mate. Lucien had so much love for the Archeron, and she waved him off without another thought. I might be able to understand her reluctance to accept the bond if Lucien was a brute of a male, but he wasn’t. He was soft, kind and easy on the eyes.

I found him tossing rocks into the Sidra one day, no doubt pining over how Elain had barley even acknowledged the flowers he picked for her. That’s when I told him about Azriel and I’s bond. From that moment on we spent a great deal of time together, ranting about our unaccepted mating bonds. Even though we spent most of the time bitching, there was happiness. More than I had felt in a while. 

Then starfall came…and everything changed. 

“You look far too stunning not to be walking in with a date,” Lucien drawled to me from the outside of the townhouse. 

I had spent all day getting ready for the annual party tonight. My dress was chosen specifically to catch Azriel’s attention, not that I felt like I would succeed. 

“Well finding a date is harder than you think, especially at this hour,” I laugh as I walk through the gate he opened for me. 

“Then indulge me,” he said. I turned to find him offering me an arm. 

“You want to be my date?” I laugh light heartedly, admittedly smitten by the autumn court male. 

“It’s a little last minute but I would be honored to walk into that room with you on my arm,” he said fondly. 

I smiled and shook my head at the male before looping my  arm in his and allowing him to lead me up the steps to the front door. 

“You know, you clean up pretty well Lu,” I cock an eyebrow bumping into him. 

“Thanks, your brother sets a pretty high standard as far as attire for this thing. Who knew he was such a fashionista?” Lucien grins before walking in the door arm and arm with me. I don’t even bother stifling the laugh I let out. 

The room nearly fell silent at our entrance. Sure Lucien and I were close and everyone knew, but they had never seen us like this. Even Az and Elain stopped their oh so intriguing conversation to ogle. I swore I saw anger flit across Elain’s eyes, like she was dead set on owning both Az and Lucien. 

Lucien and I spent the evening as wallflowers, doing our best to stay away from all the happy couples. We had even gotten to the point where we grabbed a bottle of wine off the table and brought it over to our couch, both of us tired of constantly getting up and down for refills. 

It wasn’t until Az and Elain not so subtly got up and walked onto the balcony that we decided we had tortured ourselves enough. We promptly grabbed the bottle of wine and waltzed out of the townhouse not even bothering to say goodbye. I supposed it was that exact bottle that did us in. 

I placed my hand on my apartment door, swaying slightly from the alcohol rushing to my head. Lucein’s hand found my hip, steadying me. While I assured him I would be fine to walk home alone, he insisted he came with me. 

“Thanks,” I laughed unlocking the door. 

“You’re welcome,” he chuckles, wobbling himself. 

“I had a really good time with you tonight,” I say, placing a hand on his chest to steady myself.

“I had a good time too,” he smiled. 

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how close we were. Lucien looked down at me, the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. The sudden tension between us was broken when he crashed his lips on mine. 

One thing led to another and the next thing I knew I was lying bare beneath him as he fucked me like his life depended on it. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to get laid until he was buried inside me. Needless to say I understood why people said the Autumn Court males have fire in their blood. 

That was a year ago and since then Lucien and I had decided to continue seeing each other in secret, both of us needing a way to release built up tension so to say. He often stayed the night and we would spend long hours talking about everything from the books we were reading to politics. The sex was amazing, for both of us, but it was the intimacy that came after that I think we both craved the most. An intimacy I would be seeking out shortly given the current topic of conversation between Azriel and I. 

“Gods the other day she was weaning a light blue dress in the garden and I nearly fell to my knees before her,” Azriel ranted to me. 

He had been going on and on about whether or not he wanted to finally make a move on Elain or not. And as his best friend I had to hear about every word of it.

“I saw it, it was a very pretty dress,” I acknowledge, turning the page of the book I was reading. 

“I swear she blushed when I complimented it too, I think I’m making progress with her,” he went on to say. 

“Maybe you should just put yourself out of your misery and talk to her Az,” I suggested for probably the tenth time. 

“You know I can’t just barrel in there. She’s scared and I’m not going to freak her out even more. She will come to me when she’s ready. If she’s ready. Gods that’s assuming she even likes me,” he rambled. 

I roll my eyes and shut my book so loudly it pulls the shadow singers attention. I give him a pointed look that has him startling back just a bit. 

“I know that she likes you Az,” I deadpan. 

“How can you be sure though?” he asks, throwing his head back on the arm of the couch. 

“Because she would be an idiot not to,” I say with a hint of sadness. 

Azriel looked to be at a loss for words, and I realized my words were much bolder than I had wanted them to be. 

Clearing my throat I set my book down on the side table, knowing it will be waiting for me when I come back to my brother’s tomorrow. I stand and subtly adjust my dress.  

“I have to go, but seriously Az, just tell her,” I say walking over to press a kiss to his forehead. 

As I got to walk away I feel him grab my hand, placing a kiss to my open palm, “Thank you for listening y/n, really.” he says earnestly . 

“Don’t worry  about it Az, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say with a fake smile before setting off towards my modest home. 

When Feyre moved into the townhouse I took it as my queue to move out, knowing my brother and his new mate would want privacy. Of course Rhysand offered me mansions and villas but I was content with a townhouse of my own in the middle of town. Big enough to have my own home library, and small enough to not feel so lonely. 

I make my way down the cobblestone streets, the faelights casting a warm glow on the ground before me. It was late, and many couples were turning in for the night. I could see some cuddled up on their sofa’s through their windows, others were having a nightcap together outside Rita’s. I saw a couple rocking their newborn baby to sleep on the second floor of their home, and for some reason, that was the one that hurt the most to me.

I sighed as I walked up a few steps to my townhouse door. I unlocked the door and was greeted to the smell of jasmine and vanilla and the sound of a cracking fire. I walk up my steps to find Lucien sitting shirtless on my large bed, his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck. The male was the image of relaxation. 

I had given him a key months ago. With the males many jobs, emissary to the night court, ally to Jurian and Vassa,  and liaison to Tamlin, he needed a place to truly call home. For the past 9 months that had been here, with me. I never once objected to his subtle moving in, it was nice to come home to someone waiting for me, sometimes even a homemade meal. For him it was nice to have a  place where he didn’t always have to put on a front. It was a win for both of us. 

“When did you get in?” I ask kicking off my shoes. 

“Just a couple hours ago. How was Azriel duty?” he asked, setting his book down as I began to strip off my cloak and dress leaving me only in my lingerie. It wasn’t uncommon for us to be so casual with one another. 

“Exhausting, did you know that Elain wore a pretty blue dress the other day?” I mocked tossing my clothes into a dirty clothes bin, I noticed his missing shirt was there too.

“Unfortunately yes I did,” he chuckled. “You know what always makes me feel better though?” he smirks. 

“I crawl up the bed towards him, “What?” I smile knowing what the answer will be. 

“You,” he smirks, grabbing my hips and pinning me to the mattress beneath him, his lips pressing to mine. 

“How funny I was about to say the same thing,” I laugh, feeling his lips tickle my neck as he makes his way further down my body. 

His mouth trails the inside of my thighs before sliding my panties down my legs, each brush of his fingers from my hips to my ankles feeling like heaven. The male had been gone for a week, and I was desperate for release. He licks a long stripe up my center, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves at the top. My back arches off the bed and his hands find my waist to pin me down. I feel his tongue begin to lap at my clit as his fingers slide into me, no doubt finding the pool of wetness waiting there. 

This is what me and Lu had always been good at, reading each other. When he had a stressful day  I always made sure to make him feel good, and when I came back to the house upset he never hesitated to get on his knees for me. There was this unsaid rule that we would always take care of eachother. 

Lucien’s tongue continues lapping my clit as his fingers curl to hit that spot inside of me that had me gasping for air. As I started to feel myself getting closer and closer he removed his mouth from me, drawing his fingers out slowly. One thing about hooking up for a year? You learn to read each other's bodies, and lord did the seventh son of Autumn know how to read mine. 

“Lu!” I cry out frustrated. 

“Shhh my darling,” he coos crawling up my body. “I simply want to cum with you tonight.” he smirked, seething himself inside of me. 

“Oh gods!” I cry feeling him fill me thoroughly. 

He pulls out and thrusts back in causing me to whimper once more. Mor was right about one thing, the autumn court males have fire in their blood and they fuck like it too. 

“I missed you, missed this,” Lucien groans, his face contorted in pleasure as he builds a steady pace. 

“I missed you too Lu,” I say through ragged breaths as he fucks into me like his life depends on it. Apparently the time apart made him needy as well. 

I could hardly speak as he thrust deeper into me, his hands on my waist holding me steady so tha he could hit me as deep as possible. When I felt myself start to clench around him he doubled over, burying his head in my neck as his hips continued to snap into me.

My hands found his back clinging to the flesh there for an anchor, my walls fluttering around him one last time before I fell apart.The sudden sensation had Lucien biting my neck as he came with a low groan. 

We spent a few moments catching our breaths, he pushed up on his arms and moved a stray hair from my face, assessing to see if he had hurt me, just like he always did.  When he found no traces of pain in my face he rolled over, taking me with him so that I was lying on his chest. 

This was always the part I think we both craved the most. The sex was great, amazing even. But I longed for a pair of arms to fall asleep in, and he longed for someone to hold. Meaningless pillowtalk just for fun.

“I mean it, I did miss you,” I sigh circling my arms around his waist. 

“I missed you too, I hate sleeping in the spring court, it’s so cold and dark there now.” Lucien said, staring at the ceiling. 

“How is Tamlin?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Terrible,” he muttered. “I had to talk him into letting me stay.”  He continues playing with the ends of my hair. 

“You’re a good friend for checking in on him though,” I say matter of factly. 

“I still wish I could do more,” he sighs, pulling the covers up on the two of us.

“I understand,” I mutter keeping my head on his chest, staring at the fire that roars next to us. 

A long beat of comfortable silence passes, normally I would fall asleep like this. I would sometimes wake to him being gone, sometimes he would wake to me being gone. Only on weekends would both be able to wake up and go to breakfast together. This was one of those weekends, but instead of falling asleep, Lucien spoke up. 

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, not taking his gaze from the ceiling. 

“Sure,” I reply, waiting for a nonchalant inquiry. It wasn’t the first time he and I had played 20 questions to get to know each other more, though I thought that after a year of it we knew just about everything there was to know about the other. 

“Would you agree that Azriel and Elain are never going to give us a chance?” he asked. 

My heart twinges hearing his name, “Well Az doesn’t know, but even if he did I don’t think he would care. I’m not damsel in distress enough for him.” I snort recalling the unconscious type he has.

“I feel the same about Elain, and there’s something I’ve been thinking about, especially this past week,” he continues still facing the ceiling. 

I prop my head up on his chest wanting to read his face and his eyes flit to me, “Cryptic Vanserra, but go on,” I laugh trying to break the tension. 

“I’ve always been fond of you y/n ever since you visited the spring court all those years ago. Now that I’ve gotten to know you, that admiration has only grown, not to mention you’re a very beautiful female y/n,” he laughs at his own words, a tint of pink dusting his cheek and I can’t help but blush as well. “From the amount of time we’ve been spending together it seems you like me enough, and well…I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he says seemingly avoiding his main point. 

I sit up more, intrigued by his words, “What do you mean Lu?” I inquire. 

“I was wondering if you would like to be Mrs. Lucien Vanserra?” he finally says and my heart nearly stops at the shocking words. “I know I’m not Azriel, but consider me an alternative. I think we could make eachother genuinely happy, maybe help each other enjoy whatever we have left of this miserable life?” he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. 

I let his words sink in as I stare at the bit of wall behind him. As I consider all that he’s said I realize that he’s right, we do get along. I had spent years trying to find a male to fill the hole Azriel put in my  life, but it always felt wrong. It was as if I was taking someone else’s mate, even when the males didn’t have mates.  It didn’t feel wrong being with Lucien because I knew that his mate also didn’t want anything to do with him. 

I was tired of not always having someone to come home to. Not having someone to go to events with. Not having someone to spend holidays with. Not having someone to call my own. I was tired of being alone, especially since I had been alone for about 400 years, but no longer. 

I smile down at Lucien’s nervous face, “I would be honored to be your wife,” I say. 

“You would?” he beams. 

“I would,” I repeated back to him. “You’re right, we do get along, and I’m tired of being alone too.” 

He presses his lips to mine, both of us smiling into the kiss. We would never fill the sadness of a rejected mating bond, but we would be there for one another. I lay my  head down on his chest again, feeling the sleep come into my eyes. 

“How should we do it?” he asked, tracing shapes on my bare back.

“Hmm,” I thought for a moment. A big wedding seemed odd considering we weren’t mates or anything close to it. Eloping seemed more proper. “I think we should keep it small.”

“Do we tell them?” He ponders the most awkward question.

“We can tell them, but we don’t need to invite them. It can be a modified elopement, they will all know but we can just invite my brother and Feyre, that way we both have family there.” I answer snuggling into his warmth more. 

“By the Cauldron I have to tell your brother I’ve been sleeping with you for over a year,” Lucien said anxiously, running a hand down his face. 

I can’t help but laugh at his stress, “He might be a little mad, but I’m sure Feyre will be so excited about it that he won’t care.” I giggle. 

I feel his body relax under my cheek, no doubt realizing that whatever the High Lady says will be law. He slides a red and gold ring off his pinky finger and slips it onto my left hand. 

“Here, it’s a family ring,” he explains looking at the gaudy ring on  my hand. While it fits on my finger well the jewel on it takes up my whole hand and looks unnatural. “I know I’m not part of the Autumn Court anymore but it’s all I have.” he continues.

“It’s perfect,” I laugh, inspecting the ill-fitting thing, “it’s an outcast just like us.”

Lucien's soft chuckle escapes him as he plants a gentle kiss atop my head. Tomorrow promises its usual dose of chaos, but that's a concern for another day. Tonight, here in bed with my fiancé, though this isn't the life I envisioned, I find myself flooded with a happiness I haven't felt in ages.

Part 2,

Part 3 (Lucien's Version)

Part 3 ( Azriel's Version)

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202

[aireia]

pretty. — shopping for your wedding gown went a little wrong.

tw/cw: tooth rotting fluff, not proofread, fluff/crack, reader wears a dress + satoru calls them his future wife —masterlist

you smile and place your palms under your chin, wondering how you got to this point. your snowy haired fiancé is currently twirling around with a custom tailored wedding gown… which he wasn’t going to be wearing on your wedding day anyway, because he would never hear the end of it from his first year trio. okay, yuji probably wouldn’t have said anything, but nobara and megumi would bully him out of his own wedding. without a doubt, 100 percent.

your mind tried running through the events that had unfolded over the past two weeks, finally stopping at where everything started.

-

“pretty.” 

those were the only words that satoru gojo had to say the moment the both of you had found the perfect wedding dress for you. detailed right down to the final bits of the dress, it matched you perfectly with your favourite flowers weaved into the design, just the perfect length… it was everything you were looking for.

the sound of your soft laughter brought him out of his awestruck expression. “thank you, but as much as i love it, it feels just a little uncomfortable.” you sounded a little disappointed, and satoru couldn’t help but notice every little shift and movement you made… especially that mischievous look in your eyes and grin plastered on your face the moment you thought of a ‘solution.’ 

“maybe you should be the one in a dress at our wedding. i’m sure the strongest can handle a little bit of discomfort.”  

now, you and gojo had known each other for probably more than a decade. he knew better than anyone else that you were joking. but you were basically challenging him with that last sentence, right? 

he abruptly stood up from the couch he was sitting on once you had gotten to changing out of the wedding gown before marching off to one of the nearby employees and asking about any dresses his size, only to be met with the response of, “this is an unusual request, but there are quite a few dresses that would compliment you-” the employee coughed a few times before continuing, “-but we are closing soon, so there might not be enough time to try them on-” 

“i'll take all of them.”

“pardon?”

“including the one my future wife chose. okay thanks!”

the total came up to about 1.2 million yen. for a dress for you and those 3 gowns the employee picked out, it horrified everyone present at the counter. everyone but him, of course. 

back to present time, that’s how you found yourself being the one and only audience member for your beloved’s fashion show. for a good reason, you wanted to chew him out for spending that recklessly. then again, this is the same guy who decides to buy two of the same items no matter how expensive it is “just in case the other one goes missing.”

you sigh softly before turning your attention back onto him. he’s currently trying on the final dress, and has finally got rid of the sunglasses. you can’t help but admit that he actually looks good in the dress, sparkling with all the right types of gems and jewels, paired with his now visible long eyelashes, he looks pretty. 

“so? how do i look!!?” satoru asks with enthusiasm, spinning around you in circles. 

“hmm, maybe i should be the one wearing your suit that day instead,” you jokingly say to him. he understood, laughing before ruffling your hair. 

“as if i’d let you.” a comfortable silence filled the air afterwards, being broken afterwards by satoru confessing, “i dream of seeing you wearing that in front of me at the altar, you know?”

your eyes at this. you weren’t expecting him to say something like that so sudden. 

“i can wear it at night when-” satoru’s sentence was cut off by a light punch to his gut. 

“hell no.”

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

@rninies still can't write fluff unfortunately, writing this fried my brain

[nathaslosthershit]

Coworkers?… Something like that (MV33)

Summary: Working in media for a Formula 1 team, you had expected to be behind the scenes, unseen and unnoticed by fans. But catching the eye of one of the drivers and the very public flirting as a result has thrust you into the spotlight Part of my summer event! Warnings: A little suggestive hehe.

It was the perfect job for you. Part of the team you love, far from the spotlight. You were good at it too. Constantly complimented by your boss in meetings on how much engagement some of the content you came up with got. Even the two drivers, who were certainly not known for enjoying media making them do stupid games for the fans, had stopped complaining as much. One driver in particular seemed to really enjoy when you would work with him…

You’d never been a big fan of Max Verstappen. It wasn’t that you disliked him, he was extremely talented of course, and not too bad to look at, but as you had always rooted for the underdog, you couldn’t justify ever celebrating his many many wins. But as you got to know him, as he gave you the warmest of welcomes to the team, you changed your mind. 

You two had been keeping your budding relationship to yourselves. Despite how much you liked each other, until you both had figured out where the relationship was going, it didn’t seem wise to tell anyone, especially while you were just finishing your first year with Red Bull. Despite how much you helped improve the team’s social media presence, if something happened, if it came down to their world champion a few times over, or some girl in media who had only been there for a year…

Luckily, it did get more serious, very serious. After a long conversation, you both had come to the decision that you won’t say anything explicitly, as Red Bull didn’t have rules on dating coworkers that would warrant an official notice to HR, but you wouldn’t hide as much. 

Too bad this decision was made not long before the Drive to Survive team came to film extra content for the show.

It was only supposed to be filler clips. Extra video footage to use with a voiceover to give more time to explain things. ‘Just pretend we aren’t here’ they had told everyone in the office, and oh boy did you pretend. 

It was Max’s fault, 100%. The undisclosed but very apparent relationship between you two was known to everyone at Red Bull at this point, but not the new video crew coming in. And Drive to Survive lives for the dramatics. 

While it wasn’t explicit, a few clips of hand holding (initiated by Max), a kiss on the cheek (given to you by Max), and multiple clips of Max looking at you with nothing but heart eyes, it was hard for anyone watching to ignore. 

Once the new season came out, fans very quickly caught onto all of the content of the two of you that DTS was trying to be sneaky about putting in. That then led to ‘internet sleuths’ finding all of the behind the scenes content they could get of both of you, and then finding your account you had left public thinking no one would care about the random Red Bull media girl. How stupid you were.

“Max, what the fuck are we supposed to do? Do I delete my account and hope people forget?” You asked, stressed by the sudden spotlight.

“That would just make it worse and make them less likely to forget. We will just have to… be honest, give people enough content to keep them satisfied but not spoiled into needing more.”

He was right. It was almost laughable how he was the voice of reason in this situation when media presence was your job. That is how everything started.

There were no ‘official wag paddock walks’, you were too busy working to be Max’s arm candy before a race. But there were a few photos here and there, your team even posted a few BTS moments of the two of you.

“All you have to do is describe the food you are eating to Checo so he can guess.” You explained to Max for the fourth time, but he was still not listening as he was far too busy appreciating the view of the beautiful woman he got the privilege of calling his girlfriend. “Do you understand?”

As Sergio nudged Max, he responded with a quick, “Yes got it”

“Do not say the name of what you are eating.”

“Yes, yes we know.” He absentmindedly said as the two drivers put on their blindfolds. 

Everyone let out a breath of relief as Max went to lift the spoon to his mouth, the entire crew antsy to finish what was supposed to be a quick video before Max ruined it with his heart eyes and lack of comprehension to anything that came out of your mouth. 

“What the fuck! It’s ketchup!” Max exclaimed as everyone groaned.

“Max, you weren’t supposed to say that!”

“I thought I was guessing what it was! That's why I had the blindfold, no?”

They were in for a long day of shooting.

Max had started a stream, hoping to make it quick so he could join you in bed. Unfortunately, when viewers saw that you were walking through the background, they wouldn’t give up until you joined, so neither of you had much of a choice.

Despite how obvious it was that the two of you were together, neither of you had confirmed the status of your relationship. This led to having to ignore about three quarters of the comments you both were getting on the stream.

“Would you like a Red Bull?” Max asked, 45 minutes into what seemed to be a never ending stream.

“No it’s too late, I’ll go get a water-”

“Nope you stay there i'll get it.” Max said, antsy for an excuse to take a moment to himself. The amount of comments about the two of you were starting to piss him off.

He returned to the room to see you answering questions and, while still off camera, he set down the glass and waved to get your attention.

‘End it’ he mouthed, making prayer motions with his hands.

You simply shook your head, you had been having more fun talking to people than he had.

‘Please, I want to go to bed with you’ he mouthed back, wiggling his eyebrows in hopes of conveying he wanted to do much more than simply go to bed. You couldn’t stop the giggle that left your mouth at that.

Seeing all the viewers confused, you simply responded, “Sorry, my coworker was harassing me” which had you giggling again as you saw Max get visibly annoyed at his new title.

“Okay guys, bye.” Was all Max said as he quickly returned to the view of the camera and turned off the stream. He then turned to face you, saying nothing as he dragged you to the bedroom, holding you close as he pushed you down onto the bed with him, causing more giggles to leave your mouth/

Giggles which he quickly stopped with a kiss. And then another. And then another.

The makeout session was in full swing when Max finally remembered why he was annoyed.

Quickly pulling away from you, much to your chagrin, he asked, “Coworkers? Is that all we are now?” He teased.

Giving him a less passionate but more loving kiss this time, you responded with, “Something like that” as you both started to remove your clothes.

[artssslut2]

New Normal

Dilf!Art x Reader

Summary: A lazy morning with Art Donaldson.

You and Art became inseparable soon after you started dating, well as inseparable as you could be while Art was raising a five year old. You had met Lily for the first time a while ago and she loved you, she called you her best friend, it was the sweetest. Nowadays you and Lily would spend more and more time together.

However you never slept over when Lily was with Art. You didn’t want her to be confused or get too used to you being around all the time. Even though Art was sure you were it for him. He was a father first and a great one. Tashi had Lily most weekends - when she wasn’t out of town coaching, but this weekend she was home and had their daughter. Art always misses Lily so much, but it was nice to have some alone time with his girlfriend. You stayed over since Thursday, it was amazing. Art was so romantic and caring. It was like you were royalty anytime you were around him.

You rolled over in the morning still groggy from waking up, you saw your boyfriend laying next to you admiring you sweetly

“Hey sleepyhead” Art whispered tucking hair behind your ear. You smiled and kissed his hand as a response “think about how great it will be when you live here.” He hinted curling up next to you

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled with a raspy sleep voice “when’s that gonna happen?” Art looked at you lovingly and took a breath

“Soon, when I propose.” He winked, your heart started pounding and you felt 100% awake. You loved art and wanted a future together, you knew this talk would come but it caught you off guard in a good way.

“Yeah?” You asked with an enormous smile that made Art return the smile

“Yeah” he chuckled “if you’d want that” he followed joking around because he knew the answer. You nodded enthusiastically and he laughed then you laughed crawling up into his lap giggling like a kid

“I just… gotta talk with Lily and come up with a plan so that she feels good, I don’t want her to feel left out or anything.” He told you in his concerned dad mode. You loved seeing him as a father, watching him worry about his little girl made your heart melt

“You’re a really great dad, you know.” You smiled, he let out a soft exhale and smiled slightly, you felt butterflies in your stomach before asking him what’s on your mind “D-do you… want to be a dad again?” You asked shyly. You were young and still wanted more kids, surprisingly it’s something you hadn’t talked about. You couldn’t read his face and started to panic a little “maybe… later on like someday?” You continued nervously. Then a smile spread on his face and a tear formed in his eye

“Yeah. Yeah I would love that.” He said wiping a tear before it could fall.

“Baby are you okay?” You asked holding his face and he just continued smiling

“Of course I’m okay. I just never thought this would happen to me… I thought I was done with that stuff I felt kind of I don’t know unlovable. I’m thankful for Tashi but that marriage took everything out of me. But when I met you. Baby when I met you everything changed, I felt so alive again for the first time in so long. I love you so much y/n.” He said teary eyed. You hadn’t seen art this emotional. It made you tear up too, watching Art learn to love himself again was one of the greatest things to watch.

“Art you deserve the world. You the greatest partner and father and role model, I’m in awe of you everyday. I want to help give you the marriage and life you deserve.” You touched your forehead to his.

“I’m gonna give you everything.” He said kissing your forehead and then you passionately. Then he felt his phone go off. He wouldn’t normally pick it up when he was spending time with you but since it could be about his daughter he did. He looked at it with slight disappointment

“Tashi has to catch a flight she needs me to go pick Lily up.” He told you. He wasn’t upset, it’s not that he didn’t want to pick up Lily. Not that at all, he just hated seeing Tashi choose work over their daughter more and more. He never wanted Lily to feel how he felt.

“Oh, do you want me to head out ?” You asked understandingly

“No… come with me. Lily will be happy to see you.” He told you putting a shirt on. You wouldn’t go with him on drop offs or pickups you tried staying out of the day to day routine. “You sure?” You asked

“Absolutely. Gotta get used to the new normal.” He smirked buckling his belt. Your heart fluttered and you nodded.

You and Art got to Tashi’s about thirty minutes later, Art went up to the front door and didn’t even get half way there before Lily burst through the door and ran straight into his arms, it made you smile and think about what a good man he was. He put Lily in his hip and then met Tashi by the door. They talked for a minute and then Art gestured towards his car and Tashi gave a quick wave in your direction. Then the door shut and Lily and Art were on their way to the car.

“Y/N!!!” Lily greeted excitedly leaving from the backseat to give you a hug,

“Lily!” You returned and Art smiled

“Y/n are you coming home with us?” She asked with the same scrunched up smile her dad had

“Yes of course I am!” You matched her energy and she was ecstatic “we’re gonna stop at Starbucks first though right?” You asked leaning towards Art and he gave you a smile

“I guess so” he said playfully as you have Lily a wink and she laughed.

You couldn’t wait to officially be apart of their family, they were your world.

[firelordslove]

Aang getting so, uncharacteristically angry when Appa was taken by the sandbenders wasn’t just because of his love for his sky bison. Of course, that was a big part of it. Appa is more than just a pet to him, he’s his best friend and soulmate, someone who’s been around since Aang was very young and is meant to be a “companion for life”.

But, Aang ran away on a random Tuesday, got caught in a storm and it changed the whole trajectory of his life. He ran away because he was upset his life was changing so rapidly, he suddenly had all this responsibility at 12 years old that he wasn’t ready for but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have gone back. We don’t know what would have happened; he could have needed a few days to cool off, he could have seen the start of the war and stepped up (from what we know of Aang, there’s no way he would have ignored it for his own needs), but that didn’t happen.

He got caught in the ice for 100 years and when he woke up he discovered that not only was everyone he knew and loved were dead, but brutally murdered in an act of power. That everyone from his teachers, friends (children, like him) and animals, were gone. Not only that but his whole culture; traditions, foods, clothing, music… everything important was eradicated and possibly most of the documentation of the culture, too. He’s suddenly handed this new responsibility on top of being the Avatar, trying to uphold this culture (as literally the last airbender alive) and grieve at the same time.

And Aang grieves very privately, in fact, does he even give himself a chance? He discovered the horrible truth and his immediate response it so go have some fun, maybe because he knows if he thinks too hard about it and gives into the pain, he’ll turn into something he’s not, he’ll forget what the monks taught him and he can’t let that happen.

So he tries to channel all his grief and anger into being the Avatar, even if he still has his reservations, and by his side is Appa. The only thing keeping him tethered to his life 100 years ago and his culture. He’s been with him through everything, and will continue to be, like I said “companion for life”.

And then he’s gone, he’s taken, and all of a sudden Aang cannot keep the crushing weight of his loss at bay anymore and he… snaps, he loses control. He gives into the avatar state because not only is everything he knew and loved gone, taken from him for nothing more than political gain, but now his soulmate that represented everything he lost is gone, too and he doesn’t know what happened to him. Is he dead? Is he scared? Is he fed? Who knows.

Aang losing Appa with the final straw and his grief, something he was ignoring and refusing to deal with, was brought to the forefront when he lost Appa, making it impossible to ignore and if it wasn’t for us friends trying to ground him and remind him of who he was, who knows what would have happened.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 6 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: the third year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning staying

warnings (TW): swearing, alcohol consumption, nicotine use (gross! but perhaps…sexy?), illegal activities, piercings, gore, panic attack/panic-inducing situation, slight sexual themes

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining, miscommunication but like with body language?

notes: the end of an era rip stan’s mullet circa 1985 (according to me and me alone). also like i 100% believe Stan plays in the pool mmk, like def rough housing when yall go swimming i just didn’t wanna write it. But in the back of your mind okay- just know deep down that yall had fun

thanks again for the notes and the comments and the reblogs omg i love reading anything yall leave fr lol- ahhh thanks again <3

word count: 6.8k (yo what howd i manage this)

| masterlist | part vii |

February, 1985 

They had decided to go out that night, making excuses about missing the new year. 

They hadn’t noticed the clock ticking by from December into January, consumed with new wiring in the basement connected to the user panel for the portal. 

She had been ranting and raving again, like he had hated in the beginning of it all, but slowly began to crave in the end of it. He had begun to slowly understand those rants in the coming months too, thanks to her hurried chalkboard drawings of random continuous circuits. He closed his eyes now and could identify different AC and DC currents in the lines of the darkness in his dreams. 

Work would consume them at random, and he had begun to find her downstairs late into the night after having dragged her to bed. She’d creep out into the hallway, lingering in his bedroom doorway. Tucking blankets around his broad shoulders, only to find her way downstairs to the last remnants of Stanford. 

He saw his brother in her at every turn as of late, found his last visage in her shaking hands and deep-seated eyes. He’d tie her to the bed if he had to, no matter how the image shook something deep in him. She’d sleep tonight, and he knew of a way to do it. 

Distract her.

So he took her out to the bar singing to her about the new year that had already come and gone, dragged her up the stairs to change into something that wasn’t covered in oil and dirt, and got her out the door within an hour. 

She looked better now, her eyes less clouded and her smile more radiant than he’d seen in days. She had felt cold for months, and he believed it his own fault because he had pushed her away. 

He had had another dream, more vivid than the previous, and it had shocked him awake so fast in the dead of the night that he actually stumbled to her open doorway, making sure she was where he had left her in his dream. The dream where he had touched her where she had never actually allowed, where he had begged her for words and for more and she permitted it. Allowed him to creep into her bed and make her his, but it had been sickening this time, the sweetness he felt for her, and he woke believing it to be an absolution. He didn’t deserve to think of her like that, because she had never allowed it. So he would never allow it. 

That sickening ache he has felt refused to let up though. And it only twisted into something deeper when he thought of her, thought of her as his wife. The only allowance he had of her, in only words. 

The shake of his hands when he reaches for her now is hard to hide, as hard to hide as his racing heart from himself. His subconscious screamed something anxious when he looked at her now, screamed something of promise and something sickeningly sweet like adoration. 

He wouldn’t use the bigger more unexplainable word. She didn’t feel the same, he reasoned, so it couldn’t be that. 

So he ignored his heart, his shaking hands, and the ache in his chest. How his stomach twisted when she laughed and how he forgot about it all when he had a drink in his hand. 

He had been cold to her recently, and she had retraced all the steps in her mind on how it consequently was all her fault. All her fault that he pulled his hand from the back of the couch now, how he twisted weirdly in his car seat when she sang on the way home. How he wouldn’t look at her anymore, peering through her when she talked to him now across the kitchen table. 

It was all her fault, she reasoned, that he was no longer warm.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, it whispered dark things sometimes. Her lack of intelligence weighed on her. She wanted to prove she could do what they had both set out to do together. Wanted to prove she could bring his brother home, in hopes his warmth would return. So she had slaved away these past months, in hopes he could look at her again. 

But she had forgotten that for now, drink in her hand and eyes already blurry. Laughing at his usual gag of making fun of people around them, creating fake stories about passerbyers, and twisting tall tales about their mundane lives. He hadn’t dragged his eyes from her all night. 

She had interrupted their usual cadence, a sudden drunk contemplative look in her eyes. 

“Ya know.” She sloshed her drink around, the ice almost being the only thing left. “I still sometimes feel as young as I did when I first left home. When I left for college.” She hums, turning her eyes to him. “Do you ever feel like that?” 

“Ah sometimes.” He answers, finishing off his drink and looking to the bar to get them both another, straying his eyes from her for the first time in hours. “But then I remember how my back feels in the morning.” She laughs. 

“No! I mean like, do you feel just as stupid as you did when you were eighteen?” Taking her eyes off of him, a blush bloomed across her face. 

He feels stupid around her, mostly. But a different weird kind of stupid. So he agrees. “Ya, doll. I get what you mean.” 

“Hey…” she’s giggling now, a smirk creeping around the corners of her mouth. “You can still have my bed, Stan.” She said, referring to his stiff back courtesy of Sixer. 

His dream flashes behind his eyes again, of creeping into her bed at her insistence. How she had peeled the covers back and waved him into her. The swell of her hips and the quirk of her brow. He flees, suddenly feeling sober in the face of her. She didn’t mean it like that anyway. 

“How about another drink, hun?” She perks at that, at the name. But nods her head, moving her glass back to his waiting hand as he makes for the bar. 

Tonight had been good, more peaceful. And the most she’s been able to talk to him in a while without the abrupt interruption of guilt that came with living above his brother's graveyard now. Three years, each one more daunting than the last. That and the usual tirade of her self-conscious mind was dimmed in the wake of her numerous mixed drinks. 

But his company was distracting, was always distracting. So she fell into it with ease tonight. The easy cadence between them, his carefree affection he gave when he was hazy, even the rhythm of the music in the bar was enchanting tonight. She was drunk, she knew that for sure. It made her lips loose and her shoes shuffle weird. 

She wanted to dance, to move across the floor. But she only wanted to if he followed in her shadow. Something she usually wouldn’t ask of him, but the drink had absolved her of her usual anxieties. It made the aching heartfelt feelings for him intensified, the thought of him so close to her. She liked that, that feeling. Craved it most days now, especially in his continued absence. 

He came back to her, bar lights lit the back of his head much like they had when she first laid eyes on him that December day more than three years ago. He had a rugged handsomeness to him, sporting new short hair. Something she had teased him about, fake crying at the loss of his long grown-out mullet. She didn’t linger on the feeling of having missed out on running her fingers through his long tousled curls. 

He was his usual charming self, achingly so. His smirk lit his face as he passed back over her drink to her, but she reached across for it in his haste to give it to her. Meeting him on the rim of the cup as her fingers curled around his big ones. 

“Staaannnnnnnn!” She said, a smile blooming across her face. “We should dance!” Perking up in her seat, twisting her fingers around his own. Tracing her thumb across his large palm. 

He flushes like he always does when she touches him. He's much like her though, buzzed off the atmosphere and her presence. It isn’t completely out of the ordinary that he would say yes to anything she suggests, especially when she looks at him like that. 

Her smile tilted, they leave their new drinks behind. Something that normally would concern him if he didn’t know almost everyone in the room at the moment, having seen almost every local come through his tour in the following years. That and he had evenly glared at every man in town in passing, specifically when he was following in her wake. 

The lights in this part of the bar were different. Dimmer in this corner in particular, only lit up by the continuously changing old jukebox in the corner. The lights reflected off her face made him stumble forward. 

The song was nothing recognizable to him, but she seemed to enjoy the rhythm anyway. Twirling her hands up and unconsciously moving her hips. She laughed at his stiff posture, reaching for his hand and pulling him into her. 

“You gotta move Stan.” She had said between them. “Like this.” Picking up his arm, and curling it around her. 

She’d admit to herself later that she isn’t the best dancer, but she had dreamed of his touch for months since he had pulled away this past October. And she was too much of a craven to do it sober. 

So she placed his hands on her waist without much thought, and she dug her hands into his broad shoulders- just because it felt right. He hadn’t hugged her for a while, the memory of their first embrace, down in the basement rang around her head. He had hummed a certain way that day, her ear in the junction of his shoulder as he tried to soothe her for the first time. 

She would be the death of him. He had swore it up and down. The way she looked in the changing jukebox light was riveting, made him stutter over words, and made his hands wander. She was warm and laughing against him, the song drowned out by the entirety of her. 

Suddenly the song shifts, and her smile gets impossibly brighter. She swings out of his embrace, still holding onto his large hand. Moving with the beat of a familiar song. 

She’s utterly hypnotizing like this, the beat of the song drowning out the sound of his racing heart. He couldn’t tell if it was the song that convinced him of this or her, but she captures a small part of his mind as she drags him around giggling on the dance floor. He doesn’t care much for what his limbs do anymore, pulling her back to his chest and letting her muffle her laughter into his shoulder again. He finds himself laughing with her, eyes drifting up and down her form in his arms now. 

She revels in the proximity. She had longed for his warmth in the past months, aching to have him look at her like he is right now. He was finally looking at her, not through her. It didn’t feel like the normal disjointed affections tonight, he felt whole against her for the first time in months. And she couldn’t help but laugh at how much she pitied her past self for having thought she had to beg for his presence. He gave his attention readily tonight, and it was a balm on her anxious mind and made her drowsy in comfort. 

The song came to an end, but his hold did not waver. His hand reaching from her back to her loose hair, moving it away from her flushed exerted face to see the crook of her smile. Her eyes drooping now, her heart steady against his own. 

“Ready to go, doll?” 

She nods, but stops, dizzy at the movement, and giggles to herself. Burrowing into the palm that rests near her face now. She points to the back of the bar, in the far corner. 

“Restroom, doll?” 

She nods pulling away from his warmth and his palm. She would be back. 

“Mmmk, I’m gonna close the tab and I’ll meet you outside alright?” 

She nods again, moving to the much-needed restroom. He wanted to go outside, she figured so he could have a smoke. Something she had chastised in the very beginning all those years ago, but he had a good habit of at least wondering outside to do it on the porch. Sometimes she would follow him out when they were holding those kind of conversations that would follow you from room to room. It had made her stop and stare that first time, finding the way the smoke curled and left his mouth to be captivating. The way he would talk around it, cigarette resting in the corner of his mouth. Something so life-altering shouldn't be alluring, but he had a habit of doing that to her. 

She makes her way back out of the bathroom, their booth empty except for his winter jacket he had left behind for her. Their drinks were long gone and cleared from the table despite them never having touched them. He didn’t even give her shit about not finishing a drink tonight. 

She slips his big red coat on, running her hands along the corner patch like she always does. The coat smells more like him in the colder months for some reason.

She turns back to the bar, an older woman waving her over and vying for her attention. She swears she has seen her before, her red hair catching in the barlight. Probably in the giftshop at some point, looking for cheap merchandise for the holidays to give to family. 

“You both are just so cute!” The older woman remarks as she gets closer to her, her smile inviting.

“Ah, why thank you.” She smiles, thinking of Stan waiting for her outside.

“How long have you been married?” 

“Just had a two-year anniversary.” She hums, thinking about their usual December diner date that had come and gone. He hadn’t drawn with her that year, though. Something that had become a bit of a tradition between them both. 

It struck her then. That they hadn’t been acting much different in regards to the revelation they had just two years ago when she spilled that she had tied herself to him indefinitely. That they had never accommodated themselves to act more “married” for the sake of illusions. That everything they did had come naturally to them both. This woman in front of her proved it, they hadn’t acted any differently than they usually would have tonight.

For a split guilty second, she wonders if it’s a lie for Stanley if he's just that good of a conman and she’s too achingly sweet on him to notice it all. She shakes the visage off like a bad dream, remembering his glassy eyes that December day all those years ago when he had leaned into her side swearing up and down that he wasn’t any good for her. Stanley never lies about anything that could hurt her. He’d never hurt her. 

She sighs, but he's been so cold. Wrapping his red jacket around her, feeling the warmth and smelling the scent he had left behind in it. They’d be okay though, with time. 

“Basically newlyweds then, dear.” The nice older woman comments. The woman looks her up and down, a contemplative smile on her face. She knew she looked weary. “Bit of advice dear?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Having you around is enough.” She hums. “Just gotta be there for him, stay close dear. Always stay.” The woman reached forward, wrapping her hand around her shoulder. 

Contemplative she nods at the woman, thanking her. Making her way outside and taking the statement to heart. Perhaps she didn’t need to overthink what was wanted and act on what was needed. He must need her, must need her close. She had thought to work herself to the bone to bring back his warmth, but maybe all that was needed was her constant. To be a constant for him. 

She thinks about the way he used to melt into her side on the couch, how he would lean into her palm on his cheek. How he had just reached for her, moments ago. Encasing her in his arms. She didn’t need to find words to soothe him. She never did. 

He was leaning on her passenger side door. A lit cigarette lighting his face. Handsome as all hell like that, his big hand dragging through his stubbly cheek. Dark eyes followed her from the door to the car. Wouldn’t be hard to be a constant for a man like that. And he stole all her words anyway, looking like that. 

He nods, bending to open her door with a quick flourish of his hand, dramatically bowing to her as she ducks into the passenger seat, giggling at his antics. 

He follows suit, bending and folding into the drivers side. Cranking his window down so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger in the car. 

His legs bent and parted, his hand nursing his smoke. She moves to him almost unconsciously, still at a loss for words in his simple presence. Thinking about what the older woman had said to her in the bar, jumbled up in her mind. Stay close, right?

She settles into the middle part of the long bench, reaching for the radio and ignoring his imploring gaze. 

“Hun?” He implores. “You gonna move?” 

She shakes her head, moving her eyes back to his again before straying her gaze to the cigarette stuck between his lips now. 

“No baby.” She slurs, giggling at him as she plucks his smoke from his mouth, moving it to hers. 

She had never called him that before, and it makes him need to readjust in his seat, suddenly hot in the cool February air. She’d be the death of him, he swears. Especially with her eyes tilted like that, and the way the smoke curls up around her face and hair. It’d be burnt into his mind for a while, this image of her. It’d be enough to sate him for months he figures. 

He does not correct her, nor make her move. Just reaches past her, buckling her securely into the middle spot without leaving her tilted gaze. His heart in his throat. His hands begin to shake again. 

That damn song rings out from the radio, pulling her eyes from his as she giggles at the contraption. The song's rhythm almost seems to match his heart, stuttering at her form folded into the middle of the front seat. The cigarette balanced in her mouth.

She leans over him, hand finding his chest as she reaches out the open window. Flicking their now shared cigarette into the winter snow. Her palm is warm on his chest, and she drags it to his shoulder as she returns to her seat in the middle of the long bench. A long searing path it leaves across him, she’s warm beside him in his fucking jacket. She’s gonna kill him. 

Something deep in him can’t reason with his stupid logic anymore though, not when she’s like this. So much more carefree than she’s been in months, and something rings around the back of his mind reminding him that it is his own goddamn fault that he can’t control himself. Never hers. Nothing really was ever her fault in his eyes. So if this is what she needed tonight, to feel some semblance like herself for the first time in months, then he wouldn’t flinch away from it. Because it’s all his fault anyway, that rotten part of himselfs fault. That bad part of him, that wanted her for more than this. He wanted to use her, he reasoned. That bad part of him wanted to use her, but she needed him like this. But she had allowed it, so he would do as she needed.

So he lets her curl up into his side in the car on the way home. His hand runs through her hair as she hums the lyrics to that goddamn song into his ear. It’s hypnotizing he thinks, but not the song no, it’s all her. She was that hypnotizing thing, and he had fallen back into her with an ease that would be embarrassing if he gave a shit tonight. But he only has one thing on his mind, and that’s getting her back home. She’d sleep well tonight, he thought. 

July, 1985

“Stan, why didn’t we think of this years ago?” 

“Why didn’t I think of this years ago you mean,” he hums, one arm hung out the open window of the car. “And it’s because I am stupid.” 

She scoffs, reaching across the middle of the front seat to shove his broad shoulder. He laughs, his head thrown back as she grumbles next to him. She hates when he says that shit. She had made a note on the fridge, etched out in her scrawling handwriting that the word “stupid” was forbidden in their house. Mainly because she had found it appalling how used to calling himself sstupid he was. He had joked, reaching for the note on the fridge on occasion. Tearing it down just to say the word, and laughing as she would chase him in and out of the living room to the kitchen. It wasn't allowed, he would joke, but only because it was on the fridge. She’d fume, making a new note, and hanging it up where the old one had resided. He just did it to get a reaction really, when she was annoyed at him it was adorable.

Which was why she was huffing in the passenger seat, and it only made it better when he pulled the note he had plucked off the fridge when they left, from the back pocket of his swimming trunks. 

“Stan!” She whined, reaching across to him again, unbuckling herself to get at him. 

“Ah Ah!” He waved the sign. “It doesn’t count!” Mocking her rule, and watching her squirm over to him to reach across his chest to grab at the sheet of paper she had remade for the fourth time not even a week ago. 

“Stop it!” She said, leaning over him now, her chest to his as she begged him. Was she pouting? 

He can smell her now, so he relents. Kind of all he wanted, he reasoned in his mind, that sickeningly aching part of him that is. 

“Okay okay!” He almost hands her back the sign, but quickly swipes it from her almost-grasp just to tease her. “But only if you get us some ice cream.” 

She hums, nodding along and reaching for the paper again. “Ah ah!” He protests. “You gotta say it.” 

“Yes, I will get us some ice cream, Stan.” She rolls her eyes, hands out and waiting. 

He gives it back, and she successfully puts it back into her beach bag to later hang it back up on the fridge. 

They had both become exhausted by the summer July heat. The AC window unit they had put up to alleviate some of the swelling heat only operated on the second floor of the house. They had been lying around, miserable together, when he had remembered that this tiny town actually had public accommodations in the form of a pool. She had jumped up from the living room ground in joy and had raced upstairs to change so fast he had barely finished explaining how he’d subsequently had forgotten about said pool. 

It was a smaller pool for sure, but this was a small town to begin with. They just needed to be in the water, stat. 

They made their way inside the enclosed pool, finding a seat by the poolside to share that day as the pool was obviously busy in the heat of July. He had grumbled about the lack of shade and trees, thinking about the usual sunburn he and Ford would get when on Glass Shard beach. 

She had found a spot though, setting her bag and towel down, and beginning to take off her shorts and shirt cover. 

He didn’t look, thinking the act to be too intimate to witness anyway. He sat on the edge of the seat, slipping off his shoes and beginning to take off his own shirt, his back to her. 

Of course, she was wearing a bikini. 

The color complimented her well, and although he couldn’t name details on the suit he’d have the image forever encapsulated in his mind. Especially her bent over like that, as she reached down to remove her shoes. 

She made her way in front of him and his slack jaw, her hands on her hips and her head tilted in question. 

“Are you coming?” 

“No.” He said automatically, sounding defensive. Rethinking, he shakes his head. “I mean, yes.” 

He moves his eyes down, noticing something catching the July sun on her swimsuit. No not her swimsuit, on her. 

He squints, reaching forward to grab at her hips, bringing her closer to him so he can see what he thinks he sees in the shade she now provides. 

“Is that… is that a piercing?” 

He had never seen her belly button before. Something that may have shaken a normal husband, but considering she wasn’t actually his he tried to reel in his subconscious insistence that he should have known about this. 

“Yes?” She says, laughing down at him. 

He removes a hand from her hip, moving to touch the belly button piercing himself. It was completely healed, not in any way brand new. Ignoring how soft her skin was, he looked back up at her. 

“When you get this doll?” 

She shrugs. “When I was in college. Someone dared me $50 I wouldn’t do it.” 

Fuck. He leans his head forward, unintentionally nestling into her soft stomach. She did it for money. 

She was almost too much, too good to be true. She fit into him like a puzzle piece sometimes, and he was still continuously amazed by her for some reason. 

Trying to tame some odd part of him he looks back up at her. She’s gorgeous, the sun framing her smiling face. She’s laughing at his reaction, a flush to her cheeks at his casual affection for her. 

She leans forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and tilting his head back. She moves to put her hand under his scruffy chin, asking him again if he was coming along into the pool with her. 

He nods, following in her wake. They eat their ice cream in shared amusement all the way home after a hectic day in the pool. 

*******, ****

“I can’t believe he had it this whole time.” He says, leaning back into the rolling chair stationed in the front of the portal's control panel. 

She hums, peering over his shoulder as he moves back and forth over controls. Flipping and turning things she nudges him in indication to move. The two journals rested on the workbench, the third picture they had taken from the third journal most recently, which had rather unsurprisingly been in the young boy’s possession. 

“You know Dipper. He’s too curious for his own good.” She hums, looking back over his broad shoulder to the portal beyond the protection glass. They had successfully gotten a reaction out of it just the following night, and it had shocked to life, throwing gravity off normal equilibrium for a few moments. She had taken that into consideration, floating around potential reasons for the anomaly in gravity and the correspondence to the potential space-time hole they had punched into their basement wall. 

He leans back in the chair, turning to look at her fully now. Weathered and handsome now, gray hair curling around his ears and his glasses. Just as whole and broad and goofy as he usually was. His wedding band glints on his finger as he reaches for her, a smile growing on his face. 

“You knew didn’t ya?” He says, laughing at it all. “You knew he’d find the stupid thing?” 

“I had an inkling that he may have found it.” She sighs, leaning forward, exhausted, as he runs his large hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. 

He huffs. She’s always one step ahead of everyone. Not that she would tell anyone but him, her husband. He found it amusing when everyone was surprised by her intelligence. It wasn’t a secret to him in the slightest, that she overthought and rewrote a hundred different ways to handle situations in her head. She was weirdly graceful like that, but subsequently also filled with an edge of constant anxiety. 

She had been anxious about the little things today, he could tell. She woke up earlier than normal today but hadn’t moved from his arms. Eyes open and staring at him endearingly in the early morning sun. Usually, it was the other way around. But she had been like that since the kids, really. 

She was also worried about the party, and the townsfolk visiting so close to an active portal. But she had quickly become distracted by making snacks for the celebration tonight, and coloring posters with the girl about their “karaoke family group”. Something with a stupid name he couldn’t remember, but something he figured she helped the girl come up with. 

“You’re too soft on him.” He says, pulling her closer to him, lifting his head to rest on her chest as she stands in front of him. Her brow twists, a contemplative frown on her face. The argument they’ve been having silently for the past few weeks arising once again between them. 

“No.” She sighs, running her hand over his scruffy warm cheek. “You’re too hard on him.” 

He hums. “You know why though.” 

She nods. “I know, dear.” 

Her hands fall to his shoulders, pulling him away from his usual place along the front of her. Pulling his scruffy chin up with the tip of her finger, all the while smiling at him. Tonight had been good, she thought. The kids were happy, and the girl was excited to entertain the town and her friends. The boy had been upset at the reprimand he had received earlier, but she doubted that really deterred him from his mission to uncover the oddities in that journal he carried around religiously now. He’d be over the reprimand by tomorrow, she figured. She worried he may get himself into trouble one day though. 

But her husband had been right in his assessment. Between the two of them, they had agreed there was too much Ford in the young boy than they could manage between the two of them. She was constantly worried about him, worried his curiosity may lead him to unexplainable and more dangerous situations than they could pull him out of him. But his twin, the girl, just as easily wrangled him in. The young girl was a balm on her conscious, constantly reminding her that being so young had been a true pleasure. She just hoped the girl could also remind her brother of this too. There was a lot of her husband in the young girl, she was just as charming. 

Stan was looking at her though, his typical flirtatious smirk on his face. It had been a good night. The portal whirled behind them both, and the music upstairs spoke of the fun the kids were having. She leaned into him, wanting to meet his lips halfway. 

An alarm blared throughout the basement. The security alarm breach that they had put on the upstairs shack door in case of burglary, but more for the warning in case the government came knocking. 

Their faces turn to the giftshop's security camera, the image of the boarded-up front door settling unevenly in her stomach. The kids. 

Something was bursting, punching in and rattling the front door. The children were moving furniture and chairs in front of the entrance. Speaking and screaming between themselves as they made a barricade. 

She runs, removing herself from his warmth. They both make for the elevator, hastily hitting the button to go up a story so they could go from the sub-basement to their actual basement. He was breathing heavily next to her, his large hand folded into her own smaller one. His hair a mess from pulling at it in anxiety. 

The stairs came to view in dim light, and she raced ahead without a thought. Taking the stairs two at a time as she dragged him up to the back of the vending machine that led to the stairwell. 

She let go of his hand, making to move the vending machine out of place to enter the gift shop. To get to the scrambling, scared kids. But it wouldn’t budge under the weight of what lay in front of it. What had amassed in front of the front entrance, they hadn’t caught a glimpse of. But she could smell it, the stench of rotten flesh and the mellowing bellow of the whining undead. Fear ripped through her, but she kept shoving because the fucking kids were in there. 

She yells at him, frightened as she advances her shoulders away and back into the door. Shoving her whole body to move the entrance. “Stanley!” She yells, anxiety running through her. 

But he’s already shoving too. Already has his arms flush to the door, digging his feet into the step for traction as he pushes his whole weight against it. He’s almost caged her in, dwarfing her in his effort to put his own momentum to the door too. His eyes frantic and his breathing hasty. The kids were all alone in there. 

Desperate, she beats her hands against the door, calling for the children in hopes they would seek them out in safety. “Mabel!” She gasps, fists bloody against the wood. “Mason!” 

He drags her back, taking her fists in his hands as he begs her to stop. He takes a lunging step back, pushing her against the stairwell railing. He shoves his whole body against the door, his broad shoulder first, and his suit ripped due to the movement and the force. His own hands and fists bloody from the abrasive door and his haste to get to the twins. 

The door breaks under his weight, and he uses the leverage of the new material to work against the amount of dead bodies that had amassed in front of the vending machine. She follows him out, not thinking twice about the undead surrounding them. Her heart in her throat, her hand wrapped around his bicep as he reached for the bat they kept near the entrance to the Mystery Shack from their home. She screams their names again, clawing to get through the crowd of undead.

“Babies!” 

She gasps, spotting them in the sea of bodies. The young girl's sweater ripped and torn under the hands of all the undead. The boy’s hat missing, his usual jacket she had tucked over his shoulders that morning also torn to shreds, covered in inky black blood. Their eye’s lifeless. 

Stanley turns to her, his eyes hasty and clouded, and his breaths loud. He looks down at her, his shoulders shaking from pent-up tears. His hands meet the sides of her face, and he chokes out something that could be a question. 

“Honey?” 

“Honey!” 

He leaned over her, his hands still on the sides of her damp face.  

He had rushed from Stanford’s room to her open doorway. The cool October air leaking in from his open window, leading him to her room. She had called for him, called for Stanley, and it had shaken him awake so suddenly he had tripped in the hallway to make it to her side. 

She had been dead asleep, and sweating heavily despite the crisp air. Curled into her multiple blankets and tucked into a sweatshirt he had sworn he had misplaced, but she had laughed at in secret. Tucking away the sweatshirt that held his imprint to wear to bed and fold herself into. 

It was drenched now, and her eyes were blurry when she woke to his call. She was breathing erratically, heart stuttering in her chest and mouth dry from her calls. Her eyes searched his for what felt like hours, as he reassured her that it had all been a dream. 

“Hun? Hun, it was a dream. It was just a dream.” He reasoned, his large hands running through her tangled messy hair. Finding their way to the back of her neck so he could hold the entirety of her upper half in his palms. Breathing easy in her presence to show her how to slow her heart. 

She didn’t say anything until he moved from her, beginning to reach around to her dresser to pull out a new shirt for her to wear. 

“No.” She mumbled. “No.” 

“I ain’t leaving, just getting you something new hun.” He reassures but doesn’t let his hand leave hers as he steps towards the dresser in her small room. Pulling open the top drawer, as she sat up in bed behind him. His hand still clutched in hers. Her eyes were still far away, searching dark corners of the room for children. 

He turns back to her, handing her another one of his large shirts. She had all but stolen his wardrobe in the past three years. Sometimes he would wander to her dresser to find some of his clothes that had made a home in her dresser. Something he wishes he could have done himself, by choice. Put his clothes next to hers. 

She takes the shirt, releasing his hand to undress herself from the sweatshirt. He turns around, thinking to step back through the doorway to go back to Stanford’s bed. 

“No.” She says again, pulling at his own loose shirt, stopping him in his move. So he stops, back still turned as he listens to her change. She tugs the end of his shirt again, and he turns to look at her in the dark room. 

She pulls his forearm, her small hand grasping at his large arm as she tries to strongarm him closer. He moves to her, sitting on the edge of her bed, searching her far-away eyes for something. She brings his large palm to her face, resting her now cooling cheek in his grasp. 

“Stay.” She commands. 

He would do anything she asked. He had been so rattled by the call of his name, the rip of her voice, how scared she sounded. He doubted he’d leave her side for a while, until she asked him to go. Then he would leave again. So he crawls into bed with her, shuffling her to the other side, to the wall. He takes the side she used to reside in, her warmth leaking into him. The imprint she left behind encased him. He’s closest to the door, reasoning in his mind that the dark shadows of the hallway would just frighten her more. 

She shuffles over, still sitting up as she rearranges blankets up to his shoulders, tucking him in, in an odd way. He doesn’t say anything but chuckles at the sentiment. She then lays next to him, facing him in the middle. Her blankets shuffled up to her own shoulders. 

She sighs deeply, soothed by his presence after waking up in shock. It had been so real. Like she couldn’t tell the difference between them, between wakefulness and dream state. Like she had dipped her toes into another reality entirely. 

Her heart races again, and she reaches for his hand, bringing it back to her face. His heavy presence was a balm on her weary heart. He smiles slightly at her, humming under his breath as he scoots a little closer to her. Whispering between them as he fades back into a dream, hoping his company brings her enough peace to let her rest for a little while longer until the sun rises. 

“Goodnight hun.” Grumbling in his deep voice, she hums against his hand, burrowing deeper into his palm against her cheek. Her eyes can’t help but drift to corners in her room, again subconsciously looking for scared children in crowds of bodies.

She turns from the darkness in her room, triangles of shadows creeping in from the dark doorway into the hallway. She looks back to him, slumbering next to her now. His head dug deep into her pillow, his breaths shallow and his brow unfurred. 

The dream. In the dream, were they her’s? She can’t remember, looking at him now, it’s like it’s fading into the background. The vivid dream seeping from her mind. 

“Were they ours?” She whispers between them. Asking it out loud, just so she could remember that one part of the nightmare. The one part that made her ache, and wish for something far off that she’d never really had. Were the children ours?

[rosielovesf1]

on the move | LN4

quadrant moving company coming soon

word count: 1k

warnings: none! (but i have not written in toooo long and i have writer's block so please bear with me 😭)

author's note: thank y'all SO MUCH for 100 followers!!! i am on summer holiday so hopefully will be way more frequent with posts than i have been. if you have any story/driver requests, please message me or use the button on my home page :))

Boxes. Everywhere. y/n ran a hand through her hair, sighing at all that still needed to be done. 

Just picture the apartment. Gorgeous with floor to ceiling windows, a spacious kitchen that filled with light in the afternoons. Most of all, the first place that she could truly call her own after graduation- the incredibly rewarding result of balancing a job and uni for the past four years. 

“Baby, do you want your mugs in with the kitchen stuff or the fragiles?” y/n shuffled over to the kitchen from the bedroom, smiling at the sight of her boyfriend on tiptoe, reaching for the top shelf of the cabinets. 

“Need some help with that?” she giggled, wrapping her arms around him from behind and leaving a soft peck on his neck. He groaned but relaxed into her touch. 

“I think-,” He tugged her arm and she moved to stand in front of him, grinning as she met his green eyes. The room seemed to grow hotter as he caged her in between his arms, the cool granite counter biting into her lower back. There was a glint in his eyes that sent a shiver through her body.

“Lan-” The clock was ticking on her move out date, but a twenty minute break wouldn’t do any harm. Maybe they’d even be more efficient after. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lips parted in anticipation. 

“I need-” One of his hands came up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Mmhmm.” The feather light touch was delicious. 

“To stage an intervention. You have so much stuff.” It took her a second to react to the sudden change in mood, a slow grin spreading over his face as he could practically see the gears turning in y/n’s head. He took advantage of the spare moment to nip playfully at her nose, full on laughing when she pushed him back suddenly. 

“I need all my stuff!” y/n protested, crossing her arms defiantly. 

“Baby, you can’t even reach that stuff. It’s just collecting dust up there.” The entire top shelf of the cabinet was cluttered with cups of various shapes and sizes. Some were pretty crystal in pastel colors, others were travel souvenirs sporting slogans like “My friend went to Cancun and all I got is this cup” (yes, there were multiple of those. from the same places.), and there were even a couple that were shaped like animals. The giraffe-shaped ceramic mug had lost its head, and it almost looked a little… phallic… without it. 

“Yes, I can. Watch.” y/n pushed herself onto the counter, taking a moment to steady herself before standing up, now easily at eye level with the cup collection. She smiled triumphantly down at Lando, the moment only dimmed by a sneeze that made her eyes water. Okay, so maybe he had a point about the dust. 

“You’re making me nervous.” He wrapped his hands around y/n’s thighs to steady her, squeezing once to punctuate his words. “Get down, please.” 

She ignored his words and savored the warmth of his touch, reaching for the giraffe mug and grinning at its misshapen appearance. It’d been a souvenir from the zoo when her and her twin brother were children- so well loved that they’d accidentally broken it when deciding who got to take it to uni. 

“Alright, point made.” The reminiscing was interrupted as the world suddenly tilted. She grabbed for the shelf as she leaned forward, Lando gripping her thighs to keep them in place on top of his shoulders.

“Hey! I wasn’t done up there.” She tugged at his curls, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head when he grumbled in protest. “I was thinking of Ratatouille.” 

“That would make you the rat, baby.” That comment earned him a thunk on the head.

Y/n didn’t mind the view from up here- Lando started walking towards the bedroom, where most of what needed to be packed remained. He slowed as they walked through the low door frame, and she smooshed her cheek against his as she leaned down to avoid hitting her head. 

This was the bedroom where she’d studied for her last exams, watched movies with her roommates, even where Lando had taken care of her after a night that was a little too much fun. It was weird to leave it behind, but with her roommates all moved out and the decor taken down, it hardly seemed like the setting of some of her most favorite memories. Lando backed up into the bed, and she fell off his shoulders onto the soft comforter with an oomph. 

“You know…” she said, flipping over onto her stomach. Lando flopped down next to her, humming to tell her to continue. “If you think I should do some decluttering, maybe I should do away with some of my Quadrant hoodies.” 

She’d developed quite a collection over the year they’d been together- one in every design from each drop, and a fair few of Lando’s as well. 

“No. Those stay,” he mumbled, grabbing her around the waist and tickling her across the ribs. She squealed and kicked as she tried to get away from him, eventually straddling him to escape his fingers. 

His eyes raked down her figure at their position, and she just laughed and pushed his face to the side before climbing off. Both staring at the stark white ceiling, she reached to lace her fingers in between his. 

“I’m so excited,” she started, her voice soft. “New apartment, close to my favorite person,” he squeezed her hand at that, “and a new job that I can’t wait to start. I feel like I’m growing up.” 

“I’m so proud of you baby.” They just laid there for a second, savoring each other’s company, watching the dust that almost seemed to sparkle in the late afternoon sunlight. y/n was perfectly content- her favorite person by her side, and a world of new possibilities just days away.

@y/n-l/n is on the move… and all of her mugs are coming with her

@landonorris quadrant moving company coming soon

[thewulf]

Escapism || Azriel

Summary: Request -can you make an azriel x night court reader fanfic request? I was listening the song escapism by raye and this just kinda came to me! It's kinda unhinged so you can change whatever if you choose to write it. Y/N and Lucien have been together for like 100+ years but then Elain Archeron comes along and they are mates so lucien begrudgingly breaks up with Reader... Read Rest Here

A/N: This one is sad but gets sweet towards the end. Reader is in her feelings!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.1k +

TW: Drunkeness, reader being mean, some physical altercations

Your relationship with Lucien had always felt destined. Willing it to be woven by the threads of fate and bound by centuries of love and laughter. For over a hundred years, you and Lucien had built a life that straddled the boundary between the Autumn Court and the Night Court, which you called home. It was a life full of compromises and sacrifices, but every moment was a testament to the depth of your affection for each other.

But fate had a funny way of not being so destined. Elain Archeron stepped into the picture. Her very presence unraveling the future you had envisioned. When Lucien revealed that Elain was his mate the foundation of your world crumbled. This wasn’t just about losing a lover. It was about the rending of a bond you believed was unbreakable. Lucien’s voice trembled with conflict as he confessed the truth. His amber eyes reflecting a pain that echoed your own. He didn’t want to leave you, but the mating bond was not something either of you could fight. It was powerful, demanding, and absolute. It was destiny.

Amidst your heartbreak a more piercing pain emerged when you discovered that your friends—Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and even Nesta—had known about Elain and her bond with Lucien before you did. Half of the Inner Circle knew, and the other half was excluded. Amren, Mor, you and Azriel were the ones left in the dark. They had kept it a secret hoping to protect you from the inevitable heartache. Yet this revelation only deepened your sense of betrayal. How could they, the ones you considered family, keep you in the dark about something that would shatter your life?

The night you found out was an uncomfortable one. You weren't usually one for confrontation, but the rage that built up inside you was ready to explode. As you sat among Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta in the quiet, imposing space of the House of Wind the air felt thick with tension. They began to explain, voices low and fraught with anxiety. They each detailed how they had known about Elain and Lucien’s mate bond for months. Their words were meant to be comforting but were instead filled with reasons and justifications about protecting you from heartache, sparing your feelings until they absolutely had to share the truth.

Sitting across from them in the quietude of the House of Wind you couldn’t hold back the surge of anger and disappointment that welled up inside you. "How could you?" you demanded, your voice quivering not just with sorrow, but with indignation. "You all knew. For months, you knew, and not one of you thought to warn me?"

Rhysand had a somber expression. He was the first to respond. "We struggled with whether to tell you," he admitted. His usual confidence replaced by a hesitancy that did little to quell your growing resentment. "The last thing we wanted was to see you hurt."

"And yet, here I am. Hurt all the same," you shot back. The pain sharp in your voice. "Hurt and betrayed. You chose to protect me from heartache but instead you ensured it."

Feyre reached out with her hand tentative and unsure. "We thought we were doing the right thing. We thought it might not happen. That maybe the bond wouldn’t take hold right away and..."

"And what?" you interrupted ripping your hand away from her touch. "That I’d what? Be spared the pain? Look at me, Feyre. Do I look spared to you?" Your voice was sharp. Sharper than you’d ever spoken to any of them before.

Cassian who was usually the one to lighten the mood sat unusually quiet. His usual bravado nowhere in sight. Nesta had her jaw set, her eyes revealing a turmoil that mirrored your own. It was a rare glimpse into her often-guarded emotions.

"It was never about doubting your strength," Cassian finally said, his voice low. "It was about giving you happiness for as long as we could."

"Happiness built on a lie?" you asked. The irony was bitter on your tongue. "Is that what our friendship is about? Lies?"

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Each of them struggled with their choices, now clearly regretting the pain those choices had caused. It was evident in their downcast eyes and the slump of their shoulders. It was a shared burden yet unequally felt.

"I'm not just some fragile piece of glass," you continued. Your anger only fueled by their silence. "I deserved to know, to make my own choices. To prepare, or... to say goodbye on my own terms."

The conversation that followed was a painful unraveling of trust and intent. As they each tried to explain, to justify, you realized that this wound would take time to heal. Perhaps what stung the most was the realization that their intentions had robbed you of your agency. Leaving you to a mere spectator in your own life. They spoke of protection. Of sparing you pain. Each explanation threading through the air with the weight of unspoken truths now laid bare. Their voices blended into a cacophony of excuses, each one fueling the fire of your anger and hurt further.

Rhysand’s voice held a note of desperation as he tried once more to explain, "We only wanted—"

"Would you just shut up! All of you!" you erupted cutting him off mid-sentence. Your voice, resolute, sliced through the room. "I don't want to hear it. Nothing you can do or say will make this right.” The room went deathly silent. The gravity of your words hanging heavily between you. Their faces were etched with regret and shock at your outburst. It was a stark reminder of the deep rift that had formed within your group.

You stood abruptly. The chair scraping sharply against the floor. "I can’t be here," you stated flatly. Your voice colder now, resolved. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, each step echoing your departure.

You needed space. Needed air to breathe away from the stifling atmosphere of justifications and apologies. You decided to go to Mor’s place. She too hadn’t known about Elain and Lucien. She hadn’t been part of the deceit that had upended your world. As you left the House of Wind the open sky above seemed to offer the first breath of true freedom since the revelation had shattered your peace.

The walk to Mor’s was quiet. The streets of Velaris holding a serene calm that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you. Reaching her house, you knocked briskly, and she opened the door with a surprised, yet immediately concerned expression.

"Can I stay here for a bit?" you asked without preamble. The weariness in your voice more pronounced now that you were away from the others.

"Of course," Mor responded instantly before stepping aside to let you in. Her eyes searching yours for the pain she was quick to sense. "Whatever you need."

As you stepped into the refuge Mor offered you felt a slight unclenching in your chest. A small relief in the acceptance of a friend untouched by the deceit that had marred your trust in others. You hoped to find the space to heal. To gather the scattered pieces of your heart and perhaps, in time, to forgive. But for now, you simply needed the quiet understanding of someone who had been kept in the dark as much as you had.

Compounding your agony was the necessity to leave the Autumn Court where you had spent half your time with Lucien. You had to come home completely now, full-time to the Night Court. Each step away from the Autumn lands was a reminder of the isolation waiting for you back home. Away from the life and love you had known. The Night Court felt more oppressive than ever. It was supposed to be your sanctuary but now it only served as a cage. It was trapping you with your memories and your pain.

Despite the profound sense of betrayal and the sharp sting of heartache that pervaded your days you chose to stay because Velaris was still home. It was here among the winding streets, the starlit skies, and the vibrant buzz of the Night Court that you had grown, loved, and dreamed. Leaving would mean abandoning not just the place but the fragments of yourself that still clung to the hopes and dreams you’d nurtured here. The thought of leaving Azriel, the one constant who understood your pain without needing words, whose silent strength had become your sanctuary, felt like severing the last thread of stability you possessed. In the depths of your turmoil, Velaris, with all its darkness and lights, remained a place where healing seemed possible. Where the pieces of your broken heart might someday mend.

You withdrew into yourself. Your nights consumed by reckless escapades and endless drinking. You shunned daylight, avoided responsibilities, and ignored the worried glances of your friends. Azriel, who had always been a silent sentinel in your life watched from afar. His shadowed gaze filled with concern that you were too lost in your grief to notice.

This spiral of despair drew you deeper into the depths of the Night Court where you sought oblivion in the bottom of a glass. You hoped and prayed it might wash away the ache in your soul. Your heart felt like a hollow shell, beaten, and bruised by betrayal and loss. You had to wonder if you’d ever find your way back to the light.

As the days bled into nights your world narrowed to the dim corners of taverns and the bitter burn of liquor. Training sessions were skipped, duties neglected. Each glass raised was an attempt to erase the sting of wasted years. You had given a century of your life to Lucien, woven dreams and plans tightly around a love you believed was mutual. Only to find it undone by a destiny that held no space for you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that your love had been a placeholder until his true mate appeared.

You felt like a fool, a pawn in the grand scheme of their secrets and politics. This revelation forced you into isolation. You could hardly stand to look at the people that left you in the dark. Let alone speak to them. Only Mor and Azriel became your solace. Mor who had also been kept out of the loop shared in your feelings of betrayal understanding the deep cut of being excluded by those you loved. Azriel, too, had been kept in the dark, his complicated feelings for Elain used against him to justify the secrecy. You found it cruel. A manipulation of his unspoken affections that only deepened your trust in him, knowing that he, too, had been a victim of their concealments.

Azriel watched over you with a quiet intensity. His shadows whispering of your pain in ways words never could. He knew the depth of your heartbreak having borne his own silent loves and losses. From the shadowed corners of the room, he observed your self-destructive spiral with a growing sense of desperation. There was an understanding in his eyes, a shared recognition of love unreturned that made him reach out to you despite your withdrawal.

Your interactions with Azriel became the few moments of genuine connection in your days. He didn’t push you to speak or to return to the life you’d left behind. Instead, he simply shared your space. Offering you a silent solidarity. His presence was your calm. And in his eyes you found the empathy you’d been denied by so many others. Yet, even this comfort was tinged with the bitter knowledge that it was borne from shared pain. Something created from the fragments of your broken hearts.

On one particularly rough evening, feeling the dull ache of wine coursing through your veins, you sought the familiarity of the library. It was a place that once offered solace, but now it felt like navigating an once beloved yet distant landscape.

Staggering slightly, you found yourself pushing open the heavy door of the library. The scent of old books and ink momentarily grounding you. Inside Mor was tucked into her favorite nook surrounded by a mountain of scrolls and books. Her presence immediately brought a smile to your face and without hesitation you blurted out, "Mor! My girl, let's go to Rita's." Your voice wavered with a mixture of forced cheerfulness and palpable pain betraying your already intoxicated state.

As you made this impromptu invitation you were acutely aware of Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel gathered in a solemn cluster near the grand oak table that dominated the room. Their conversation was likely heavy with undisclosed burdens. They paused abruptly as they noticed your entrance. The library usually a sanctuary of whispered lore and hushed dialogues felt oppressively silent as their eyes fixed on you.

With a deliberate effort to mask your pain with a veneer of cheerfulness you ignored Rhys and Cassian completely. Instead directing your gaze to where Azriel stood, his figure cloaked in customary shadows. "Hi, Shadowsinger!" you exclaimed. Your tone lighter than your heart felt. It was easier to pretend. To keep up the facade of resilience than to acknowledge the jagged pieces of your heart.

Mor quickly stood, catching the tail end of your forced merriment. Her eyes flickered with a mix of concern and understanding. She exchanged a look with the others. Her expression pleading for them to somehow mend the chasm that had opened between you all. But when she saw you purposefully ignoring Rhys and Cassian, her shoulders slumped in resignation. Recognizing the depth of your pain and your current incapacity for forgiveness.

She packed up her belongings. Her movements deliberate. "You're going one way or another, aren't you?" she asked you. Her voice was filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own. It wasn't a question, but a statement. A knowing of the inevitable path the night would take.

"Yes. I need to not think… just for a little while," you replied. Your own smile faltering as the false cheer began to crumble under the weight of your true feelings.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a glance with a mix of frustration and regret marring their features. They understood that their attempts at reconciliation would be futile this evening. Azriel stood silent and observant. He met your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes. He nodded slightly. A promise that he would keep you safe even if from a distance.

Even as you grappled with your feelings of betrayal and heartache Azriel had already found it within himself to forgive Rhys and Cass for keeping the truth from both of you. His capacity for understanding their motives. Flawed as they were by their protective instincts, allowed him to see past the pain they had inadvertently caused. Azriel recognized that their actions stemmed from a deep-seated desire to shield both him and you from the inevitable pain of Lucien’s bond with Elain.

You, however, found forgiveness not so easily granted. Your feelings of betrayal were compounded by the thought that your closest friends had decided your fate without your input.  Treating you more like a fragile object to be protected rather than a person capable of facing harsh truths. While Azriel had moved towards reconciliation you remained rightfully stubborn wrestling with a wound too fresh to close

With Mor in tow, you left the library. The heavy silence settling back among the shelves after your departure. Azriel followed discreetly. A shadow among shadows. His concern a tangible cloak around him as he watched you attempt to drown your sorrows under the guise of revelry at Rita’s. The night stretched before you. It was filled with the echoes of what could have been and the sharp sting of what was now your reality.

At Rita’s the ambiance had devolved into a haze for you. Each drink an attempt to erase the sharp edges of your reality. The buzz of the crowd and the clink of glasses were a distant backdrop to the storm raging inside you. As you reached for another glass your movements were sluggish and unfocused. A stranger slipped beside you, his smile too eager, his intentions unclear. He offered you a drink with a slick insistence that made your skin crawl even through the fog of alcohol.

The moment your fingers grazed the cool surface of the glass Azriel materialized at your side. His movements were a blur. The glass knocked from your grasp and shattering against the hard floor with a resounding crash that sliced through the bar's cacophony. "Enough, Y/N," his voice cut through your stunned silence, low and laced with an urgency that tightened his features.

"Why?!" The word tore from your throat, raw and loud, fueled by the sharp bite of alcohol and a torrent of pain you no longer had the strength to contain. "Why do you care? Just let me drown it all out, Az! Let me forget!" Your words were a mix of accusation and desperation spilling out in a reckless cascade.

Pain flickered across Azriel's face His eyes darkening with concern. "It’s not safe, Y/N. That drink. That male was trying to drug you. I can't—I won't let that happen,” he insisted. His voice firm despite the chaos around you.

Rebellion surged within you, potent and bitter. "Don't do this to me, Azzy!" The nickname was usually a term of endearment but now sounded like a rebuke, heavy with your anguish. "You can't save me from this. Let me have this!"

Your attempt to pull away was futile against his strength. Azriel’s eyes scanned the crowd one last time giving more a quick nod, his decision made in the span of a heartbeat when she nodded back. With no other choice as you continued to struggle against him he wrapped his arm securely around your waist and winnowed you both away, the world dissolving into shadows. You reappeared on a deserted hillside just outside the city. The sharp, cold air was a slap against your heated skin. The stark silence a jarring contrast to the noise of Rita’s.

“I can’t watch you destroy yourself, Y/N. I just can’t,” Azriel implored, his voice thick with emotion as he steadied your staggering form.

"Destroy myself?!" you screamed back. The frustration and hurt boiling over. Your hands balled into fists. Your entire body tense with pent-up emotion. "My life is already destroyed, Azriel! I've lost everything. My love, my dreams, my worth! What's there left to destroy?"

In your anguish you lashed out physically, pushing against Azriel's chest with all the force of your despair. He staggered slightly but didn't push back. He of all people understood your need to vent the storm of emotions inside you.

“You haven’t lost everything,” he tried to reassure you but even he knew where your head was at. You weren’t going to listen to him.

"I have!" Your voice broke, raw and quivering with the intensity of your pain. "For a century, I loved him, Az. A century! And for what? To be discarded when his real mate shows up? What does that make me? Just a placeholder? I'm worthless, Az. If he couldn't even love me, who will?"

"No, Y/N, that's not true—" Azriel began but you cut him off again. Your hands pushing against his shoulders trying futilely to move the immovable.

"No, you don't get it!" Tears streamed down your face blurring your vision as you swung a punch. Your fist connecting weakly with his chest. He absorbed the blow with practiced ease. His expression pained more by your words than the physical contact. "Everyone has someone… Feyre has Rhys, Elain has Lucien now... and me? I'm alone. Utterly alone. Who could love someone so... so replaceable?" Your words tumbled out as a cascade of hurt and insecurity forgetting in your pain that Azriel himself had known the sting of unreciprocated feelings.

Azriel caught your wrists gently, stopping your strikes. His gaze intense, a mix of pain and resolve flickering in his eyes. "Y/N, listen to me," he implored. His tone firm yet tender. "I understand more than you know. I've felt that loneliness. That fear of being unloved and replaceable. But you, Y/N, you are not replaceable to me. You’re invaluable. You’re loved deeply by those who truly know you, even if you can't see it right now."

Your resistance faltered with tears spilling over as his words washed over you revealing his own vulnerabilities. You sagged against him, your energy spent, your sobs muffled against his chest. Azriel didn’t just offer comfort. He shared your grief, understanding it from his own unspoken heartaches.

"Because you mean everything to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. A confession laden with the weight of his own once-hidden feelings. "And I refuse to let you believe you're anything less than that." In his embrace you felt a sliver of solace pierce the veil of your despair. Perhaps you weren't as alone as you had believed. In the quiet of the night with Azriel, you dared to hope that your heart could find a way to mend.

As your sobs quieted into weary, shuddering breaths on the hillside, Azriel recognized the depth of your exhaustion and despair. With a care born of years spent navigating the shadows, he scooped you up into his arms. His strength a quiet reassurance in the enveloping darkness. You were too lost in your own misery to protest. Your body limp against his chest as he winnowed you both back to the sanctuary of his room.

Once inside Azriel carried you straight to the bathroom. The soft glow of candlelight casting gentle shadows across the walls. Setting you down with the utmost care he turned on the tap letting cool water fill the basin. With a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual stoicism, he soaked a soft cloth, wringing it out gently before turning to you.

"You're safe here, Y/N," he murmured. His voice low and soothing as he began to dab at your face. Each gentle touch wiped away streaks of makeup and tears revealing the raw vulnerability beneath. His hands were steady and careful. Moving with a respect that honored your brokenness without making you feel more fragile.

Seeing you so shattered, so utterly surrendered to your grief, stirred a protective tenderness in him. After he had cleaned your face he helped you out of your clothes and into his own. Each movement was respectful and patient. His eyes averted to give you privacy even in your despondent state. He chose a soft shirt and loose pants. Clothes that would comfort rather than constrict. When you were dressed he guided you to his bed with his arm around your waist both a support and a shield. The world seemed to quiet as he tucked you under the covers.

You lay there, a small, fragile form in the vastness of his bed with your eyes staring blankly at the shadowed ceiling. Azriel hesitated, watching you with a mix of concern and a poignant ache to ease your pain. Unable to bear the distance, he lay down beside you. His body a careful line of warmth at your side.

As you lay next to Azriel his presence enveloped you in a tenderness you hadn't fully seen before. The night around you was quiet, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind outside and your own unsteady breaths. Azriel's room was usually a place of solitude and shadows. It felt different now. Warmer, filled with a quiet strength and a palpable gentleness that radiated from him.

"Let it all out, Y/N," he whispered next to you. His voice was a soft command in the darkness, soothing and deep. His hand found yours under the blankets, his fingers intertwining with yours. You felt a sob rise again. The emotions overwhelming.

He didn't shush you or tell you to be strong. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter. His grip a lifeline in the turmoil you felt. His presence was a vow of steadfastness. A promise not spoken but felt deeply.

Lying beside him, you realized you had never seen Azriel so openly gentle and caring. His usual reserve and cool demeanor were replaced by an earnest tenderness. It was as if the night had peeled back a layer of his persona revealing the depth of his empathy and the true extent of his kindness. This wasn't the Spy Master known to most. The one that was cold and calculating, always in the background. This was Azriel as only someone he truly cared for might see him. His kindness wasn't just an act of comfort. It was a testament to his genuine concern for you. To love you when you felt most unlovable. To be there in every low and hold you through every shadow.

"I'm not going anywhere," Azriel continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "You are loved, deeply. Even when it feels like you're alone. You are important to me. More than you could possibly know."

With Azriel's words wrapping around you like a gentle embrace you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a moment, that you might one day feel whole again. His kindness, his unwavering support reminded you that even in your most broken moments you were not alone.

Azriel didn't rush you or demand that you compose yourself. Instead, he simply held your hand throughout letting the quiet solidarity of his presence anchor you back from the tempest of your grief. As the emotional exhaustion of the day's events caught up with you, your eyelids grew heavy with the weight of sleep tugging them down.

With Azriel's fingers interlaced with yours and his calm breathing next to you, a profound fatigue began to blanket your senses. It was the kind of tiredness that came from having wept thoroughly and being in the presence of someone who demanded nothing of you but to be yourself. Slowly, the room around you seemed to fade away as you drifted into sleep. The echoes of your turmoil quieting into silence under the protective watch of the Shadowsinger.

As the first rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains you stirred, slowly emerging from the restless grasp of sleep. Your body felt heavy. Each movement laden with the remnants of last night’s despair. As you shifted, trying to orient yourself, you realized you were entangled with Azriel. His arms loosely draped around you, his body a protective barrier against the chill of the morning.

Opening your eyes fully, you met his gaze—alert, intense, yet filled with a softness that was reserved only for moments like this. He had been watching you. His eyes tracing the lines of worry and sadness that had settled on your face even in sleep.

The memory of last night's breakdown. The raw pain, the tears, the desperate words, rushed back in vivid clarity. You were suddenly mortified. The intensity of your vulnerability making you feel exposed and small. You tried to pull away, intending to escape the intimacy and your own mortification. But Azriel’s arms tightened instead, gently but firmly keeping you in place. You faced him, cheeks burning, and your words stumbled out in a flustered rush.

"Az, I... I'm just so—sorry," you stammered as if the words tripping over each other. "For hitting you, and—everything. I wasn’t... I shouldn’t have..."

He was quiet for a moment. His gaze steady and understanding. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and calm, cutting through your babble of apologies with effortless precision. "No apologies," he said simply. His eyes locked on yours conveying depth beyond words. "It’s okay."

"But I lost control, and I—," you tried again. Your voice a tangled whisper of regret and embarrassment.

Azriel gently shushed you with a slight shake of his head. "You needed to let out," His tone left no room for argument. "I’m here. That’s what matters."

Your attempts to articulate the mess of emotions felt cumbersome and inadequate compared to his succinct reassurance. You swallowed hard. Your next breath shaky as you tried to reconcile the kindness in his actions with the turmoil you felt inside. The warmth of his embrace, the quiet strength in his few words, slowly coaxed the walls around your heart to lower. His acceptance was simple and unwavering. It granted you the space to be vulnerable without the burden of judgment.

"You're here," you spoke softly. A statement rather than a question. You allowed yourself to lean back against him, finding a measure of peace in the security his presence offered. In the quiet that followed his steady breathing became a reassuring rhythm in the soft light of dawn, anchoring you amidst the remnants of last night’s storm.

As you settled deeper into Azriel's embrace, comforted by the warmth of his body and the protective enclosure of his wings around you profound sense of security enveloped you. His wings isolated you from the chaos of the world and allowed the weight of your troubles to recede momentarily.

Within this intimate cocoon Azriel's hands gently soothed you, tracing calming patterns along your back and occasionally running his fingers through your hair easing away the knots of both stress and sadness. This gentle touch, combined with the protective embrace of his wings, invited a deeper relaxation and a fleeting peace.

"You're safe here," Azriel whispered. His voice a soft rumble that was both reassuring and grounding. "You will always be safe with me."

His words were simple yet deeply meaningful. They comforted you, encouraging a slow, steadying breath as each word seemed to ease a little more of your turmoil. Surrounded by his presence the room no longer felt like just a physical space but a sanctuary against all your fears and uncertainties.

As Azriel offered a rare comfort his mind was awash with thoughts and feelings for you. He had always admired your strength, your grace, and the kindness that seemed to illuminate your every action. Even when you were with Lucien he had noticed how your presence could soften the hardest of hearts and brighten the darkest corners. His feelings had been kept hidden. A secret shadowed beneath his stoic exterior as you had seemed unreachably intertwined with someone else.

Azriel's interest in Elain initially served as a safe distraction from confronting the deeper, more intense feelings he had for you. Now with the situation having changed and the possibility of being more than just friends emerging. He realized that his feelings for Elain had been a way to guard his heart against the more daunting prospect of a deeper connection with you. Recognizing this, Azriel was determined to be patient. He understood the importance of timing and your need to heal. He knew that any possibility of exploring something deeper with you would require careful consideration and respect for your emotional state. Thus, he was prepared to wait. He would offer his support and presence as you navigated your path to recovery, hoping that when you were ready, he might have a chance to express his true feelings.

In this quiet moment as dawn's light began to seep through the curtains, Azriel made a promise to himself for you. He would be there for you not just as a protector or a friend, but as someone who loved you deeply. Even if that love must remain unspoken for now. He would help you heal, support you in finding yourself again, and offer his love silently, unwaveringly, during the times you found it hardest to love yourself.

"Whatever comes next, I'm here. We'll face it together," he murmured. His voice a soft echo in the quiet room. This promise was not just a commitment to support you through your healing but a silent acknowledgment of his hopes for the future. A future where, when you were ready, he might share his heart openly with you. For now, though Azriel would be your steadfast shadow, a silent guard to you with a love profound yet patient. Waiting for the moment when your heart could welcome the depth of his.

As the morning stretched lazily into afternoon, the quietude of Azriel's room was punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of you resting against him. The previous turmoil had ebbed away leaving a calm that hadn't been felt in a long while. In this peaceful interlude you slipped back into a deep, restorative sleep, cradled by the warmth of Azriel and the secure embrace of his wings.

While you slept Azriel carefully extricated himself to prepare a simple yet thoughtful meal. He moved quietly, his shadows flitting about, almost as if they were checking on you. Ensuring that your slumber was undisturbed. He returned with a plate bearing a light lunch.

As the soft light of the afternoon filtered through the curtains you slowly awoke from the deep, restful sleep. You had been vaguely aware, even in slumber, of their comforting presence. Something that went beyond Azriel's physical proximity. It was his shadows, those silent watchers that typically hovered at the fringes, manifesting his will, and echoing his moods.

These shadows which normally adhered to Azriel’s strict commands with unwavering discipline, had over time, subtly changed their behavior around you. It started with small gestures—shifting slightly to cloak you in warmth when a cool draft swept through the room, or playfully fluttering around when your spirits were low, trying to elicit a smile. Gradually they had begun to act almost independently when it came to you. They were drawn to your innate warmth and light. The same qualities that Azriel himself cherished deeply in you.

As you stirred awake, stretching and yawning, the shadows seemed to mimic the morning’s embrace. Azriel watched from beside you with a slight smile playing on his lips as his shadows caressed your arms and legs. They were reluctant to withdraw their gentle touch even as you became more alert. He made a subtle gesture, a silent command for them to give you some space, expecting immediate compliance as always.

To his surprise and slight amusement, the shadows hesitated. They lingered around you. Their formless caresses a tender contradiction to their usual stark obedience. When you noticed their reluctance to leave you couldn’t help but to giggle. The shadows seemed to flutter with a visible delight, moving closer as if encouraged by your laughter.

"It’s okay, Az," you said. Smiling at the unusual scene. "I don't mind them, really. I actually quite like them."

At your words the shadows almost appeared to swoon, swirling around you with what could only be described as affectionate enthusiasm. Azriel watched this with a raised eyebrow and an ever-widening smile, clearly amused by their outright defiance when it came to you.

"They're not usually this defiant... or affectionate," Azriel remarked. His voice tinged with both bemusement and a hint of pride. "Seems they've taken quite a liking to you."

You watched the shadows swirl around with a playful grace. Their cool touch leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Smiling, you responded, "The feeling's mutual." At your words, one of the shadows playfully swooped up mimicking a kiss on your cheek.

The whimsical gesture drew another giggle from you, a sound so light and joyful that it seemed to brighten the entire room. Azriel watched you with a deep warmth filling his heart as your laughter echoed softly. The sound so rarely heard in your despair was so full of life and free from the burdens you had been carrying, It was a melody he hadn't realized he'd been longing to hear. It reminded him of the resilience and beauty within you, qualities he had always admired now shimmering through even in your laughter.

Azriel’s gaze softened as he watched you interact with his shadows. The corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine delight. It was rare for him to see his shadows disobey but in this instance he found the situation endearing rather than concerning. The shadows, so attuned to his deepest feelings perhaps recognized the special place you held in his heart and chose to express their fondness in the only way they knew how.

As you continued to enjoy the playful affection from the shadows, Azriel leaned back, content to observe the bond forming between you and parts of his own essence. This moment, light-hearted and filled with laughter marked a significant turn in your relationship. It showed not only his own deepening feelings but also the unique acceptance of his shadows, making you a cherished presence in both his world and theirs.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Request Taglist: @thatacotargirl @impossibelle

[margoisthemoon2]

Halsin nsfw ABC

A/N: uhh i 100% live by helsin being a soft dom in public and a hard dom in private

NB reader so…yeah

* A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) ~ He is most defiantly a big aftercare person. Massaging your tender body and kissing any bruises you got. Running a bath and making sure you heal. “Are you okay my heart? Was i too rough?”

* B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) ~ waist. (Sounds weird ik). But he is a huge waist grabber. It makes it easier for him to manhandle you and keep you in place.

* C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) ~ He loves seeing his cum on your back or torso.

* D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) ~ none he choose to share everything with you

* E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) ~ VERY!! Dude has had plenty of partners over the years. He’s a man and he knows what he is doing and what he wants. End of story.

* F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) ~ Missionary. He wants to see your entire body on display as he rams into you.

* G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) ~ He can crake a joke or two but he’s more serious and paying attention if you’re enjoying yourself or not so he can catch you giving consent or using a safeword to stop

* H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) ~ It indeed matches. He doesnt like to shave often in other parts thats not his face but he makes sure it doesnt get too crazy down there

* I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) ~ Very romantic. Every position that is changed you can hear him say “Is this okay?” “Let me know if you dont like this” he is a huge kisser during intimacy

* J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) ~ He likes to get straight to it with you but when he is alone and thinking about you he would touch himself once in a while.

* K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) ~ Breeding. Even if you cant get preggers. Breeding.

* L = Location (favorite places to do the do) ~ Anywhere. Any time. But mainly in nature where you cant be seen.

* M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) ~ Just your presence makes him hot and heavy for you.

* N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) ~ He wont do bondage. He doesn’t want you to tied up, he knows how it feels to not have freedom

* O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) ~ Hes a big person on giving. He cant have intimacy if he hasnt gone down on you yet.

* P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) ~ All of the above. Sometimes depends on his mood. He can be rough and hard and other times he can be slow and take in the moment

* Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) ~ He likes quickies. Knowing that its what you both want and you are satisfied is most important.

* R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) ~ He a ‘dont knock it till you try it’ type of person

* S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) ~ He can go multiple rounds. He will go from sun up to sun down if you can last just as long

* T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) ~ He doesnt own any toys himself nor does he use them. However he is very open to you using a plug.

* U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) ~ Hes a huge tease. he loves rubbing your bottom getting closer and closer to your hole before pulling away and acting like he wasnt doing anything

* V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) ~ He grubts alot. A moan and here and there. But he loves cursing during intomacy

* W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) ~ He wants to go as deep as he can in you. Other than missionary he loves the position ‘Praying Mantis’

* X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) ~ He is big and girthy. Hes 7” soft and 7.5” hard and 8” around.

* Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) ~ Very high. But he holds himself back as long as he can

* Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) ~ It takes him a while to fall asleep. He always make sure you are comfortable and okay. About 95% of the time he wants you to fall asleep before he goes.

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's here and she's ours - Lewis Hamilton

Pure fluff.

Series: She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you / She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she won't be the only one / She's here and he won't let her give up / She's here and so is he / She's here and so are we - (they can all be read as one-shots)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +1k

a/n: I'm 100% sure Lewis is gonna be a girl dad, like there's no other option in my mind. Also, I might make this a series of firsts with his kids, maybe 🙃

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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First-borns took longer to come, you’d been told that much, but 26 hours of active labor seemed like a bad joke.

The due date had been almost a week prior, which meant she had to be induced, but at the end of it all a perfectly healthy, and tad bit big, 20.7 inches and 7.3 pounds baby girl had made her arrival in the early hours of a cold, but sunny, Wednesday. 

The three days stay at the hospital also meant all of your and his family had had more than enough time to get to Monaco still in time to chat, have lunch and joke around with you, contractions only ever getting really strong the night before your water finally broke. At a time your perfectly thought-out labor plan had already been torn to pieces.

She was meant to be born in the water, that’s how you and Lewis had dreamt of for months, but being as stubborn as both of you were she didn’t turn and a breach meant being ready for an emergency c-section, if needed. It also meant an epidural would be more than likely required, something you fought your hardest against but eventually agreed to after a couple hours with labor going quicker with the water broken. At the end you still managed to have her naturally, with a second degree tear nonetheless.

But the tiredness, your back killing you, the heartburn, the swollen feet and the pain, none of it took center stage in your mind as you watched your daughter, as weird as that word sounded, falling asleep in her father’s chest.

As soon as she had had her first feed in your breast the nurse asked if skin on skin with the father was something you both would like to happen. His eyes, who had been gleaming with pride since the second the doctor announce she was girl, watered as the nurse handed the infant to a shirtless Lewis, seated at your side in the sofa by the window.

She squirmed a bit as her small body tried to find comfort against his muscular chest, one of his hands almost big enough to hold her entire body while the other supported her neck and head. And as if in a movie, as soon as he spoke, her body relaxed and she contently sighted with the sound she had spent the last months hearing from inside you, a voice almost as constant as yours to her.

“She’s here, babe, and she’s all ours.” You couldn’t really tell if he was telling you or himself that, his eyes wouldn’t leave the infant in his arms and his movements were careful and kept to a minimal

“How you feeling dad?” Your voice breaking the spell he seemed to be under, his eyes shining with love for his family, the one he finally had.

“Amazed, hopeful, scared… in love” He almost whispered after thinking for a bit.

It was Lewis first year with Ferrari, all the excitement and buzz from the move were gone and real life had set in. Redbull were still dominating the grid, Ferrari a bit closer than the previous year, with both driver even managing to snatch a vitory each, but still the focus was now on the new regs for the 2026 car.

The mandatory summer shutdown was the perfect opportunity to destress for at least a week before the chaos started back again and Lewis made sure the ever-shorter time he had for a vacation would be perfectly spent with family and friends alike, somewhere in the sunny Mediterranean ocean.

It was on a hot and clear night that summer that your lives began to really change.

His step mom was talking about how hard it’d become to gain a few pounds of lean mass after menopause had hit, a curiously shy Willow asking her mom what menopause was and getting the period talk on the side while you mentally panicked that your period had been due for at least about 2 weeks, something you completely put to the back of your mind with the craziness of summer shutdown preparations.

You were on birth control, but still it could happen, you both knew that and had agreed on no condoms. Later that night, while Lewis got a late workout in and everyone else went to bed, you franticly looked for the package at the bottom of your suitcase, hoping the damn thing was still there.

Almost twenty minutes later Lewis found you on the bed staring at the night sea, lost in thoughts, shaking and so in over your head it took him at least 10 minutes to comprehend your rumbles about the test, still untouched at the adjoining suite sink, the line that read “pregnant 5-6 weeks” screaming back at you both.

To say the pregnancy took sometime getting used to was a light hearted way to say you went through hell mentally and physically. But still, the moment that tiny creature first kicked you after hearing her father’s voice melted any sign of a doubt left.

You were not only gifting Lewis his most treasured wish, you were gifting yourself a perfect symbol of the respect, companionship and love you two shared. A tiny human you and him got to raise and protect until she went out into the world and left her mark.

As everyone else came into the room to finally meet the newest Hamilton, Lewis’ moment with his newborn was interrupted by his mom getting to hold her newest grandkid, followed closely by his sisters, brother, niece and nephew crowding the sofa he sat just a few moments before.

“Thank you, babe, truly. I don’t even know how to tell you how grateful I am.” His lips kissing your hair from the top of your bed, eyes attentively watching as your girl got passed around.  

“We’ll have at least 18 more years with her, you’ll have time.” You looked up at him to get his toothy smile just as your family walked into the room to complete the party.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk

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[sungbeam]

nonidol!jeong yunho x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sure. Easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

“Calm down, man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You softened. Oh, he was really nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

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

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

“Oh yeah, you're gonna love—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” Wooyoung giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed. “I hate you guys.”

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

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

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

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

“Jongho, protect me.”

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone at the table paused in confusion.

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

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

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

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

Regardless, you remained positive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes cracked open slowly. “Yunho.”

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

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

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

You hummed in reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In-fucking-sane.”

“You're telling me.”

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

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

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

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

“No, Seonghwa did when he overheard.”

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

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

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

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

“Not cooler than me though, right?”

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

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

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho froze. “What?”

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

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

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

“Hey?” He laughed.

“I'm proud of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhm… hey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I miss you already,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And I’m Oprah,” she deadpanned.

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It was not a 24-hour fever.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could things get any worse?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what? I'm flying home—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You swear on your life?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A nod. “Yeah.”

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

Yunho's quiet was answer enough.

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

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

“Have you guys talked since last week?”

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

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

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

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

I love her.

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

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

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

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

Yunho nodded. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And awake, you definitely were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passed, and then, “NO.”

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

“Jeong Yunho, put your damn tongue away.”

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

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

You didn't need to be told twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You deserve it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?”

“Could we… talk about something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did not yell at you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

atz m.list

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

[lnfours]

doll | l.n

summary: ‘i’m not even joking when i say i’ve fallen in love w the way you write lando you have me giggling every single time and i love it - i’m not sure if your requests are open rn, but cld i request a lando x reader enemies to lovers kinda vibe? honestly whatever you wanna go with is fine but i need need tooth rotting fluff rn so maybe he has a nickname for her that only he uses and there’s a lot of oblivious-ness from both of them over the fact that they like each other :’‘)’ - @mars-dreamworld

warnings: fluff, language, enemies to lovers, female!racer, just overall a whirlwind of emotions. strap in.

masterlist | ask box 💌

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

lando norris was absolutely, most definitely, 100% the most insufferable person you had ever met.

in the beginning of the year, mclaren had announced that you’d be joining the team as a third driver, and of course people men took it to social media to express how they felt women didn’t belong in the sport. that racing was a ‘real man’s’ sport.

and now you needed to prove them all wrong, prove you were worth your spot on the team. you know you didn’t have to, that it wouldn’t necessarily change people’s minds, but you worked hard to be here. countless sleepless nights, crashes, tunings, everything, was worth this moment.

and now it was your chance. oscar had ended up with an injury after a crash in one of the practice races over the weekend, ultimately giving you his spot until he was recovered.

you and lando hadn’t really gotten along. you had found yourself battling with him on the track, the two of you going head to head in the garage after practices. you had thought his ego and his sarcasm was unattractive, whereas he simply just saw you as a threat.

but, deep down, he had a soft spot for you that he kept buried under the fake hatred. he didn’t actually hate you, who could? he admired your hard work and dedication, but be couldn’t help but feel like you were trying to take his spot.

“what the fuck, norris?!” you yelled, throwing your helmet to the ground as you stormed over to him. he wore a smug look on his face that you would’ve found attractive if it weren’t for the fact that he felt the need to cut you off in turn 5.

“what?”

“are you thinking with your brain or your dick?!” you shoved his chest, but he didn’t move a muscle. he didn’t even budge, just looked down at you with those stupidly gorgeous green eyes.

“you’d know if i was thinking with my dick, doll.”

“don’t call me that.” you gave him a hard look and he put his hands up in fake surrender, shaking them like he was scared.

and that’s where it all started, that stupid fucking nickname. every time he said it, it made your blood boil, made you want to connect your knee with his crotch. now that he knew how to press your buttons, he wasn’t ever going to let you live.

right now, your face was red as your blood boiled, sitting in the drivers room as your leg bounced. the two of you had it out again today, the crew immediately separating the two of you and telling you both to knock it off.

the embarrassment from your crew telling you to quit acting like a child replayed in your head the rest of the day and as you sat in drivers room, and slowly your anger turned into sadness. you sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure, but you failed. the tear rolled down your cheek and you sniffled to yourself.

but of course, the door opened at the wrong time, causing you to wipe your cheeks quickly before looking at who decided to barge in. your eyes met lando’s green ones, which immediately softened upon looking at you.

“can i help you with something?”

he licked his lips, his brain going a mile a minute. why were you crying? was it because of him? fuck.

“i uhm,” he stammered over his words, letting out a breath before speaking, “are you crying?”

you shook your head, wiping your cheek on the shoulder of your race suit, “no.”

he knew better, though. the door closed behind him as he sat across from you, “you don’t have to lie, y/n.”

the way your name sounded rolling off his tongue with that stupid accent made your stomach do flips, but you refused to give in. this is what he wanted, right? pull you close enough to destroy you and prove to everyone that you’re actually not good enough to be here.

“why do you care?” you asked, an eyebrow raising, “it’s not like you actually give a fuck, so can you go somewhere else with your fake sympathy?”

he immediately got defensive, “what makes you think i don’t care about you? would i have run over to you the other day at practice when you crashed if i didn’t care about you?”

you thought back to last week, your car going into the barrier on the track. lando had seen the crash, immediately following the crew onto the track and ignoring the drop in his stomach. you had climbed out, shaken up but okay when he reached you. he grabbed onto your shoulders after you tugged your mask and helmet off, your eyes distant as he searched them.

“y/n?” his voice was laced with concern, “y/n, are you okay?”

you snapped out of it, meeting his eyes before you looked down at your body, “i think so…?”

he grabbed your face into his hands gently, turning your face side to side as he tried to examine you. the medics pulled up, rushing over to you.

“it’s okay, we’ve got it from here.” the female said to lando. he hesitated before he let go, letting them lead you over to the back of the ambulance to check you over. you looked back at him, the feeling of his hands on your cheeks lingering as they ushered you in.

you looked back at the brit, shrugging, “i dunno.”

he chuckled, but it wasn’t laced with humor, more like disappointment, “okay,”

“why would i think that when you’re always trying to prove that you’re better than me?”

he didn’t say anything, looking down at the tile floor, “because i’m threatened by you.”

you scoffed, “tell me something i don’t know.”

“no, you don’t get it,” he said, sitting up again, “i’m threatened by you because you’re good. you’re insanely good. you race well, you train hard, everyone here loves you, the fans. you’re an inspiration. something i’ve always wanted to be for someone.”

your attitude shifted, looking over at the boy across from you. he wore a sad, regretful face as he played with the zipper on his suit.

“you’re an inspiration, lando,” you said, “the little boy who dressed up like you the other day? the one who said he wanted to be just like you?”

he shrugged, “one boy compared to thousands of little girls who see themselves in you. i know i shouldn’t be upset, you’re literally changing history, but seeing it makes me wish i was someone like you.”

“you’re right, you’re not like me,” you said, moving to sit next to him, “you’re lando norris, the one who got P2 in your home grand prix a few weeks ago, the one who goes out of their way to say hi to literally all the fans and take pictures with them. you’re literally someone’s ray of sunshine.”

he smiled softly, letting you continue, “be like you. don’t be like me, lan.”

his head snapped up at the nickname, “did you just call me ‘lan’?”

a smile spread across his face and you let out a soft laugh, “i guess i did.”

he smiled back, “thank you, though. i needed that. and, i’m sorry for how i’ve been towards you.”

you waved him off, the smile still playing at your lips. you tried to bite it back with your lower lip tucked between your teeth. he swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight. you nodded your head softly, “we’re cool. just pipe down the ego a bit, yeah?”

he let out a chuckle. being this close to him made you realize there was a hint of blue in his green eyes, the short stubble growing back from where he had shaved his facial hair. he was undeniably pretty and you were getting wrapped up in him and distracted. he was doing the same, his eyes scanning over every single one of your facial features as he tried his hardest to memorize them.

you smiled softly, “why’re you looking at me like that?”

he smirked, “you mean the same way you’re looking at me?”

you blushed, turning away from him but his eyes were still locked onto you. you went to stand up, smiling softly at him as it was nearing the beginning of the next race.

“i’ll see you out there.”

he smiled, “see you out there, doll.”

you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh as you let the door close behind you, the nickname no longer making your blood boil but suddenly making your stomach do flips.

lando norris was going to be the death of you.